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astra-ravana · 5 months ago

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Labradorite: History And Use

Labradorite is a semi-precious feldspar mineral known for its exquisite iridenscence. It is characterized by vibrant flashes of color, which ranges from deep blues and greens, to vivid purples and pinks, to fiery oranges and golds. The enchanting play of colors in labradorite has a scientific explanation that's as fascinating as the stone itself. It's known to exhibit 'labradorescence', a phenomenon that occurs as a result of the stone's unique internal structure and the interference of light.

Labradorite's mineral composition primarily consists of a type of feldspar called anorthosite. What makes this feldspar so distinct is its lamellar structure. Within these layers, there are thin, closely spaced structures that act as barriers to the passage of light. When light enters a labradorite stone, it interacts with these structures in patterns that are necessarily parallel, producing is distinctive flashes of color, the striking display that labradorite is renowned for.

The colors produced by labradorite are not due to pigments within the stone, but rather the dispersion of light. This is similar to the way a prism splits light into its various colors. As a result, the hues in labradorite can shift and change as you view it from different angles, giving it a dynamic and captivating quality.

Understanding the science behind labradorite's iridenscence adds another layer of appreciation for this otherworldly gemstone. It's a testament to the marvels of nature and how it can create something so aesthetically stunning and intriguingly mystifying.

History

Labradorite boasts a history as enchanting as its radiant colors. While it earned its name from the Canadian province of Labrador, where it was first officially documented in the late 18th century, its roots in human culture run deep. The discovery of labradorite was a moment of awr and wonder, as early observers were captivated by the stone's iridescent flashes. However its use and significance extend far beyond its namesake region.

In ancient cultures, labradorite was considered a magickal stone with connections to the unseen world. Inuit tribes who inhabited the region where labradorite was initially found, revered it as the powerful stone that captured the Northern Lights, trapping them within its depths. The association with the Aurora Borealis gave labradorite a sacred status among Indigenous people.

As time progressed, labradorite began to make its way into other cultures' spiritual practices and traditions. It was prized by shamans and mystics for its metaphysical benefits, healing potential, and ability to enhance one's spiritual connection and insight. Labradorite was often used for divination, channeling, spirit work, crossing the veil, and more, believed to bring about a deep understanding of the Universe, spirit, and the inner self.

Labradorite's history also intersects with the world of art and jewelry. Artisans and jewelry designers recognized its captivating beauty and incorporated it into various creations. The stone was believed to ignite divine creativity in those who worked with it.

Metaphysical Uses

Labradorite is more than just a stunning gem; it is also revered for its metaphysical properties, making it a beloved stone among mystics and those who delve into spiritual realms. These profound effects include:

• Enhanced intuition and psychic abilities- One of the most commonly attributed labradorite traits is its ability to open the Third Eye, honing one's intuition and enabling psychic ability. It is referred to as the "Stone of Magick" or the "Stone of Transformation" due to the profound experiences it can facilitate. Labradorite opens the doors to unseen realms beyond perception enabling individuals to tap into internal and external sources of wisdom to gain insights far beyond the ordinary. For those who practice psychic readings, divination, meditation, astral travel, or any kind of spirit work, labradorite makes a valuable companion. It heightens spiritual awareness, amplifies inner knowing, and aids in past life recall. This improved intuition can aid in decision making, problem solving, and understanding complex situations.

• Spiritual transformation- Labradorite is regarded as a profound catalyst for spiritual transformation and growth. It supports individuals on their spiritual journeys by deepening their connection to higher realms and expanding their spiritual awareness. This expansion can lead to profound personal and spiritual transformation. Labradorite's energy encourages introspection, inner exploration, and a heightened sense of purpose. Those who work with this magickal stone become intuned to the subtle energies of the Universe, inspiring a sense of wonder and creativity and curiosity regarding the mysteries of existence, motivating them to seek a deeper understanding of their own soul. It is a guiding light on the path of spiritual enlightenment.

• Increased synchronicity- Labradorite holds a fascinating connection to the concept of synchronicity, the occurrence of meaningful coincidences in our lives. It acts as a beacon for recognizing and interpreting these important events, offering a deep understanding of the interconnectedness of the Universe.

• Protection and aura cleansing- Labradorite is also associated with protection. It creates a shield around the aura, the energetic field that surrounds the body. This shield acts as a barrier, warding off negative or unwanted energies and influences. Furthermore, labradorite cleanses and purifies the aura of these attachments, restoring a sense of balance and harmony.

• Inspiration and artistic expression- For artists abd creatives, labradorite is a wellspring of inspiration. Its fluid energy encourages thinking outside the box and pushing the boundaries of conventional ideas. The transitioning hues within this beautiful stone evoke a sense of enchantment and wonder, igniting one's imagination and boosting creative ability.

• Relationship harmony- Labradorite is associated with fostering relationship harmony by nurturing understanding, empathy, and effective communication between people. Its energy creates an atmosphere of openness and emotional connection, which helps resolve conflicts and strengthen bonds in any type of relationship.

• Confidence and communication- Another remarkable facet of labradorite is its potential to boost self-confidence and improve communication. When you harness the energy of this stone, it empowers you to express your thoughts and ideas with clarity and conviction.

• Focus- Labradorite is a valuable tool for those seeking to elevate their focus and concentration levels. The enchanting gem clears mental fog and grants clarity making it easier to engage in tasks that require undivided attention. It assists in sharpening your mental faculties, allowing for more precise and sound decision making.

Characteristics

Hardness: 6-6.5

Mineral family: Feldspar

Crystal system: Triclinic

Sun safe: Yes

Water safe: No

Correspondences

Planet: Uranus, Moon, Neptune

Element: Air, water

Zodiac: Aquarius, Sagittarius, Scorpio

Chakra: Third Eye, Crown, Throat

Numerology: 6, 9

Herbs: Lotus, mugwort, frankincense, sage, lavender, morning glory, eyebright

"A man is like a bit of Labrador spar, which has no luster as you turn it in your hand, until you come to a particular angle; then it shows deep and beautiful colors."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

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insomniac-dot-ink · 1 year ago

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Deep in the Woods in the Dark of the Road

Everyone talks about the fear of hitchhikers. Parents and urban legends repeat, Never pick up someone on the side of the road. Like food from the floor, you don’t know where they’ve been. Smiling ghosts, prison breakouts, serial killers on the lam. Very few stories talk about the edge of the road, the place where you lose yourself to these strangers in a stranger’s land. The ones that pick you up. I tell the story to anyone who will listen.

First, I have to tell them, “of course I don’t hitchhike anymore,” condemning my youthful folly for them before they will consider me a credible source. As someone worth listening to. My sister likes to remind me I was on the type of adventure only clean-shaven young men can get away with in the first place.

I like to remind her that I’m not sure I got away with anything.

May 12th, everything else shifts around it like the light, but that date might as well have been printed on the back of my hand.

May 12th and the small Canadian town I had been staying in had a high school graduation, the place swelling with relatives and well-wishers. There was only one high school and their hockey team seemed to be the one big rallying point the people shared. Everyone became a grandkid to every aging adult and I knew it was time to move along in the same breath.

I meant to leave early in the day. Meant to leave earlier in the week too. Nonetheless, when you're on a country-long trek you do start to appreciate the little things and the Johnsons’ had a high-pressure shower. The Johnsons were a family of pit-stop angels for hikers and bikers, turning their home into an invitation. Hippies, aging athletes, and former-vagrants were the main types of pitstop angels–literal angels in my mind at that point. I told myself a second shower was indulgent and then I gave myself another shower. Me and time we’re never really on the friendliest terms, especially when I was a thru-hiker that had lost the trail.

I stood under the burning hot spray and melted. During the first shower, the water always runs brown and muddy, sloughing off layers of dirt and dead skin. I think I understood religious resurrection after showers like that.

This one though, a second shower, ran clear and crystalline and perfect.

Hot, steaming water and a steady drumbeat of pressure. Heaven. Heaven though, eventually turned cool and then freezing. A cold river from every faucet. I jumped out and had a mild freakout session. Leaving someone’s worse-off than when you found it was a big taboo.

Plus, I was young and still embarrassed by everything. I wrote a hasty apology note, and then packed up as quickly as I could. It’s the type of age where you’ve started to realize you are responsible, but not old enough to know how to go about doing it correctly. I left a note. I scrubbed their counters and stripped the sheets off the pull-out bed. I scrubbed the counters a second time and then tripped out the door before they could get back. The day had turned into late afternoon. A spring chill seeped across the land and I took a backroad to the highway.

Originally, I had told my parents I’d be back by the end of season. Then I told them I deferred my college start date to the second semester. Then deferred again to next fall. Bumming around ski towns during the winter and making just enough money to get back on the trails in springtime. I had been skipping around different trails since then.

I needed to get on the road. I needed to find another car.

