#Five Mineral Powder

[genshinluvr]

Burning Desire

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and the men are exploring the Chasm to search for the flower dubbed the Scent of Spring. A rare flower that is the last of its kind. While trying to pull the flower from the cracks in the wall, the flower sprays a strange powder all over you. When the flower sprays powder all over you, you end up inhaling a large amount of it.

Note: Welcome to a new smut series by yours truly, me! Thanks to the requester, there is a new smut series where every man gets their own smut fic and the readers get to choose who's starting the smut series and who will be next after the previous character! This request was sent in before the harem had 25 people, therefore I am making it into a new smut series other than Crave. There will be a poll per chapter and whoever gets the most votes will be the one to start off the smut, and whoever is voted the most after that character the started the smut fic (for example: Aether), will be the next chapter. Instead of making the reader drink an aphrodisiac, I decided to have the reader inhale it. Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: No smut in this part (darn), but there are some implications of sex and masturbation. Reader inhales a large amount of sex pollen/aphrodisiac.

Word Count: 9.2k

Burning Desire "chapters"/routes: [1], [2], [3], [4]

You have recently decided to work for the Adventurer’s Guild! Kind of. The Akademiya and the Adventurer’s Guild decide to team up and let the Akademiya students explore around and take on an adventurer’s task. You are tasked to investigate the Chasm and find a mysterious flower that went extinct thousands of years ago. Rumor has it that there is only one flower that managed to survive the extinction, and you are on a mission to find that flower.

When you informed your twenty-five boyfriends about your task in the Chasm, they were hesitant to let you go to the Chasm. Not because they didn’t trust you but because it’s the Chasm, and many things can go wrong down there. Plus, it’s hard to tell whether the air conditions are safe down there or not. Hence why miners would go into the Chasm with finches in the cage— to test whether the air quality is good down there or not. At least, that’s what you can recall. 

“Why the Chasm? Why not somewhere else that isn’t dangerous, like the Chasm?” Aether asks, leaning back in his seat while gazing at you worriedly.

Al Haitham chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows furrowing. “Did they assign you the Chasm?”

You shake your head. “I chose to go to the Chasm! There’s this rare— I’m not sure if I should call it rare— flower in the Chasm. It’s the only flower that managed to survive while its fellow species went extinct. Because botany is what I specialize in, I want to find this flower, bring it back to the Akademiya, and have it studied,” you explain.

“And you want to go to the Chasm alone?” Tighnari asks, staring at you with wide eyes.

You quickly protest, “No, no! I’m not! I was hoping you all would go to the Chasm with me and keep me company!” You say, fiddling with your thumbs.

The corners of Childe’s lips quirk up after hearing your response. Childe gets up from his seat and walks over to you. Childe wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest, and caresses your face in front of the other men around you two. You and Childe hear collective scoffs and groans from the men.

Childe has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Do you all hear that? My precious snookums wants me to keep them company to the Chasm!” Childe exclaims dramatically, resting his cheek on your head while rocking you back and forth.

“You mean us, Harbinger. [Y/N] wants us to join them in the Chasm while they search for this mysterious flower for their Akademiya research,” Diluc interjects, rolling his eyes.

Childe rolls his eyes and mouths “whatever” to himself while suffocating you in his arms. It wasn’t hard to convince the others to join you in the Chasm while you searched for this flower. And now, here you are, walking through the Chasm with your beloved boyfriends following behind.

Your professors at the Akademiya have been raving about this mysterious flower when you were a new student at the Akademiya. Despite the professors raving about the flower, they were afraid of going to the Chasm to search for the flower, which is a bit ironic because most Akademiya scholars would risk it all for their research and experiments. 

The flower is dubbed the “Scent of Spring,” and you’re not entirely sure why the flower is called that when none of these scholars have gotten close enough to the flower to smell it. While the scholars at the Akademiya have some knowledge of the flower, the knowledge did not help you and the men find this flower. You only know what it looks like.

You hold the sketched image of the “Scent of Spring” in your hands. “It looks like an apple blossom! And the colors are supposed to be a gradient of light steel blue and a medium slate blue,” you murmur, stroking your chin.

“It’s dark down here. How are we supposed to find this mysterious flower in a place like this?” Kaveh asks, squinting to search the darkness ahead of you all.

You shrug, following behind Albedo (who has the Lumenstone Adjuvant). “I’m not sure! It should be somewhere in the Chasm, but my professors and the other scholars weren’t clear on where the flower can be found,” you sigh.

“Sounds like they don’t know what they’re talking about. What if they led you on a goose chase, and they’re watching our every move to get what they wanted?” Cyno asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Oh, dear archons. You sure hope the Akademiya scholars aren’t leading you on a wild goose chase. This is part of your assignment and research project. You will be disappointed if you go through all that trouble just to find out the flower doesn’t exist or the scholars already have it.

Albedo hums thoughtfully, shining the Lumenstone Adjuvant in another direction in the cave. “I don’t think a couple of scholars are capable of doing that. But if they attempt to do that, we won’t let it happen,” Albedo murmurs.

“How does a flower thrive in an environment like the Chasm? It’s underground, away from sunlight. There’s no way a flower can survive without sunlight,” Scaramouche interjects, kicking a pebble across the cave.

“Well, there are plenty of plants that can grow without sunlight, Scaramouche. I find it strange that a flower can survive in an environment like the Chasm. We can barely breathe in some areas of the Chasm,” you mutter, propping your hands on your hips before looking back at the sketched image of the flower. 

The area all of you are in is dark and wet. It’s disgusting, but the air is breathable compared to other areas of the Chasm you all explored a while ago. It’s kind of a win. The sound of water dripping from the ceiling in the cave is all you can hear. As you and the twenty-five men continue to walk further into the cave, the sound of the waterfall running gradually becomes louder.

Venti points forward. “Maybe the flower survived in the Chasm because of this stream that is connected to the waterfall!” Venti theorizes, skipping ahead of the group.

You stop in your tracks and think about what Venti had just said. He’s not wrong. While the air in the Chasm is unbreathable in some areas, there is a source of running water in the Chasm that could be keeping the flower alive. You and the men progress into the cave, the waterfall getting louder and louder the more you all approach the end of the cave.

“Are there any other descriptions given about the flower other than its color? Does it glow in the dark? Is there a strong scent?” Heizou trails off, looking around the cave to search for the flower.

You shake your head. “My professors didn’t give me any further details about the flower other than it being dubbed the Scent of Spring,” you say dramatically.

“And what does the scent of spring supposed to smell like? Spring?” Itto asks, making a “pfft” sound and walking over to where you stand and props his arm on your head, using you as a personal stand. 

You shrug your shoulders and move Itto’s arm off your head. “That, I do not know! However, I think that means we should start sniffing flowers,” you say, pulling out your flashlight and begin searching for this rare flower your professors and the scholars in the botany department have been raving about for who knows how long. 

You believe once you have given the scholars the flower, they will try to find a way to bring back the population of the extinct flower. Though, you wonder if they will continue to revive their population if the flower ends up being dangerous to inhale or be around. Now that you think about it, there are dangerous plants throughout Teyvat that are used for experiments to create new medicine or cure for diseases.

“Once you find the flower, what are you going to do with it?” Ayato asks, his eyes landing on the giant mushroom in the Chasm.

The giant mushroom in the Chasm illuminated the area. You shine the flashlight around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the flower the Akademiya scholars have been talking about nonstop. You hum and prop your hand on your hip, thinking about what you will be doing with the flower once you find it.

“I’m going to give it to the Akademiya, but I want Albedo and the others to get some research done on it. It wouldn’t be fair if I find something rare and immediately hand it off to the scholars at the Akademiya,” you say.

Dottore smiles and throws his arms around your shoulders. “It’s sweet how you’re putting us ahead of the scholars,” Dottore coos, pinching your cheek with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Since this is for [Y/N]’s assignment, let’s not distract them any more than we already are. They need to focus and find the flower,” says Baizhu, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mouthed a “thank you” to Baizhu before proceeding on your search for the flower. Everyone is scattered around the cave, searching for the Scent of Spring. You’re not sure why it's dubbed the Scent of Spring because surely the people would have known what it smells like if they come across it. But because the flower is in the Chasm and no one has gone near it, you find it hard to believe that the flower smells like spring. Plus, what does spring smell like other than flowers? Every flower has its own unique scent.

After searching for about fifteen minutes, you see a medium-sized flower between the cracks in the wall. The flower is sticking out, and it’s shaped like an apple blossom and has the same color gradient that was written down on the piece of paper in your hand. The sound of your gasp alerted the men, and they all ran toward where you were standing.

Kaeya points at the flower. “Is that the flower you’ve been searching for?” Kaeya asks, inspecting the flower from a safe distance.

You nod slowly. “I believe it is! It’s shaped like an apple blossom, it has the same color gradient written on the paper, and it’s the only flower in this area,” you murmur, reaching forward and touching the petals. “It’s really soft, too,” you add.

“Now that we found it, how should we extract the flower from the area without damaging it?” Asks Thoma, tilting his head to the side and scanning the flower in front of you.

You pull a glass case from your bag and place it on the ground, putting on rubber gloves and preparing to take the flower out from where it’s residing. There’s no guarantee you’ll be able to pull the Scent of Spring out of the cracks without damaging it. It’ll be ironic if it dies the minute you pull it out from the cracks, even though it survived for thousands of years while its own kind went extinct.

When you tug on it, you notice the stem is quite thick, almost as wide as a branch. Not only was it sturdy, but you noticed there was some powdery substance on the flower itself. Even though you know little to nothing about this particular flower, you know that most flowers in Teyvat do not have a powdery coating on top of the petals. You rub the powder between your gloved thumb and index finger, testing its consistency.

“That’s odd. I’ve never seen a flower that has this powdery coating on it,” you murmur, leaning your face closer to the flower to inspect it.

“Does it smell like the Scent of Spring?” Kazuha asks, watching you examine the flower closely.

You shrugged your shoulders and gave a whiff of the flower. After whiffing the flower, you have concluded that the flower has no scent at all. Therefore whoever named the flower needs to rename it because it doesn’t smell like spring, nor does it smell like anything at all. It does have a hint of an earthy smell, but that could be coming from the rocks and the dirt it’s planted in. 

You shake your head. “There’s no scent. The Akademiya scholars will need to rename it because it has no fragrance at all,” you say, proceeding to gently grab it by the stem, lightly tugging on it.

When you tug on it lightly, it does not budge. Not even a little bit. You furrow your eyebrows and pull on the flower harder. The harder you pull on the flower, the more you realize the flower isn’t going to be budging anytime soon. Before you know it, the flower sprays the powder all over you. You freeze and release the flower, blinking at the men, who look at you worriedly. 

You breathe in the powder, feeling the powder inhaled through your nose. You coughed and began hacking, punching your chest, doubling over while in a coughing fit. Gorou panics and runs toward you, only for you to shake your head frantically and gesture for him and others not to come any closer.

Gorou whimpers, looking at the others worriedly. “[Y/N], are you okay?” Gorou asks softly.

You calm down after a few minutes and take a deep breath, wincing when you feel the powder in your throat and lungs. You take deep gulps of air and straighten up, looking over at the flower. The flower no longer has a powdery coating on its petals, which was strange because it made you assume the flower never had any powder coating in the first place. What was that thing that coated the flower? Unless it was the flower that spits the powder at you as a defense mechanism?

You stroke your chin. “How strange,” You mutter.

Xiao scoffs. “Yeah, no kidding. You were hacking your lungs up a few minutes ago, and now you’re acting like everything’s okay?” Xiao asks, propping his hands on his hips while narrowing his eyes at you.

You clear your throat, swallowing your saliva. You wince and rub your throat, sniffing the air lightly. You can still feel the powdery substance in your nose, lungs, and throat. It feels awful. It’s almost as if you purposefully inhaled cinnamon or breathed in cinnamon. Your nose begins to itch, making you take your rubber gloves off and rub your nose, hoping to get rid of the itchiness in your nostrils.

Zhongli approaches you and places a hand on your shoulder. “Dearest, are you alright?” Zhongli asks softly.

You wave Zhongli off and nod, but you don’t brush his hands away from you. “Yeah! I’m fine! Totally fine!” You say, giving the men a strained smile.

Before any of the men could speak up, you squeeze your eyes shut and sneeze into your elbow. You quickly act like nothing has happened. The men stare at you, and you stare right back at them. You cough into your elbow to clear your throat. You can still feel the powder lingering in your nose, lungs, and throat. You look over at the flower, and you still don’t see any of the powder coatings that you have inhaled. Whatever the powder was, you only hope it’s not a drug that will negatively impact you and your health. Just when Tighnari was about to open his mouth to say something, you sneezed again.

You rub your nose and groan. “Oh my gosh. I can still feel the stupid powder,” you groused.

“We should head back to the abode and get you checked out,” Dainsleif says, now standing beside you.

“What about the flower? It wouldn’t budge when I tried to get it,” you mutter, pointing over at the flower that looks delicate.

Pierro sighs and closes his eyes. “We’ll get it for you,” he says, looking over at Capitano and nodding.

Capitano walks toward the flower wedged between the cracks in the wall. Capitano grabs the flower by the stem and begins to lightly tug on the flower to see how stuck it is in the gaps.

“Okay, but please be care—” 

Capitano grunts and rips the flower from the wall; the flower is still intact and in good shape. Somehow. You look at Capitano blankly, who turns toward you and holds the flower out to you. You, Dainsleif, and Zhongli stare at the flower in Capitano’s hand.

“The flower was firmly planted in the cracks. You need to put more force when you pull the flower out from where it was planted,” Capitano says gruffly.

You grab the flower from Capitano’s hand and place the flower in the glass case. The flower is beautiful, but you’re upset the flower sprayed the powdery substance at you. And now you have to get checked up to see if the powder has any effects on you, your lungs, your nose, and your throat. Other than the lingering feeling of inhaling the powder, you feel fine. You close the glass case and put it back in your backpack, putting the bag on and rubbing your nose with the palm of your hand.

Pantalone looks at you worriedly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t feel strange, do you?” Pantalone asks.

You shake your head. “I’m feeling okay so far! But, we should get to the abode quick. I need to find a safe place to store the flower, then shower to wash this,” you gestured to your body, “off.” 

Tighnari, Albedo, Baizhu, and Dottore walk up to you. Albedo, Tighnari, and Dottore pull out cotton swabs and begin to swipe at the powder on your body and put it in a glass test tube. You blink at the men and watch them pocket the test tube, acting like nothing has happened.

You shake your head with a deep exhale. “I’m assuming you’re all going to put it under the microscope to see what the powder actually is?” You ask.

Albedo nods and adjusts his glove. “We’re also going to run some tests on it to see what the powder is made of,” replies Albedo.

You and the men start walking back to the surface of the Chasm. You made sure the men walked ahead of you while you walked behind them. You don’t want to risk the men inhaling the powder while you walk in front of them, and a gust of wind blows the powder to their faces, making them inhale it. Upon arriving at the abode, you take your shoes off and rub your nose. Your nose is still itching, your throat no longer feels weird, but you can feel the powder lingering in your lungs.

