#LAB fermentation

[jazzeria]

I've gotten pretty comfortable at making sauerkraut now, and have settled into a comfortably familiar household recipe (cabbage, carrot, carraway seed). So I wanted to try something slightly different, see if I like it enough to add it to the rotation.

This sauerkraut includes kale: de-stemmed and cut into short ribbons. I also cut the cabbage into shorter lenghts for this one, which resulted in some confetti-like pieces.

Packed tightly into a jar, this kraut reminded me of something...

Ah, there it is.

Although, that's an extremely specific environment to make CADPAT for!

[acti-veg]

Animal farming ranks alongside fossil fuel production as one of the two most destructive industries on Earth. It’s not just the vast greenhouse gas emissions and the water and air pollution it causes. Even more important is the amount of land it requires. Land use is a crucial environmental metric, because every hectare we occupy is a hectare that cannot support wild ecosystems.

Wild ecosystems are crucial for the survival of most species on Earth, and of Earth systems themselves: for example, the rainforest and cerrado of South America help to regulate weather systems. The Amazon rainforest is being destroyed above all by cattle ranching, whose expansion is driven in part by the foodie fad for “grass-fed” beef. The cerrado is being trashed primarily by soy farming to produce feed for pigs and chickens.

Feeding ourselves with animal products is a fantastically profligate and inefficient way of using land, swallowing at least four times as much as all the other food we grow while providing just 17% of our calories. More than any other factor, it drives the destruction of forests, wetlands, savannas, rivers and other habitats. Weaning ourselves off these products is as important as weaning ourselves off oil, gas and coal.

Governments seeking to ban alternatives to animal products have scarcely sought to disguise their motivation: protectionism. Several politicians and officials have openly admitted that they’re trying to defend established industries – meat and dairy – against competition. In every other sector they claim to favour “free markets”, and protectionism attracts major penalties. In this sector, it is enforced by legislation.

[sssnowyowl]

Tiny Blog Stuff: sharing some lab stuff from college

Electrolysis of dyes

Cell Structure through a microscope (plant cell and onion cell)

Photosynthesis/Celluar Respiration with a cabomba plant

Fermentation of yeast

I like lab and biology but lectures always makes me sleepy…

[fermentertechnologies]

Application and Advantages of Lab Scale Fermenter

Understanding Lab-Scale Bioreactors

Lab-scale bioreactors, often referred to as benchtop bioreactors, are compact vessels designed to facilitate the growth and manipulation of various biological entities under controlled conditions. These reactors mimic the natural environment of microorganisms or cells, providing optimal conditions for proliferation, metabolism, and product formation.

Components and Design

The design of lab-scale bioreactors is meticulously crafted to emulate the conditions prevalent in industrial-scale fermenters while maintaining versatility and ease of operation. Key components typically include:

Vessel: The core of the bioreactor, where the biological culture resides. Vessels come in various sizes and configurations, accommodating different volumes and types of cultures.

Agitation System: Ensures uniform mixing of nutrients, gases, and metabolites within the culture. Agitation mechanisms may include stirrers, impellers, or spargers, depending on the specific requirements of the culture.

Temperature Control: Precise temperature regulation is essential for maintaining optimal growth conditions. Bioreactors are equipped with heating elements and cooling jackets, along with temperature probes and controllers to monitor and adjust temperature levels.

pH and Dissolved Oxygen Control: Maintaining appropriate pH and dissolved oxygen levels is crucial for cell viability and productivity. Bioreactors are equipped with sensors and controllers to regulate these parameters through the addition of acids, bases, or oxygen.

Monitoring and Control Systems: Advanced bioreactors are integrated with sophisticated monitoring and control systems, allowing real-time monitoring of key parameters such as temperature, pH, dissolved oxygen, and biomass concentration. Automated control algorithms facilitate precise adjustment of operating conditions to optimize culture performance.

Applications and Advantages of Lab Scale Bioreactor

The versatility of lab-scale bioreactors extends across a wide range of applications in biotechnology, pharmaceuticals, and academia:

Bioprocess Development: Lab-scale bioreactors serve as invaluable tools for the optimization and scale-up of bioprocesses. Researchers can fine-tune culture conditions, evaluate the impact of different parameters, and optimize productivity before transitioning to larger scales.

Cell Culture and Tissue Engineering: Bioreactors play a pivotal role in the cultivation of mammalian cells and tissues for various applications, including regenerative medicine, drug discovery, and tissue engineering. Controlled environments within bioreactors facilitate the growth and differentiation of cells into functional tissues.

Microbial Fermentation: Microbial fermentation processes, such as the production of antibiotics, enzymes, and biofuels, are extensively studied and optimized using lab-scale bioreactors. These reactors allow researchers to explore different microbial strains, media formulations, and process conditions to maximize product yields and quality.

Biological Research and Education: Bioreactors serve as indispensable tools for biological research and education, providing students and researchers with hands-on experience in culturing and manipulating biological systems. Benchtop bioreactors enable reproducible experimentation and data collection, fostering a deeper understanding of bioprocess principles and techniques.

Challenges and Future Directions

While lab-scale bioreactors offer tremendous potential, several challenges persist in their design and operation:

Scalability: Translating results from lab-scale bioreactors to larger industrial-scale fermenters remains a challenge due to differences in hydrodynamics, mass transfer, and mixing dynamics. Bridging this scalability gap requires advanced computational modeling, process optimization, and scale-up strategies.

Sterility and Contamination Control: Maintaining sterility and preventing contamination are critical aspects of bioreactor operation, particularly in cell culture and pharmaceutical applications. Robust sterilization protocols, aseptic techniques, and stringent quality control measures are essential to minimize the risk of contamination.

Process Intensification: Enhancing productivity and efficiency through process intensification strategies is a key focus area in bioreactor development. Integration of online monitoring and control systems, advanced analytics, and novel bioreactor designs can streamline bioprocesses and maximize resource utilization.

Conclusion

Lab-scale bioreactors represent the cornerstone of bioprocessing innovation, offering a platform for exploration, discovery, and optimization across diverse biological applications. As advances in biotechnology continue to accelerate, the role of lab-scale bioreactors in shaping the future of bioprocessing becomes increasingly pronounced. By addressing challenges, embracing technological advancements, and fostering interdisciplinary collaboration, we can unlock the full potential of lab-scale bioreactors and propel bioprocessing into a new era of sustainability, efficiency, and impact.

[kick-a-long]

that would put all fermented products... a majority of foods made before refrigeration like chocolate, bread, tea, cured meats, salt fish, wine, beer... created/discovered by Van Leeuwenhoek in 1674.

man deserves a metal.

One time I was talking to someone at a party about traditional foods and yogurt came up somehow. He informed me that yogurt didn't exist until about 1700. I thought he was doing a bit.

Nope, he informed me that since Van Leeuwenhoek didn't even discover bacteria until 1674, it would have been impossible for people to make yogurt before that. And he repeatedly informed me that he had a history PhD, so I needed to respect that he would know better.

[thiefnessman]

i think maybe that’s part of why he acts like that? bc he knows he’s attractive and charismatic so he thinks he can get away with things and he also wants to draw people’s attention to him (so he does it by being a class clown). and maybe that’s why we make many jokes at his expense bc we know he’s ok with it (he’s said so) and it’s not gonna actually deal a hit to his self esteem and he seems to find it funny so he probably plays up some of the stuff like his clumsiness.

[glassgasoline]

superbat fake dating but it’s bruce shocked, a little embarrassed and impressed at clark when they’re at a vineyard for a wine tasting (the lab equipment at the place is being used by some villain to ferment a new toxin and planning on being distributed throughout the states in the wine) and clark just - gets wine. it’s such a juxtaposition to see him in deep conversation with their guide about the notes of the flavour and the depth of each glass and yeah clark has a super-human palette and he also grew up on a farm, but bruce hearing the words ‘toffee’ ‘cherry’ and ‘vanilla’ being thrown around by a man who can’t match loafers to a belt. and to bruce it’s all just wine, if you drink as much as he has over the years it just all blends into one really.

(bruce is sooooo attracted to clark rn)

(he makes sure to bring it up with alfred because if he wants to see the two most important people in his life gush about grape juice of all things then sue him.)

[cripplecryptid]

Sorry i have to leave immediately i have a potion to finish for class

[dcxdpdabbles]

More mr. Flavor please 🙏

Danny gets to his motel, finding it occupied. It's the same man that got him a deal with Anthony's Pasta. He's lodging on Danny's bed, one foot hanging off while the other pressed into the sheet. He's using the headboard as a backrest looking rather comfortable for someone of his size in a twin bed.

There is a book resting on his knee, the cover out of sight, but it's the placement of his one hand holding it open that lets Danny know this man is a very avid reader. Only someone who's spent hours holding books knows how to rest the crease in between their fingers to keep the pages open but not bend the cover.

It's odd how comfortable he looks within Danny's space. Especially after the last few days, that would one day be a very funny story to tell.

He feels like he could laugh about it in a few minutes even. Were it not for the stranger ruining the zen of his motel room.

Danny stops in his doorway, the last few scatts slowly fading away as the man gives him a glance and then does a double take.