One of the tricks to getting picked up is to be clean, so I had that much going for me. Boiled like a lobster in oil, I felt new and good and I walked confidently backward with my thumb out. The second trick is to smile. I smiled and waved and walked along a long stretch of highway bordered by dense conifer forests.

If worse came to worse, I’d set up my tent somewhere among the tree trunks. A dampness coated my skin. Strong wind rustled the branches. A minivan approached and I smiled wide enough to make my eyes water. The van passed.

I took a break to chew down an energy bar and some Slim Jims. Drivers normally don’t stop if you’re chewing furiously and an internal sigh was building in my core. I wondered if the Johnsons’ were toasting their daughter right now. Giving a cheer. Making plans for dinner. I’d miss their dinner.

When I stood up again, the sun had dipped toward the steep mountains. I shielded my eyes and scowled. How the hell did so much time pass? I hurried to the side of the road, thumb out, smiling, rehearsing some of my best stories in my head. I liked telling stranger’s stories, a “thank you” for the ride. I had learned the best ways to spin terrifying encounters with mountain lions and the chipmunk trapped in my sleeping bag. Most drivers seemed to like it too.

The sun disappeared behind the first peeks and the temperature plummeted. Pockets of darkness spread out before me between the shards of sunlight quilting the land. My teeth chattered.

The dusk had a feeling to, a weight. A car approached from behind me and I whipped around, hands too cold to be out. A beat-up Hyundai, off-green and compact. A tacky Sasquatch air-freshener hung from the mirror and the person behind the wheel wore sunglasses. He looked like a young guy, early 20s, with long brown hair down his shoulders. The hair reminded me of a girl, curly and well-kept, shiny in the dying light. The dusting of a beard offset the look.

Several cars lined up behind the Hyundai. Their lights were all on, shining like a procession of lanterns. This is where they all were apparently. Figures, I thought, and I stuck my thumb out.

My stomach sank when the Hyundai swerved off to the side of the road. I was hoping he would pass and let one of the others pick me up. I usually preferred families, women, couples, and the like. I would like to say it was the romantic in me, wishing for ladies or aging lovers, but the truth was I had never really gotten along with guys my own age. But beggars can’t be choosers.

He honked the horn once and grinned at me. I checked over my shoulder like the trees might turn into a Holiday Inn, and then approached the window.

He cracked the door. “Where you headed?”

“Vancouver,” I said, which was true enough. He gave the horn a second honk. “Alright, alright, alright, my brother. Going to the same jungle. Hop in.”

I gave him a crooked smile and avoided responding by opening the back door. Storing my enormous backpack was always a challenge, but the back seats were down and I slid Jessica, my pack’s nickname, right in.

“How’s it going?” The guy had both a California accent and swagger to him. I ran a hand through my hair, already on guard.

“Cold as a witch’s tit out there.” I might as well get the bro-ing over with. The driver had holes in his faded band shirt and board shorts. Sandals probably too.

“Only if you're walking down the side of the road like a lost kitten, my man. Here.” He cranked the heat in his car and I exhaled, gratitude shining from my center.

“Thanks,” I said, showers and warmth and soft beds having changed me. I swallowed a couple times, not sure if bros even thanked each other. “So, what are you doing out here?” I asked, already formulating my story about the mountain lion. And yes, I do embellish just a bit.

“You know, this and that. What are you doing getting yourself ax-murdered all the way out here?” I shot him a look. “You know, this and that.” I cleared my throat, mimicking his tone, “Ax-murdering. Collecting hooks for my right hand.” He lets out a big laugh and that’s a relief. I grow emboldened. “What are you doing to avoid getting hook-handed this late at night?” He chuckles, chest rumbling like a car engine. Taking off his sunglasses, he places them in the cupholder. “Distract them. Ask them what ACDC they are into.” His gaze flicks to the back as he says it.

I noticed for the first time a guitar case wedged into the back. My eyebrows raise. “Sweet. You playing gigs?” “Just coffee shops and anywhere that will take a burnout with a dream.” I copy his tone. The swagger. “You any good?”

“Hell if I know. Coffee shops aren’t Juilliard.” He winked. “But don’t tell my mom that.”

My arms gooseflesh and at least my teeth stopped chattering. “Good to know. You have an LP? CDs?”

“Not yet. Still working it out.” “Nice. Well, I’m Ben. Not really a music guy, but an appreciator.” I realized I had gotten all jumbled by being freezing and messed up my usual intro. “Hailing from Boston by trying to be anywhere else.” He chuckled again. “Christopher.”

“Not a Chris, I take it. The whole thing?” “All the way through, brother. Think you can handle it?”

I clicked my tongue. “I usually stick to single syllables, but I’ll make an exception for you.” “From my new friend Ben? Can’t complain about that. Damn, can’t complain about a long night on the road. Nice to pick you up.”

“Nice to be picked up.” I realized too late the way that sounded and rubbed the back of my neck. “Beats walking. Or have to hook-hand my own damn self.” “Heh.” His inky eyes flicked my way and then he grins. I looked away at that, gently embarrassed in a way I couldn’t explain. I had gotten pretty good at the chameleon act but still wasn’t finding my footing here. His eyes were deep brown, inky-almost, and deep-set in his face.

The beat-up Hyundai rumbled up a mountain pass and the sky turned the blue-black of a bruise. I tear my eyes back to the window. The conifers appear larger–like everything does at night, and pass in a blur on the back-forth mountain road. I spy a river through the trees and birds taking flight from somewhere in the distance, lights of tucked-away homes even further up.

Christopher turns the music up at that. “You ever listen to house music?” “Can’t say I have.” I turn back, mountain lion stories forgotten. “Ben, my guy, you’re missing out. You don’t do German house music either, I take it.”

I put a hand over my heart. “Purely provincial.” “I’ll play the good stuff.” He grins. “Make an exception.” “You usually play your hitchhiker’s mediocre playlists?” “Exceptionally mediocre. The last one didn’t even make it beat drop.” “I’ll sit and take notes.” “Don’t let me down, Benny.”

“Now who’s not going all through?”

His dark eyes flash. “Thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“For you?” I gave a sardonic half of a smile and then let it fall.

Noises with bumps and chs played out over the speakers and I had to wonder why Christopher had a guitar instead of a DJ soundboard. Maybe he had both. A hand placed on my knee and I jumped. I went to brush it off, God, I didn’t need this to get unpleasant, but when I looked down nothing was there. Christopher’s hands were lazing on ten and two and he raised an eyebrow.

“You still headed all the way to Vancouver? It is a long drive.” he asked slowly and I nodded, unwilling to say my real plans. To just keep going. I started on the east coast and wouldn’t mind making it to the other ocean. “Good.” He turned the music up a second time. Despite the grating techno and sense of still not having found my feet here, the heat of the blowers washed over me. The rocking of the car and dull humming of the driver next to me. The lights of cars wound through the roads behind us and my eyes fluttered closed.

You don’t sleep in stranger’s cars. It’s rude for one thing and dangerous for another. Yet, the cold leached out of me and a drowsiness sent me over the edge into a deep abyss.

—----------------------

I heard humming now and then, dreamlike and threaded through my personal abyss. I cracked open my eyes, glanced at Christopher, humming to himself and tapping a beat on the wheel. And then drift off again in the very way I shouldn’t.

—-----------------------

A hand shook my knee. I had no idea what time it was and the weight of night startled me awake more than anything else. A pair of headbeams blared into my face and I brought up one hand. “What the hell?”

“Hey, Benny, buddy,” the driver, Christopher, said. It took me a moment to turn toward him. His sunglasses were back on and he was frowning. “Do you think you could mess with my phone? I’m not getting anything up here. Do you have service?” I blinked rapidly and pieced together the back of tail lights in front of us and head beams behind. “Traffic?” I croaked, rubbing my throat. “Here?” Only three cars ahead were visible, disappearing up a mountain bend into who knows where. However, I get the sense of lights lined up like little soldiers through the night, long and duckling-like.

“I know, it’s whack. I was looking for a sideroad or something to get us out of this.” “How is there traffic in the middle of the mountains?” I rubbed my eyes until I saw spots, feeling groggier than ever.

“Probably a rockslide up ahead or a truck fell over, who knows. I think someone’s cleaning it up now but at the pace of, like tomorrow morning.” “What the hell?” “Now you’re getting it.” The line inched forward and Christopher refreshed his phone with one hand. I fumbled for my own phone in my small pack and cursed under my breath. “What?” Christopher prompts me.

“Out of battery.” I shake it like that might do something. “Hold on, I have an Anker in my pack.” I turn to climb into the back and dig through everything for my charger.

“Wait, wait, I think I see a road. Put your seatbelt on.”

“We can’t just,” Christopher grabs the back of my shirt and tugs me back to my seat. I inhale sharply, remembering I am in a car with a stranger–maybe getting too close for comfort. I sputter out my protests, “we don’t know where we are. Where that goes.” Christopher was already turning off the side. “I bet I’ll get some signal if we head down the mountain. That’s headed down. Don’t worry about it. Put your seatbelt on Ben from Boston.” The nose of the car dipped down and I clenched my teeth, clicking my seatbelt in place. We rocked, boat-like, and the wheels fought against the dirt until we were level again.