“Are we going to the lab, or are we going to the infirmary for my check-up?” You ask, scratching the back of your head. 

Other than wondering where you need to go for the check-up, you really want to take a shower and wash the remaining powder off your clothes, hair, and body. The powder got everywhere (it covered you from head to toe, pretty much), and it bothered you.

Tighnari hums and taps his chin. “That’s a good question,” Tighnari hums, tapping his foot on the ground.

“Wait! I’m going to take a shower first, then we can start with the check-up,” You said.

You turn around and quickly walk up the stairs to your bedroom. While you are showering, you scrub every nook and cranny with a loofa lathered in a sakura blossom-scented shower gel. You want to make sure to scrub and wash away the powder sprayed at you. 

You might have to dispose of the clothes you wore to the Chasm. You don’t want the powder to be lingering around or spread on other things in the abode (like the men’s clothes). So far, you’re not feeling anything from the powder. The only thing it’s doing to you is making you cough and sneeze occasionally.

You changed into clean undergarments and clothes. You wrap your hair in a towel and submerge your clothes in the water to make sure the powder dissolves into the water. You continue with your skincare routine, making sure to scrub your face for a long time with cleanser. 

After your skincare, you walk to your bathtub and drain the water, wringing your clothes dry once the water is completely drained. Once the clothes are wrung, you toss them into a trash bag and take them downstairs, your hair still dripping wet from your shower. You open the trash can and throw the trash bag into it, ignoring the looks the men are giving you.

You clear your throat and turn to the others with a smile on your face. “I’m ready for my check-up now! Do we go to the infirmary, or are we going to get it done in the lab?” You ask.

“Why did you throw your clothes away?” Baizhu asks, pointing at the stainless steel trash bin.

You shrug your shoulders. “I’m throwing them away just to be safe. I soaked them in the bathtub and wrung them dry, but I’m not risking anything!” You huff, propping your hands on your hips.

Dottore approaches you and wraps his arms over your shoulders. “We’ll be conducting a simple check-up on you in the lab. You haven’t been showing any medical emergencies since we returned to the abode. So, I believe we’ll be doing it in the lab,” Dottore explains, turning to look at Tighnari, Albedo, and Baizhu, who nod in agreement. 

You and the twenty-five men walk to the laboratory in the basement of the estate. You sit on the closest chair and wait for one of the four men (Albedo, Baizhu, Dottore, and Tighnari) to start the check-up. While Baizhu’s checking up on your eyes, throat, breathing, and your heart, the other men ask you various questions.

“Did you feel strange when you breathed in the powder?” Ayato asks.

“Not really,” you shake your head, “other than coughing and sneezing because of the powder, I feel alright. Although I did feel the powder going into my throat and lungs when it sprayed on me.”

Dainsleif furrows his eyebrows and watches you closely. “Can you still feel it?” Dainsleif asks.

You take a deep breath, only for your breath to get caught in your throat halfway, making you cough. You wince and nod to Dainsleif’s question. “I can still feel it, but not as much as I could earlier,” you croak.

“Here, drink this,” Childe says as he hands you a cup of water. 

You give Childe a grateful smile and grab the cup from his hands before gulping the water. After a few more questions from the men, Baizhu concludes that you’re healthy and there’s nothing wrong. But Baizhu did advise you to keep a close eye on your health and body in case anything changes overnight or over the next few days. That is something you don’t mind doing, and you’re planning on doing it anyway.

You look at the flower in the display case in the laboratory. It’s in great condition. Nothing is torn or crushed, thankfully. You get up from your seat and walk toward the display glass. As much as you want to start your research on the flower, your breathing in the powder is already too much for you to deal with. Especially when you have coughing or sneezing fits every now and then. 

Kaeya notices the look on your face while you examine the flower. “Oh, no. You’re not conducting any experiments or research right now, bunny. What you need to do is rest,” says Kaeya, crossing his arms over his chest.

You pucker your lips. “I know, Kaeya! I just wanted to make sure the flower is in good condition! After all, Capitano did rip the flower from the cracks,” you say, looking over at the tall man.

Capitano shrugs. “You attempted to be gentle with the flower, and it wouldn’t budge. Therefore, I took it into my own hands and got you the flower you need for your research,” replies Capitano.

You turn toward the flower and continue where you left off. The powder. The flower didn’t produce the powder again, making you wonder if the powder was only temporary or if it’ll make the powdery coating again if the flower was still in the cracks. Even if the flower did produce that powder as a defense mechanism from predators or (in your and the Akademiya’s case) people who want to take the flower from its habitat, the flower did not create any more powder after it sprayed you the first time.

Pierro raises an eyebrow at you. “What’s on your mind, little one?” Pierro asks.

You press your lips into a thin line and shake your head. “Way too much, that’s for sure,” you sigh.

“I think you should take a break for today! We returned to the abode from the Chasm not too long ago. It’s been a long day for all of us, and you should spend the day with us relaxing and doing nothing!” Itto proclaims, pulling you to his chest and patting your damp hair.

You snort and let yourself melt in Itto’s arms. “Alright, I’ll take up on your offer,” you say, reaching up and tapping on Itto’s nose lightly.

Itto scrunches his nose and rubs the tip of his nose against yours. You giggle and wrap your arms around his waist, pressing a kiss on his cheek. Itto lifts you up and carries you out of the laboratory with the other men following behind. Some were muttering about how Itto is hogging you for himself and how it’s not fair for everyone else. It’s Childe that’s muttering about it, the others were giving Itto silent glares and looks of disapproval. Itto collapses on the couch with you in his arms, wrapping both his arms and legs around you while smirking at the others that groan loudly.

Diluc rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose while shaking his head. “Itto, can you not hog [Y/N] for yourself?” Diluc asks, frowning at the Oni clinging to you.

Itto gives Diluc a cheeky grin and shakes his head, tightening his arms and legs around you while you lay on Itto’s chest limply. After almost a year of dating these men (holy shit, has it been nearly a year?), you have decided not to fight off their affections and clinginess unless you want them to become even clingier. Therefore you have accepted your fate and let these men smother you with love and affection.

Xiao pulls out his polearm and looks over at Diluc from the corner of his eyes. “Do you want me to do something about it?” Asks Xiao.

Diluc shakes his head, continuing to narrow his eyes at Itto. Itto ignores the look almost everyone is giving him by burying his face into your neck and closing his eyes. You and the men lounge around the living room for the rest of the day. You and Thoma end up making pizza for everyone to eat— you and Thoma made a lot of pizza since everyone has a big appetite. Once the pizza was done cooking, you all dined in the living room with your pizzas, catching up with what had happened at work and school (since you’re an Akademiya student).

The day soon winds down, and everyone has finished their pizzas and is scattered around the living area of the estate. Since Itto decides to hog your attention, the others have decided to do it back to him by doing the same. You were passed around from man to man to snuggle with them. Each time Itto tries to snuggle with you, you’re taken away from his grasp by another man, leaving Itto to pout and complain to the others.

You’re now lying on Pantalone’s chest, slowly dozing off. After consuming about five slices of pizza, you feel really full and really sleepy. Pantalone is reading a book while combing his fingers through your hair, lulling you to sleep. Just when you’re about to fall asleep, you feel someone press their hands against your forehead. You crack your eyes open and see Al Haitham and Kaveh standing in front of you, bending down to examine you.

Kaveh smiles at you, brushing your hair away from your face. “Sorry to disturb your nap. We were just checking up on you,” Kaveh says softly.

Al Haitham lightly smacks Kaveh’s hand away from your face before caressing your face. “How are you doing? Do you feel off in any way, or do you feel okay?

Kaveh scowls at Kaveh, crossing his arms over his chest. You rub your eyes sleepily, continuing to lie on Pantalone’s chest. You stare at the ground, trying to process what’s going on. How do you feel? Well, for starters, you shouldn’t have eaten too many pizzas because now you’re feeling exhausted because of the number of carbs you’ve eaten.

“I’m tired. I’m also very full,” you grumble, yawning. “I shouldn’t have taken up on Itto’s offer of having a pizza-eating competition. Now I feel like I’m pregnant,” you mumble, rubbing your tummy.

“And you beat Itto in the pizza-eating competition. I’m surprised he stopped after four slices of pizza,” Venti interjects, propping his hands on his hips.

You nod. “Me too! And he’s very competitive, and yet he stopped eating after four slices,” you grumble, looking over at Itto, who gives you a sheepish look.

Cyno hums and strokes his chin, glancing at Itto and then over at you. “I guess he didn’t want a pizza-of it anymore,” Cyno commented, shrugging his shoulders.

Everyone around Cyno groans and gives him a side-eye. You snort and shake your head, burying your face into Pantalone’s chest. Whenever Cyno sees an opportunity to crack a lame joke, he will take it. You feel something stir inside you, making you freeze in Pantalone’s arms, making him look down at you curiously. 

Pantalone scratches your head gently. “What’s wrong?” Pantalone murmurs, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at your face.

“I don’t know. I feel something strange,” you mutter, sitting up and straddling Pantalone’s lap. “I can’t really explain it. Health-wise, I’m fine. Physically, I am fine as well.” You tap your chin before rubbing your face. 

Maybe it’s the effects of eating five slices of pizza, but you don’t think that could be it exactly. What you are going to do is go to bed and take a nap because the sleepiness is catching up to you at full speed. You get off of Pantalone’s lap and rub your eyes, yawning and stretching your arms in the air.

“I am going to bed now. It’s been a long day, and I think sleep is what I need,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck before glancing over at the clock.

Scaramouche gets up from his seat and walks over to where you’re standing. “I’ll take you to your room if that’s okay with you,” Scaramouche offers, holding his arm out for you to take.

“Yeah, sure! I don’t mind!” You say, linking your arms with Scaramouche.

Heizou holds his hands up to stop you and Scaramouche from leaving. “You’re just going to leave us all without a goodnight kiss?” Heizou teases, pouting at you while batting his eyelashes at you.

You roll your eyes playfully and snort. “Ah, I see! How could I forget about our bedtime rituals?” You ask, unlinking your arms around Scaramouche’s arm.

The bedtime routine for you is to bid each man goodnight with hugs, kisses, or both depending on the man. Usually, it would take a while for you to bid everyone goodnight because one man wouldn’t want to hand you over to the next person because he wanted to hold onto you longer— which is where you are currently at: stuck in Zhongli’s arms and his refusal to hand you over to Thoma.

You poke Zhongli’s biceps. “Zhongli, I need to bid Thoma goodnight before going to bed. He’s the last person,” you pout, repeatedly poking him.

Zhongli tightens his grip around you with a sigh. Zhongli leans down to your ear, pressing his lips on your ear. “Must I let you go? How about you stay with me for the night?” Zhongli murmurs, closing his eyes.

“Hey! If I can’t have [Y/N] sleep in my room tonight, then no one can!” Aether complains loudly, plopping down on the couch with his arms crossed over his torso. 

You reach toward Thoma. Thoma grabs your hands and pulls you toward him, attempting to pull you from Zhongli’s grasp. Zhongli tightens his grip around you and narrows his eyes at Thoma, who is struggling to release you from the former archon’s grasp.

Thoma laughs breathlessly. “Come on, Zhongli! I’m only going to be bidding [Y/N] goodnight! It’s not like I’ll be stealing them from you for the night,” Thoma rolls his eyes playfully. 

Zhongli rests his chin on your shoulders. “Then you can just say goodnight to my dearest and call it a day,” he huffs, burying his face into your neck.

The men watch Zhongli and Thoma plays tug-of-war with you for the next five minutes. You end up breaking the tug-of-war by batting at the two men like a cat. You give Zhongli a look before slowly walking toward Thoma, wrapping your arms around his waist and narrowing your eyes at Zhongli, who narrows his eyes in return.

“Who knew the God of Contracts is clingy,” Kazuha chuckles, shaking his head.

Gorou leans toward Kazuha and whispers, “I don’t think I would want to be Zhongli’s competition. He’s more possessive over [Y/N] than we all are.”

To be fair, all of the men are possessive over you. And you gotta admit, you love it when the men are possessive over you. Who wouldn’t be? Imagine having twenty-five attractive men wrapped around your finger, and they’re willing to rip an arm off of someone if they (the person that isn’t in the harem) touch you? Despite you loving the men’s possessiveness over you, you did set a boundary they cannot cross, and they respect those boundaries of yours. Plus, they may be possessive over you, but they’re not overly possessive to the point where you cannot talk to anyone that’s not them, nor do they prevent you from doing things you love and going outside the abode.

You unwrap your arms around Thoma and walk toward the stairs. “Okay, goodnight!” You said, waving at the men and running up the stairs to your bedroom.

The next day, you’re rudely awoken from your sleep by the feeling of throbbing between your legs and your body being overheated. You look around your bedroom sleepily and panting. You sit and toss your blanket off your body. Your body is covered in a thin layer of sweat, nearly soaking through your clothes. You’re not entirely sure if your menstrual cycle is close or not because you’re feeling unbelievably horny.

You end up taking a shower to wake up and cool your overheated body. And now here you are, sitting in the bathtub, letting cold water rain down on you while you try to find a way to relieve this feeling between your legs. You’re not a prude. You’ve masturbated to relieve yourself before. But this feeling is stronger, and it's unavoidable. Therefore, that is what you did in the shower for the next fifteen minutes— trying to relieve yourself and soothe the aching between your legs. Did it work? No, it did not work at all.

After your failed attempts of trying to relieve yourself, you step out of the bathroom. The only bright side is that you’re not covered in sweat like how you were when you first woke up. Well, rudely awoken from your sleep, to be more specific. You’re tempted to go back to bed and sleep the horniness away, but you know it won’t be going away any time soon. Your thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking at your bedroom door.

“Who is it?” You ask, slowly walking to the door.

“Oh, good! You’re awake! Are you ready for your check-up today?” You hear Tighnari ask.

You sigh in relief. A check-up, right! That’s what you need right now so you can know what’s going on with your body. 

You grab the door handle and open the door. “Is the check-up going to be now, or will it be after breakfast?” You ask.

Albedo shrugs. “Whichever is good to you. We can give you a check-up before breakfast if that’s what you prefer,” replies Albedo.

“Can we do it now? I’m not feeling well, and I don’t think the check-up should be delayed any longer,” you said, leaning your head against the door frame with a shaky sigh.

Tighnari and Albedo look at you worriedly before taking you to the laboratory in the basement of the estate. While escorting you to the laboratory, the three of you walk past the other men. They greeted you, but you were busy telling Albedo and Tighnari the issue to acknowledge them. The men ended up following you, Tighnari, and Albedo to the lab.

In the laboratory, you’re sitting at the examination table. Baizhu takes your temperature while Dottore presses the back of his hand against your forehead. You’re very warm, almost like you’re running a fever despite feeling healthy. Unless you count the heat coursing through your veins and bubbling inside your guts to be unhealthy.