Despite the fact, that there is a mask covering his face and his red hood is pulled over his head, Danny can tell by the way his brows crease that he's making a genuine, confused expression under all that mystery.

"What in the world are you wearing?" He asks after a beat of silence.

Danny spreads his arms, making sure to let his fake fur whip dramatically as he declares "My truth!"

There is a long pause of silence before the man carefully closes his book, sliding into his leather jacket and rising. "I noticed that you disappeared for a few days. Where did you go?"

It's a bit disappointing that he moved right along. Danny was sort of looking forward to having to explain why his outfit was put together. He lets his arms drop with a slight pout as he scurries to his soda lab.

The day Oscar had him adducted Danny had just bought some new soda flavoring syrup, with the intent to actually experiment and create his own flavor. It was fun to borrow some from his home, but he was a Fenton, experimenting was in his blood.

He wanted to make something fruity, like raspberries, and left a combination to rest for two days as a natural ferment.

He feels the eyes of the stranger burning into his back, and usually, that would have meant he would be powering up an ecto-ray but sadly that was out of reach.

"I was kidnapped." Danny declares sniffing a few of the bottles he set out, attempting to figure out their state from scent alone. "Got ran over. Woke up in a hospital. You know, a regular Tuesday. Is today Tuesday? It feels like a Tuesday."

There is an even longer pause this time, where the air has suddenly taken a very somber air before the man speaks again. His voice modulator does a decent job of hiding his emotions but Danny can pick up the regret and frustration that slips through the autotone. "I'm sorry you went through that."

"Meh." Danny waves a hand over his shoulder as if it would wave away all the bad. "The worst part was that someone likely saw my soda formula. The rest wasn't so bad."

The man steps next to Danny watching him work in silence. Danny isn't entirely sure what he's after, now that he's seen that Danny was fine, but he's not about to be a gracious host. The stranger broke into his room- again- and that meant Danny was free from the manners his parents had beaten into his head.

He was still a little upset about all his stuff being smashed because of an assumption. Even if he did sort of make up for it with all the stuff he proved afterward as an apology.

He would not be offering to take his coat, thank you very much.

The first vile of his experimental sodas was unsalvageable, tasting rather disgusting when he took some sips. In fact, it was so disgusting he almost choked on his gag, twitching in place from the nauseating liquid he nearly hit the table.

The man moves like he's about to touch Danny but thinks better of it at the last second as the Halfa- or the human one that can't access his powers- coughs aggressively, gagging more.

Eventually, he gets his body under control so he can gasp out "Needs less buffalo, more wings flavor. Write this down. Write this down. Notes. Where are my notes?"

Danny has to turn over a few papers and scattered test tubs- he's never been the best at keeping his working area orderly which drove his Mother up a wall. Jack and Danny shared the same belief that if his stuff was a mess it was a mess he knew- until he came upon his clickboard.

He has to crouch under the table to find a purple ink pen- as all his notes are color-coded and changing the ink would make everything invalid- so he could mark it next to the experiments, Taste like Lord of the Flies.

He taps the pen against his lower lip before he adds Find out how to harness the power of spicy buffalo. He nods at it and reaches for a second test tube.

The man at his side clears his throat. "Did you seriously try to make a Buffalo Wings flavor Soda?"

"Yeah, it's my favorite food so I figured I could make it my favorite drink too," Danny mutters sniffing a new tube, and taking a full swing before he can convince himself to put it back down. He figured that if he attempted to do small sips, he would chicken out and not actually taste the soda, so it was better to down it all in one go.

At once his gag returns, making him recoil away from his clipboard. "Burger flavor is yunk. Hmmm. Interesting."

He writes some more notes while blinking tears out of his eyes. His stomach is turning in knots, as he scrambles some ideas of improving the flavor. Once done he reaches for another test tub- this one Pizza flavor- before the Hoodie smacks his hand away.

"Kid, you look like you're going to be sick"

Danny stares at where the man touched him, feeling a sense of confusion at the audacity to get in the way of science before he slowly turns his head towards the stranger. He feels his stomach flip ominously as the man raises a brow.

"Can we go back to your kidnapping? I can make the person pay-"

Danny holds up his in an indication of a hug which has the man coming to a full stop. He can see his reflection in the lens of Hoddie, and even though it's slightly spread like a fish eye camera lens, he can certainly say he looks slightly unhinged.

It's a few seconds of staring before the Hoddie, cautiously steps closer, telegraphing his movements as he brings Danny into an awkward hug. Once he's assured he's pressed against the man as much as possible Danny opens his mouth and lets his stomach release all the disgust.

"Ugh!" The man pushes him away, staring down at the vomit that decorates his front as Danny sways on his feet. He carefully blinks the tears clear out of his sight while picking up his clipboard.

"Warning: New flavors put up a fight. Ensure safe six feet distance from others." Danny nods at his own written words. He rips it off the paper, grabs some scotch tap with the other, and slaps the label on his two test tubes.

He then picks up five test tubes at once while declaring "Can multiple flavors cause death by poison? Let's find out!"

"No!"

He's tackled just as he is tilting the test tubs back to spill into his mouth. He screams, attempting to call upon his Ghostly Wail but all he ends up doing is sounding like a squealing piglet as the man uses his own fur coat as a makeshift restrain jacket.

"Kid, just stick to your usual flavors!"

"No! I want to see sounds! I want to taste colors! I want to touch smells!" Danny screeched as he was dragged away from his lab. "Release me!"

"Why do I always get the craziest smart kids" Hoddies sighs before he is flung over a muscular shoulder and the stranger walks out of Danny's room as the boy continues to screech. "Look kid, obviously you're not safe here. I'm going to move you to one of my hideouts and I'll bring you a better lab. Just stop trying to poison yourself."

"Release me!"

"No."

The receptionist crosses herself as they pass her desk and Danny stops thrashing to offer her a bright close-lipped smile- because he was raised with manners to people who earn it- and then goes back to impersonating a landbound fish, making more screeches that leave even Danny's ears ringing.

"The sodas! The sodas yearn for my brilliance!"

"Sure kid."

Neither is around when Nightwing crashes through the boy's window but that receptionist is, and she puts in her two weeks the second she hears him arrive.

[scriptseekstories]

Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 3- The Sting of Venom

A/N: Things will get intense today, and I hope y’all are ready with your snacks and drinks cuz it’ll go down TODAY

I hope-

When the hive is in danger, the worker bees will gather in a swarm to protect the hive while drones evacuate the larva and the Queen.

This was it, your birthday will soon arrive, which means the results will soon reveal themselves to you. Years of endless searches, experiments, failed testing and do-overs, it’ll be complete.

A week of the honey you collected from the genetic bees fermenting, and the vial of pollen they collected that you will test out in the Wayne Garden. You just really hope Poison Ivy was actually helping you and not finding this to be a way to take over Gotham.

You sat in class, scribbling down ways to release your breakthrough to the press. Gotham News may seem too local for this, maybe Daily Planet could set your discovery worldwide? Bruce knows Clark Kent, so you could try and convince Alfred after showing him all your hard work.

Class ended, which also meant school ended. You carefully grabbed your bag as you held your jar of honey. There was an ingredient in the school lab that you needed for the bees, and it was the last piece to your research.

“So for your birthday, should we hang out at the park? Or that awesome new bowling alley they opened next week?” You held up your head and listened to one of your friends ramble on about your birthday. You’ll be turning 16 in two days, yet you felt unsure.

Will this really be the end of endless hours of trying to perfect your mother’s work? Will this really pay off everything you did for not only the bees, but her legacy?

You shook your head. No more of worrying for now. Right now, all you have to do is simply wait and see results. You could finally take this time being a kid again and hang with your friends.

“Definitely bowling alley!” You beamed, “Enough pizza and pretzels to put me into a food coma AND a one way ticket to have my get a gambling addiction,” Alfred once found you in an arcade slumped over the ticket machine after wasting all your game coins trying to get a bee plush from a claw machine, which was a bonding moment as he won it for you after that.

“Exactly! You deserve this,” Another friend nudged you. They were right, you did deserve this. Not only balancing your hours working in the lab and surpassing all classes and winning awards in science, you definitely feel this was worth celebrating.

“Right, I also think Alfred is planning a birthday party anyways, so I’ll see if I could convince him,” You waved goodbye to you friends, and began to walk around the back of the school, avoiding car pickup to avoid your so-called family.

You made sure no one was around, and pulled out your jar of honey from your backpack. The results are looking pretty good! It was producing a very orange glow, chunks of the comb swirling around in a mesmerizing manner-

“What’s that?” You nearly let the jar slip from your hands when you got startled by the voice of Duke. You spun your head around to see a panicked and apologetic Duke with his hands raised, looking ashamed that he scared you.

“Ah! Sorry! Shouldn’t have startled you like that,” He smiled apologetically, “But if you don’t mind me asking again, what’s in the jar? It’s… glowing,” You instinctively shoved the jar into your jacket, taking a few steps back as you he felt torn heart beat faster.

“Um… why aren’t you with the others?” You blurted out, standing in a defensive positions with your hackles raised, looking ready to bolt at any moment. You knew Duke is the least dangerous when it comes to interacting with you, but when he is near the others are near too.