I wasn’t sure how I was feeling about Christopher at that moment. I wish I could charge my phone or maybe get out and walk. There were plenty of cars to hitch a ride from by then. Too late to make up my mind, the car’s wheels crunched on a new gravel road and our headlights streaked against an empty dark. The car behind us drove forward to take our place.

“Don’t you think other cars would go this way,” a bump in the road sent me jostling, “if it leads to the main road again?” “I’ll just get us some signal,” he mumbled. “Better than sitting in traffic.” I huffed, “Right.” The gravel road had the feel of a worn-down side street, probably leading to a series of fancy mansions or off-the-grid weirdos. Nowhere real. Christopher took off his sunglasses all over again and met my eyes.

“Sorry to get you take you on a side adventure.” He cleared his throat. “And wake you.” I remembered myself all at once and ran a hand through my hair. “Sorry,” I said, giving a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m normally a better house guest. Promise I don’t normally pass out in stranger’s cars.” “What do you normally do?” I shift in place. “Convince them to go off-roading in the middle of the night,” I deadpan. “Keep things interesting.” “That’s my line.” He laughs. Before we can really get back to normal and I can push away the dark flick of his gaze, Christopher slams on the breaks. “Holy hell!”

I grip on to the seatbelt, jostling back and forth, eyes go wide. “What?”

A line of cars appeared up ahead. My whole system tingled. “Were those there before? I didn’t see those before,” I repeated the phrase like a fool, “I didn’t see any of those cars a second ago.” A long line of cars, trailing off ahead and into the hills. “Out of the frying pan and into . . .” he trailed off. Christopher’s gaze lost its humor. He put his sunglasses back on. “Get out.” “Excuse me?” I definitely shouldn’t have taken that nap. “Get out.”

The hairs on my arm stood on end, breath catching in my throat. I glanced into the woods. The trees were tall here, leaving little undergrowth, and a sliver of moon lit barely penetrated the textured black. I could still make out headbeams, bright here, blaring, and moving through the trees. I reeled back, watching the lights bob in place. A few minutes ago, I had been chomping at the bit to get out of the car and find someone else to ride with. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

Head Beams swayed. Oddly. Unnaturally. Too far off the ground. Head Beams that couldn’t be headbeams when I squinted and looked. I gulped.

“Sure man, just give me a second.” I clutched at the seatbelt. A hand squeezed my knee and I glanced down, almost grateful if he was going to keep me for this reason or that. Nothing was there.

I buttoned up my jacket, readying myself to walk until I couldn’t walk anymore. Get ready to be eaten by a mountain lion because I sure as hell wasn’t setting up camp any time soon.

“Nevermind.” Christopher grabbed the back of my head. His hand was large and firm around the nape of my neck. “Too late. Get down.” The lights bobbed and weaved around us and I didn’t need to be told twice. Better to be hunkered down than out in the open. A second later, a knock came at the car window. The type you might hear from an officer in a tv show. I hoped. Just a regular official telling us the roads weren’t clear, the rockslide was too big. Go back, go home, all of this was explainable.

“Can I help you?” Christopher’s window rolled down. I tucked myself into a tighter ball in the foot space.

“Do you want to be loved?” The voice was sharp, a splash of cold water cloying through my senses. Branches against glass, more garbled than real. Then the words righted themselves in my head and I wished I was back at the Johnson’s. I could be with their family right now, however out of place, holding up non-alcoholic champagne and telling her life after graduation wasn’t so bad. Didn’t have to be.

“No, I’m all good.” “Do you want to be loved,” the voice said in an insistent tone.

“I don’t want any.” He cleared his throat. “We’re running behind, anyway. Have to go. You could tell th–” “Seven years. To be loved, do you want to be loved,” I peaked up from my fetal position, a thing bent into the car, “Seven years and a day. To be loved.” Christopher rolled up his window, slow and deliberate. “No. No,” he said, “not that.” I caught a glimpse, however briefly, of a head of something impossibly tall and with a singular eye, blinking and glowing and bobbing in place. My heart sang, briefly, called out, wanted. Then, the thing at our window turned and disappeared.

“That’s what I get for thinking it’d be someone important.” Christopher’s gaze lingered on my own, keeping me there and for the first time, I heard him humming, gently, in the back of his throat. Inky eyes, dark as night, and holding me there.

“Stop it!” I clawed at the air back to the door. My chest heaved.

He swallowed, looking away. “I really was just trying to give you a lift,” he muttered, gripping the wheel. “I don’t even think they’d want me back so soon.” “Who?” I lapped the roof of my mouth, realizing I was parched.

Christopher leaned his head back against the headrest, looking above. “Don’t tell my mom,” he adjusted his seat, “I’ve been playing music for mortals.” —---------------------------

There are ghosts and ghouls and monsters and many things that want to eat you. I was a fool, not recognizing what types of things might want to eat me. Traffic was barely moving, whatever this traffic was. I was getting thirstier.

I swallowed, again and again. A steady stream of knocks came at the window, but Christopher waved them all off. “No thank you, no thanks.”

Music spilled in the distance, faint and dreamlike, just like the soft humming Christopher had let out. I could see streaks of light against the seat, Christopher’s face, the trees up above. Once, impossibly, something passed overhead. An enormous head you might see displayed on mantles. Big as a house, mighty and towering up above. A long white nose and antlers thick as redwoods. Great tendrils of moss seemed to hang from the antler’s alongside lanterns. Lights strung up among the foliage and impossible prongs.

An elk, an elk enormous beyond imagination, passed and I exhaled. I really wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

“Do you have any water?” Christopher glanced down, eyebrows arching and eyes wet as dogs noses.

“None for you,” he said but in a tone that somehow did not convey rudeness. “Trust me.” “Trust you,” I muttered, “after being cramped and hiding for over an hour? God, it must be sunrise soon.” “No. I’m afraid not.” He heaved a sigh. “Fairy market and all that.” I gaped at him. “Would you like to run that by me one more time?” He shook his head. “Ben,” he said, tasting the name on his lips, humming, “sturdy name. Useful. You’ve got strong fate lines. You won’t die here tonight, as long as you do as I say. Well, won’t die or be stolen if I can help it.” I set my jaw and Christopher put his sunglasses back on. “Happy?”

I kicked out, deciding if I was going to have a delusion, I might as well have it sitting. I rested my back against the door, head peeking up above the windows now. “I want to go back to the main road.”

Christopher didn’t reply.

It could have been an hour or only a few minutes, before a face appeared in the window. At first, I didn’t recognize it as a face, a smooth moonlike token in the window. Then, it gathered itself into two sparkling eyes, a clever mouth, and delicate cheekbones. The lady's white hair piled high on her head, adorned with blood-red leaves and berries and she smiled. Her eyes were ink-dark.

“Oh no.” Christopher clutched at the wheel. The lady inclined her head, clever mouth remaining closed but eyes beseeching. A pang went through my chest, unbidden, I felt bad for Christopher. Lord have mercy on a fool. “I have to take this,” he said in a monotone. Air whooshed into the car, cool and light against my skin, tasting of mint or something sharper.

“Wasn’t expecting a visit so soon. Is dad here?” The woman didn’t seem to speak, but inclined her head. Christopher leaned forward, blocking my view or maybe blocking her from me. He got out of the car.

The second the door closed, taking Christopher with it, I decided to make a break for it.

—---------------

I racked my head for what I knew about fairies. Cinderella’s godmother, the tooth fairy, Peter Pan. Tinker Bell was probably not going to help me much unless, of course, pirates became relevant in the near future. Which they might, given the night I was having. I opened the door a crack. Sweet brisk air filtered in.

I contemplated the ground below. No longer gravel but rich black earth. My spine prickled and I held very still. The only thing I could come up with half-way relevant was a 11 grade project where we had to choose a poem to analyze. I had picked The Goblin Market by Christina Rossetti. As a 16-year-old I had chosen it for the racy content and riskier presentation in class.

Looking at the dark soil, I muttered to myself, “We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil, they fed their hungry thirsty roots?”

I squeezed my eyes closed. I had already spoken to the dark-eyed man and listened to his music, I suppose. I didn’t remember much else of the poem but the heat rising in my cheeks and Lizzie walking into the market.

I kicked the door open, kept my eyes down, and went for my pack. My heart beat at the pace of the hummingbird's wings and my hands slipped on the door handle. Voices, whispering, indistinct. At the third try I wrenched the back open and got my pack out in one swing. The whispering grew louder and my eyes caught on the lights and the forest.

I knew the Canadian Rockies. I tripped over pine cones and hard stone, drank from crystalline lakes, ran my hands over Alpine forget-me-nots, froze and sweated and bled. This was them and so much more. The trees were the whitebark pines and firs, tightly knit together and crowned in ragged peaks. Voices called to me.