“Let me make this clear: you woke up feeling like you’re a dog in heat, and you were covered in a thin layer of sweat,” Scaramouche says, leaning against the wall.

You nod hesitantly and narrow your eyes at Scaramouche’s comment. “That is correct. Although I wish you didn’t include the ‘dog in heat’ part,” you reply, fidgeting in your seat.

Itto looks at you quizzically. “Are you sure you didn’t wake up from a wet dream? It happened to me before, and you know how that ended,” Itto says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You do; you do know how it ended. It ended with Itto using you like a cocksleeve for almost three hours. That man is an Oni. Therefore you’re not surprised that he can go on for that long. Heck, he could go on longer if he wanted to, but seeing how worn out you were, he decided to stop at the three-hour mark. You couldn’t walk for the next few days, and you made Itto carry you around the estate as punishment. Then again, it’s not like Itto was forced to do it. He offered to carry you around, and you accepted his offer.

Ayato rolls his eyes after hearing Itto’s comment. “You did not need to mention that at all, Itto. You could’ve stopped at the question,” Ayato mutters, crossing his arms over his chest with a sharp huff of breath.

You think about it for a minute. It’s possible that you could have woken up from a wet dream, but usually, you remember your dreams. If you did have a wet dream, you wonder what it’s about because it made you feel like, according to Scaramouche, a dog in heat. Maybe it is a wet dream, but the heat inside your core and the throbbing between your legs feels unbearable. You’re trying to keep yourself together and not fall apart in front of the men. 

“Are you guys sure it’s not the powder that is causing [Y/N]’s body to act this way?” Thoma asks, looking at you worriedly.

Your eyes widen, and you nod, pointing at Thoma. “Yeah! What he said! It’s most likely the powder from the flower that’s causing me to feel this way!” You exclaim.

Kaveh hums and looks at the flower sitting in the glass case. “Since you, Dottore, Baizhu, Albedo, and Tighnari have yet to experiment or study the plant and powder, I’m not entirely sure if that’s something we can automatically confirm to be the reason why you’re feeling this way,” Kaveh comments, tapping on his chin.

“Then what else could be affecting [Y/N] this way? They didn’t eat anything weird, and I’m sure it’s not a wet dream Itto claims it to be,” Al Haitham interjects, narrowing his eyes at Kaveh.

You run your fingers through your hair with a frustrated sigh. You know it’s the flower that’s making you feel this way. You’re the only one that got sprayed by this flower, and you inhaled large gulps of this mysterious powder. Days before going to the Chasm, you felt fine. You didn’t feel like a dog in heat. There’s no pit of fire in your core that is raging days prior to going to the Chasm.

You rub your temples with a frustrated sigh. “Is there a way for me to…. Stop this feeling? Or at least put it on hold, or make it less torturous?” You ask.

Archons, this is so frustrating. How else are you supposed to calm this heat in your gut? It’s driving you insane, and you want it to stop. It feels like you have a fire pit in your core, burning wildly, inextinguishable.

“The best we could tell you is to masturbate, but I’m assuming you already did it,” Dottore says, raising an eyebrow at you, the corner of his lips quirking up.

You huff and look away, your face becoming hot under his and the other men’s gaze. “So much for helping,” you mutter. “It’s gotten to the point where it starts to hurt a little bit,” you add, swinging your feet back and forth.

“Maybe whatever you’re feeling will go away as the day progresses. I think the best thing Dottore, Baizhu, Albedo, and Tighnari could do is give you medication,” Cyno comments, looking over at Baizhu, who walks up to you and hands you a small pill.

“This should help ease the pain you’re feeling. If the pain worsens, or if the feeling you’re experiencing right now progresses, please let us know,” Baizhu instructs, stroking your hair.

You grab the cup from Gorou’s hand and swallow the pill. After swallowing the pill, you and the men walked back upstairs and got ready for breakfast. The medication sort of eased the pain, but it did not quell the heat in your core.

You tried your best to ignore it, but the heat is hard to ignore because of how strong it is. Once you have finished breakfast, you excuse yourself and retreat back to your bedroom. The feeling of needing to be relieved died down for about four hours. It’s still there, but it’s not as bad as when you first woke up. You’re able to take a peaceful nap without being rudely woken up by the intense throbbing between your legs.

While you’re napping in your bedroom, the men are in the laboratory, trying to figure out what the powder could be. The flower does not have the powder on it, even if it's been almost twenty-four hours since you and the men have taken it from the Chasm. Dainsleif stares at the flower intently, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I find it strange how the flower had powder on it before we discovered it. What’s even more strange is how the flower didn’t produce any more of the powder,” Dainsleif mutters.

Childe shrugs. “Maybe the reason why the flower didn’t produce any more of that powder is that we ripped it from the roots,” Childe suggests, stroking his chin while pacing back and forth in the laboratory.

Diluc looks over at Dottore, Albedo, Tighnari, and Baizhu. The four men are conducting experiments on the powder that is sprayed all over you. The flower continues to sit in its case, untouched. Diluc runs his fingers through his red hair and sighs.

“A Mora for your thought?” Kaeya asks, standing beside the wine tycoon. 

Diluc pinches the space between his eyebrows and sighs for the umpteenth time. “It bothers me that we can’t find a way to help [Y/N]. It’s affecting them so much that they had to request to take medication to ease the pain,” Diluc replies. 

Aether and Heizou approach Kaeya and Diluc.

“If it’s something we’re suspecting, then there might be a way to help them ease the pain,” says Heizou, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

Xiao narrows his eyes at Heizou from across the room. “Why are you so calm about this? Do you not care that [Y/N] is suffering?” Xiao demands, pushing himself off the wall and walking toward Heizou and Aether.

Xiao is now standing in front of both Aether and Heizou, his arms crossing over his chest while he glares at Heizou, who blinks at him calmly. Aether laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, and Aether pats Xiao’s shoulders. Xiao doesn’t flinch. Instead, he continues to stare at Heizou with a small glare.

“I think Heizou is trying his best to remain calm. We won’t be able to find the solution to [Y/N]’s suffering if we’re all panicking and hovering over them constantly,” Aether explains.

Over at the table where the four men are conducting the research, Venti trots up to the four men and peek over their shoulders with curiosity. Albedo is looking at the powder from under the microscope, and they’re all wearing masks to prevent themselves from inhaling the powder.

“I highly suggest you wear a mask when you’re entering our area. It’s not safe if you’re with us unprotected,” says Albedo, handing a surgical mask to Venti.

Venti shrugs his shoulders and puts the mask on over his face before gazing at the four men curiously. “So! Do you guys know what the powder is?” Venti asks.

“They’ve been inspecting the powder for a while now. It can take some more time for them to figure out what it really is,” Pantalone hollers from across the room.

Gorou hums and plops down on the loveseat in the laboratory, resting his elbow on the armrest. “Do you guys think the flower produced that powder, or did someone else put the powder on it so it can prevent people from taking the flower from the Chasm?” Gorou asks while his ears twitching with worry.

Capitano nods. “It’s possible that someone could cover the flower with the powder. If it is true, then we’re going to need to find out who it is,” Capitano answers, leaning in his seat.

Kazuha sighs and leans his head back, closing his eyes. “How long will it be until we get the results back?” Kazuha asks, turning his head in the four men’s direction.

Dottore slowly looks away from the test tube and takes his mask off before approaching where the others are gathered in the lab. It’s been almost an hour since you retreated to your bedroom to get some sleep. Therefore, it has been nearly an hour since he, Albedo, Baizhu, and Tighnari have been working closely to find out what the powder is made of and what it does to the human body.

“It shouldn’t be taking longer than two hours if there are four knowledgeable people working together to get the results,” Pierro mutters, his eyes scanning the laboratory with disinterest. 

Kaveh sighs loudly, leaning against the wall with his head tilting forward. “And how much longer is that? I feel like we’ve been down here for way too long,” Kaveh complains aloud.

Al Haitham rolls his eyes at Kaveh. “Can you not complain for the day? All you do is complain about the littlest things, Kaveh,” Al Haitham says, shooting a glare in Kaveh’s direction.

Kaveh scoffs and is about to retort when the other three men begin muttering to themselves. Everyone looks in their direction and slowly approaches them, stopping three feet away from where Albedo, Tighnari, and Baizhu are standing.

Heizou looks at the three men curiously. “Did you guys get the results?” Heizou asks, raising his eyebrows at them.

Tighnari, Albedo, and Baizhu look at each other worriedly. The three men nod and take their gloves off, tossing them into the trash bin. They all give each other looks as if they’re mentally debating with each other to see who’s going to announce the results to everyone in the laboratory.

“We should’ve known what it was in the first place,” Tighnari sighs, slapping his forehead with a deep frown.

Aether looks at them anxiously. “What are you guys implying?” Aether asks, clenching and unclenching his fist.

“The powder that sprayed all over [Y/N] is a—”

Gorou and Tighnari perk up suddenly, their eyes widening, their pupils dilated. Back to your room, you wake up, and the medicine has either worn off or it wasn’t strong enough to diffuse the heat in your core. You kneel on your bed, curling up into a ball and groaning and whimpering. The aching between your legs has grown immensely. You feel your underwear becoming damp. Your wetness dampens through not only your underwear but also your sleep shorts.

You roll off your bed, bumping into your nightstand. The water pitcher and glass cup tumble off the nightstand, shattering into millions of pieces. You groan and fall to your knees, hugging your lower abdomen and whimpering softly. You didn’t know whether you wanted to clean the mess off your bedroom floor or continue to writhe in pain on the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chanted, pressing your hot and sweaty forehead against the wooden floor of your bedroom.

The heat in your core feels like a cramp. It hurts a lot, and you don’t think there’s any medication downstairs that can ease the pain. Not even masturbation can quell the pit of fire in your core. It hurts too much, and the ache seems to only grow even more.

Ayato sighs. “Well, go on! What is it?” Ayato asks, raising his eyebrows at Baizhu.

Baizhu sighs. “The powder that sprayed all over [Y/N] is an aphrodisiac. It’s sex pollen,” Baizhu says.

Cyno raises his eyebrows at Tighnari and Gorou. “Why are you guys acting that way?” Cyno asks.

“We need to check on [Y/N] immediately,” Gorou orders.

Everyone runs back upstairs to the estate and toward your bedroom. You lay on the ground, curled up in a ball, your sweat getting on the floor of your room. At this point, your clothes are drenched in sweat, and your underwear is completely soaked through. You want to feel humiliated, but you’re too hot and bothered to even feel a pinch of embarrassment. 

Loud sets of footsteps and chatter are coming up from the stairs. Your eyes widen, and you quickly get off the ground and crawl to the door to barricade the door with your body. The door handle jiggles. You quickly reach for the door handle and lock it to prevent anyone from coming into your room.

Childe curses under his breath. “Snookums? Are you okay?” Childe asks, banging on the door lightly.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine, Childe.” You whisper, leaning your head against the door. 

“No. You’re not fine. We found out what you accidentally inhaled back at the Chasm,” Diluc replies, pushing Childe away from the door.

You sigh and press your lips into a thin line, fanning your overheated body with your sweat-soaked t-shirt. You’re tempted to strip off all your clothes, but the painful ache between your legs and the heat in your core is making it hard for you to do anything besides remain sitting where you’re at.

“You inhaled a large amount of aphrodisiac. We’re not sure whether the flower produced the aphrodisiac or if someone purposefully covered the flower with it to prevent people from taking the flower,” Capitano replies, leaning against the door frame.

You let out a breathless laugh. “That makes sense. No wonder I feel like a dog in heat,” you croak, closing your eyes and resting your head on the door.

“Please, let us in. We can find a way to help you with what you’re going through,” Kazuha pleads.

You shake your head, knowing the men won’t see it. As much as you want the feeling to go away, you can’t have the men be involved. You would rather ride it out and wait for it to disappear from your system.

You swallow the dry lump in your throat. “It hurts so much, but I don’t want any of you to get involved. Let me ride it out, and I’ll be fine,” you whisper.

Dottore sighs and rubs his forehead. “That’s the problem, [Y/N]. The only time the aphrodisiac will wear off is if you do something about it, not ride it out alone,” Dottore explains.

You curl your toes, run your fingers through your hair and start to pull at the roots. Your breathing is labored, your chest is heaving, you feel so hot, and you want it all to go away. 

“I don’t want to force any of you to help me with my issue,” you mutter, wiping your sweaty neck with the back of your hand.

You wince when you feel that the back of your hand is also sweaty. You’re so hot. Not even the cool air in your bedroom can cool you down. Heck, you think if the men were to leave you in Dragonspine, the sheer cold wouldn’t bother you one bit.

Dainsleif sighs and close his eyes. “You’re not forcing us to do anything, sweetheart. We want to help you, and seeing you suffer is the last thing we want you to go through,” Dainsleif replies, trying to open your bedroom door, only to no avail. 

“We? All of you are going to take turns rearranging my insides, or is it going to be one person that does it?” You mutter, wiping the sweat from your eyebrows with the collar of your shirt.

Xiao looks at the men from the corner of his eyes. “I would prefer to have you for myself. I don’t like sharing,” Xiao states.

Itto perks up after hearing Xiao’s response. “Yeah! Me too! If there’s someone that can help you ride through this wave of sex pollen, it’s the one and Oni!” Itto says, pointing at himself with his thumb.

You laugh nervously, rubbing your neck. “I don’t know how long this aphrodisiac is going to be in my system, but for now, I think one person should suffice,” you murmur.

“Do you have a preference in mind? Immortals? People with furry ears? Old people? People with eyepatches and masks?” Venti trails off, looking at the men around him.

You shake your head. “No, I don’t have a preference. If I did, I wouldn’t be dating all of you now, would I?” you mutter, closing your eyes.

“Alright! Now that’s settled, we’ll send in someone! Just open the door, and whoever is chosen will step into your room to help you with your problem,” you hear Heizou say.

“Okay,” you mumble.

You unlock your bedroom door and slowly crawl away from the door. Everything is silent, other than the faint sound of your panting. You hug your knees to your chest, digging your fingernails into your calves. You watch the doorknob slowly turn, and the door cracks open.