“I just- well I saw you- and…” To be honest, Duke didn’t really know why he had the urge to follow you. He had to lie to Dick, Tim, and Damien about getting in the car with them before scurrying off, definitely looking suspicious.

You gave him a look, watching him stammer not really have an answer for himself. You looked behind him, seeing that no one followed him. Just as well, if you wanted to have this breakthrough talked through the press, might as well actually confide with someone.

“H-Honey,” You awkwardly simply said, opening the lid and letting him get a whiff of the honey. He curiously did, and his eyes widened at how good it smelled. It was not just sweet, it was earthy, fruity, and floral with a hint of something he can’t quite think of.

This scent wasn’t anything Duke had experienced before. You cracked a smile, a genuine bright smile you gave him when you first both met in the Manor’s library that he didn’t even realized he missed.

In fact… Duke missed everything about who you were.

“It smells amazing! But why does it glow?” He was still confused at that part, seeing the honey swirl and glowed, like a lava lamp. You gave him a hard look, wondering if you’re going to regret this decision.

You took a deep breath before grabbing his hand, and pulled him in the direction you were heading to. Duke, even though he felt suspicious, followed you as you both took turns around the city, ducking under police tape and jumping over trash cans.

“Uhhhh, Where are we?” Duke tilted his head on confusion as he stared at the old warehouse, as it looked like it was meant to burn down due to dark burn marks on the outside of the walls. You huffed before pulling him under the broken door.

He grunted as he stood back up just as I kicked at the generator, starting up the lights and electricity. UV lights and fairy lights lit up the whole warehouse, where he was in total awe at what was contained inside.

“Just… don’t tell anyone, okay?” You anxiously begged up while picking at your fingers. Duke may have not been as terrible as the others, but he still ignored you when the others were around, like you weren’t cool enough to hang out with them. He was only a year older than you, so you had heavy trust issues against him in particular, as if waiting for him to take off that nice mask and beat you.

“I-I…” He looked down at you face, where you felt panicked, as if you were about to lose everything, which you might if he backstabbed you. “I won’t, I promise,” He sets a hand on your shoulder, making you flinch a little at the physical contact, but let out a sigh of relief.Duke didn’t know why you reacted that way, but felt his heart twist when you gave him a thankful smile before wiping tears that welled up in your eyes.

Guiding him towards the lab garden, you began to ramble an explanation about what you’re doing, why you’re doing this, and exactly how. It felt nice to actually talk about Project: Honey to another human, especially to someone who actually looked interested.

When he reached out to take a swipe of the glowing honey to taste, but you tightly gripped his wrist, muttering an apology before letting go. He was startled until you explained that the honey in that jar was fermenting, following the exact steps your mother made before their lab got attacked. If the honey is touched or tasted before the exact time it took to wait, who knows what would happen to the human body?

“If the honey is dangerous before the fermenting is complete, what would happen?” Duke asked, genuinely curious about the bees. You paused when you opened your mouth, as you weren’t too sure. The tape that involved all of the failed tests and backfired works gone wrong have been cut, so you weren’t able to fully know. But if it’s what your mother wants, then you’ll follow her instructions to the end.

“All of this, is because of this,” You held out the pile of tapes surrounding the old tv, handing one to Duke that had your mother’s project name of the label for him to read over.

“Hey… I heard of that project!” He placed his fist over his other hand. “Yeah, about how some (M/N) Raine was the founder of the Project: Honey- Ohhhh!! That’s your mother?! S-So that project was meant to save the bee population and protect endangered plants why genetically modifying the DNA of honeybees!” He grinned, proud of himself for actually reading the news all those years ago, despite being so young.

“But it was destroyed when a crime boss…” Duke paused, realizing he may be retelling the horrors your mother must’ve experienced. He apologized over and over to you as you simply shrugged and waved him off. You weren’t even born when it happened, but even if you were, your mother didn’t stop when some man baby crime boss threw a tantrum when he didn’t get his money from some loser. She was the Queen Bee.

“You been coming here to work on this? For years??” You nodded with a grin at his dumbfounded look. “It’s a way to keep my mama’s legacy alive, a way for her to keep living through the bees… and it’s a way for me to bond with her…” Duke nodded sympathetically. He knew what it felt losing parents, as he lost his from Joker’s laughing toxin. It felt nice, to actually talk to another human besides Alfred and the villains.

“Do you… want to help me?” You sheepishly asked. Duke couldn’t be more excited, which made you excited as well. You lived your friends, but they weren’t into science as you were, being involved in either math or English.

���Great! Um, here!” Turning to the table for flowers, “Their menu for today is yellow roses!” You turned to roll towards him, only relaxing that you weren’t wearing your skates, ultimately falling on your face. Duke looked mortified as he went to help you, your arms still in the air as to preserve the flowers, they were a gift after all from Ivy.

You helped Duke into gaining your genetic bees’ trust, as the Queen bee was very aggressive with her buzzing upon spotting him. You snickered when he almost freaked out when a few bees landed on his face, but they were inspecting him along with the Queen bee.

“She likes you,” You teased as they began to glow a yellow color, almost causing Duke to pass out, yet he hyped himself up and gave a nervous smile as you laughed. The bees glowing on his face looked funny, yet you were happy your genetic bees liked him.

The more you both worked in the lab, the more Duke began to notice how you acted. You were like a different person outside of the Manor, more… happy.

He saw how you snorted with your friends, how much of a klutz you get when you get overconfident about things, how that smile of your always stayed on. But only when you’re not near the Manor.

It was as if you become the husk of yourself. More awkward and anxious walking around. You avoided eye contact and always locked in your room- wait… where was your room?

Duke felt his stomach drop. He didn’t know where your room was, your favorite snack, color, music taste, anything! When he tried to get close to you in the beginning, Tim or Jason would say you weren’t worth it as you were “average”. They shouldn’t hang out with average civilians…

He felt awful. From now on, he’ll ignore the others’ comments about you. He’ll figure out where your room will be and hang out with you. He’ll learn more about bees for you, he’ll bring your favorite snacks, watch a movie, play arcade games, everything!

Just for you. Only you. His sibling.

“That- that was actually so fun! Man, I didn’t know all of those bees facts!” Duke joyously smiled, stretching his limbs out as you expected admired your glowing honey. You sighed with a satisfied expression before hop

“We should do this again,” You sheepishly admitted, handing him a marigold. He graciously took it, tenderly admiring it more placing it into one of his notebooks. You shut everything off, saying goodbyes to the bees and helped Duke crawl under the door again.

Maybe there was one person you can rely on. Well… maybe not. He still never once tried to talk to you when he had free time, but you guessed you wouldn’t bother on trying to talk to someone like you in your free time.

Still, you craved for your family’s attention so much you took this small moment of you and Duke bonding over science and bees. Stepping out of the cab, the gates opened for you both to walk inside-.

Buzz

Your heart stop. There was dread in your stomach. The manor felt like a cemetery, felt like death occurred yet no one to mourn for. The world felt like it was going to swallow you whole with how much fear and dread you felt.

Your bees.

“No…” Before Duke could ask what was wrong, you pushed your bag into his arms as you ran up the driveway. You ran around the giant manor as fast as you could, tears welling up, needing to get to the garden.

Your ears rung, not being able to hear your own fast heartbeat, your shoes slamming into the grass, barely even able to see figures surrounded the object that looked like it’s been melting.

Your beehive.

“What exactly have you done-?!”

“They’re just insects, Alfred-,”

“I mean… we could’ve relocated them-,”

“They stung me a bunch! Good riddance-!”

“We need to keep our children safe-,”

“And what of your child that tended this garden AND protected those poor creatures-!”

You stopped behind them, eyes staring down at destroyed beehive, honey they worked so hard to make mixed with the disgusting green color of the pesticides. They used pesticides. To kill them.

“Master (Name)…” Alfred said, reaching down to gently grab your hand, but you didn’t sway at his touch. The others turned to you, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t really feel, hear, or say anything. You saw the scattered corpses of your insect you cared for. You loved.

They were gone.

Your bees were dead.

Because of the Waynes.

“Guess bees aren’t all that great as you think they are,” The way Steph dripped those words out of her mouth… “One spray and they shrivel,” They were covered with mockery, as if seeing your distraught face amused her.

Something in your heart began to burn.

It was hate. Burning sheer hate.

“Are you listening to-?” Tim tried to call out to you, annoyed that Alfred was defending a reasonable action, reaching to poke your arm when you uttered out a cold and dead tone.

“I hate you…”

“Excuse me?” The sudden dead tone made them all to stop and look at you. Jason’s eyes flickered into something of shock and an old feeling he once had, Tim raised an eyebrow, Steph awkwardly stepped away from you, and Dick actually had the decency to look distraught. Bruce sighed and pinched his nose.

But you weren’t going to let him speak, you needed to let it all out. You were done with all the begging of affection, the awkward silences when you were even near their presence. You were tired of it all.

“I hate you… I hate YOU!! I HATE YOU ALL!!” Your voice gotten louder, your grasp of your shirt gotten tighter as Alfred looked mortified at how far they pushed you. He was to blame for not stepping in.