The darkness between the trunks bled into hands, red and mangy, like huckleberry shrubbery waving in the wind. Faces appeared in the shards of moonlight, lanterns bobbed and lurching heaving mountains of things moving in the far distance. Elk perhaps. Mountains.

I pivoted in place, keeping my eyes away from stalled cars that made up this place. Voices called and righted themselves into words this time. “Young man. Mortal son. Hello.” A sheet of misty rain appeared to my left, melting from the dark and blinking handsome golden eyes. A sturdy nose. A pretty mouth.

“Would you like–” “Thanks. No.” I copied Christopher, not meeting the thing’s eye, and began to walk. The underbrush was not empty however, the forest moved with creatures big enough to crush. I wondered if any amount of walking would take me home.

Another voice broke through the murmuring. “You’ll never make it that way.”

I turned. And there were cars. Glowing bright as stars and windows cranked open. Figures sat inside alongside various goods. Twinkling soda cans and pearl necklaces hung next to each other on string. Stuffed bears and empty plastic bags filled baskets hanging out of car windows. Paint brushes, old CDs, and pine cones set out on car hoods.

Market stalls. Of course. Some of them appeared as cars, others were old barrels and broken-down train cars off to the side. The beckoning of hands felt like it was coming from all directions.

“I don’t have any money!” I called like that would matter. “I’m, I’m a hiker. A traveler passing through.”

“We don’t take money. Those things,” a clump of white moths, fluttering around and around in a mass, spoke. Ink eyes. Beautiful, tumbling curls. She pointed at the empty soda bottles and stuffed animals, “not for you.”

I backed away. “I don’t have anything you might want.”

The clump of moths smiled. “My darling, sweet boy . . . Would you like to be loved?”

I gulped down air. “I have to, have to go.” Weaving between stalls one moment and stalled cars the next, I hurried to where there must be an end. There must be an end to the market.

Fruit the color of sapphires piled high on discarded card tables. Sardine cans and quilted blankets. Water bottles. Canisters and other hiker’s camel backpacks. God, I was thirsty. And I could hear all of them now.

“Boy, would you like unfading beauty?” “Ten years of glory and a lion’s heart. Heart of lion’s for only ten years.”

Calling. Beseeching. A market you could understand the poem’s sisters getting lost in. My sleeve snagged on something in this endless market. I stumbled into what felt like a rock face.

“Hush now, sweet thing,” thick lichen, flaking and upright, spoke, “I will give you a belonging you have never felt before.” My heart went double time and the thirst ached. I knew it was aching. I knew I was Lizzie about to have her skin pinched and clothes torn. Sullied. Or perhaps, like Laura, changed. I wondered about my sister then. I wondered about being home.

“Belonging for thirteen years and thirteen days,” she smiled. My heart raced and I searched the fairy's face. “You deserve to belong just like anyone else, don’t you? Thirteen years and nothing more.”

“Of my life?” She smiled wider and placed a hand on my chest, fingers spreading like a mold. “Or your heart. Your soul. Memories. Wakeful hours. A song.” I shook my head, slowly and then vigorously. I took a step back.

“A bargain then,” her voice crooned in the groaning of old wood, “Twelve years. Twelve days.” Her hand spread, soaking into the flesh of shirt. “And a kiss.”

“Thank you!” I nearly shrieked. “I’m not, I’m not. No.” I stumbled back, teetering away from the bright lights. I ducked and dodged into the darkened wood where smaller, stranger things dwell.

I stepped out of the light. The fairies called after me and their voices, luckily, faded into the murmuring of brooks and bird calls and rustling once more. I turned and felt the despair leach into my center. The line of stalls appeared endless, a train, a caravan, a curse.

I slumped down and put my head in my hands. No matter where I had looked, there was no sign of sun. I counted back from ten before I pried my eyes open again. “Christopher?” I called once and then shivered in place, perhaps the most lost I’ve ever been.

“Would you like to be good?” I didn’t look over when it spoke. “Good and know that you are good.”

I ran a hand through my hair. “I want to go home.” I groaned, still not looking down. “Or at least for my ride to come back.” Christopher, at least, had not tried to make any deals.

“Hmm. Not home. No.”

I saw her hop up from beneath a crop of twisted roots. This fairy was smaller and less beautiful. A dainty clump of mountain ash that was only a hands-length tall. A bushel of delicate white flowers crowned in dew-like hair. She reminded me a bit, only a bit, of Tinker Bell.

“You’ve been running from something,” her voice was more of a squeak. I was tired.

“You could say that.”

She patted my knee and my throat throbbed hard enough to make me groan.“You could be good. And know that you are good.”

I leaned back against the tree trunk. “How much?”

“For good?”

“For home.” “A year or two.” She shrugged. “For being good and knowing you are good. I’m not sure about home.”

I chuckled without humor. “Less than a decade. You’re not much of a bargainer.” “The others know I am small. And crushable.” Dew leaked down her shoulder tops. “So, I’ll take just a year or two of your heart. That’s all.” “My heart?” She shrugged once more, the water making its way down her fluffy skirt and dripping on the ground. “No love. No opening of it.” She put a hand over her chest. “And you’ll be good.” “Good. Huh.” “And know it!” she chirped, “so when you ask yourself, am I doing alright? Am I enough? When I am not earning or making or promising or getting a wife or standing big. You will know. Know that you're good without wondering.” My eyes burned and I rubbed at the corners until I saw spots. I cleared my throat, knowing I needed to steer away. “Where did you come from?” “Silly question.” “Sure.”

“I am like you.” “Not good then?” I raised an eyebrow. “In need of being good, apparently.”

She laughed, shrilly. “No. Not very good at all. Small. Crushable. Small and crushable are not allowed in the queen's caravan.” “That does sound bad,” I said, quietly, staring up. “I’d like to say I know how you feel, but . . .”

“But I do know things. And little boys like, they don’t have to make their own lives so difficult.” “Ha.” My gaze drops to hers. “You’re offering to make my life easy?”

A smile across the face of the little ash fairy, spreading all the way across her face like a jagged wound. “Good.”

My breath wheezed out and I dropped closer. I was tired, eyes heavy, body aching like a kicked dog coming back to sit at your feet. “It wouldn’t hurt, would it?” She held up a cup made of her own petals. A cup of deep water and lapped at my cracked lips. “All you have to do is drink your fill.” The moonlight caught in the shallow dip and I tipped my head back. Three droplets passed down my lips, fresh as spring, cold enough to strike from my chest to my fingertips. I screwed my eyes shut and clutched at my chest.

The cold blossomed and it was what I imagined a heart attack might feel like. Or perhaps the opposite of one.

“Wait, shouldn’t we, shouldn’t there be something to sign–” I choked and sputtered and then pain burst from my middle finger on my left hand. The fairy, small and crushable, dug her teeth into my flesh. Gripping ruthlessly, she attached to an open wound, drinking her fill. Dew perched on her head turned red and she made a supping, singing noise in the back of her throat.

“That’s enough!” I shook her off and another sharp prick went through my wrist. A sting in my neck and then another by elbow. “Stop it!”

A chanting went through my head, a child’s chant like a nursery rhyme. You are good, you are good, you are good. I covered my ears with both hands.

“Stop it!” I bellowed. “This isn’t what we agreed to.” What had we agreed to? The creature tittered and others gathered around it, sharp and hungry. The roots and the rot and the writhing soil.

I stood, world spinning and heart crushing together into a perfect aching cold. Are fairies allowed to be liars? A tingling spread to the ends of my fingertips and a dizziness overwhelmed me. I covered my mouth with one hand and stopped myself from heaving.

I might have blacked out, blacked out and not come back, and then a light parted the darkness of the wood.

“What have you done?” The words echoed in my head. The face of man, inkdrop eyes, and shining curly hair, looked down on me, pitying. “No,” he said simply. “You can’t. He is my guest.”

Blood seeped out of the cut on my hand and I think I might faint, actually faint like in the movies. Strong hands caught me and then two fingers, clean and warm, human even, pressed to my mouth. Light like the moon poured off of him. “Swallow,” he said. The light burned away the sickly chill. A white fire, burning a path down my throat and into my chest and leaving new life in its wake.

“Better?” A crown hovered around the man’s head in a halo, stars, the moon even.

Maybe I could have stayed, made clean and whole, and neither good nor bad. Could have stayed to be made better by the prince of fairies. But I wasn’t that type of person. Voices, again, of birds and wind and roots. I tuned them out. My eyes fixed on lanterns in the distance, meaningless words rushing over me. He spoke of being clean now, healed. The lantern flickered, floating there like something from the stories.

I looked down at my veins, spiderwebbed in light. They glowed from the inside out. A light, poured from the outside in. A hand was on my knee. Like it had been in the car and I saw it was my own, digging into my flesh. My own hand clutching my own knee and taking me back to myself.