Note: DUN, DUN, DUNNNN! Who could it be!? Ready to choose who's going to be the first one to get their smut in this new smut series? Click [HERE] for the poll for whichever character you want to be the first one to get their smut! As the story progresses, the men who already have their fics will be removed from the poll and previous polls will be closed. As for new characters, they will be added, but they will get their smut if they get the most votes. If no one gets voted, then I will choose and my close friends/mods in my discord server get to choose their favorite Genshin man to go after my choice [that is if people don't vote] ✨ Anyway, to my new and/or returning readers, please keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Taglist for my Isekai'd!Reader one-shot series and my overall taglist: @xyji, @chirikoheina, @yoru-trash, @kaoyamamegami, @kwelibeeery, @deartoru, @luminarymoonlight, @toobytub, @ins4nebish, @bokuto-kinnie, @honeybedo, @exhaustedcommunist, @jadedist, @mompt2, @chalksdreams, @thelost-in-time, @ventisweetheart, @hispasian-otaku, @juuuuuj101010, @alteeeeyang, @samarill, @testsubject0012, @irisxiel, @emilymikado, @mabie, @vinnie-w, @n8mareee, @bajifairyy, @heyimkay, @milkpeanuts476, @eliciana, @blesstosuisen, @goldeneclipsedragon, @jjvr4yxc, @sovermike-21-blog, @vox34, @wynncrites, @skyyyyackerman, @undecidingfate, @nightlysunn, @faeryminnyx, @simpcreator, @lucifarts-boxers, @urlocalheizousimp, @sunlightstarr (Accounts that I was unable to tag have been removed. Those who don't want to be tagged in certain stories are not tagged in this particular post. Remember to check your settings if you're allowing people to mention you/tag you in posts or not)

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[whencyclopedia]

Great Sioux War

The Great Sioux War (also given as the Black Hills War, 1876-1877) was a military conflict between the allied forces of the Lakota Sioux/Northern Cheyenne and the US government over the territory of the Black Hills and, more widely, US policies of westward expansion and the appropriation of Native American lands.

The Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 had established the Great Sioux Reservation, including the Black Hills, and promised this land to the Sioux in perpetuity. When gold was discovered in the Black Hills in 1874, the treaty was ignored by the US government, leading to the Black Hills Gold Rush of 1876. The Sioux, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho responded with armed resistance in raids on wagon trains, skirmishes, and five major battles fought between March 1876 and January 1877:

Battle of Powder River (Reynolds Battle) – 17 March 1876

Battle of the Rosebud (Battle Where the Girl Saved Her Brother) – 17 June 1876

Battle of the Little Bighorn (Battle of the Greasy Grass) – 25-26 June 1876

Battle of Slim Buttes – 9-10 September 1876

Battle of Wolf Mountain (Battle of Belly Butte) – 8 January 1877

In between these, were so-called minor engagements with casualties on both sides but, after June 1876, greater losses for the Sioux and Cheyenne. The final armed conflict of the Great Sioux War was the Battle of Muddy Creek (the Lame Deer Fight, 7-8 May 1877), by which time the Sioux war chief Crazy Horse (l. c. 1840-1877) had already surrendered and the chief Sitting Bull (l. c. 1837-1890) and Sioux war chief Gall (l.c. 1840-1894) and others had fled to the region of modern-day Canada. Although the war was over by May 1877, ending in a victory for the US military, some bands of Sioux and Cheyenne continued to struggle against reservation life until the Wounded Knee Massacre of 29 December 1890 broke their resistance.

Background

Although the first armed conflict between the Plains Indians and Euro-Americans was in 1823, problems between the Sioux and the US military began on 19 August 1854 with the Grattan Fight (Grattan Massacre), when 2nd Lieutenant John L. Grattan led his command of 30 soldiers to the camp of Chief Conquering Bear (l. c. 1800-1854) to demand the surrender of a man they claimed had stolen a cow from a Mormon wagon train.

Conquering Bear refused to surrender anyone, offering compensation instead, and, as the negotiations broke down, Grattan's men fired on the Sioux, mortally wounding Conquering Bear, and the Sioux warriors retaliated, killing Grattan and all of his command. The US military responded with campaigns against the Sioux in the First Sioux War of 1854-1856, which also included actions against their allies, the Cheyenne and Arapaho.

Tensions escalated after the opening of the Bozeman Trail in 1863, the establishment of forts to protect white settlers using the trail, and the Sand Creek Massacre of 29 November 1864. Red Cloud's War (1866-1868) was launched in response to the construction of these forts and the policies of the US government, concluding with the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868, which established the Great Sioux Reservation (modern-day South Dakota and parts of North Dakota and Nebraska), including the Black Hills – a site sacred to the Sioux – which was promised to them for "as long as the grass should grow and the rivers flow."

When Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer (l. 1839-1876) discovered gold in the Black Hills in 1874, the Fort Laramie treaty was broken as over 15,000 white settlers and miners streamed into the region during the Black Hills Gold Rush of 1876. The US government offered to purchase the Black Hills, but the Sioux would not sell. More settlers arrived, the government ignored Sioux demands that the 1868 treaty be honored, and the Great Sioux War began in March of that year, with the Reynolds campaign on the Powder River.

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[johannestevans]

Alien: Romulus: An Abortive Attempt at Homage to a Classic

Romulus started out promising, then proved itself an awful disappointment.

Review also on Cinemania.

The original Alien (1979) is far and away one of my favourite sci-fi films, one I’ve written about in the past, and I have a lot of affection for Aliens (1986) and even Alien 3 (1992), for all I feel it has its narrative flaws.

And then there are later additions to the original series; the less said about them, the better — later still, we see attempts at updating the series with sleek, shiny, lens-flared prequels and Michael Fassbender playing a mildly homophobic pastiche of a gay-coded eugenicist synth, these things replacing the original strong, complex writing in the original films.

I was honestly mildly into the premise of Alien: Romulus as a return to the original xenomorph rather than the Promethean nonsense, but that was all I knew about it going in — I went in with fresh eyes, having neither watched a trailer nor read any reviews.

In the first act of the film, there is an incredible return to the original aesthetics of Alien — without sacrificing the broader quality of set design, costuming, and film, there is an incredible recreation of not only the visuals originally displayed in 1979, but also the soundscape that accompanied those sets and mechanisms, and more than that, the haptics.

Every single button, dial, switch, and key in the original films looks as if you can reach out and touch it, and this incredible awareness of tactility is not only present in the machine and mechanic designs but in every other aspect of the set design. You can imagine how it might feel to touch everything in the film — feel the fuzz of static covering the screens in a sort of film, feel the trip of condensation on soaked engines, run your fingers over the texture of the walls, doors, grate floors, vents, even touch the aliens themselves. The slick, wet skin of the xenomorph, the slime slicking the segmented bodies of the facehuggers, the torn films of skin, the bubbling burn of their acidic blood — it all feels three-dimensional from the beginning, and that emphasis on the tactile and the textural is what makes the film so impactful.

It engages not just one’s emotional and mental state but all five of one’s senses, and in the beginning of Alien: Romulus, there is an attempt at recreating that physicality.

Not only are the original machines and their aesthetics replicated but there is a deep focus on tactility and certain sensory details in the mining colony our protagonist and her synth “brother” are trapped in — we see the gases and smokes and powders on the streets, see the machinery and all the trapped people working it, feel the cloying thickness of the polluted planet, see the near-literal sapping of colour from the whole of the planet by the miners.

The one tiny flicker of colour is, in fact, in the yellow canary in a modern cage, a fun little detail that emphasises how ancient the cruelty of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation is — just as each of the miners on the colony is trapped in an inescapable contract, owned by the company and trapped within its artificial economy, that yellow canary represents the cruelty of the old mining towns that the Weyland-Yutani Corporation effortlessly recreates even halfway into the twenty-second century.

The initial hooks in the narrative are planted here — we meet Rain as an orphan, and we see the complex familial dynamic between her and her adoptive brother, Andy. Andy is introduced from the out in the autistic-coded manner of any synthetic within the series, malfunctioning and vulnerable as a result, and Rain feels deeply about protecting him and protecting their adoptive relationship, and yet for all, Rain seems to be the primary caretaker between the two of them, Andy’s prime directive is to care for Rain.

Different Alien films have explored the varying levels of humanity for synths — I’ve spoken disparagingly about David and how he repeats certain homophobic tropes in sci-fi that go all the way back to the likes of Space Odyssey, but obviously, there’s the contrast between Ash as a villainous representative of the company’s violence — upholding its aggressive hierarchy and the violence within that — and the likes of Bishop, who is far less sexually driven if not arguably emasculated in the Aliens film, contrasting the hypermasculinity of the space marines; contrasting these again is the character of Annalee Call, who has the most agency and personality of the synths, and seeks to make use of that liberty.

One might think, introduced to Andy and his immediate familial connection to Rain, that the film intends to explore new dynamics for a synth — not only is Andy introduced alongside Andy as her adoptive brother, but he’s also the only Black member of the cast, and the only Black synth we’ve seen as a main character within the series, and one might think this would introduce more consideration as to his position as a synth as well.

The introduction of the rest of the party is rushed and, frankly, bizarre — while the central conceit of their reaching out to Rain makes sense, being as how they need Andy’s ability to speak to a Mother system on the decommissioned station in orbit above them, what is not firmly established is Rain’s connection to these people, or what their actual relationships with one another consist of.

Certain expository details are dropped in, that they’ve been distant from one another since Rain’s father died, but it’s evident that Rain does not know these people well for the most part, nor vice versa.

Throughout the film, attempts are made to emphasise the intimacy and closeness between Rain and Tyler, with them holding hands with one another and sharing significant looks or non-verbal communications, but the film doesn’t wish to expand this into a romantic connection nor expand on it as a sibling dynamic either.

The relationship has these hallmarks of being close or important, having these levels of friendship and physical intimacy, but there’s never any verbal acknowledgement of the closeness between Rain and Tyler, nor commentary made by the other characters, and it makes their interpersonal dynamics feel almost random.

This isn’t unique to Rain and Tyler, of course — all of these relationships seem similarly slapdash and thrown together, with no consideration as to their wider ramifications or the implications of those dynamics. Kay is pregnant because of “some guy”, and no further time or effort is given to fleshing out the whys and wherefores of her pregnancy; Bjorn obsessively seems to despise Andy and acts as if he’s never seen or met him before, but at the same time is a dick to every single other character, and no further details or complexity to his character background is added in; Navarro is an excellent pilot but for some reason is very attached to Bjorn, and their relationship seems a lot more highly sexed, but not… anything else.

These characters conduct themselves, in short, like they were AI-generated for someone’s worst nightmare of a YA novel — they’re in their twenties, but they act like young teenagers; they’re theoretically adults with complex dynamics with one another, but everything about their personalities seem vapid and shallowly written.

The only character who’s given any depth or apparent inner turmoil is Rain, and that makes less and less sense as time goes on. Rain feels a great deal of loyalty to and a need to protect Andy, and at the same time, Bjorn reveals that Rain was never going to bring him to the Yvara system, and Rain doesn’t argue the point or claim otherwise.

She seems overcome with guilt about this fact, and everybody argues she shouldn’t think much about any feelings Andy might have because he’s a synthetic — Andy himself seems to have no emotional response to this and immediately accepts this as in line with his prime directive.

Is this expanded on as the film goes on?

No, not remotely.

Andy’s software is apparently updated when he’s given the disc from Rook’s body, and this updates his physical mobility, repairs the damage to his verbal processor, seems to improve his concentration, overwrites his prime directive, and then…

Somehow, it goes away again as soon as the disc is removed? In another film, the introduction of the disc to Andy’s processing might have added some level of inner turmoil or inner battle for him, his broken processors engaging with the attempts to remotely update his AI and software, especially given that this is aboard a decommissioned station, but no such turmoil is introduced.

The disc temporarily makes Andy more useful, but while it introduces a risk that he is acting in “the best interests of the company” as opposed to protecting Rain, he still does protect Rain and her friends as best he can — the only sacrifice he makes is with Kay, who is already immediately under threat; Navarro goes from being infected to being dead almost immediately, and Bjorn is similarly very quickly doomed.

What’s the point of these sacrifices? What is their narrative purpose other than people dying on screen? What do they represent?

Why is Navarro’s death so immediate, rather than giving the xenomorph its usual extended incubation period? What does her death actually do, emotionally, to any of the other characters, bar Bjorn, who was already angry about his mother dying because of a synth? Does Bjorn now change his feelings and further blame Andy, or feel differently toward him?

No.

No one’s feelings about anything change in the course of the film whatsoever. We might as well be watching a puppet show.

Even later in the film, Rain approaches Andy after his original directives have been restored, and rather than saying, “Now, your prime directive is to look out for yourself,” she says, “your prime directive is to look out for us” — so what has she actually learned? She isn’t extending Andy any further humanity, self-sufficiency, or autonomy.

She’s paying lip service to the idea that Andy should consider the two of them as a unit, and we know that that’s only talk because scant minutes later, we see her abandon Andy on the floor whilst preserving her own life.

This is the core flaw of this film — it repeatedly attempts to call back to moments in the original Alien film, pays homage to certain lines, dynamics, or scenes, but doesn’t actually seem to understand what the point of any of those scenes for, and thus, in recreating them, makes a pastiche of a film without meaning.

I actually really appreciated the approach to the xenomorphs by the cast of characters initially — using the cryogenic fuel to freeze a facehugger’s tail and thus paralyse it was a creative and interesting solution to a problem. The thought behind it is slightly lateral, and for a film coming out fifty years after its original iteration, it makes complete sense that you would introduce new characters coming up with different solutions to the original problems in the franchise — and it’s all the more interesting to create new solutions that use resources available to the original cast.

This lateral thinking becomes somewhat less interesting — not to mention less sensible — when it comes to raising their ambient temperature in order to render themselves invisible to the facehuggers. It’s all very well liking the Alien videogames, but dropping yourself to the level of videogame logic doesn’t really play well for cinema.

Why introduce the temperature-controlled space suits minutes ago if not to use them for this solution? Why set the ambient temperature at their own body temp and then warn them not to sweat when, of course, they’re going to sweat in 28-degree heat, even were they not anxiously moving at moderate speed down a crowded corridor in the dark?

Why then continue on a pointless conversation on fucking loudspeaker whilst surrounded by facehuggers?

There’s nothing wrong with having flawed characters or even stupid characters in your film — in fact, having stupid characters can make a film very fun. God knows that in the original Alien, Brett and Parker being goofy as shit creates some of the best parts of the movie.

But your characters can’t just be randomly stupid and make random decisions. What is driving their thought processes and decision-making? Yes, in that scene, Tyler is extremely emotional about having been cut off from his sister… but why do Rain and Andy both just let his idiocy unfold? Is Rain okay with dying because this man doesn’t know how to silence his headset for a second and take this call in thirty seconds once they’re not surrounded by facehuggers? Does Andy think that allowing this sort of nonsense is somehow best for the company at this moment?

Every single character in this film is obscenely and strangely passive. None of them seem to make active decisions or considerations about anything in their lives — they only react to unfolding situations or respond to ways other characters act upon them, and they only act one step ahead and no further.

Case in point, all that business with the acidic blood — I appreciate that someone wanking behind the camera evidently thought this would look cool, but it’s just silly, and for what? So that blood can burn through the station in all directions instead of one? So that there can be a long, drawn-out scene where the infamously quick, intelligent, and physically resistant xenomorphs are gunned down like exploding cans on a farmyard fence?

So that characters can tremblingly quote iconic lines from the original film and not quite figure out how to make the delivery land in the context they’re now delivered?