“YOU H-HAVE NEVER BEEN THERE FOR ME!! NEVER ONCE COMFORTED ME!! IT’S A-ALWAYS BEEN FOR THEM, YOU WERE O-ONLY THERE FOR THEM AND NOT ME!!” You didn’t care if your voice cracked throughout your shoutings, all you felt was hate and anger.

They killed off the only reason you smiled in the manor, the only reason why you kept waking up in the mornings, the only reason why you actually felt useful in this pathetic life.

“I TRIED SO HARD TO BE LIKE YOU ALL!! A-AND YOU KILLED OFF THE ONE THING I LOVED IN THIS MANOR!! YOU KILLED MY MAMA!!” You choked out, sobs bubbling in your throat, but you didn’t dare to cry in front of them, not tears will ever be shed for them.

“You may have help creat me, but you are not, will never be my dad,” The sheer hate in your tone had Bruce’s eyes flicker for a moment, as if finally taking in you. The you that followed him for years, the you that always showed his your homework with pride, the you who avoided eye contact with him.

Yet here you are, flaring a hateful glare into his blue eyes, shaking violently with rage as you crouched down to tend to your deceased bees.

You gently held the Queen bee, who was curled into a ball like a child looking for its mother. You felt like the Queen. Curling into a ball, wishing for your mother to hug you and tell you everything is alright.

Why isn’t Bruce saying anything-?

“You don’t have a say in what happens in this Manor, so stop throwing this tantrum and leave,” You felt something break in your heart. Your hope. The hope that Bruce would actually feel bad for destroying your happiness, the hope that your so-called siblings would realize they did you wrong, the hope your family would actually feel like a family.

You couldn’t take any more of the stares, you pushed yourself off the ground, shoving Dick aside as you ran back into the Manor, clutching the deceased Queen bee in your palms as Duke was inside. He flinched at your broken look.

“(Name)-” He began, “Thank you Duke… For spending time with me…” You choked on your sharp inhale, before trying not to stumble on the stairs hearing Duke’s shouts of your name for you to come back.

You burst into your room, shutting it behind quickly as you slid against it, fully letting your broken sobs and hiccups consume you. The honeydew slice you gave them began to rot from the pesticides, pushing you to cry harder.

“RRRAAAAAGGHHH!!” You slammed your first against the wall, causing a flimsy shelve you installed to break, scattering photo frames on the cluttered ground. You opened your other palm to see your queen, sniffling as you gently placed her into your pocket.

That was when you saw a glisten of light reflecting from something metal that fell with the shelf. You weakly crawled towards them, avoid the glass broken from the frames containing you and your mother.

You grasped the metal object, seeing the familiar metal carvings of bees, honeycombs, and a tiny singular strand of green vine wrapped around it like a bow.

The gift that Poison Ivy had gifted you a week before. You tightened your hands around it, debating whether you should open it now. You needed something to cheer you up, or at least bring your smile back, so you slowly lifted the small box.

It was a vial of pollen that laid snuggly in the center of a silk cushion. It had a neon yellow glow to it and it lit up your tiny room with small beams of light.

There, a note laid around the top of the vial, where you saw Ivy’s perfect cursive reading:

“Your sweet smile was all I could see when we met. My little bumblebee, I hope you could see how truly bright your smile means - Ivy”

You wiped your tears away, still hiccuping, yet a shaky smile grew on your face. You placed the vial of glowing pollen over your neck, wearing it like a necklace as you clutched onto your bee plush, a fiery spark in your eyes.

Screw waiting for two more days. You’re going to show them of your mother’s research- your research- and finally succeed. You don’t need Bruce, you don’t need your so-called siblings, you didn’t need anyone.

You heard Alfred’s muffled pleads behind the door, mentioning that he was alone. You closed your eyes, sadness washing over as you knew what had to be done.

Buzzzzz

You’ll show them.

A/N: Me deliberately planning on killing off those bees to provide angst and more conflict between the family and actually writing it down: Who could’ve done such a thing 😭?!

But yeah… your garden may have died, but you still have your mother’s bees, but is that really a good thing?

Tag list: @pix-stuff @lettucel0ver @bad4amficideas @jellystar-star @moom0goddess @lithiumval @degenerates-posts @deathbynarcisstick @ryuushou @silverklaus @artistwithcreativeburnout

[jazzeria]

My partner's grandma gave us yellow wax beans from her garden! I decided to give them a spicy dill pickle treatment.

But since I was out of fresh dill, I opted for fresh parsley (another garden gift, though from someone else) and dill seed (from my own garden last year)!

After about 4 days in the jar, the beans were tart throughout, crisp, and had a nice bite to them. I wouldn't call them "spicy" so much as, they have a bit of kick. I'd love if they were even dillier, but they turned out quite well!

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ rekindling

chapter summary: You and Logan celebrate your 5th wedding anniversary.

word count: 6.1k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: the ending of this chapter might be one of my favorite scenes

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, mention of sickness (not reader), fluff, logan is a lovesick puppy, gala mission, star wars reference

series masterlist - chapter 8 → chapter 10

Some years ago, right after the two of you got engaged, you tried making and fermenting your own beer for Logan. Turns out, beer doesn’t need to and shouldn’t ferment for more than a few months at the most.

So, you pivoted, and made homemade whiskey, which had been sitting in a secret part of your lab for the better part of 5 years.

And now, after Logan had taken you out on a date to an Italian place and a nearby observatory which he booked for the two of you, you dragged him to your lab, where you had the bottle of homemade whiskey.

You pulled out a drawer and grabbed the small, but hefty, gift bag. Its weight made your arm dip slightly as you turned to face Logan, who was leaning against the counter in your lab with a quizzical but amused expression. His hair was still slightly tousled from the wind at the observatory, his sleeves rolled up casually from dinner.

"What's this, sweetheart?" he asked, nodding toward the bag. "Another one of your science experiments?"

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses as you handed him the bag. "Just open it. And no, it’s not radioactive or alive. This one’s safe, I promise."

Logan smirked as he pulled the tissue paper out, revealing a dark amber glass bottle sealed with a simple cork. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he held it up, reading the handwritten label: “Logan’s Reserve – 5-Year Aged Whiskey.”

"Wait a second…" His eyes narrowed, a grin spreading across his face as he looked at you. "Is this what I think it is?"

You nodded, clasping your hands behind your back nervously. "Yeah. Remember when I tried making beer for you right after we got engaged? And it… well, it exploded in the basement?"

Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "How could I forget? Smelled like a brewery down there for weeks."

"Exactly. So, I switched gears and decided to try something a little more… sophisticated." You gestured to the bottle. "I distilled it, let it age, and hoped for the best. Five years later, here we are."

Logan stared at the bottle for a moment, then at you. His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something deeper. "You did this… for me?"

You shrugged, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks. "Of course. I wanted to give you something special. Something that lasts, you know? Like… us."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the lab equipment. Logan set the bottle down carefully on the counter, then stepped toward you. His hands rested gently on your waist, pulling you closer.

"You’re somethin’ else, darlin’," he said, his voice low and full of affection. "Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before."

You smiled up at him, your shyness melting away under his gaze. "Well, there’s a first time for everything."

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of unspoken gratitude. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

"Let’s crack it open," he said with a grin. "I’ve waited five years for this, after all."

You laughed, grabbing two small glasses from a nearby shelf. As Logan uncorked the bottle, the rich aroma of aged whiskey filled the room. He poured a small amount into each glass, the amber liquid catching the light.

"To us," you said, raising your glass.

Logan clinked his glass against yours. "To five years… and many more."

You both took a sip, and Logan’s eyes widened slightly as he savored the taste. "Damn, sweetheart. You’ve outdone yourself. This is better than anything I’ve had in a bar."

You beamed. "Really?"

"Really." He leaned in and kissed you again, the whiskey still warm on his lips. "Best anniversary gift ever."

As you stood there, sharing the moment and the whiskey you’d poured your heart into, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life hadn’t been easy—especially the past few years—but moments like this made it all worth it.

---

You were making chicken noodle soup for Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee, who all somehow caught the same stomach bug at the same time.

The three girls sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen, after being asked by Logan to “move, or else you’re gonna get her sick.”

Now, while the three waited, they also watched. Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee sat bundled in sweaters with mugs of tea that Logan had insisted they use instead of touching anything else in the kitchen. The soup was still simmering on the stove, and Logan leaned casually against the counter near you, your perpetual shadow.

Jubilee nudged Rogue with her elbow and whispered, “Look at him. He follows her like a freakin’ lost puppy.”

Rogue, pale but still managing an amused smirk, turned her attention to Logan, who was wordlessly following you as you shuffled over to the pantry. All you had done was mutter, "need a new bottle of parsley," and Logan had immediately fallen in line, watching you like you hung the moon.

“He does,” Rogue said, shaking her head. “I swear, I’ve never seen him this whipped.”

"Right? Like, what does she do to him?" Kitty chimed in, half-giggling despite her queasiness. “The man’s basically walking PDA.”

The three of them stared openly now, watching how Logan stood slightly behind you, his hand instinctively brushing the small of your back as you reached up for the spice jar.

“See that?” Kitty whispered, her voice thick with poorly stifled laughter. “His hand is always on her. Shoulder, back, waist—doesn’t matter where, just as long as he’s touching.”