“Can we get him a blanket?” Christopher turned his face. I bolted. No packback, no thoughts, only feet on the ground. Light blared into my face, branches gripped at my clothes, tearing at seams. My nose began to bleed, tasting heated and metallic. I didn’t stop to mop it up. I kept the light of that bobbing thing in my vision, running and bleeding like I never had before.

Later, I would learn a will-o-wisp will is a type of fairy as well, meant for travelers. A light that will get you lost or drown you, if it gets the chance. Though, I was already lost. I ran until my shoes lost the ground. One moment I was sailing ahead, the next I burst through the surface of a lake. Cold engulfed me from all sides, plunging me back into my flesh. I kicked for the surface, up into the fresh night. The trees surrounded this lake in beetle-worn packs, brown and small. Mud caked the banks of the water. Stars were distant and small overhead. I laughed.

I tore at my shirt and shoes and pants and rubbed deep dark mud across my skin. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

The water ran muddy. Ran red. Then, at least, ran a bright horrible glow, bleeding out and out and out. I bled out the glow of the fairy prince. I washed myself, heaving enough laughter until it turned into a whimper. I scrubbed myself raw until the water, with the sun rising among the peaks, ran clear.

—----------------

I thought of the prince now and then, how he saved my heart from closing. How he looked at me. How he poured light down my throat, burning me up from the inside out and taking with it a curse. I should be grateful. I went home after all, I hugged my sister and my parents. Hell, I even re-signed up for classes, even as I knew I’d eventually drop out again. Went on a few dates. Gained some roommates I loved and a dog I liked even more. I told stories and stayed. My heart was my own. But I didn’t come back the same after hitchhiking into the depths of the woods in the dark of the road. It was hard to be grateful. Hard for it to feel like a favor to have my heart kept open when it was only replaced by a worse sort of feeling. Longing and longing and longing for inky depths and impossibility, memory that grips you by the throat and murmurs, what if you had stayed?

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

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pandapetals · 8 months ago

Text

Cage Fight

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

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

read on Ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

And according to Xavier, Magneto wanted him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, the quiet of the night shattered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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maxmcyfield · 1 month ago

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💕 — ANNA CATHCART as kitty song covey in xo, kitty s2 (2025) , part one

click the source link or icon to be redirected to 467 gifs sized at 268x151px of chinese/irish-canadian actor, anna cathcart (2003) from their role as kitty song covey in season two of xo, kitty (2025) episodes 1-4! i made all these gifs from scratch so please, do not claim as your own/steal/redistribute. please reblog/like if you found this useful or use them! warnings: flashing lights, kissing

* please ask permission if you’d like to crop them for personal use.

#anna cathcart gif pack #anna cathcart gif hunt #anna cathcart #gifpacknetwork #supportcontentcreators #dearindies #fcxdirectory #gifpacksgalore #gifpacksociety #rph #gifpackshq #gif hunt #gifhunthub #gif pack

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blurryhowlett · 8 months ago

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Home is whenever I’m with you

——————————————

Logan gave up on trying to find a home a long time ago. From running away from his childhood home, to having to leave his cabin hidden away in the Canadian mountains, to coming back to the only home he had and to see his family slaughtered.. Logan had finally just accepted that he was not made to have a home.

Logan believed that all he was and what he will ever be is just a weapon. A form of chaos and violence that will follow him everywhere he goes. He wasn’t safe to be around, he was a failure, all he’s good at and will ever be good at is causing destruction. He was no hero, never mind being apart of the X-men. His X-men weren’t even alive because of him, their blood will forever be on his hands. He’s the worst Wolverine after all, the only name that sounded fitting for him.

He lost everyone. He lost Hank, Jean, Scott, Kurt- god, if he keeps going on like this, he thinks he might break down and Logan wasn’t a big fan of crying but yet, his throat was closing up and it burned worse than the straight vodka he chugs almost on a daily basis because whiskey just stopped being strong for him.

‘Logan..’ He could hear Jean’s voice echo in his head, or maybe it was Hank’s, was it Kurt?

‘Logan..?’

No, that voice was not fitting any of his family’s voices.

‘Peanut?’

Wait, he was never called such a ridiculous nickname by any of them.

“Are you spacing out on me again?”

Logan blinks away tears he didn’t even know that he had, finally coming back to the real life world. Logan had been having bad issues of dissociating, even if he didn’t know that word until he met Wade which told him that’s exactly what Logan does as another way of coping with all of his trauma. Though, Logan wasn’t big on fancy words.

“Jesus, Peanut, are you crying? This isn’t even a sad episode.” Wade speaks up again, leaning over from his side of the couch with a hint of concern in his voice. Now Logan officially snaps out of it and sees that he’s in the cramped living room of Wade’s shared apartment with blind Al, (even if he still believed that it was incredibly rude to call her that, ironic since Logan wasn’t much better and was an asshole all the time) it was probably around nine at night, the living room dark with the only source of light coming off from the tv that was playing golden girls.

“I’m not crying.” Logan finally speaks up when he collects himself, letting out a sniff as if he needed some sort of proof that maybe this was just some sort of allergies. It was true though, Logan may of gotten a bit teary eye for a second but he was *not* crying.

“Yeah, sure, alright.” Wade says, not going to push it further, he would push his buttons in many others ways and speaking of buttons, Wade would love to undo Logan’s buttons with his teeth and- okay, maybe he should calm down.

“When are you going to bed? You’re taking up the whole couch.” Logan grumbles out, knowing that his bed was the small couch in the apartment that barely fits him.

“Bed?” Wade questions him as he lets out a snort, “I’m not even done with the episode! I thought we were doing a golden girls marathon!”

“Yeah, I didn’t fucking agree to that.” Logan tells him, picking up the half empty beer bottle on the floor next to the couch and takes a swing of whatever was left in it. “I’m tired, Wade. Call it a night, will you?”

This was him pushing Wade away yet again, falling into the deepest part of his mind and now needing isolation. Besides, he was a grown man and he can do whatever the hell he wants with his feelings. If that meant drinking away his sorrows and keeping himself alone so his thoughts could eat him alive- he will. Logan didn’t need a babysitter or a therapist which he felt like Wade was trying to be both most of the time.

Don’t get Logan wrong, he was grateful that Wade was letting him crash on his couch. He may be an asshole but he’s not greedy and as much as he wants to complain how he feels his spine is slowly bending into him having full on scoliosis- he just won’t. Though, Wade sometimes makes him want to blow his brains out, not that it would help because he would just get back up in a minute or two and then have to deal with a throbbing headache. Turns out, a healing factor doesn’t take away any headaches and he’s learned that from many hangovers.

“Call it a night? It’s nine! Come on, I know you’re an old man but do you really gotta start acting like one?” Wade whines out to him, slumping back into the couch just to show that he wasn’t moving. Logan only lets out a grunt, placing the now empty beer bottle back onto the floor as he shoots Wade a look. “I’m not acting like anything, I’m tired.”

“Oh bullshit.” Wade tells him and it comes out in such a way that it makes Logan flinch.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? You think I’m lying about being tired? I’m always tired.”

“I know you are, I wish you would just talk about it.” Wade told him, giving him the shrug of the shoulders as Logan grows confused. “Talk about how tired I am? I just did, I’m ready to go to bed and this couch is my bed so get your ass up and turn the tv off.”

“Woah, woah, no need to get so hostile.” Wade tells him, putting his hands up in a mock surrender but he still doesn’t budge. It’s only been a few months since the two of them had saved the world and then moved Logan into his already tight apartment that smelled of despair and now dog piss with the new addition of the family, (Logan acts like he hates that fucking dog but if anything, he hates how much that dog was starting to grow on him.) and Logan had yet to bring any of his walls down in front of Wade. Even with Logan trying to start a new life, it was hard for him to let it go. Not that Wade was expecting him to let go of his trauma but he just wished that Logan would grow comfortable enough to even call this place his home. That was Wade’s goal, to get Logan to finally admit that this was his home too.

“I’m not trying to get hostile-“ Logan starts, only to be cut off by a mutter from Wade, “well that’s a first..”

“Wade!” Logan snapped, finally having enough, “turn the fucking show off and let me get some damn sleep!”

Wade gives him a look, putting his arm over the couch and a leg over his other. “Well, so much for not trying to be hostile..”

“It’s hard when you always try to push me, I don’t have the energy like you do and I just want to go to bed.” Logan grumbled out to him but his features slightly softened.

“Alright, alright, I get it. The old man needs his beauty sleep. Fine- but we will try this marathon tomorrow night.” Wade says, getting up from the couch as he stretches out. “But just to let you know, when I was talking about you talking about your tiredness.. I wasn’t talking about physical exhaustion.”

Logan lets out his own snort, letting out a bitter chuckle and it was clear that he was somewhat drunk. “I didn’t come to crash here just so I can start opening up about my feelings.”