And as for Kay’s pregnancy…

Introduced so early in the film, it would make sense for it to be the true crux of the film’s core philosophy, and yet Kay is lying down and having naps for half of the film. She has absolutely 0 character beyond being sad and a bit of a damsel for Rain and Tyler to each want to protect — Weyland-Yutani, throughout the Alien franchise, treat victims of the xenomorph as little more than incubators for their weapon, and here, our filmmakers treat Kay as little more than an incubator for their plot twist.

And as for that plot twist, it’s…

Well, again. It’s stupid.

The introduction of Rook as a synth is in poor taste — Ian Holm’s image is terribly animated, and the CGI used to animate the synth seems incredibly out of place compared to every other aspect of imagery in the film. At the very least, they might have attempted to reuse or recreate the original film’s animatronics and puppetry — Holm’s image was least poorly recreated when appearing on screens, and it might have been a better choice, if they were so insistent on profiting from the ghost of a man’s corpse, to at the very least have it be a version of Ash’s original personality uploaded to the computer as a special authority on the xenomorph and its species, rather than simply being another science officer wearing a parody of his face.

Attempts were made, I think, to replicate Ash’s manner of speaking in the original films — evidently, this was not proofread or workshopped in any way because, particularly in the third act of the film, every piece of Rook’s dialogue was bizarrely stunted and sounded rather more like an extra from the Big Bang Theory than a character in a serious piece of sci-fi.

Rook wants Kay to be injected with the xenomorph DNA, this being the best thing for the company (How? How is that the best way to preserve those samples? Why not wait for her to get to a station so she can be experimented on under controlled settings? If Rook is a different character to Ash and lacks his memories, then he doesn’t have Rook’s fetishistic focus on the advancement of the human species, so what motivates his actions?), and then her pregnancy advances rapidly and immediately, with an explosive birth.

It’s unfortunate that this film repeatedly rushes through scenes of violent birth and body modification because those are the core engines of fear and dread within the Alien films.

The xenomorph isn’t just a random scary monster — she is frightening because of how she can infect, take over, and use your body for her reproduction, and a greater horror is laid over this threat by the fact that Weyland-Yutani seeks to profit from this reproductive cycle and are willing to allow you to be sacrificed.

Birth itself, reproduction itself, is repeatedly under threat from authorities within Weyland-Yutani because attempts are being made to modify, streamline, and profit in the most extreme ways possible from the reproductive process, and especially given that these young people all exist under contracts that keep them trapped, one would think that Kay’s greatest fear would perhaps be that the foetus inside her might be or become the property of Weyland-Yutani.

Kay doesn’t seem aware of this or even consider it, even though it’s ultimately what happens in the mutation of her baby.

And as for that baby, again, what’s the point of it?

Cynically, the point is clear — they wanted a new, slightly different monster to try to profit from because they’ve stuffed their film full to the brim with dozens of xenomorphs and facehuggers and no longer fully understand how to create the atmosphere that makes those monsters and their ecosystem frightening, so the solution is a new monster!

It was really obvious that they were going to go for a breastfeeding thing with the monster’s approach of Kay, her horror whilst scrambling back, and its gaze on her chest, and I think it was a cop-out for them to go with the blood-sucking instead, but honestly, I suppose it was a surprise they even implied the lactation at all. It just seems like too original and too horrifying an idea to be embedded in such a mess of a film.

At every juncture, this film just feels undeveloped and unplanned — barring the atrocities with Ian Holm’s CGI puppetry, the film visually has a lot going for it.

While the facehuggers are not always super well-articulated, their movement was haunting and always quite threatening; the xenomorphs really had that wet feel that made them so disgusting and so visually iconic in the original films, and yet, again, for what purpose?

The camera repeatedly zooms in for shots of the xenomorphs screaming in the corridor, but not to serve the narrative or any sense of tension — as with virtually every other choice in the film, it feels utterly random.

Ultimately, I spent the last hour of watching this film in the cinema fidgeting and frustrated because nearly every scene felt strangely disconnected from the last, with little to no consideration as to the broader narrative or themes at play — I remember having a similar experience watching Cobweb (2023) a few years ago, which is a pastiche of various /r/NoSleep tropes that ultimately goes nowhere and has no idea or direction of its own.

Like so many remakes, this film tries desperately to copy the most iconic lines and moments from its source material but makes no attempt to update its ideas with new context, its own ideas, its own motivations, and the result is as hollow and empty as any film ever gets.

These kids want to leave their mining colony and strike out as autonomous by stealing not only equipment but also themselves out of their contracts, but as soon as they leave the planet, no talk or consideration is made of that fact.

A woman starts out pregnant in the movie and births a monster, which dies immediately after being born.

A Black synth is introduced as being of familial importance to the white MC, is dismissed as being just an object, is finally given permission to care about himself as well as her, and then is, immediately after, dismissed as just an object.

What was the point of any of it? What was the meaning of any of it? Where, in this entire film, was there a signal coherent and considered plotline that actually had any sort of thematic end goal?

I can’t believe a film we went to see on an afternoon whim could be so disappointing, but hey. At least they accomplished something after that mess.

[cloveroctobers]

DECEMBER PROMPTS 🧊 — 4. NERON “CREEPER” VARGAS

A/N: idea inspired by a required outing for me and encouraged by @darqchilddaydreamz 🤭 this is so unserious but not at the same time? I also don’t like how I learned to appreciate creeper after the fact? This is my first time ever writing for the man with a heart of gold. Smh. Him and Coco deserved better and in AU…Creeper & Coco would be the true besties. This is also somewhat that. Enjoy!

Synopsis: As a pizza chef you’re bound to keep your house just as stocked as your restaurant. However with a ice storm heading your way in two days…you persuade your husband, Neron to take you to the store to grab just a few extra things but soon find yourself in a battle with another shopper, who doesn’t know the first thing about personal space.

ADDED PROMPTS FROM HERE + I’m using: 3.) Shopping + 6.) “You’re really making me wear matching pajamas with you?”

WARNINGS: language + “reader” is given a name but not physically described yet I always have a black or woc in mind. + a sexual/steamy moment towards the end ;)

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

What was supposed to be more of a in and out kind of thing, turned into at least a thirty minute adventure. Sure Mariatu could blame it on the tasteful playlist the grocery store was playing—currently, “let it snow,” by Boyz II Men & Brian McPetty but she’d take the blame when she got back outside to her husband.

The original plan was to run in and get five items: a pack of mineral water full of electrolytes for Neron, a pack of cocoa powder, eggs, toilet paper rolls, and disinfectant wipes.

With the way prices are in this economy?

Mariatu knew it was probably best for Neron to run in grab everything but he suddenly got a call from Coco that had to do with business—which the founded brothers always stood on—so she did the honors of slipping out. She honestly didn’t mind, shopping was always thrilling to her because she knows regardless of what she picked up—whether she needed it or not—the items would always be put to good use. Mariatu was never one to let anything go to waste, it was something her parents always instilled.

Perhaps that’s why the carriage was getting heavier as she explored every other aisle, ending up in the international section, just for some lady to eye the contents of her carriage before settling her judgmental eyes on Mariatu. Their eyes connected but one was less friendly than the other, which was enough for Mariatu to pick up the speed. The previous aisle was more of a game of “chicken,” since one boulder of a man thought the aisle was a one way, the frozen section had one of its fridges leaking onto the floor and the constant call to, “clean up aisle 21,” seemed to go unheard, and just from entering the store a mother had to excuse herself and her screaming child who thought it would be best to start knocking over one of the displays.

Those should have been enough signs for Mariatu to do what she was supposed to do. Although the upbeat Christmas music was enough motivation to just make this a speed round, Mariatu couldn’t help that she spent longer than expected; even if she had a mental list of what they needed. Soon she found herself making a circle in the store towards the organic and produce section.

Eyeing the pomegranate seeds, Mariatu makes a bee-line for the fruit. Parking her carriage upwards from herself, she picks up the container eyeing the expiration date and then the quality of the red toned fruit. From her peripheral she sees someone leaning by the front of her carriage. She thinks not much of it figuring that they’re simply looking at a item that aligns with the end of her carriage. Silently debating over the snack for a moment longer, she opts for the larger pack instead before adding it to the carriage.

Seconds after, the handle of her carriage digs harshly into her stomach as the customer pushes their hip into the end of the carriage to reach for a bag of jumbo grapes. Mariatu blinks to herself in astonishment as the man holds the bag up to the light and moves his hips to do the same movement again!

This time Mariatu yanks on the carriage and goes around the man but not without muttering, “this is how you say excuse me,” on her way as she continues on up ahead. Eyeing the bag of baby spinach, she decides against it after grabbing a few green juices not long ago and just as she goes to push away from the section, she can hear the irritating sound of a broken carriage wheel pushing behind her.

Ever since Mariatu was a little girl she had great senses. Some may call it a gift while others maybe oblivious but she’s almost always right in judging distances and sensing presences that may or may not physically be there. In this present time as Mariatu is briefly glancing from the cart to make sure she’s not forgetting something and watching where she’s going, she can feel and hear the carriage behind her getting too close for her liking. Just as she’s reaching the corner, she peers over her shoulder to the pale as ice skinned man with a beanie that barely covers his thin salt colored hair and in that moment they come to some sort of understanding.

His shoulders relax, his lips pursed, grip still strong on the handle, he seems to slow down as his eyes connect with Mariatu’s. The side-eye game was always strong and she whips her head back, ringlets of curls bouncing with her underneath her beret as she does, a satisfying smile begins to grace her lipstick painted lips while she gets ready to turn the corner.

That’s short lived as a bump of the carriage from behind pressed into her backside first, thrashing her forward, followed by the knocking wheel which clips her ankle. A yelp escapes her lips, gaining the attention of a cashier who’s handling the handicap section and Mariatu has to exhale the steam that’s probably seeping from her eardrums.

Rubbing at the stinging skin above her ankle socks in her trainers, she glares at the older man who looks sheepish at the fact that his carriage actually interacted with his target.

“What’s your problem? You bump my carriage out of the way instead of using your manners, which you clearly lack and now you wanna play bumper cars with my ankle?” Mariatu questions the man who lifts his shoulders nonchalantly.

“I needed grapes,” the man started, “you could have done what I did and placed your carriage to the right so that way you’re not blocking other items that fellow customers need.”

Mariatu scoffs in disbelief, “well I’m not you and the proper thing to do if you need to get something is say excuse me or patiently wait until I’m done.”

“Sorry…but no?”

“No?” Mariatu felt her eye twitch and just to think, she was having a pretty solid day off, considering it was only twelve in the afternoon but still!

“Yeah,” the man continued, “you’re in my way and I have places to be too. Don’t know if you know this but a ice storm is coming and I need—

“Excuse me, I don’t give two shits what you need. Everybody that’s in here needs something, so honestly you can take that entitlement and shove it up right your ass, Mr.” Mariatu stated to the man without raising her voice but her brows definitely did, which means she meant that shit, “and happy holidays.”

With that she sorta limps from the man, enjoying that she had the last say and that his presence was no longer felt as he scrambles to go to one of the other aisles instead of to the self-check out area, which Mariatu was headed to.

Mariatu braced herself heading back into the breezy sixty degree weather, slowly letting out a sigh to herself as she crossed through the parking lot. She spots Neron waiting outside of her bronco and jumps into action as he looks up in time. “Ten minutes huh?” He teases with a shake of his head as he unlocks the trunk.

She scrunches her nose at him as they maneuver around the cart, taking turns adding the bags into the back. It doesn’t take Neron long to pick up on the way Mariatu is walking different once they get down to the the last few bags. “What’s up?” He asks.

Mariatu shakes her head as Neron points at her leg, “I’ll tell you in the car.”

The hoodie wearing man dips his head and takes the task of bringing the carriage back to its spot after opening the door for Mariatu. Neron doesn’t miss a certain man looking over in his wife’s direction as Neron crosses the parking lot one more. Once he gets into the driver’s seat, it’s Neron’s turn to have his eyes in slits as the strange man starts tossing his bags into his station wagon.

“That man with the pedophile car…you know ‘em?”

Mariatu hums, looking up from her phone to follow Neron’s trail and immediately scoffs, “oh yeah, we got friendly not too long ago. That’s the man who tried to run me over after I told him he basically needs to learn some manners.”

Neron flicks his eyes to his right, “what happened?” He pressed and Mariatu has no issue giving her husband the quick rundown of what just occurred.

He’s rubbing at his lengthy beard in slight irritation but also pride. “Put your seatbelt on,” he commands and Mariatu tilts her head to the side at this.

However the hardened stare Neron shoots her way and then back out the window shield was enough for her to listen this time. The tatted man places one hand on the steering wheel, tightening his grip and sitting up straight—which was always enough indication that someone was about to float their ride…so Mariatu braced herself.

Rightfully so.

As soon as she blinked, they were across the parking lot blocking the man’s path from completely backing out from the parking space.

“Neron,” Mariatu hissed as he pressed his brimmed hat further down on his head then flung the door open, leaving it wide open as he walked in between the cars to get to the man’s driver’s side, knocking on his window.

Mariatu couldn’t exactly hear what Neron was saying to the strange man as he was crouched over, talking to him in a manner that would send a chill down anyone’s spine. Her heart rate picked up as she saw Neron reach into the rolled down window, possibly snatching the man up by the throat and then shoving him forward that his horn announced his face made contact with it.

With that Neron sniffs as he turns back to the bronco, holding a bag now as he climbs back into the driver’s seat. He plops the bag of grapes into Mariatu’s lap and says, “Poe Cramer sends his apologizes. Eat up.”

“Neron, what did you do that for? I thought I told you that I handled it.” Mariatu brings her eyes up from the fruit in her lap to the profile of her husband’s face who begins driving through the parking lot.

Neron dips his head, “and I’m proud of you, Cariño. But he assaulted you so I returned the favor. Roughed him up a bit, he’s lucky that’s all he got and that’s out of respect for my lady being somewhat a witness…that I didn’t take it further. got his name from his license—just in case you run into him again and he decides to start some more shit but I doubt it. I clocked his ass—that’s all. No harm, no foul.”

“I can’t,” Mariatu snorts resting a hand against her edges, “I love you and I don’t need you locked up before Christmas.”

“I’m just contributing to society so I know Santa would forgive me,” Neron shrugs with a slow smirk appearing on his lips.

Mariatu laughs, “Oh that’s what you want to call it?” Before kicking her ankle up and over her opposite knee to examine, “don’t know why some people get so shitty during the holiday season, especially if you didn’t do anything wrong to them! They just feel like it’s okay to take it out on strangers. Like? What you say fuck me for?”

“You don’t even gotta worry about him no more, trust me,” Neron laughs at the joke, “you good though?”

Mariatu nods reaching over to feed Neron a grape before pecking his cheek, “always with you by my side, baby.”

“Likewise,” Neron winks over at the woman he was ecstatic to call his wife, resting the palm of his hand on her thigh.