“Bet he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it,” Rogue murmured, propping her chin on her palm.

You turned back toward the counter, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of your nose as you set the parsley down near the cutting board. Logan was immediately there, adjusting the spice rack for you, though it wasn’t even askew.

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, giving him a small, shy smile.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied without hesitation, his voice laced with warmth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound that…” Jubilee paused, wrinkling her nose in thought, “...soft.”

Logan shifted closer, his hand brushing against your waist as he leaned in and glanced at the soup. “Need anythin’ else, darlin’?”

You glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. “No, I think I’ve got it. Maybe grab a loaf of bread from the fridge for dipping?”

He nodded and moved toward the fridge like it was his life’s mission. Jubilee blinked slowly.

“He cooks now?” she whispered.

“Logan,” Rogue called across the room, “do you even know how to make soup?”

Logan didn’t even glance back as he grabbed the bread. “Nope. I just carry the bread. Y/N handles the rest.”

The three girls stared at each other, jaws slightly agape.

“He’s domesticated,” Kitty said in awe. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

You didn’t seem to hear any of this, far too focused on stirring the soup and rambling softly about the science of cooking. “The steam comes from the water molecules vibrating faster with the heat. They spread out, break apart from the surface tension…”

Logan’s low hum of acknowledgment interrupted you, his hand returning to rest lightly against the curve of your back. You leaned into the touch without thinking, comfortable in his presence.

Kitty let out a mock-dramatic sigh, dropping her head onto the table. “I can’t watch this anymore. It’s too cute, and I feel like death.”

Jubilee grinned slyly, glancing at Rogue. “What if we pointed it out to him?”

“Don’t you dare,” Rogue warned with a half-laugh. “Man’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. Leave ‘em be.”

The three shared a conspiratorial smirk but kept their remarks low enough to remain unnoticed. Even if Logan somehow picked up on their teasing with his hyper-sensitive senses, he showed no sign of it.

You turned back to the girls, smiling softly. “It’ll be ready soon. How’re you all feeling?”

“Like crap,” Jubilee said with zero hesitation.

“Marginally better,” Rogue offered, though it was mostly for your benefit.

“It helps watching Logan act like a lovesick Labrador,” Kitty muttered with a grin. Rogue elbowed her.

You glanced at Logan, eyebrows raised slightly. “What are they whispering about?”

“Not a clue,” he lied smoothly, focusing on slicing the bread.

You didn’t push it, simply chuckling and going back to your task. Logan leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re good at takin’ care of everyone,” he murmured. “Never stops amazin’ me.”

You flushed under the quiet praise, your heart flipping in your chest. It wasn’t much—just one of his usual tender comments—but coming from Logan, it felt monumental every single time.

---

You paused walking again in the hall, adjusting your liner socks for your heels. Just a few months ago it was your birthday, and Scott got you the pair of heels you’d been wanting, probably only knowing about them from Jean.

It was too cold back then, but now it was warming up and you could finally wear them.

Other than the fact that blisters are probably forming on your feet from them fitting improperly. It wasn’t Scott’s fault; they were the right size and everything, they just didn’t fit your feet.

While you were bent down adjusting your heels in the hallway, Logan walked up behind you silently, his hand brushing gently against your back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and concerned.

You looked up briefly before going back to fiddling with the strap on your shoe. “The heels Scott got me for my birthday—they don’t fit as well as I’d hoped. They’re a little tight, and I think I might’ve miscalculated how much walking I’d have to do today.”

Logan let out a soft, knowing grunt. Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms effortlessly, one arm around your shoulders and the other under your legs. He shifted your heels into his hand with the same movement, holding them beneath you like an afterthought.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, instinctively gripping his shoulders. “What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like?” he replied, already walking. “If the shoes are botherin’ you, you’re not gonna wear ‘em.”

You sighed, flustered. “I can walk perfectly fine! It’s not that bad, I promise.”

Logan didn’t even slow down. “Yeah, sure. Tell that to the blisters you’re about to get. Don’t argue, darlin’—you’re stuck with me now.”

Your protest was drowned out when Logan rounded a corner and found Scott mid-lecture in one of the training rooms. The students turned toward the two of you with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Logan, come on,” you whispered, mortified, but Logan only tightened his grip.

“Hey, Summers!” Logan barked, his voice cutting through the room.

Scott paused, looking up with an annoyed but inquisitive frown. Before he could say a word, Logan tossed the pair of heels directly at him. They smacked him square in the chest before falling into his hands.

“Next time, get the right size,” Logan said flatly, turning back toward the door.

“Logan!” you gasped, half-horrified and half-apologetic, your face heating up. “I’m so sorry, Scott!”

Scott was still standing there, stunned, holding the shoes as his class erupted into barely stifled laughter. “What—” he started, but Logan didn’t stick around long enough to let him finish.

Logan carried you straight to the common room, ignoring your continued protests. He set you down gently on the couch, crouching in front of you. “Stay put,” he commanded, already moving toward the med kit nearby.

“Logan, seriously, I’m fine—”

“You’ll be fine when I say you’re fine.” He popped open the first aid kit and returned to kneel in front of you. “Now, lemme see.”

You sighed, defeated, as Logan gingerly took your foot in his hand, inspecting the reddened spots on your heels. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he applied adhesive bandages to the forming blisters.

“I don’t even feel it that much,” you muttered.

“Uh-huh,” Logan said dryly, not buying a word of it.

When he finished bandaging the other foot, he paused, still crouched with one of your feet resting on his knee. Instead of moving back, he began to gently knead the arch of your foot, his fingers deft and soothing.

“Logan…” You blinked, taken aback.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said softly, not looking up. “You’re always takin’ care of everyone else. Lemme do somethin’ for you for once.”

The words, combined with the warmth in his tone, sent a wave of unexpected emotion through you. You leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His touch was firm yet tender, every movement speaking volumes about how much he cared.

As his thumbs worked over a particularly sore spot, you bit back a laugh. “When did you learn how to do this?”

Logan glanced up with a hint of a smirk. “Long life. Picked up a few tricks here and there.”

“Pretty sure you’re better at this than a licensed professional.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with mock seriousness, though his smile softened.

When he finally set your foot down, he stayed kneeling for a moment longer, his hands lingering on your legs. “Feel better now?”

You smiled down at him, your cheeks warm. “Yeah. Thanks, Logan.”

He nodded, pushing himself to his feet and bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Now you just sit here and relax for a bit. I’ll grab you some tea or somethin’.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help the affectionate smile that spread across your face. Moments like this reminded you that, despite his gruff exterior, Logan had a heart bigger than anyone you’d ever known.

---

You realized you should’ve told Logan this before he found out for himself.

For the past 4—5 years?—you hadn’t worn your cherry lip gloss, only because you couldn’t find it anywhere once you ran out. Turns out, it was discontinued. So, you pivoted to regular nude lip glosses or chapstick.

But this past weekend when you, Jean, and Ororo went on a girl’s shopping trip to the mall to hang out, you found a cherry lip oil that in your opinion had a better texture, and a less artificial flavor, than your original discontinued one.

The hallways of the mansion were buzzing with the usual mid-morning energy: students rushing to classes, a few sparring matches audible from the training rooms, and the faint hum of voices echoing off the walls. You adjusted the strap of your satchel, balancing it against your side, and smoothed the hem of your cardigan as you made your way toward your classroom.

As you turned a corner, Logan appeared from the opposite direction, walking toward his next class. He spotted you instantly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes softened. This was routine by now—a quick kiss or two between classes, a quiet moment to ground yourselves in a sea of chaos.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice low and rough in the way that made your heart flutter.

“Hey,” you smiled back, the warmth in his tone settling over you like a blanket.

He leaned in for the usual kiss, his hand brushing against your lower back as you tilted your face up to meet him. But instead of the brief, customary peck, Logan lingered. His lips pressed against yours with a sudden, deliberate intensity, and his other hand rose to cradle the back of your head.

You stiffened in surprise at first, but quickly melted into it, your hands lightly gripping the fabric of his flannel shirt. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, with Logan angling your head slightly for better access. He tasted faintly of coffee, and the familiar warmth of him flooded your senses.

“Logan,” you managed to breathe out between kisses, your voice breaking the silence in short bursts. “We need—” kiss “to get—” kiss “to our—” kiss “classes.”

“Fuck, I missed that,” Logan murmured, his voice rough and filled with a longing you didn’t quite understand. Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, his hold on you firm but careful, as though he was memorizing the moment.

The sound of a throat clearing broke through the haze, and you both froze. Turning your heads, you found Charles sitting in his wheelchair a few feet away, a bemused but patient expression on his face.

“I do hate to interrupt, but I believe there are a few dozen students waiting for their teachers at the moment,” Charles remarked, his tone light but pointed.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you stepped back, adjusting your glasses and smoothing your hair. Logan, unfazed as ever, gave a small shrug, though you could see the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Right,” you stammered, gripping your satchel strap tightly. “Sorry, Charles. We were just—uh—”

“Testing the laws of attraction?” Charles quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Logan grunted, his hand still lingering on your back. “We’re goin’. Don’t get your wheels in a spin.”

Charles merely chuckled and rolled past, leaving you to shoot Logan a flustered glare.