“You aren’t crashing here, you’re living here. This is your home too y’know..” Wade reminds him and Logan lets out a scoff, waving his hand like he was physically trying to dismiss the idea.

There was silence for a moment, enough for logan to finally speak up. “Well? Are you going to-“

“Why won’t you call this place your home?” Wade blurts out to him, not being able to keep the question inside of him for much longer. It seems to catch Logan off guard, raising an eyebrow for a moment as he had look of confusion. “What the fuck are you blabbering about?”

“You won’t call this place your home- you either say it’s my place or blind Al’s.”

“Because it is?” Logan says, as if he had to state the obvious and it only drives Wade to madness even if he was pretty much already there. “No, this is our home. We share it, all three of us. It was your home the moment you walked in here.”

“I walked in here because I have no other place to go.” Logan comments, making Wade now scoff and roll his eyes. “Face it, peanut- if you really didn’t want to stay here, you would stay out in the streets asking for change instead.”

That seemed to hit a nerve, having Wade expose him like that- expose him for proving a point that if yeah, if Logan really didn’t want to be here then he would’ve left. Nobody is keeping him here, he’s not forced to stay but yet- the thought of leaving this place gave him a familiar ache in his chest.

“What the fuck do you want me to say, Wade? Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because I’m getting sick and tired of you still keeping those walls up, we saved the world together for Christ sake- the least you can do is open up a little.” Wade tells him, starting to feel embarrassed for how worked up he was getting just over the mere fact that Logan wasn’t opening up to him. Did he not trust Wade? Well, given how he has lied to Logan in the past- he can understand but really, it wasn’t a lie, it was an educated wish.

“Open up? What do you want me to say?” Logan asked him and it was clear that his temper was rising, he was losing his patience.

“Well maybe-“ Wade starts but he’s cut off by a drunken wheeze from Logan.

“Oh! Oh! I get it, you want me to sit here and bawl my fucking eyes out and tell you how miserable I am and for what? To make yourself feel better about your own miserable life?”

“Okay first off- ouch.” Wade says, playing it off as a joke but he could feel his gut twist at Logan’s words, “and second off- no, that’s not what I’m trying to do here. I’m trying to get you to feel comfortable enough here.”

“Comfortable? What? Cuz I’m not walking around in my underwear like you do half the time here?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Wade finally snaps, but yeah, maybe that would be nice to be able to see but now wasn’t the time to be horny. “What I’m saying is- ugh, you’re difficult!”

“And you’re annoying.”

“At least I own up to that!” Wade tells him with a huff, making Logan roll his eyes and get ready for another beer out of the ripped open case on the floor. But not until Wade stops him, grabbing at his wrist which makes Logan narrow his eyes at him and pull away from his grip. “I think you’ve had enough.”

Logan gives him a look, a look of disbelief that says ‘are you seriously trying to cut me off?’

“I’m a grown man, I can have another drink if I want to.” Logan snaps at him, almost like he was offended at the fact that Wade of all people were trying to sit him down and have a talk about his feelings. Fuck his feelings, his feelings didn’t matter. None of this mattered, why was Wade making this a big deal?

“I’ll let you have the drink if you just have this conversation with me-“ Wade now is trying to bribe him, kicking the case of beer away with his foot and leaving it out of arms reach from where Logan was sitting.

“I’ll let you keep watching your goddamn show if this is what you’re trying to get at-“

“So close!” Wade tells him, “I actually am trying to get you to open up so you aren’t dealing with your shit alone.”

“I’ve always dealt with my shit alone, Wade. Why are you trying to be a therapist all of a sudden? This is getting fucking annoying, if I can’t drink then I’m going to bed.” Logan grumbles out, now trying to lay down onto the couch but Wade falls back towards the end just as Logan was close to putting his head down, making his head fall onto Wade’s lap.

“Hi.” Wade says, looking down at him as Logan blinks before sitting back up and scrambling back to the other side of the couch. “Will you knock it off already?!”

“Just give me a reason-“ Wade starts and his mind immediately goes to that one pink song, already singing it in his head. “Just a little bits enough..” it slips out of his mouth and Logan stares at him as if he has two heads. “What the fuck are you on?”

Wade finally snaps out of it, waving his hands, “oh, I’m sober- unfortunately but look, I’m just saying to give me a real reason on why you have yet to say that this is your home too.”

“Because it’s not my home.” He states bluntly, having to say it through gritted teeth. “Why are we doing this late night conversation shit anyways?”

“Because it’s the best time to talk about feelings- ugh, get with the program!” Wade pinches the bridge of his nose with frustration, shaking his head. Wade soon grabs Logan by his face, making the other man let out a low warning growl as his cheeks were squished. “Just. Talk. About. Your. Feelings.” Wade tells him, moving inch by inch closer to his face.

“I. Would. Rather. Die.” Logan growls back in the same format, ripping wade’s hands off of his face.

“Fine! Then just at least accept that this is your home too, will you?! This is your place too, peanut! Me and Al have been trying to put money together to get rid of this shitty couch and try to get a couch that opens up into a bed for you, we want you to be comfortable here!” Wade rambled out with a groan, making Logan freeze. “What?..”

“What?” Wade echoed back to him, blinking.

“You’re buying me what?”

“A couch that opens up into a bed, y’know- it’s like-“

“I know what it is, Wade.” Logan says, “I mean- why are you doing that?”

“I just told you why, we want you to be comfortable here.” Wade says once more, now frowning, “I want this to be a home for you, Logan..” Wade tells him now in a softer tone and it always catches Logan off guard when Wade becomes serious, “now, I know how you are- okay? I get it, I do but you’re safe here and me and Al are also safe being around you too. Even Mary Puppins is safe here around you! You don’t need to feel like you can’t grow comfortable here in fear that something will go wrong.”

Logan hates how right he is, hates that it’s the truth and nothing but the truth. Logan didn’t want to bring his walls down to Wade in fear that even Wade might get snatched away from him, he didn’t want to call this place a home because he doesn’t know what he will do if he grows attached to this place and this also gets taken from him. Sadly, he already knew deep down that this was home for him.

Finally, Logan starts to slowly cave into this stupid therapy session. “What if something does go wrong..?” Logan mutters out to him and Wade has to restraint himself from lighting up at the fact that Logan was becoming vulnerable with him.

“Listen, I’m not one to beat around the bush. I’m Deadpool and you’re Wolverine, shit is gonna hit the fan once in awhile and sometimes that fan is gonna crash down and burst into flames and then explode and then-“

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” Logan grunts out to him, Wade shifting on the couch as he clears his throat. “Right.. but what I’m trying to tell you is that whatever happens, you don’t have to go through it alone anymore.” Wade explains, “and that no matter what we go through, and remember that keyword ‘we’ because it’s very important- we will always come back home to our sweet daughter and blind Al.”

Logan wanted to scowl at that but he felt that warm fuzz in his chest at the thought that he finally has a place to come home to after a long day, that this was certain of. That this wasn’t going anywhere, that Wade wasn’t going anywhere. “Thoughts?” Wade breaks the silence, patting his lap, “come on, tell Dr.Wilson, this is all confidential.”

To Wade‘a surprise, Logan starts to lean back as he puts his head on Wade’s lap. It makes Wade feel giddy, feeling that energy bounce around inside of him as it was begging to come out. So, Wade only squirms slightly onto the couch to try to satisfy his undiagnosed ADHD. “Well, It all began when I was born..” Logan says and cracks a loopy smirk. Wade lets out a gasp, putting a hand on his heart as he realizes that Logan had just made a joke. (Though, there was some truth to his words..) “What year was that again?” Wade asked him, Logan looking up at him from his lap, “1832” which makes Wade let out a long whistle. “I bet your bones are dusty, you’ve definitely reached your expiration date.”

Logan snorts, “I’ve reached my expiration date a whole century ago, bub.”

“Well, if it means anything, I’m glad you haven’t actually.. y’know..” Wade trails off, suddenly feeling.. shy? This was new to him. He hasn’t felt this feeling since he had met Vanessa. “What? Died?” Logan asked him with his knowing smirk, he would blame it on the alcohol for this change in his demeanor but his healing factor was already sobering him up.

“Yeah.. died.” Wade muttered out to him, leaning back against the couch as his hand starts to move on it’s own, his fingers finding Logan’s hair and starting to tangle into it.

“What are you doing?” Logan asked but he didn’t reject the touch, only looking up at him with a curious look.

“To be honest, this just kinda happened. Do you want me to stop?”

Logan thinks for a moment while feeling Wade’s fingers roam around his scalp, the tip of his fingers scratching at a spot that just felt too good. “Nah..” Logan finally says, his eyes starting to droop and there’s a small sound of what sounded like a purr coming from deep within Logan’s chest.

“Holy..” Wade starts but he knew better than to give a big reaction, Logan was like a cat in a lot of ways and if he became too excited then he would just scare the big guy away. So, he shuts his mouth and enjoys the sound of the rumbling coming from Logan’s chest.