Back in the gated, yes gated! suburbs of their coastal mobile home after unloading and packing the groceries, the married couple made it their mission that today would be a easy day. They rarely had days off at the same time so Neron and Mariatu wanted to take advantage of this with Mariatu persuading Neron to go shopping today rather than putting it off for the busiest day—Saturday. Now they had the rest of the day just to be up in each others faces, spending quality time together.

She’s in the bathroom, tending to her night time skin routine, already solidifying they were in for the rest of the day, while Neron’s perched on the edge of the bed tuned into the weather channel. The bathroom door’s wide open as Neron says, “you know your pa is trying to get coco and I to come out to Wyoming, huh?”

Mariatu frowns, “that’s where he snuck off to? The hell is he doing out there?”

The woman knew exactly what her father was doing out there. He made it a mission to travel more after the lost of his wife three years ago but…Wyoming? Really? Very Kanye coded but a lot less unhinged.

“Starting a new business adventure. Plans to do something either with construction or a food truck for a rest stop…he’s weighing his options based on how those meetings go.” Neron informed, “he sounds real determined and said he’ll keep me posted while also sending his love to you.”

Neron and Johnny had their own business together that consisted of mechanics and all things restoration, computers and guns, you name it! After things went terribly south (she often found it hard at times that they both made it out alive) with the club, they figured this would be their best option and Mariatu couldn’t be more supportive of the two. In whatever way she was often confused on her father bringing up his multiple business ideas to her husband and good friend. Neron and Coco seemed quite comfortable making their roots here and not all over the place like her father commonly did.

Yet of course she understood networking being a business owner herself…she just couldn’t picture Neron or Johnny elsewhere now that they were secure here and out of the tainted Santo Padre.

Mariatu rolls her eyes at this, loving how Neron threw that in there but she knew this was true with the way her father’s brain was constantly running with ideas. He’s always been a hardworking, successful man but he also didn’t know when to slow down. He was getting older and it’s like Mariatu was always fighting to have time with him, she valued that considering the lost of her mother but perhaps this was all his way of grieving?

You tend to do that sometimes at the end of the year they say.

“Will he back for Christmas? Kwanzaa, maybe?”

Neron wouldn’t lie and he knew how important Mariatu’s relationship was with her parents, which he did not receive personally but he always had his sisters so he understood to some degree, “he didn’t say honey but I’m sure he’ll try.”

“Right,” Mariatu is quiet for some time before starting up her spin brush again for a few minutes before rinsing her face and continuing the rest of her work.

The room is thicker now with Mariatu’s inner feelings about it all but Neron knows not to push it. They were similar in that way, holding everything in but Mariatu was better in letting it out when she was ready while Neron struggled with his own issues of people not hearing him when he did speak. However he knew not to feel that way with his wife, they confided in each other countless of times and felt seen being vulnerable with each other. It’s what drove them forward through the hardships.

Neron’s not sure how long he’s dazed off but a pair of pants smack across his face, followed by a snort of laughter that belonged to no other than his wife. He blinks, gripping onto the printed pants and scowls as he eyes the same print that Mariatu is sporting. Except her’s are shorts and he gets to eye her smooth legs in them.

Licking his lips Neron rubs at his beard, fighting to keep his thoughts clean as she slips a printed long sleeve set over her camisole, “You’re really making me wear matching pajamas with you?”

“Uh huh,” Mariatu nods her head with a smile, “we’ll be cozy and cute.”

Neron mumbles, “And lookin’ like the elves on the fucken shelf.”

Mariatu cackles as Neron shakes his head in disagreement. She stands before him, resting her hands across his shoulders, massaging them while staring down into his tense but loving brown eyes. Neron doesn’t hesitate to wrap his solid tatted arms around her waist, while she gets comfortable locking her legs right around his hips so they’re face to face now.

“I think you need a little more persuading and a thank you.”

“A thank you?” Neron ponders as Mariatu nuzzles her nose against the man’s, who breathes her in.

Mariatu pecks his lips, then trails those kisses along his jaw and up to his large ear, whispering, “for always looking out for me and especially for today. Will you let me take care of you?”

She can feel Neron shudder against her and she knew that Neron just wanted to be loved in return for the love that he gave out. Mariatu had no problem providing that and the confirmation of his fingertips digging into her waist was all she needed to make their lips collide. The scratch of his beard against her chin, the weight of her clung to his body, the force of shoving him back against the sheets, scrape of her stiletto nails that greeted his skin briefly as she helped him out of his tops, kissing of his wounds that were buried beneath his tats, the trick of her tongue against the round of his raised flesh which contained a hooped piercing that always evoked a breathy moan from his lips, the teasing and pleasing to his lower region with only her mouth was enough to bring joy right out of Neron’s heart.

Mariatu took the reigns but Neron couldn’t let that slide without getting his hands on her in the way he wanted and the way they both needed as well. A shower and clean up routine later, both now sporting red festive wear, they’re lounging against the headboard together, container of pomegranate seeds placed in between them while the skies in San Didacus continue filling in with a gray haze.

Neron and Mariatu both meet each other’s eyes after the dark haired man settled on, one of his favorites, “Krampus,” (2015) after finding one of the cheesy romantic Christmas movies to be too corny for their tastes.

“Ready to keep the festive spirit going?” Neron asks, wrist draped over Mariatu’s shoulder while she curls into him, leg tossed over his torso.

Mariatu covers her yawn, “yeah I am, I don’t know about you but I don’t want any demons hunting this house, especially once some kids come along.”

“Nah, krampus don’t got nothin’ on me.” Neron tells with a grin, “he better ask Poe and check my resume.”

“I haven’t even seen that resume.”

“I’m keepin’ it that way. Like I said when we took those vows, you don’t got to worry about nothing on that end. Just the restaurant and the good parts of life that we’re building together only.” Neron reassured in which Mariatu nodded with a smile.

Neron leans forward capturing Mariatu’s lips in a brief kiss before brushing his lips against her forehead then tunes back into the movie.

One thing is true, this holiday, equally the pair hopes this season brings further blessings to their table after growing what they both went through. The little moments mean just as much as the big ones and when they frequently stare into each other’s eyes…maybe in the end they can always say that’s the best gift the universe could have ever gave them.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙

Continue the rest of my~5 days of Xmas~December anthology prompts here.

[randomfoggytiger]

Makeup Myths and Acne Realities

(Credit to: Jacob Lund)

While doing more in-depth fashion research, I came across fact vs. fiction in regards to makeup and acne-- particularly, that improper makeup prep or cleansing leads to acne breakouts so tremendous they are seen through makeup, from a few feet away, or even through online photos.

Now thoroughly intrigued, I set out to tackle the differences in "makeup" acne and more serious acne conditions.

**Note**: If you want to skip straight to the pictures demonstrating the differences between acne caused by improper technique and acne caused by long-term skin conditions, scroll down to MAKEUP BREAKOUTS OR HORMONAL IMBALANCES?

ACNE MYTHS

(Credit to: Susana Ramirez)

The myth most topical to this post is spelled out by dermatologist expert Anjali Mahto here:

There's a misconception that makeup can cause acne, and those with acne-prone skin are often told that makeup will make acne worse. "I definitely don't think we should be shaming people for wearing makeup, as long as they are guided on the types of products they should be using and the application process," says Mahto. "There are clinical trial data that show that wearing makeup will give acne sufferers more confidence. Makeup alone doesn't cause acne. Likewise, going makeup free won't stop excess oil, bacteria or dead skin cells shedding in the pores or control the spot-causing bacteria."

Sticking to the topic of acne and makeup, Amy Derick (MD) succinctly debunks popular acne myths in this WebMD article:

Acne Myth 1: Adults don’t get acne.

Not true. Surveys have found that significant numbers of adults are still getting acne into their 30s, 40s, and even 50s. Acne may look different when you’re 36 than it did when you were 16 -- it’s more likely to be reddish nodules around your mouth and jaw, rather than whiteheads and blackheads scattered all over your forehead, nose, and cheeks -- but it’s acne all the same.

Acne Myth 5: You have acne because you’re not washing enough.

Unless you’re a slob, that’s probably not true. “Studies in teens show that washing your face twice a day is more effective than just once, but more than that isn’t necessary and can dry out your skin,” Derick says. “Cleansers are only on your skin for five seconds. Leave-on products like retinoid creams are more efficacious.”

(Further, verywellhealth also notes: ...over-cleaning the skin can lead to dryness, which can trigger the overproduction of sebum and an outbreak of acne.)

Acne Myth 6: You can’t wear makeup if you have a breakout.

"Some makeup can definitely exacerbate acne, particularly thicker liquid foundations that can clog pores and stage-type pancake makeup. But lighter, looser powder foundations, like mineral powder, aren’t nearly as aggravating to your skin,” Derick says. “Of course, people who have acne want to cover it, and coverage is better with thicker liquids, but you have to compromise.”

We know makeup can cause acne breakouts, though. So: what type of acne does it cause, and how do we differentiate?

ACNE BASICS

healthline lays out a nice, simple guide for all things acne:

Types of acne

The most common types of acne are:

whiteheads

blackheads

papules

pustules

nodules

cystic acne

Aaron Secrest, an academic/research dermatologist at the University of Utah, says these types are broken into two groups:

Comedonal acne, including whiteheads and blackheads

Inflammatory acne, including papules, pustules, nodules, and cystic acne

Both types of acne are caused by:

clogged pores

bacteria

overproduction of oil

hormonal changes

Acne subtypes

There are also several subtypes of acne, including:

adult hormonal acne (occurs due to hormonal fluctuations)

acne excoriée (occurs when someone with acne compulsively picks their skin, leading to scarring)

acne mechanical (occurs due to friction or pressure against the skin)

acne conglobata (occurs when nodules, abscesses, and cysts link below the skin, causing redness and swelling)

acne as a side effect of medications

COMEDONAL OR INFLAMMATORY ACNE

Comedonal acne are the garden variety cookie cutter acne: those divorced from hormonal imbalances or deep-rooted skin issues. Simply put, they are easily created and easily cured, leaving little to no trace in their wake. These are the makeup pimples caused by lack of proper care: whiteheads or blackheads that crop up overnight because of improper cleansing techniques.

Inflammatory acne are the tough nuts to crack: they are imbedded with hormonal imbalances or deep-rooted skin issues-- chronic symptoms of larger issues that leave deep ruts or long-term scars if not treated quickly and accurately. These are lifelong issues: no matter if one cleanses or sunscreens or diets or kumbayas properly, hormonal or cystic acne or modules or pustules will pop out or inflame or set in with very little prompting; and are incredibly difficult to hide-- if at all-- under makeup.

(I recommend this healthline article for an in-depth spreadsheet about the differing types of acnes and their treatments.)

INFLAMMATORY ACNE: HORMONAL ACNE

(Credit to: @SKINCAREGEM)

The common cause underlying all types of acne is an imbalance of the androgen hormone, which flares up during puberty and levels out in one's later teens or twenties.

Hormonal acne, however, is a type of inflammatory acne that rages out of control no matter a person's age or their careful, consistent attempts to control it: breakouts and flareups occur without mercy, and wreck havoc despite careful, consistent management.

Dr. Elyse M. Love says:

"The term hormonal acne is typically used to describe adult-onset female acne, as there tends to be a strong hormonal component to this type,” explains Elyse M. Love, MD, a NYC-based dermatologist. She goes on to say that this acne can can present in your 20s, 30s, and 40s, and impact both those who have experienced cystic breakouts before and those who haven’t.

"Hormonal acne is almost always cystic and inflammatory in nature,” says Dr. Love. “It presents with painful red papules, pustules, and deep cysts on the lower face, and it can create long-term scarring (especially if you attempt to pop it). At its mildest form, hormonal acne presents with a breakout or two near menstruation, but for many, it can persist all month long.”

She explains that hormonal acne most commonly occurs on the lower face (on the lower cheeks, jawline, chin) and body (across the chest, back, and shoulders), but can also present between the brows.

(Credit to: kyliespoon)

And Dr. Joshua Zeichner concurs:

According to board-certified dermatologist, Joshua Zeichner, MD, there are two main indicators of whether your acne is in fact due to hormones: Your breakouts happen along the lower third of your face, and they get worse before your period when there is an excess build-up of testosterone.

And verywellhealth agrees:

"For around 40% of women, however, acne may continue well into their 40s....

healthline states:

Hormonal acne may be caused by influxes of hormones from:

menstruation

polycystic ovarian syndrome

menopause

increased androgen levels

Specifically, these hormone fluctuations may aggravate acne issues by increasing:

overall skin inflammation

oil (sebum) production in the pores

clogged skin cells in hair follicles

production of acne-causing bacteria called Propionibacterium acnes

Unless your hormonal acne is mild, over-the-counter (OTC) products usually aren’t successful.

This is because hormonal acne typically takes the form of cystic bumps. These bumps form deep under the skin, out of reach of most topical medications.

How hard is it to manage hormonal acne?

Example: KiranJagpal shared photos from her six-year skincare journey after recently (at the time of her upload) figuring out how to balance her skincare routine, diet, and lifestyle to better manage bigger breakouts (with no guarantee life won't throw that balance out of the window sometime in the future, despite her best efforts.)

clevelandclinic.org describes:

Causes of hormonal acne that you can control

Stress.

Lack of sleep.

Using hair and skin care products that aren’t oil-free or free of ingredients that won’t clog pores (non-comedogenic or non-acnegenic).

Causes for hormonal acne that you can’t do anything about

Changing hormone levels in women, including around your period, irregular periods, during pregnancy, during menopause or after discontinuing birth control.

Men undergoing testosterone treatment.

Family history of acne (genetic predisposition).

Side effect of a medication (steroids).

Pre-existing medical conditions (polycystic ovary syndrome, other ovarian conditions and metabolic conditions).

Again, that leaves us with the question--

MAKEUP BREAKOUTS OR HORMONAL IMBALANCES?

(Credit to: Makeup by Ren Ren)

Here we reach the key distinction: breakouts due to negligence, or breakouts due to chronic skin conditions or sensitivities?

Makeup is an industry stuffed to the gills with different formulations; and with so much variety, there is guaranteed to be at least one formula that irritates and one that doesn't. If either a foundation formula or an improper cleansing routine creates a problem, it will likely cause a day-or-two comedonal breakout-- which is very different from an inflammatory breakout's raised, textured, or inflamed week-to-month skin.

(Fun fact: clean beauty often fares worse for sensitive or acne-prone skin types because their replacement preservatives do an awful job keeping mold or chemical aging at bay. Not recommended.)

Comedonal acne: whiteheads or blackheads that bloom in small patches, and are easily disguised by makeup-- typically with a thin layer of foundation or concealer-- and practically invisible a foot or two away or through a photo (unless shot up-close.)

(Credit to: ??)

(Credit to: @ValentineKissesBeauty)

Hormonal imbalance breakouts caused by either skin irritation or other external or internal factors: a combination of cysts or pustules or papules or nodules with the previously mentioned whiteheads and blackheads. They are definitely harder to cover-- requiring a heavier duty foundation or concealer (or a thinner foundation and heavier-duty concealer for a "less caked on" look)-- and are still visible from a few feet away or through an unfiltered or unedited photo (and, in some cases, even with filters.)