“You could at least pretend to be embarrassed,” you muttered, adjusting your satchel again.

“Why?” Logan asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “You look cute when you’re all flustered.” He leaned in close, brushing a final kiss against your temple before stepping back. “See you later, darlin’.”

As he turned to walk away, you shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You brushed your fingers over your lips, still tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

---

Logan adjusted the cufflinks of his tux, muttering under his breath about how "these damn things are more trouble than they’re worth." The sound of his grumbling carried through the slightly ajar bathroom door, making you smile as you finished touching up your lipstick. Jean’s red shade was bold, but it worked, complementing your minimalist black dress.

You capped the tube and gave your reflection a once-over. The dress fit perfectly, the sleek design emphasizing your figure without feeling over the top. You adjusted your glasses and smoothed a hand down the fabric before stepping out into the bedroom.

Logan was by the dresser, still fidgeting with his cufflinks, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his hands stilled. His lips parted slightly, the earlier irritation on his face melting into something softer, something almost reverent.

“You clean up nice,” he said, voice lower than usual. His gaze roamed over you, lingering on the curve of your waist before meeting your eyes. “Real nice.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a heat creep up your cheeks under his scrutiny. You crossed the room, and as you did, Logan closed the distance between you in two strides. His hand found your waist, warm and steady, before moving to rest gently against your stomach.

“Turn around for me,” he said, his voice a mix of request and command. His fingers pressed lightly, guiding you into a slow spin. As you moved, his hand never left you, sliding from your waist to the small of your back, then back to your waist again when you completed the turn.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he said, his words filled with quiet admiration. “Should’ve made you wear this dress sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not exactly standard mission gear.”

His other hand came up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Maybe not, but you wear it better than anyone at that gala’s gonna.” His thumb grazed your jaw, and for a moment, the mission faded from your mind entirely. It was just you, Logan, and the soft pull of his presence.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself back to reality. “We should get going. The sooner we get in, the sooner we can find what we’re looking for.”

Logan smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re the brains of this operation, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

---

The gala was held in a grand hotel in the heart of the city, the kind of place that practically dripped with wealth and excess. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. You and Logan entered arm-in-arm, blending seamlessly into the crowd of well-dressed elites.

The two of you moved with purpose, your fingers lightly resting against Logan’s arm as he guided you through the throng. You kept your movements casual, your faces relaxed, though beneath the surface, the tension of the mission buzzed like static. The target was somewhere in this room—or at least someone who knew how to access the server room where the sensitive information was being stored.

“Keep your eyes open,” Logan muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Always,” you replied, offering a soft smile for the benefit of onlookers as you tilted your head toward him. “You see anything yet?”

“Just a bunch of rich assholes,” Logan said, his tone gruff. “No sign of the guy.”

You nodded subtly, letting your gaze sweep across the room. The gala attendees were exactly as you’d expected—wealthy, polished, and exuding an air of untouchable arrogance. The kind of people who could fund black-market experiments on mutants and still sleep soundly at night.

Jean’s voice crackled softly in your hidden earpiece. “Remember, the server room is two floors down, heavily guarded, and keycard access only. If you can get the host’s card, it’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Logan grunted, briefly touching his ear to acknowledge the message.

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Just follow my lead.”

Logan shot you a skeptical look, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “You’re the brains, sweetheart. I’m just here to look good in a tux.”

“And to punch people if necessary,” you teased, your voice light despite the weight of the mission.

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That too.”

As you approached the bar, you caught sight of the host—a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back hair and a predatory smile. He was surrounded by a small group of sycophants, his laugh too loud and his gestures exaggerated. On his lapel was the small, telltale glint of a security badge.

“There he is,” you murmured, leaning slightly into Logan as though sharing a private moment.

Logan followed your gaze and grunted in acknowledgment. “What’s the plan?”

You considered for a moment before replying. “We split up. I’ll distract him and see if I can get the keycard. You keep an eye on the exits in case things get messy.”

Logan’s hand tightened slightly on your waist. “Don’t get too close, darlin’.”

You smiled, the expression meant to reassure him. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I always do,” he said, his voice softer now.

With that, you slipped away from him, weaving through the crowd with ease. You approached the host with a disarming smile, your movements graceful and deliberate.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice carrying just the right mix of politeness and charm. “This is my first time at one of these events. You wouldn’t happen to be the host, would you?”

The man’s eyes lit up as he turned his attention to you, his smile widening. “Indeed, I am. Samuel Kane, at your service.” He extended a hand, and you shook it lightly, careful not to show any hesitation.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, tilting your head slightly. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man behind all of this.”

Kane laughed, clearly pleased by the flattery. “Well, I do my best to keep things interesting. And you, my dear, are an absolute vision. Your husband must be a lucky man.”

You felt a flicker of unease at the comment but maintained your composure. “He’s around here somewhere,” you said with a laugh. “But he’s not much for mingling.”

As you engaged Kane in conversation, you subtly shifted closer, angling yourself to get a better look at his security badge. The clip was loose, the badge slightly askew—a small detail, but one that worked in your favor.

Behind you, Logan lingered near the edge of the room, his sharp eyes never leaving you. He sipped his drink, outwardly relaxed, but you knew better. His tension was palpable, even from across the room.

Kane was still talking, his voice smooth and practiced, but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you focused on the timing, waiting for the perfect moment to make your move. When Kane turned slightly to greet another guest, you acted quickly, brushing against him just enough to unclip the badge without drawing attention.

“Oops,” you said, feigning a stumble as you steadied yourself against his arm. “Sorry about that. These heels aren’t the most practical.”

Kane laughed, clearly oblivious. “No harm done.”

You smiled apologetically before excusing yourself, slipping the badge into your clutch as you made your way back to Logan. He raised an eyebrow when you returned, his expression a mix of amusement and approval.

“Got it,” you whispered, holding up the badge for him to see.

Logan smirked. “That’s my girl.”

He slipped the badge into his jacket pocket, and the two of you began weaving through the crowd toward the hallway that led to the restricted areas. You kept a pleasant smile on your face, casually nodding at attendees as you passed. Beside you, Logan's body was tense, ready for a fight if it came to that.

Reaching the hallway, you slipped through the door labeled Authorized Personnel Only. Logan glanced back to make sure no one was following before pulling the door shut behind you.

The ambiance changed immediately, the buzz of the gala replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional beep of security monitors. The luxurious carpet was gone, replaced by plain industrial tile.

“Where to, sweetheart?” Logan asked in a low voice.

“The server room’s at the end of the hall, on the left,” you whispered, nodding ahead.

Logan led the way, his posture relaxed but his hands loosely curled at his sides. You reached the server room without incident, and Logan swiped the badge through the reader. It flashed green with a soft beep, and the door clicked open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, racks of servers glowing faintly with green and blue lights. You stepped in first, your eyes scanning for the console you needed. Logan followed, closing the door quietly behind him and planting himself by it.

“You do your thing. I’ll keep watch,” he said, his voice steady.

“Got it,” you replied, already making your way to the terminal in the corner.

Sitting down, you pulled a flash drive from your clutch and inserted it into the port. Typing quickly, you navigated through the system, bypassing firewalls and locating the files you needed. Jean’s earlier instructions echoed in your mind—what to look for, how to find it, how to pull it without alerting any alarms.

Logan’s voice broke the silence. “How’s it goin’, darlin’?”

“Almost there,” you murmured, biting your lip as a particularly stubborn firewall slowed your progress. After a few more keystrokes, the file began to download.

“I’m in,” you said softly. “Just need a few more seconds.”

Logan didn’t reply, but you could feel his sharp gaze fixed on the hallway outside, ready for anything.

The download finished with a soft ping, and you quickly ejected the flash drive, slipping it back into your clutch. As you stood and turned to Logan, his head jerked up slightly, his ears picking up on something you couldn’t hear.

“Guards,” he muttered. “Two of ’em, comin’ this way.”

Your mind raced. “Okay, uh… we can do what they did in that movie we watched the other night. You know, the spy one!”

Logan frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

“Logan,” you hissed, stepping closer to him. “We have to pretend we’re—” Before you could finish, you reached up, gripped his shirt, and tugged him down into a kiss.

Logan tensed for a split second before relaxing, his arms instinctively sliding around your waist. The kiss deepened quickly, his lips pressing against yours with a mixture of surprise and intensity. One of his hands rested at the small of your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.

The sound of footsteps stopped just outside the server room.

“Hey!” one of the guards called out, his voice sharp.

You and Logan broke apart abruptly, panting softly as you both turned to face the guards. The red lipstick you’d meticulously applied was now smeared—not just on your face but faintly on Logan’s lips as well. One of the guards squinted, clearly caught off guard.

“This area’s off-limits,” the other guard barked.

Logan’s arm was still around your waist, and he stepped forward slightly, putting himself between you and the guards. “Sorry ’bout that. Thought we were sneakin’ off for some privacy. Didn’t realize we weren’t supposed to be here.” His voice was gravelly but calm, carrying just enough irritation to make the act believable.

The guards exchanged looks, then groaned in unison. “Just—get out of here,” the first one said. “Go back to the gala before we have to call someone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan grumbled, steering you back down the hallway. He kept his hand at your back, a silent reassurance.

