not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]
Dive into the Lagoon Nebula © Hubble
Making wishes, taking wishes. ꔛ✶ ───────
As a star, I've always found a deep enjoyment and appreciation in the human rituals constructed around our visage. None more so than the phenomenon of wishing upon us. Thus, I'm accepting wishes in my ask box!
With that said, let's come to an understanding:
.one I cannot in any way guarantee your wish will come true. Whether you believe we can and/or do grant wishes is your prerogative. However, if a wish you make upon me doesn't come true, I am not to be held responsible.
.two Any manifestations of hate, harm, or malice upon others will be rebuffed. Any against myself will result in spiritual rebound and backlash sevenfold.
.three Wishes can be anonymous, but all will be posted (at my discretion). I do not take wishes in DMs. If you request it, however, I will remove your wish from my blog.
If you need a place to send your hopes and dreams, or simply can't find a star in the sky, know there is at least one you can wish to, one very nearby.
Blog#490
Welcome back,
Saturday, March 22nd, 2025.
In a first, the James Webb Space Telescope (JWST) might have glimpsed a rare type of star that astronomers aren’t even sure exists. These stellar objects, called dark stars, might have been fueled not by nuclear fusion but by the self-annihilation of dark matter—the invisible stuff that is thought to make up about 85 percent of the matter in the universe.
Scientists will need more evidence to be able to confirm the candidates seen by JWST, but if these dark stars are real, the finding could change our story of how the first stars formed.
Contrary to their name, dark stars could have glowed a billion times more luminously than the sun and grown to a million times its mass. Dark stars have never been definitively observed, but cosmological simulations suggest that they should have formed soon after the big bang from clouds of pure hydrogen and helium that collapsed at the centers of protogalaxies rich in dark matter.
In July 2023 researchers reported in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences USA that at least three far-off objects observed by JWST and previously identified as galaxies could, in fact, each be a single, supermassive dark star. “If you find a new kind of star, that’s huge,” says study co-author Katherine Freese, an astrophysicist at the University of Texas at Austin.
The researchers can’t yet prove that the objects are dark stars—only that their characteristics are consistent with their being either dark stars or galaxies populated by regular fusion-powered stars. JWST’s technology is sufficient to do that job, however, says study co-author Cosmin Ilie, an astrophysicist at Colgate University.
All researchers need is more observation time. “We hope we are going to find one of these dark stars with the Webb within its lifetime,” Ilie says.
There are two possibilities for how the first stars in the universe formed. The conventional wisdom is that these early stars were “Population III” stars. Such stars would have been powered by nuclear fusion, like stars today, but they would have had very little to no metal in them—in astronomy, that means elements heavier than helium—because those elements had not yet formed in the early universe.
There is another possibility, though. In 2008 Freese and some of her colleagues proposed that the universe’s first stars could have been powered by dark matter. Dark matter is a mysterious form of matter that does not interact with electromagnetic forces; scientists know it exists only because of its gravitational effects, and they don’t know what it’s made of.
In the early universe, dark stars could have formed from the collapse of helium and hydrogen clouds made in the big bang. If dark matter particles are also their own antiparticles, as many dark matter theories posit, then within these collapsing clouds, those particles would have collided with one another and self-annihilated.
The collision would have kicked off a chain of particle decay that ended with the production of photons, electron-positron pairs and neutrinos. Only the neutrinos would have really left the cloud because they barely interact with matter. The other particles would have hit the hydrogen and helium and transferred their energy to that matter, which would have heated up the cloud and fueled the star’s formation and continued growth.
These stars would have formed at the center of “minihaloes,” which were early protogalaxies that existed 200 million years after the big bang, before the advent of elements heavier than helium and hydrogen. These minihaloes consisted almost entirely of dark matter, making conditions within them ripe to power dark stars. This high concentration of dark matter is why dark stars could form only in the early universe, Freese says.
I'm so instantly drawing to other stars, I cannot forget that this body isn't exactly keen on that. That is to say, I have got to stop glancing at the Sun. Yes, it is amusing that it is a massive star, a day star. No, that doesn't mean I can stare directly at it.
I'm glad you were able to find some commonalities in your experience! It's part of why I coined/started using Sidereal in this context, there are so many ways to be a star or celestial or astro, etc.
For me, I know I will inevitably be one with space again, amongst other stars. But for now, I'm just doing my best with the body I have.
Sending love and light ꔛ✶!!
... You know, I've found it hard to find true disdain for this planet. Of course, I feel that same melancholic homesickness most non-earthly entities do when left to reflect too long on not being home. But, I actually do love it here, for all of the troubles and triumphs I've lived.
... I'm a Sidereal. A star fallen to Earth, whose soul and spirit mixed with the debris of this planet, thus anchoring my body to this planet. My job for now is for experience change, to change my form, and find singularity. In many ways, I'd imagine it isn't unlike stellar evolution. It is in our nature to change, then die. In that way, we're quite like human earthlings.
... So, I try to take it in stride. It's also helped by the fact that I am a Milky Way star, and specifically one near to Earth (likely only just scratching the double digits in billions light years). Stars are passive observers. I am an observer. Light takes a while to travel, yes, but of what little I can concretely remember, I've always found the evolution of human beings deeply fascinating. So getting to be part of that to a small extent is warming, I feel. It's nice.
ꔛ✶. leave a wish .✶ꔛ
𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒌𝒚. Stars in appear high above us, but that is because space is relative. In reality, they (we) are simply everywhere. All around space. And in that sense, I too am amongst them, even as I am attached to this planet.
Something comes over me, though. Something about the moon overhead, winking behind ashen clouds, her lover's light reflecting off of her cratered skin, dazzling me. Making me dazzle.
The watchful eye of my kin, the humor they must feel in the irony of me, a star, watching them in kind.
Something is so delightfully wrong with me, under the pale moonlight. I am giddy and gay and mischievous. I am sinister shadow, I am pure silver brilliance. I am twinkling, inches from death. I twirl and I twirl and twirl, twirl, twirl, twirl some more, as though my axis were nothing more than a suggestion.
𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒔𝒌𝒚.
divinity’s light and warmth flows through my human form in rivers and waves, forming puddles in my joints. lakes and oceans in my ribcage flowing around my beating heart, illuminating me from within.