(Credit to: Samantha Ravandahl)

(Credit to: ??)

CONCLUSION

I thought this topic was interesting, dug up some facts, crunched them down, and whipped this post out. Hope it was intriguing to someone else, too.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[basiliskonline]

LETS MAKE SOME FUCKING DELICIOUS HEALTH FOOD

Some of you fuckers that follow me over on other websites may have heard that I have lost over 50 fucking pounds in going on 6 months now and i'm honestly shocked by how easy its fuckin' been now that I'm ignoring bullshit media and diet culture!

Also I just wanna say to all my fat kings and queens out there, yall fucking hot as shit and this was a decision I made for me, but I fully support you motherfuckers to love yourself at any and all sizes and I fucking love you too.

Now, what the fuck is this shit up here? A fucking Spinach tortilla? Fruit? Sugar free jello pudding? What the goddamn FUCK Basilisk!

Okay, calm down there buddy. hear me out. The spinach tortilla is the weird one, right? Well it has a light enough flavor to be overshadowed by the rest of the flavors, all this goddamn tortilla is here to deliver 18 fucking grams of FIBER directly into the glorious fucking body, ya dig?

No joke though! This is one of my favorite go to recipes, its quick as fuck and absolutely delicious jammed full of good shit at only 238 Calories!

Lets talk fucking Macros!

5.3 grams of fat (I usually get my fats elsewhere, if you want more fucking fat in this bitch than dice up some fatty delicious fuckin coconut in it or some shit)

44.3 g of carbs (including 19.3g of goddamn fiber!)

22.1 g of protein

Now lets talk some goddamn micros

494.7 mg of potassium

100mcg of Vitamin A

51.9mg of Vitamin C

284.5mg of Calcium

2.5mg of Iron

All kinds of other vitamins and minerals that they annoyingly don't let you track easily!

Now what the fuck is in this thing? Recipes? How do you FUCKING make it? Here we go, and just a warning ALL of this shit is measured with love, i weigh it all to track my shit but i do it in the moment and every time i make it, its a lil different!

Step ONE: Ya start off with your Nonfat/Lowfat greek yogurt (or full fat if you want more of that delicious delicious fat im not your goddamn mom). Just slap as much as you want in a bowl. Like 125-175g is good usually for me!

Step TWO: Measure out like idk 3-7 grams of chia seeds (CHIA SEEDS ARE FUCKING AMAZING GET THEM!) and toss that shit in the bowl.

Step THREE: Toss in some sugar free pudding powder, I use chocolate cause it what i can get regularly, but fuck do whatever you want! Vanilla? Banana? Pistachio? Fuck yeah! (Holy shit now im wondering about using Jell-o gelatin to get some like berry flavors... Idk how that'd work but im thinkin bout it now?!!) anyway you want probably 5-12grams of that shit (depends on how much yogurt you used! it will stiffen up your yogurt a TON, so idk if it gets TOO stiff, just add a lil more Yogurt, ya dig?)

Step FOUR (Optional): Throw in a lil protein powder, I used chocolate for my chocolate but fuckin get wild in there and experiment if you want! You only want like 3-6 grams of this in there! This just adds some extra protein and shit so this is still good af if you don't have any or don't wanna add it! (Also you can just do like ALL flavored Protein powder and none of the sugar free pudding mix if you want LOTS of that tasty tasty fuckin protein, we all just making shit up here as we go along)

Step FIVE (Optional): Use your no calorie sweetener of choice, just a lil bit (one packet or whatever) I use fucking Splenda because I WORSHIP AT HE ALTAR OF MY CHEMICAL GODS. But you can use like... monkfruit? or whatever the kids are using these days.

Step SIX: Mix that shit up with a spoon real quick. Fair warning that I totally and COMPLETELY do not give because of experience. You are mixing a lot of powders in there and start off as GINGER AS FUCK or you are gonna get some choclate fucking powder POOFED on your goddamn shirt or in your wookiee like chest hair or all over your tits, or all over your hairy fucking tits maybe idk, but if thats you I see you and goddamn love you. WARNED.

Step SEVEN: Warm up a skillet and start heating your Low Calorie High Fiber Tortilla (in my case, a Carb Balance Spinach Tortilla by Mission), low heat, you want it warm and supple so you can Taco that bitch and shove all the goodies in your face!

Step EIGHT: While you are warming up the skillet start throwing fruit together, I usually do about 120-140 grams of fruit, make it 3-4 different kinds if you can, get a nice spread of nutrients and vitamins and shit. Lately ive been doing strawberries, tangerines, grapes (both green and red). Banana, Cherry and/or Apple are both great too! USE WHAT YOU GOT!

STEP NINE: ITS TIME TO FUCKING GOOOO! That Tortilla is HOT, the fruit is fucking ready and delicious, that chocolaty yogurt full of NUTRITION-FUCKING-DENSE chia seeds is tantalizing. Slap that yogurt mixture on the goddamn tortilla! Slap the fruit on top (FUCKING lick all the tasty chocolate-yogurt mixture off that spoon, don't let that shit go to WASTE)

THEN YOU FUCKING ROLL THAT SHIT UP like a Taco! (Unless you are lucky enough to find larger tortillas that fit your needs, I can only find these pathetic lil "soft taco" sized like 8 inchers! and shove it in your hungry goddamn hole and just fucking love this FUCKING FILLING and delicious sweet treat at under 250 Cals.

VARIANTS!

Sometimes I mix some zero sugar whipped topping in with the yogurt, or just top it with it.

When you Want a LOT OF FUCKING YOGURT AND FRUIT, I have grilled the tortilla to a more crisp and crunchy demeanor and made that shit a goddamn chocolate and fruit tostada (topped with whipped topping of course!)

ANYWAY FUCKING ENJOY!

[chimerical-creations]

Glitter jar featuring the skull emblem thing plus spiky vine frame from Mystery Skulls Animated. Skull logo was sandblasted into the outer surface, then the jar was filled with pink glitter and glow powder and mineral oil, and the lid glued on.

Dimensions: Approximately 6cm tall and 3cm in diameter.

[Video description: Small glass jar with white plastic screw-top lid, held between thumb and index finger. Size of jar is approximately 6cm total height and 3cm in diameter. The outer surface is sandblasted with the Mystery Skulls Animated skull emblem surrounded by spiky vines forming a vaguely triangular shape around the skull. The jar is filled with a mix of pink glitter and glow powder suspended in clear mineral oil.

The first ten seconds of video is a turnaround of the jar, showing off the sandblasted design. The glitter and glow powder has settled to the bottom of the jar.

Second part of the video shows the jar being flipped and twisted around to get the the glitter and glow powder moving. At first the glitter falls very slowly, then picks up speed as larger globs begin to fall, until the whole mass breaks away from the base of the jar in a shimmery cascade. The jar is spun around a few more times to show off the swirling insides from multiple angles.

The last forty-five seconds of video show the same twirling-about thing but under UV light, to show off how brightly the pink glow powder fluoresces. End description.]

[cagemasterfantasy]

Cufant the Copperderm pokemon a steel type

3ft 11inc

220.5lbs

Ability: Sheer Force Hidden Ability: Heavy Metal

Egg Group: Field and Mineral

Highest Base Stat: Attack:80

Lowest Base Stat: Special Attack Speed:40

Base Stat Total: 330

It digs up the ground with its trunk. It's also very strong, being able to carry loads of over five tons without any problem at all. If a job requires serious strength, this Pokemon will excel at it. Its copper body tarnishes in the rain, turning a vibrant green color.

At level 34 it evolves into Copperajah the Copperderm pokemon a steel type

9ft 10inc

1433lbs

Ability: Sheer Force Hidden Ability: Heavy Metal

Egg Group: Field and Mineral

Highest Base Stat: Attack:130

Lowest Base Stat: Speed:30

Base Stat Total: 500

They came over from another region long ago and worked together with humans. Their green skin is resistant to water. These Pokemon live in herds. Their trunks have incredible grip strength, strong enough to crush giant rocks into powder.

Gigantimax Copperajah

75ft 6inc

So much power is packed within its trunk that if it were to unleash that power, the resulting blast could level mountains and change the landscape. After this Pokemon has Gigantamaxed, its massive nose can utterly demolish large structures with a single smashing blow.

Gigantimax Copperajahs gmax move is Steelsurge (This move scatters sharp spikes around the field.)

[pearls-and-vignettes]

A pearl. It is a bluish-green in color, and is covered in seawater. It contains an entry to a personal diary.

2198.153 - PEARL DIARY Trade has been good recently. A neighboring village has constructed themselves a farm array, and has been giving us chalk plant in return for our pearls. Hydrolyzed, we have discovered that this makes a great seasoning for stews. Our Press Clam foundry has increased in output since last report by thirty-three per cent due to the rediscovery of a higher-efficiency mineral composition. Deposits carrying this new composition are present within a day's walk. Three new members have joined the village. They bear tales of a company of devout ascensionists, which have reportedly destroyed their entire village while they were out on a foraging trip. A new defensive body has been formulated, and it comprises five members. Seventeen Stars, Opened Plane, Four Trees, a Bolus, Rods Abound, Unspoken Risk, Ten Sparks, and I have begun training with hand-axes. May I continue to live in prosperity and safety. Five Roots, Powdered Snow

[randomwriteronline]

"Do you have rice at home?"

What a weird question. Emmet turned to Briosa and nodded, an eyebrow crooked up to make a confused expression.

Why?, he signed.

She shrugged over the back of her seat: "You know," she replied vaguely, not answering, and added: "Do you have butter, shredded cheese?"

Emmet nodded again, more puzzled.

"Mushrooms?"

He shook his head. She clicked her tongue.

"Zucchini?"

That he did have, yes.

Briosa hummed loudly.

"Do you have broth cubes?" she asked. Her hand rose from beneath her chin and made a gesture as if holding something small between her index and thumb: "Like the uh, the ones that you put in boiling water and it makes stock broth?"

Did he have those?

He shook his head, struggling to find the right signs: Broth... Powder.

"Oh, that's still fine."

You... Need? Thing?, he asked. The vagueness was tiring him out more than the already long day had.

Briosa hummed for a long while.

"Are you hungry?" she didn't answer.

Emmet raised a hand to give an exhausted half-half gesture.

"Same," she replied - which was strange, because according to Briosa she was never hungry. She turned off the last computer still on: "Let's go."

Home sounded awful. Home sounded empty and soulless. Home sounded like Crustle yelling because he had missed feeding time by 1 minute and already trying to rip open the food cabinet to forcefully get his supper like a big cement baby, and that did make him chuckle a little and give him the strength to be on his way.

His head pulsed a bit. Mawile must have been as tired as him, because Briosa held her in her arms like a little kid as they walked down the street at a pace that was clearly not up to the shorter man's standards.

Emmet yawned. Goodness. So tired.

Briosa skipped a little at his side.

"There's some foods you absolutely cannot eat at dinner," she began unprompted, but her squeaky voice was a welcome distraction from the noisy quiet, "Not because there's some actual rule - technically there is but I call bullshit on that, it's all food - but because they're so heavy on the stomach that if you do eat them you'll be dreaming of green Raticate and pink Donphants like you got five shots of ketamine before bed."

His head snapped to face her with eyes wide from vague concern.

"I don't actually know if that's what ketamine does, I've never had it," she added, oblivious to his look.

"That's not how you pronounce that," Emmet managed to deadpan.

Mawile translated him sleepily.

Briosa turned to face him, the corners of her otherwise perfectly straight mouth pointed downwards and her forehead creased in puzzlement: "Pronounce what?"

"Ketamine," he replied - the last syllable making a 'meen' sound.

"Ketamine?" she repeated - the last sillable making a 'mine' sound, like the possessive pronoun or the place where miners work.

"Keh-tah-meen," he sounded out carefully so that she could easily read his lips.

Her brows furrowed over her crooked nose: "Ketameen?" she said correctly with a tinge of disgust. Being treated with a nod, she scoffed: "That sounds stupid. It's not a 'meen'-ending word, it sounds too stupid. It could be if it ended in 'a' but otherwise it sounds way too silly for me. I'm gonna keep calling it ketamine."

"That's wrong."

"Well, it sounds better."

Whatever makes her happy.

Emmet blinked heavily.

"Why are we talking about ketamine?" he muttered. The streetlights were too bright.

"We aren't," Briosa replied as soon as Mawile had translated him in sign. "I'm just trying to keep you awake and you derailed the conversation with what is the right way to pronounce ketamine."

"I am awake," he mumbled back.

"Are you?"

He showed her his tongue - immediately covering it with his hand. An awfully unprofessional thing to do: Briosa wasn't Elesa, even though her name ended with the same syllable, and as far as he knew they weren't quite considerable friends.

How had he even thought of confusing them enough for a mistake in etiquette like that? They were nothing alike, in looks and sound.

The substitute didn’t seem that bothered, proceding without a care: “Is it ok if I ask you for some food for my lads while I’m at yours? I’ll pay you back. It’s just because otherwise they’re gonna eat at 2 AM.”

Emmet nodded without really paying attention; only when the words swam from his ears into his brain and began being digested did he narrow his eyes and stop right where he stood.

He turned and looked behind himself.

Briosa only noticed his sudden stillness after a dozen or so steps, when Mawile pointed her back to the flabbergasted man in the middle of the street.

“You good?” she asked.

He pointed to the direction from which they had come silently, in deep thought. He blinked, then finally turned back to her.

“This isn’t the way to your house,” he noted.

“It’s not.”

The matter-of-fact tone didn't help.

"Why aren't you? On the way home?"

"I'm following you."

"Why are you following me?"

"I'm going to your house."

"You're coming to my house?"

"I'm coming to your house."

"Why are you coming to your- my house?"

"To cook you rice with zucchini."

"Why?"

"For dinner."

Emmet took a moment to pause and ruminate on all that.

"Did we agree on, on that? That you were... Coming to my house to cook?" he asked, because he genuinely didn't remember if they had.

"No."

Ah. Made sense.

A slow roundhouse kick that was probably meant as gentle (and while it did not send him hurtling across the street, it was still imbued with a discreet amount of strength that made him wobble on his unsteady knees) hit him with the back of the foot square in the ass and propelled him forward a little bit.

"Come on, let's go," the man (when had she gotten back at his side?) egged him on, much like a father dragging his noisy tired child out of the supermarket by an arm with as much vague kindness as possible: "You're sleeping on your feet like a Rapidash and you need to get some food in you."

He was too tired to complain or make a comment about that first part, and could not argue with the second.

He was really hungry.

Excadrill seemed perplexed when Briosa snuck under his arm as soon as the door was opened and made a beeline towards the kitchen, but Emmet just waved a hand, letting her know all was fine.

“She’s helping,” he told her with a yawn: “Said she’ll make dinner.”