You stayed quiet until you were back near the main gala floor. When Logan finally looked down at you, his lips quirked into a sly grin.

“You’ve got some guts, darlin’,” he said, his voice filled with approval.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “You’ve got lipstick on your face.”

His grin widened as he rubbed his thumb against his mouth. “You sayin’ it’s not my color?”

“Not exactly,” you teased. “But it definitely makes a statement.”

He chuckled, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you rejoined the party, the flash drive safely tucked away.

---

Logan had given in, allowing you to finally trim his beard. You sat perched on the bathroom counter, knees brushing against his sides as he stood in front of you. His rugged face was in your hands, the razor gliding carefully over his jawline.

As you worked, you started rambling, like always when you were focused on something. “Did you know razors date back to the Bronze Age? They found tools that were basically sharp stones or metals people used to shave with. Imagine that—scraping your face with a rock.”

Logan gave a quiet, non-committal grunt, his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

You weren’t deterred, though. “Then in the 18th century, straight razors became popular. Those were sharp as hell, like something out of a horror movie. Then King Camp Gillette comes in and invents the safety razor in—Logan?”

You suddenly paused, pulling back the razor to wave your hand in front of his face. His eyes snapped up to yours, startled.

“What?” he rumbled.

“You weren’t listening,” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was listening,” he argued, his voice dipping into a softer tone, almost playful. “Just… got distracted.”

You arched a brow. “By what?”

His gaze dropped, just slightly. His focus lingered for a second too long, and then it dawned on you. You glanced down and realized the problem. Since you were sitting on the counter, your chest was right at eye level for him.

“Oh my God,” you blurted, rolling your eyes as heat crept into your face. “Is that the only reason you agreed to let me do this?”

Logan’s lips curled into a small smirk, one that almost made you drop the razor. “Maybe,” he drawled, voice low and teasing. “I had a good view. Figured I’d let you have your fun.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, swatting at him lightly.

His chuckle was a quiet rumble in his chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed or charmed. Maybe both.

“Finish up, darlin’,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Can’t have half a beard. Not a good look for me.”

Shaking your head, you returned to your task, though the edges of your mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile.

---

Later that day the two of you decided to watch a movie in the common room. The bowl of popcorn was already empty, thanks to Logan, but you were more than content to watch the new DVD Scott got you to replace the heels.

It was Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Season One, with director’s cut episodes, behind-the-scenes featurettes, and a few other things.

By the time the fifth episode came on, Logan had fallen asleep. His head rested face down against your stomach, his arm draped lazily over your waist, hanging off the edge of the couch. The quiet sound of his breathing filled the room, his broad shoulders rising and falling steadily.

You smiled down at him, your hands gently weaving through his hair. You couldn’t help but feel a certain tenderness as you sat there, watching the animated battle play out on the screen while he snored faintly against you. This was rare—Logan being so unguarded, so completely relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the usual gruff, sharp-witted man you saw most days.

For once, you were grateful he’d conked out. Not that you didn’t love spending time with him, but movie nights with Logan usually involved endless questions.

"Wait, who’s the green guy again?"

"What kind of idiot jumps into a fight with no backup?"

"So these clones just follow orders without asking questions? Sounds like bad programming."

Sometimes it was cute; other times, it was infuriating. Now, though? Peace. No commentary about Yoda’s battle strategies or sarcastic remarks about Anakin's life choices.

You shifted slightly to readjust, trying not to disturb him, though the weight of his head made it tricky. When you moved, he let out a small, contented grunt, his grip on your waist tightening just a little.

The scene switched to an intense lightsaber duel, and you caught yourself absently stroking Logan’s hair again. He groaned softly and nuzzled his face further into your stomach.

"Mm, warm," he mumbled, his voice gravelly, not quite awake.

"Logan," you whispered, shaking your head with an amused smile. "Are you seriously sleep-talking?"

"Not talkin'," he grunted, burying himself further against you like a sleepy dog finding the perfect napping spot.

"Uh-huh," you said, unable to suppress a laugh. Your fingers stilled for a moment, then continued combing gently through his thick hair. His faint snoring resumed, the small hitch in his breathing telling you he’d sunk back into whatever dreamland had him so quiet.

This—this was your Logan. The Logan who melted around you, softened in ways no one else ever saw. It made all the challenges—the struggles, the years of trying for a baby, the losses—feel worth enduring. You might not have everything you'd once wished for, but you had this. A quiet moment of contentment, wrapped in an old blanket on a threadbare couch, Logan safe and completely at ease in your arms.

For the first time in a long while, your heart didn’t ache for what could’ve been. Instead, you closed your eyes briefly and focused on the gentle weight of him, the comfort of his presence, and the sound of his steady breath.

When you opened them again, the episode was winding down. You grabbed the remote carefully, switching to the next before setting it down. Logan shifted again, his arm curling tighter around you.

“Y’can keep playing it,” he murmured groggily, not lifting his head.

"Thought you were asleep."

"I am," he muttered, eyes still closed.

"You mean you were," you teased.

"Same difference," he rumbled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a tiny smirk before he pressed closer. "Now stop talkin’. I’m comfortable."

You chuckled and let him settle again, absentmindedly tracing circles at the base of his neck. If this was Logan at peace, you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb him, not even for a galaxy far, far away.

that was 2010!

and i can't help but make a star wars reference whenever i can! especially a clone wars reference cause i'm a prequel girly... which is only because of anakin but-

if you don't like star wars literally just imagine anything else (no need to leave rude comments!)

[pukefactory]

(GOD IM SCARED THIS IS MY FIRST ASK AND I DON’T WANNA BE RUDE)

Could I get some Butter Roll Cookie dating headcannons pretty please :]

Don’t worry, you don’t sound rude at all! Hope you enjoy these, friend!

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SURREAL SCIENCE ⋆˚｡⋆⭒⋆

₊✧ Summary: Dating Butter Roll Cookie Headcannons

₊✧ Character(s): Butter Roll Cookie (Cookie Run)

₊✧ Genre: Headcannons, SFW

₊✧ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

₊✧ Image Credits: @sweetnusshoyo

*:･ Butter Roll Cookie approaches your relationship the same way he approaches his experiments—with boundless enthusiasm and meticulous attention to detail. He insists on keeping a “Research Log” of your dates, noting what activities made you happiest and what desserts you liked best. You caught him once muttering, “Hypothesis: They enjoy surprise picnics. Testing required.”

*:･ Your lab is always stocked with the best pastries, whether you want them or not. Butter Roll Cookie constantly bakes new treats for you to sample, his golden eyes sparkling as he waits for your reaction. Even if you tell him you’re full, he just laughs, saying, “Nonsense! Love is best expressed through buttery, flaky layers!”

*:･ Butter Roll Cookie is your biggest supporter, always reframing your mistakes as learning experiences. If you’re frustrated with something, he’ll pat your head and say, “All great discoveries come from trial and error! You’re on the path to greatness, my sweet roll!”

*:･ Whenever he pulls you into a hug, you swear he smells like warm butter and vanilla. It’s intoxicating, and he knows it. He loves to wrap you up in his arms after a long day, whispering, “You work so hard! Time for a well-earned cuddle break.”

*:･ Butter Roll Cookie gets so wrapped up in his research that he forgets to rest. You often have to pull him away from his dough-covered workbench, guiding him to bed while he sleepily mumbles about fermentation times. If you press a kiss to his forehead, he’ll immediately go still, blinking up at you before sighing, “Well… If it’s for you, I suppose I can rest a little.”

*:･ Helping him in the lab usually devolves into playful chaos. If you swipe a bit of flour onto his cheek, he’ll gasp dramatically before launching a handful of sugar at you. “You dare challenge the great Butter Roll Cookie? Prepare yourself!” Cue an all-out food fight that somehow ends with a perfectly baked batch of pastries.

*:･ Butter Roll Cookie insists that proper safety measures are necessary in both baking and love. One day, he presents you with a custom pair of goggles just like his, grinning proudly. “Now we’re officially lab partners! …Or should I say, life partners?”

*:･ He has a habit of saying things that make your heart race without realizing it. While kneading dough together, he’ll murmur, “You know, we work so well together… Maybe we were meant to mix.” If you get flustered, he just tilts his head, utterly unaware of what he just did.

*:･ Butter Roll Cookie loves surprising you with breakfast in bed. The trays are always overflowing—fluffy pancakes, golden croissants, and fruit drizzled with honey. He watches you take the first bite with eager eyes, hands clasped as he whispers, “Is it perfect? Tell me it’s perfect.”

*:･ No matter what interests you, Butter Roll Cookie listens with rapt attention, occasionally jotting down notes like a scientist studying a new discovery. If you mention wanting to try something new, he’s already making plans to help you achieve it. “A new hobby? Fascinating! I must assist! After all, experimentation is the heart of discovery, my dear!”

[misskitxx]

Since y’all like to suffer—mad scientist Jayce that keeps Viktor alive against his will one-shot!

They had been hands apart on a single wrench, fingers grazing, a contact that electrified the sterile air. Viktor’s eyes, haunted even then, had flashed defiance.

Their fingers brush reaching for the same wrench. Viktor jerks back, but Jayce catches his wrist.