Soon enough, there was just silence between the two of them with only the background noise of Wade’s tv show that was long forgotten. Though, the silence eventually ended when Logan spoke up again. “Wade..?”

“Yeah.?” Wade glances back down to the man, seeing him already fighting to stay awake and he believed it was just for the mere fact that he wanted to keep feeling Wade’s fingers through his hair.

“I lied before..” Logan mutters out to him, his voice gruff and groggy. “This is my home too..”

“Can you say that one more time..? My phone wasn’t recording-“

“Wade.”

“Okay..okay..” Wade grumbled out to him with a huff, yet there was a twitch to his lips as a smile started to form. “I’m glad you believe me and I’m glad you’re trusting me. You’re safe here, peanut. Nobody is taking this home away from you.”

“And what about you?..” Logan dares to ask, the question slipping out before he could stop himself and it made Wade realize that Logan was associating home with him and he felt like his heart was about to burst inside his chest.

“Nobody is taking me anywhere either.”

And with that, Logan gives him a grunt before melting into the couch and slipping away into darkness and tonight, Logan didn’t have a nightmare and Wade decided to fall asleep sitting upright on the couch because the number one rule is that if a cat sleeps on your lap, you cannot get up.

“Psst.. between you and me..” Wade says, looking up at you, “don’t tell him that I see him as cat. Now shoo, I don’t need you watching us sleep, weirdo.”

#deadpool and wolverine #worst wolverine #deadpool 3 #logan wolverine #logan howlett #wade wilson #wade x logan #wolverpool

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mindblowingscience · 10 months ago

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Researchers at the University of Toronto are using artificial intelligence to accelerate scientific breakthroughs in the search for sustainable energy. They have used the Canadian Light Source (CLS) at the University of Saskatchewan (USask) to confirm that an AI-generated "recipe" for a new catalyst offered a more efficient way to make hydrogen fuel. To create green hydrogen, you pass electricity that's been generated from renewable resources between two pieces of metal in water. This causes oxygen and hydrogen gases to be released. The problem with this process is that it currently requires a lot of electricity and the metals used are rare and expensive.

#Science #Chemistry #Analytical Chemistry #Materials Science #Hydrogen #AI #Artifical Intelligence #Machine Learning

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suckerforbassist · 9 months ago

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Short drabble

Warnings: NSFW (minors DNI, 18+ only), pussy eating (Sort of), cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), swearing, pet names, not proof read

a/n: hello tumblr community! This is my first drabble and had been in my pc folder since 2021 :) originally, the character was a different person but due to my change of interest, I decided to choose logan as my main character haha.

Word count: 1.8k

“W-what are we doing here?” He dragged me back to his hotel room after the incident at the club.

The noise from the hallway of the hotel became inaudible as the door were shut by the Canadian man and oh shit-

I was left alone in this empty room with this maniac plus the surroundings of the room isn’t helping at all. We barely see each others face and the dim light shone through the curtain from the moon outside was the only source of light. His broad back faced the door, blocking the exit and his facial glinted due to the strangely gleamed by the moonlight. The pair of chocolate eyes bored into mine, not even glancing away from me. I looked away, knowing that he made me felt certain feeling towards him. Crossed my arms to show my confidence that he is not making me nervous even though my heart raced and butterflies fluttered in my belly. A pregnant of silence later, I heard he cleared his throat.

“We’re gonna have a conversation.”

I averted to him in confusion, “There’s nothing to talk about, Logan.”

“Yes there is, sweetheart! Whether you like it or not, you and I are gonna stuck in here- talk it out.”

He exclaimed, still staring into my face. I scoffed with the name he called me. I used to hate that name- but, when it came out from that lips, it just felt right. My eyes landed on his lips, I wondered how that pair of lips felt against mine. Would it felt soft as feather? What would it taste like? Hell, what was I thinking? We hated each other. Immediately, I asserted,

“Stop calling me that! I’m not letting out a single word. Starting from now.”

Logan sighed but he pursued anyway, “Why are you avoiding me?”

My eyes wandered everywhere except for his figure who was standing 4 feet away from me. Mouth was sealed not giving him the satisfaction. Made him frustrated but, it was replaced with a mysterious smirk.

“Fine, you wanna play like that, huh?” Pair of eyes staring into mine. “Then, let the lips do the work.”

“What-”

Swiftly, he took a couple strides towards me and I felt Logan’s right palm caressed softly my cheek as his other hand held onto my waist and pressed his lips against mine. Soft and delicate. So, my assumption about those lips was true. I was daze and my lips froze against his but quickly picked it up when I felt his lips pressed against me a bit harder but, still delicate. Our chests brushed against one another, I felt his heart beating rapidly and so was mine. Logan was about to pull away when I did not give him much response but, I instantly gripped lapel of his flannel shirt and pulled him for another kiss.

All I could remember was that kiss was hot and intense as we picked up the pace. My arms automatically wrapped around his neck as I felt Logan’s hand roamed my back and lower until he rested on my ass. Squeezed it, a squeal escape from my mouth and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into my wet cavern. Exploring every inch of my mouth. Left the tingling sensation all over my body and down to the core. His tongue was erratic, eager to taste every inch of my mouth.

I was not even aware that he bend his knees a bit lower and felt both of his hands caressed the back of my thighs. Gasp escaped from my lips as I was being lifted and forced my legs to wrap around his waist, making the hem of the dress lifted a bit. Setting me gently against the soft sheet of his hotel bed whilst his lips explored to my jaw, few pecks were given delicately and down to the crook my neck. A rattle breath left my lips as the plum pair of lips were pressed on the particular spot on my neck. His sucking, bite and lick made me swoon and unmindful, my eyes were shut closed due to the unforgettably pleasure. Hands were roaming the back of his neck and unruly curls. Fingers were tangled in between the curls.

“Lo- please.”

Biting the bottom of my lips to contain the sound as he moved towards south to my clavicle, leaving wet kisses behind. His left hand was grazing teasingly at the side of my breast and then, rested on the hip while his right hand propped next to my head. Absentmindedly, I lifted my hips against his. A friction gained between our crouch and immediately I jolted towards the excitement. A few bold grunt were heard by the man above me as I continued to tease. A second later, he halted and I no longer felt his warmth. The hand on the side of my hip was no longer presence. When I opened my eyes, he knelt in front of me with the eyes filled with guilt and lust. Panting and redden cheeks, ran his eyes away from mine.

“Logan?” I sat up on the sheet with him still between my legs.

“This is wrong. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kiss you o-or force you-”

He was not the broody-jerk Logan at the moment, he was so much vulnerable and subtle Logan. The one that I grew accustom to these past few days. Without second thoughts, I knelt in front of him and palmed his stubbly cheeks.

“Hey, non of these are your fault. You didn’t force me to do this. I wanted it, Logan.” His orbs directly staring into mine, looking for sign of discomfort in mine.

“I want you.”

He croaked, “Are you sure?”

I leaned onto him and pressed my lips against his. At the moment, I don’t even care what’s going to happen between us tomorrow, tried my best to ignore all the wrong thoughts after we happened to sleep together. Shifted onto his lap with my thighs straddled him. He was a little hesitant and tried to assure with my decision. He broke the kiss and opened his mouth tried to say something but I beat to him.

“Lo, shut up and unzip me.”

He grunted while his hand wandered behind my back and skillfully, dragged the zip down. Instantly, I lifted from his lap and stood in front of the man. Sensually, my hands roamed the side of my body, purposely touch the tits without leaving my eyes from him. His eyed me lustfully while licking his lips. I reached both of my dress’s straps with thumbs and slowly dragged it down my shoulder. Soon, the satin fabric dropped and pooled around my feet. Leaving me in only strapless navy blue lace bra and panties. A groan left from his lips and a prominent bulge could be seen from his jeans.

“Twirl slowly for me, bub.” His husky voice made me shuddered and my tummy fluttered.

I complied to his order and as I was about to face him, I felt his warm hands on the side of my hips. Pulled me onto his laps, straddled his thighs. Without seconds thought, he pulled me into a desperate kiss and mumbled.

“You’re a goddess. So beautiful.”

His praise made me even wetter and a moan slipped from my throat.

“Tell me, what do you want?”

“I want you. All of you.”

Hastily, he flipped me and my back was against the soft mattress. I felt his lips everywhere and I kept whining as I felt his lips on the braline, one of his hands snaked behind and skillfully took off the strap. As the piece of flimsy fabric came off, Logan was stunned and his throat bobbed. His brown eyes scanned my chest delicately and then averted to my eyes asking permission to touch them but, I pouted.

“Why am I half naked and you’re not?” He chuckled and asked me if I wanted to undress him. Hell, yeah gladly.