“You’re shaking,” Jayce says.

“Irrelevant.” Viktor pulls free, but Jayce crowds him against the workbench.

“Let me care for you. Let me—”

Viktor stills. Jayce’s thumb brushes his jaw. Viktor’s voice cracks. “Finish the calculations. The rest… is a distraction.”

Jayce kisses him anyway—clumsy, desperate. Viktor’s resolve lasts three seconds before he kisses back, wrench clattering to the floor. A first confession, soft and uncertain, and it changes everything.

Their confession—a clumsy, uncertain kiss—had been a secret vow, whispered in the silence between metal and wire.

The lab reeks of fermented rot and ionized sweat. Jayce lights a lavender-scented candle to mask the stench of Viktor’s decaying flesh.

The machine in Viktor’s chest click-click-hums like the countdown of his agony. Viktor’s chest heaves with labored breaths, each one a struggle as the violet Shimmer IV drip courses into his fragile veins. His eyes flutter open, the agony in them a silent plea, soft and ragged.

“Almost time,” Jayce murmurs, adjusting the Shimmer IV drip. The violet fluid slithers into Viktor’s arm, reactivating necrotic nerves. He chokes back a scream as feeling returns—agony in 4K resolution.

“Please…” his voice rasps, barely audible above the relentless hum of machinery. He is vividly aware of his own body betraying him, limbs convulsing in the mirror of his own pain.

Jayce leans in, his lips ghosting over Viktor’s trembling eyelids as if in silent prayer.

His face, smeared with medicinal silver and the iron tang of fresh blood, is a mask of determined tenderness. “You’re colder today,” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of regret and fierce love. "We'll fix that."

His fingers deftly adjust the drip, dialing in new concentrations of violet fluid meant to reawaken the dead spark in Viktor’s nerves, even as the revived tissue screams in agony.

Viktor’s eyes dart around, desperate for an escape that doesn’t come. “I can't—” he croaks, voice thick with suffering. But Jayce’s response is as cold as the metallic instruments arrayed before them.

“Not yet,” he says, more to himself than to Viktor, his tone taut with the promise of restoration—a promise built on fractured dreams and impossible calculations. “We’ll fix this. I promise.”

Memories flash—a moment of tender laughter in a sunlit field, the warmth of shared secrets before... This. It doesn't matter that the laughter became a rasp, that his flesh was decaying. In Jayce's eyes, it was still Viktor. His Viktor.

“Jayce…” Viktor whispers, voice trembling, eyes pleading for mercy. “Stop. I—I can’t endure…” His words are strangled by despair, a soft lamentation that fades into the cold darkness of the lab.

But Jayce does not relent. With a gentle, almost reverent urgency, he presses his lips to the junction where copper wiring merges with decaying flesh beneath Viktor’s collarbone.

“We’ll fix this,” he promises, as though by defying nature’s decree, he might resurrect not just Viktor’s body, but the fragile hope of their intertwined souls.

Furtive smiles in hidden corridors of the council’s halls, the reckless abandon of a love born out of defiance—and then...

Jayce’s hands, trembling with a cocktail of desperation and adoration, trace lines on Viktor’s skin as if reading a sacred text. “I love you,” he whispers over and over, as though the repetition might banish the haunting echoes of guilt and grief.

Viktor’s voice, ragged and fading, is swallowed by the hum of the machine. “Let me sleep,” he begs, his tone soft—a final surrender to the inevitability of his suffering.

Jayce smoothes Viktor's hair. Shushes him, ignores the rigidness of his partner’s lips and the strain in his barely-there raspy voice. His fingers twitch, and his face lights up with a crooked smile. "Shh. I'll make it stop. Just— Hold on there, love. Another dose of the painkillers will do the trick."

They won't.

[fermentertechnologies]

Lab Fermenter Manufacturers

Fermenter Technologies is a leading innovator in the design and manufacture of high-quality Lab Fermenter Manufacturers, catering to diverse industries such as biotechnology, pharmaceuticals, and academic research. With a commitment to excellence, the company specializes in creating advanced fermentation systems that empower scientists and researchers to achieve groundbreaking results.

Each lab fermenter from Fermenter Technologies is engineered for precision, durability, and user-friendliness. The equipment is designed to support microbial, cell culture, and enzymatic processes, ensuring optimal performance across a wide range of applications. From small-scale research projects to pilot studies, the fermenters deliver unparalleled reliability and consistency, helping clients push the boundaries of innovation.

What sets Fermenter Technologies apart is its dedication to customization and client satisfaction. The company collaborates closely with customers to tailor fermenter systems that meet their specific requirements, offering bespoke solutions that align seamlessly with experimental goals. Equipped with state-of-the-art automation and control systems, the fermenters ensure accuracy in monitoring critical parameters like temperature, pH, dissolved oxygen, and agitation.

Sustainability and efficiency are at the core of Fermenter Technologies' values. By integrating energy-efficient components and eco-friendly materials, the company contributes to greener practices in scientific exploration. Their unparalleled expertise, combined with a commitment to quality and innovation, has earned them a reputation as a trusted partner in the fermentation industry.

Fermenter Technologies continues to redefine excellence in lab fermenter manufacturing, supporting a future of limitless scientific possibilities.

For more details contact 8896456000 instechsystems@gmail.com

[becomeundeath]

Fragrances for the Dead

A list of fragrances that would be fitting of the dead and undead. Many of these sellers have more intriguing fragrances in the same theme, so be sure to check them out. Prices are included and listed in USD.

Midnight Mass by Amorphous

"Aroma palette is smoky, incense, and resinous. Highlights include frankincense, myrrh, ancient moss, aged merlot, antique woods, and extinguished candle wick." Price: $26/5ml oil / $160/50ml EDP

Vena Cava by Amorphous

"Aroma palette is woodsy, floral, and metallic. Highlights include dark florals, merlot, orris, ylang ylang, oud, and blood accord." Price: $26/5ml oil / $160/50ml EDP

Bloodflower by PARFUMS QUARTANA

"Aromatic anisé liquor stirs a metallic blood accord into a frenzy of nocturnal delight. Accords: Licorice, Anise, Blood Accord, Cloves, Orris, Bulgarian Rose, Amber, Patchouli" Price: $11/2ml EDP / $195/50ml EDP

Grave by Redwood Alchemy

"This scent is reminiscent of freshly turned grave dirt, damp grass, powdered flowers, coffin wood and etched granite slabs cloaked in moss. Notes: Etched Gravestones, Pine Boxes, Old Creeping Moss, Freshly Turned Grave Dirt, Dry Flowers." Price: $42.99/10ml / $119.99/30ml

St Louis Cemetery by Alkemia

"An atmospheric brooding of Spanish moss, crumbling stone, old cement, red clay brick, and graveyard dirt." Price: $20/5ml extrait / $95/30ml extrait

Olympic Rainforest by Olympic Orchards

"Notes: cedar leaves, green sword ferns, rhododendron, forest mushrooms, beebalm, myrtle, wildflowers, oakmoss, black spruce, balsam fir, Port Orford Cedar, earthy accord." Price: $3/1ml / $65/30ml

Zombie for Him by Demeter

"Both Zombie scents are described as a combination of dried leaves, mushrooms, mildew, moss and earth." Price: $25/30ml

Inexcusable Evil by Toskovat'

Based off of the concept of war and the horrors of it, said to smell like gunpowder, concrete, blood, and iodine. Price: Sold Out (originally $255/60ml)

Bonus: Accent fragrances

Blood by Redwood Alchemy

"This unique layering accord reeks pungently of realistic, fresh blood. Notes: Blood, Iron & Copper" Price: $54.99/10ml / $139.99/30ml

Dirt by Demeter

"Our most emblematic fragrance, Demeter's Dirt was made to smell exactly like the dirt from the fields around the Pennsylvania family farm belonging to our founding perfumer." Price: $25/30ml

Funeral Home by Demeter

"Funeral Home is a blend of classic white flowers including lilies, carnations, gladiolus, chrysanthemums with stems and leaves, with a hint of mahogany and oriental carpet." Price: $25/30ml

Bonfire by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

"The perfume of withering leaves, their brittle forms surrendering to the flame, releasing a sigh of bitter smoke that is flickering with the ghosts of summer’s memory." Price: $29 oil

The Fifth Veil by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

"Putrefaction, the veil of decay. A yellowing shroud of raw-edged Muga silk, banana-spotted with chunks of fermented fig and exuding rich, earthy puffs of mushroom dust." Price: $31 oil

Ezekiel 16:49 by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab

"Blood musk and ashes." Price: $33 oil

Where to get samples:

I personally recommend Luckyscent and Surrender to Chance for decants of brands that might be out of stock or don't offer samples. Most samples will be anywhere from $3 to $8 and these sites will often have sales, especially during the holidays.

Some places such as Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, Hexennacht, or The Strange South are partnered with Ajevie to provide samples.

Additional:

Fragrances more often than not are NOT cheap. I highly recommend tracking down a sample of whatever fragrance you want BEFORE spending the money to get a bottle. Always try fragrances in a small amount beforehand to make sure you have no reactions to the formula or scent, and wash it off quickly if you do. When wearing perfume oils, keep the area out of direct sunlight.