When he stripped to only boxer, my hand sneakily went down to his crouch to touch the prominent bulge but, he was quicker. Grabbed, my wrist and brought it above my head. When I asked him why, he said he wanted to taste my skin first. I moaned and begged for him to touch me there.

“Patience, Princess. You’ll get what you want.”

With his a hand still locked both of my arms above my head, he began to explore my chest. Left a trail of wet kisses, licking and sucking the skin around the nipple. I huffed in frustration and tried to tug my hands from his grip. Logan let out a deep chuckled and continued sucking.

“Lo, please.” I whined. “Want you-” Gasped as I felt his tongue licked my left nipple, circled it and then playfully bit the nipple. Wrapped his lips around it and started to suck. Moaned at the sensation and it sent straight to my heat, damped my panties. He did the same to my right nipple, took his time whilst I was squirming mess underneath him.

Logan finally stopped and sat up straight while letting my hands free, stared at his masterpiece that he just created. His mouth was agape, cheeks were flustered and his eyes were blown in lust. At the same time, that pair of eyes were filled with adoration and I dared to say was love. But I can’t, falling in love with him was a huge mistake.

All of my doubts disappear as I felt his fingers trailed my inner thigh delicately, his other hand rested on my hip. Pleasure sent all over my body as his forefinger and middle pressed at the front of my panties, rubbed the wetness up and down. I moaned and fists the pillow underneath my head. Logan mumbled ‘beautiful’ but I was too busy to acknowledge his vocabulary.

“So wet for me, baby.” He leaned between my crouch and continued pressing and circling my covered bundle of nerves with his thumb. I felt a couple of pecks on the hem of my panties and suddenly the pressure on my clit’s gone. I sighed in frustration and sensed Logan was smirking.

“I swear Logan, your balls gonna be blue if you don’t hurry up.”

He chuckled, “No need to be mad, bub. I was just taking my time.”

Both his fingers curled at the hem of my panties but halted as his gentle yet lustful eyes met mine, asking for permission. I lifted my hips as allowing him to take off the flimsy piece. A groan escaped from the bassist lips.

“Fuck baby, all this for me?” He was inches away from my dripping cunt and sniffed, “Smell so amazing, I bet you taste wonderful, sweetheart.”

The way he talked made my face heated in embarrassment and hid my face in my palms. He tutted and removed my hands, placed them both on the duvet. Knowing those hands will gripped the duvet tightly or flying around his hair or back.

“Wanna see you.” He winked, “Just scratch me or anything, alright? I don’t mind.” He dived into my cunt like a starved man.

Gasped as he licked clean-

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jcmarchi · 6 months ago

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MIT scientists pin down the origins of a fast radio burst

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/mit-scientists-pin-down-the-origins-of-a-fast-radio-burst/

MIT scientists pin down the origins of a fast radio burst

Fast radio bursts are brief and brilliant explosions of radio waves emitted by extremely compact objects such as neutron stars and possibly black holes. These fleeting fireworks last for just a thousandth of a second and can carry an enormous amount of energy — enough to briefly outshine entire galaxies.

Since the first fast radio burst (FRB) was discovered in 2007, astronomers have detected thousands of FRBs, whose locations range from within our own galaxy to as far as 8 billion light-years away. Exactly how these cosmic radio flares are launched is a highly contested unknown.

Now, astronomers at MIT have pinned down the origins of at least one fast radio burst using a novel technique that could do the same for other FRBs. In their new study, appearing today in the journal Nature, the team focused on FRB 20221022A — a previously discovered fast radio burst that was detected from a galaxy about 200 million light-years away.

The team zeroed in further to determine the precise location of the radio signal by analyzing its “scintillation,” similar to how stars twinkle in the night sky. The scientists studied changes in the FRB’s brightness and determined that the burst must have originated from the immediate vicinity of its source, rather than much further out, as some models have predicted.

The team estimates that FRB 20221022A exploded from a region that is extremely close to a rotating neutron star, 10,000 kilometers away at most. That’s less than the distance between New York and Singapore. At such close range, the burst likely emerged from the neutron star’s magnetosphere — a highly magnetic region immediately surrounding the ultracompact star.

The team’s findings provide the first conclusive evidence that a fast radio burst can originate from the magnetosphere, the highly magnetic environment immediately surrounding an extremely compact object.

“In these environments of neutron stars, the magnetic fields are really at the limits of what the universe can produce,” says lead author Kenzie Nimmo, a postdoc in MIT’s Kavli Institute for Astrophysics and Space Research. “There’s been a lot of debate about whether this bright radio emission could even escape from that extreme plasma.”

“Around these highly magnetic neutron stars, also known as magnetars, atoms can’t exist — they would just get torn apart by the magnetic fields,” says Kiyoshi Masui, associate professor of physics at MIT. “The exciting thing here is, we find that the energy stored in those magnetic fields, close to the source, is twisting and reconfiguring such that it can be released as radio waves that we can see halfway across the universe.”

The study’s MIT co-authors include Adam Lanman, Shion Andrew, Daniele Michilli, and Kaitlyn Shin, along with collaborators from multiple institutions.

Burst size

Detections of fast radio bursts have ramped up in recent years, due to the Canadian Hydrogen Intensity Mapping Experiment (CHIME). The radio telescope array comprises four large, stationary receivers, each shaped like a half-pipe, that are tuned to detect radio emissions within a range that is highly sensitive to fast radio bursts.

Since 2020, CHIME has detected thousands of FRBs from all over the universe. While scientists generally agree that the bursts arise from extremely compact objects, the exact physics driving the FRBs is unclear. Some models predict that fast radio bursts should come from the turbulent magnetosphere immediately surrounding a compact object, while others predict that the bursts should originate much further out, as part of a shockwave that propagates away from the central object.

To distinguish between the two scenarios, and determine where fast radio bursts arise, the team considered scintillation — the effect that occurs when light from a small bright source such as a star, filters through some medium, such as a galaxy’s gas. As the starlight filters through the gas, it bends in ways that make it appear, to a distant observer, as if the star is twinkling. The smaller or the farther away an object is, the more it twinkles. The light from larger or closer objects, such as planets in our own solar system, experience less bending, and therefore do not appear to twinkle.

The team reasoned that if they could estimate the degree to which an FRB scintillates, they might determine the relative size of the region from where the FRB originated. The smaller the region, the closer in the burst would be to its source, and the more likely it is to have come from a magnetically turbulent environment. The larger the region, the farther the burst would be, giving support to the idea that FRBs stem from far-out shockwaves.

Twinkle pattern

To test their idea, the researchers looked to FRB 20221022A, a fast radio burst that was detected by CHIME in 2022. The signal lasts about two milliseconds, and is a relatively run-of-the-mill FRB, in terms of its brightness. However, the team’s collaborators at McGill University found that FRB 20221022A exhibited one standout property: The light from the burst was highly polarized, with the angle of polarization tracing a smooth S-shaped curve. This pattern is interpreted as evidence that the FRB emission site is rotating — a characteristic previously observed in pulsars, which are highly magnetized, rotating neutron stars.

To see a similar polarization in fast radio bursts was a first, suggesting that the signal may have arisen from the close-in vicinity of a neutron star. The McGill team’s results are reported in a companion paper today in Nature.

The MIT team realized that if FRB 20221022A originated from close to a neutron star, they should be able to prove this, using scintillation.

In their new study, Nimmo and her colleagues analyzed data from CHIME and observed steep variations in brightness that signaled scintillation — in other words, the FRB was twinkling. They confirmed that there is gas somewhere between the telescope and FRB that is bending and filtering the radio waves. The team then determined where this gas could be located, confirming that gas within the FRB’s host galaxy was responsible for some of the scintillation observed. This gas acted as a natural lens, allowing the researchers to zoom in on the FRB site and determine that the burst originated from an extremely small region, estimated to be about 10,000 kilometers wide.

“This means that the FRB is probably within hundreds of thousands of kilometers from the source,” Nimmo says. “That’s very close. For comparison, we would expect the signal would be more than tens of millions of kilometers away if it originated from a shockwave, and we would see no scintillation at all.”

“Zooming in to a 10,000-kilometer region, from a distance of 200 million light years, is like being able to measure the width of a DNA helix, which is about 2 nanometers wide, on the surface of the moon,” Masui says. “There’s an amazing range of scales involved.”

The team’s results, combined with the findings from the McGill team, rule out the possibility that FRB 20221022A emerged from the outskirts of a compact object. Instead, the studies prove for the first time that fast radio bursts can originate from very close to a neutron star, in highly chaotic magnetic environments.

“These bursts are always happening, and CHIME detects several a day,” Masui says. “There may be a lot of diversity in how and where they occur, and this scintillation technique will be really useful in helping to disentangle the various physics that drive these bursts.”

This research was supported by various institutions including the Canada Foundation for Innovation, the Dunlap Institute for Astronomy and Astrophysics at the University of Toronto, the Canadian Institute for Advanced Research, the Trottier Space Institute at McGill University, and the University of British Columbia.

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