The Steel mole looked back at the room the small vaguely antropomorphized Electrode had disappeared inside of, not very certain whether or not leaving someone like that in the vicinity of gas outlets, fire, sharpened blades and various more or less dangerous tools at her whims’ disposal; but she did consider, turning once more to the man trying to slip his shoes off while Archeops was nibbling at his wrist to shake him out of his tardiness, that was a risk she was willing to take if it meant her ward would eat before collapsing into uneasy sleep.

Footsteps stampeded heavily all the way back out of the kitchen, and Briosa appeared from the doorframe.

"I don't know where anything is," she said very flatly.

The light that came from the room hit the side of her frame, almost painting a yellow line where it landed, making her look something akin to incomprehensible in the dim sorroundings.

Emmet managed to blink slowly.

"I did find the refrigerated foods and knife and the tap water," she continued as if to reassure him she wasn't a complete cretin, "But I don't know where anything else is and I thought maybe I shouldn't slam open all the cabinets of some house that's not mine to find the rice jar."

Her boss raised a finger in the air to ask her to wait a moment; he stood slowly, heavily, and wobbled on his socked feet over to her.

He didn't have a rice jar, but he did have a box of rice, as well as a rice cooker. He provided Briosa with a pot, some oil and a plate at her request: she struggled to pour the grains into her small palm six, eight times, each fistiful dropped in the plate, cursing softly in what seemed like gibberish, and he watched her absolutely transfixed by the motion and sound similar to rain.

Something vaguely pinchy pulling at his leg snapped him out of it.

"Durant," he assumed as he croaked without looking, leaning down a big to pet lightly something vaguely metallic but not at all like his Bug's carapace, "I'll get dinner. Hold on."

A tongue clicked loudly while he reached for the pantry under the silverware that held the Pokémon food, and a large blackish mass delicately helped him get the bags out. Mawile's large mouth was a little clumsy, since the stem connecting it to the back of her head was quite thin, so Emmet ended up reciprocating her help to save her some of the strain.

Above himself he could hear the gas sparking into fire on the stove.

He nudged Briosa with an elbow to get her attention while remaining crouched - it was a little surreal to be looking up at her as he signed: Zucchini?

"Water," she replied. "I need to boil it. Also I think we forgot the broth powder."

Why boil?

"For the rice."

Sitting on his knees so he could peek over the counter, he pointed at the rice cooker; she looked at it, then turned back to him with a completely blank expression.

Rice cooker, he explained.

"Ah," she replied, and made no motion towards it.

For cooking rice, he continued.

"Yeah, I figured." Briosa checked around the station for a moment more: "Hm, yep, we missed the broth powder."

His brows furrowed: Why powder?

"For the rice. You gotta boil the rice in broth to cook it."

Emmet blinked: Rice cooker, he repeated.

Briosa blinked: "Hm," she noted.

Her boss pointed back to the utensil.

Use rice cooker.

"I don't know how to use that."

I teach you.

"That's gonna take longer than just letting me boil the rice," she waved her hand, her stoat fingers grazing his nose with a certain resolution to the movement that told him not to worry: "I know what I'm doing. You do what you gotta and try not to fall asleep. If you need me to do something or you gotta tell me something just punt your elbow on my shoulder."

Might hurt.

Briosa smiled, toothy grin not nearly as terrifying as usual: "You're a wet noodle when fully awake," she laughed, sounding like a repeatedly squeezed rubber Ducklett: "You won't hurt me."

Then she turned to wash the zucchini a bit in the sink, humming something. Mawile slowly dragged a bag out of the kitchen, struggling a bit; Emmet carefully placed the powdered broth next to the stove where it could be easily seen and raised the other end of the heavy sack to help the little Fairy bring it all the way over to the livingroom, others following behind them in mid air, held floating in the air by Chandelure's helpful Psychic - to keep it away from Crustle’s impatient grabby claws as well.

It took him a hot moment to realize he would have needed seven more bowls (the other twelve already fetched by their respective owners, thankfully); he then also realized that other than Mawile, the six guests were not actually there.

Briosa was chopping a zucchini very slowly and heavily when he came in to ask her for her team, which sat in their Pokéballs on their counter a little closer to the kitchen door. Emmet saw it fit to collect them without bothering her, noting distractedly that she seemed to be singing and deciding, against his will, to listen in.

“... Amministra-zio-ne, e liquida-zio-ne, rateizza-zio-ni anti-previden-zial - misura came-ra-le, calcolo dell’IR-PES, scarico dell’I-VA, misura cata-stal...”

The tempo of her chopping increased to a horrendous degree immediately after as she vocalized quietly; Emmet watched her cut through the vegetable with admirable technique and fury for a moment more before deciding he did not want to have her turn around a little too fast and get that blade flying right in his eye socket, and went right back to the livingroom where his brother’s Bug was starting to scream his little bulbous eyes off in hunger.

Knowing full well how big, bulky, destructive and aggressive ‘the lads’ could be in battle, he was somewhat surprised to see their politeness outside of their Pokéball when he first released them. Their sizes did cause bit of a stirrup, especially among those who hadn't seen them before, and Emolga's heavily deformed scarred grin certainly did not put anybody at ease - but Seismitoad croaked very gently, as a kind greeting, and Bisharp bowed in an incredibly courteous manner; Klinklang did seem a little more than uneasy at the sight of Heatmor, trying to scoot behind Excadrill and to drag the much more relaxed Durant with it, but the Fire type seemed just as scared of the hunk of metal as he hid behind the only lady of the team.

Speaking of Conkeldurr - the poor girl was trying her hardest to shrink in her shoulders as soon as she noticed where she was, eyeing co-workers and new curious faces with a sheepish kind of apprehension, large rough hands playing with one another.

"Hello," Emmet welcomed them too tired to stop Boldore from running into the newcomers repeatedly. "I live here. You eat here tonight."

Cryogonal made a horrifying sound not too far from Candelure' worst cough.

He gave her a thumbs up: "Yes."

It struck him very suddenly that roughly three out of six out of Briosa’s team effectively could have been considered full ass human people by size, and that while one of them was indeed an enormous bulbous frog he should have probably just let Conkeldurr and Bisharp sit on the couch.

It also struck him that Cryogonal (from whom Haxorus was inching away) was a pure Ice type.

“We don’t...” he muttered, turning around to check on the bags. He stared at them for a second or so before remembering the rest of his thought: “Have Ice type food. Food for Ice types. Uh...”

Mawile’s little hands moved quickly to tell him something.

He blinked a couple times, trying to understand before giving in, pointing at his hand: “I cannot - three finger sign, I’m not. Fluent.”

The little Steel Fairy nodded apologetically and chittered as she repeated, slower so that he could try the signs out himself to properly translate them: No problem. C eat nothing or anything. C eat wood if want. No worry.

The chittering was probably so that Cryogonal could listen in herself and assure Emmet of the veracity of the statement with another ghastly shriek.

Which she did.

That got her another thumbs up.

It took a while, to properly get everybody their bowl of dinner, and he had to be helped a couple of times - mostly by Mawile, who seemed the most well-versed in reading written symbols.

He was so, so tired.

In the end they had managed to split the food around more or less evenly: both Durant and Excadrill had graciously declined the portion of Steel-specific food that should have been mixed with their other ones so that Bisharp and Mawile could have it, since they had nothing for Dark or Fairy types, and Emolga was more than fine getting only Flying-specific (Archeops wasn’t necessarily keen on that, but very wisely had not argued with the rat that looked like he had been through a shredder and survived) since Eelektross’ size demanded quite a bowl for him; Seismitoad had at one point striked up a conversation with his fellow Ground type regarding, Emmet imagined, which types of dirt tasted better, whereas Heatmor was still snout-deep in his can of beans, apparently eating them one at a time to better savor them, as normal Fire-specific food didn’t account for his digestive troubles.

Even Cryogonal had managed to snack around without causing an excess in panic. Gurdurr seemed to be the only one a little embarassed, glancing every now and then to the much bigger Fighting type in the same manner an elementary-schooler glances at a substitute teacher he may or may not have a puppy crush on.

It was relatively quiet, in the end. A lot of crunching and munching, and unintelligible words, but it was quiet.

Emmet shook himself a little when small teeth gently bit down on his arm: Mawile looked up at him with a slight concern, her little hands pulling at his pants to make him sit down properly instead of squatting on his toes.

“Hm?” he asked her - or, well, tried to - as he felt his head strangely light.

The Fairy insisted he take a seat first before explaining: No sleep yet! Rice not ready. Ready soon. Stay awake.

“I am Emmet. I am awake.”

Before no.

“Yes I was.”

Mawile pointed at Boldore: Called you, she explained. Food stolen. You asleep! No answer. Crab say shut up.

At that, he looked up to the three Bugs.

Durant and Galvantula both followed his gaze: Crustle turned his bulbous eyes in two completely different directions to try and feign ignorance.

That clearly did not work, as a perfectly straight finger pointed right at him.

“Bad boy.” his trainer’s brother decreted. Crustle (who by law knew any word he could have said could have been used against him) chirped out an indignated whine in protest. “No. Give Boldore some of yours.”

Bugs cannot quite huff, though the crustacean definitely did try; with no other option, he haughtily shoved what still remained in his bowl to the block of rock he had stolen the lunch from in the first place, who made a crumbling sound similar to a piqued ‘thank you’ and very slowly helped himself to the rest of his supper while the other retreated in his cement house as though he were the offended party here.

Well, that was solved.

Emmet rubbed one eye with his hand to shake the sleep dust off of it.

A three-fingered paw pulled at his shirt again: “I am awake,” he reassured Mawile, “I am not falling asleep.”

She did not particularly care about his blatant lies at the moment - not as much as she cared about getting him off the floor, at least, as evidenced by how she tried to pull him onto the couch despite her obvious size disadvantage. Bisharp, noting her struggle, quickly put aside his own bowl and rose to his feet, metal arms outstretched to catch the man in them.

“No thanks,” Emmet stopped him. “Can do it myself.”

Alright, he thought, time to stand up.

After a whole minute he had not moved an inch.

Bisharp, with as extreme a tenderness as a creature composed partially by sawblades could muster, gently slipped his hands under Emmet’s arms, lifted him into the air as one might lift a cat, and sat him on the couch.

“Thanks.” the human peeped.

Seeing the Dark type bow a little in response while Archeops blatantly laughed at him gave him some weird new kind of mortification to feel.

Maybe if he focused on the incomprehensible sounds somewhat reminscent of words coming from the kitchen, he would manage to trick himself into not thinking about having had to be picked up like a bag of cement because his joints didn’t respond.

From the door connecting the two rooms he could see Briosa perfectly still before the stove: a vacant look seemed to dwell in her eyes as her lips moved quickly, and perhaps most concerningly she was holding a kitchen knife in her right hand, bits and pieces of zucchini still stuck to the blade, with a grip that could have concievably crushed a piece of wood into shavings or caused a small enough pumpkin to explode under the pressure.

Not a very reassuring sight.

But it did immediately cancel his embarassment.

“... E il carica-to-re svuo-te-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...”

Very suddenly, she began banging her fists against her hips in asynchrony, large knife very much still grasped tight in her palm, as if her body was a drumset and she were playing it after getting a dose of pure sugar injected in her veins.

“Ed il so-cio scompa-ri-rà, sul-le aliquote della-li-bertà...” she continued unperturbed by neither her own choreography nor the possibility of accidentally stabbing herself for that matter.

The rest of the chorus turned a little garbled from her furious headbanging, the movement so violent and so spread out through her entire frame (her torso and pelvis were oscillating in tandem back and forth to lend more strength to the motion, making her look a little like one of those bird-shaped toys that are constantly quickly dipping their beaks in the water, rising out of it, then diving back in for another sip) that it made him fear for a moment she would slam her head on the counter and either knock herself out or destroy it completely, with a higher chance of the latter.

Emmet turned back to Mawile, who had climbed the couch to sit next to him.

“She is always like this?”

She followed his finger with her gaze as he pointed to the kitchen.

Then she nodded.

“Man.”

No like silence, the Fairy explained.

"Aaah. So she talks."

The little beast waited a moment, then waved a hand in the air in a sort-of-yes-sort-of-no kind of gesture: Talk, no really. No hear voice. Feel mouth move, remember how voice sound. But no hear.

Emmet tilted his head: "She can't hear her own voice?"

Mawile nodded.

He clicked his tongue in thoughtful aknowledgement and blinked.

That was such a weird concept, not being able to hear yourself. It was the sort of obvious thing one never ponders on at all: so he had always assumed she could, without really thinking about it enough to question whether or not that was possible. And even if he had found himself reflecting on it in a sudden burst of curiosity, he would have probably still rationalized that she could, maybe by feeling the vibrations in her neck as she spoke.

But that would have meant keeping her hands on her throat all the time, he reasoned, and it would have been really bothersome for someone as prone to action as she was.

He wondered, suddenly, if she knew how squeaky she sounded.

Probably not.

"Could she hear herself?" he asked. "Somehow?"

Yes!, Mawile nodded enthusiastically.

Emmet blinked again. From what she had told him, he hadn't expected that could have been a possibility.

Headphone! Microphone!, the Fairy continued without needing any prompting. Ear implant! But no wear for long. Hurt ear. Or yell!

"Yell?"

If loud enough! Like before!

Did that mean she had been yelling?

This whole time?

Oh, Emmet suddenly thought: yes, actually, she must have been. The kitchen was a room that in some strange way never let any noise escape it; no matter how much the oil could have sizzled or how agonizingly the blender could have screamed, their agony remained hushed into silence between those walls. It was very nice, by all means - he still remembered having to retreat in his closet to escape the noise of his uncle in the kitchen so it couldn’t make him feel like there were Stunfisks flapping around in his veins - but it brought along the slight side-effect that if they had to set a timer that wasn't the oven's (which turned the machine off as soon as it was done) they would have to put it in the livingroom, or they'd never hear it.

For him to be able to listen to her, Briosa must have been belting the hell out of her incomprehensible song like tomorrow wasn't planning on being a thing.

“Verrry loud,” he commented, slowly.

Mawile nodded, whirring her tongue to imitate him as she signed: Verrry loud.

Some minor inconvenience must have happened, because Briosa shouted something irritated, possibly profanity of some kind.

Emmet leaned his head on the back pillows.

Now she was singing again.

“Al-me-no-fi-no-a-do-mat-ti-na-ti-pro-me - tto-che, sarò la fa-ccia, di-cui-hai-più bisogno...”

This one was much calmer. More melodic. The way she pronounced the words had a strange cadence, quick yet slow - it was hard to explain. He blinked, feeling drowsy all the way into his marrow.

“Me-glio-non-di-re-nien-te-aspet-tando-il-mat-ti-no, sor-rido, se-pen-so-al-no-me-che-tu mi-darai do-ma-ni...”

Huh. This verse had a completely different rhythm. Weird.

Maybe the author was part of some avantgarde musical genre he didn’t know.

He felt something lukewarm pulling his forehead back and realized his eyes were closed. When had that happened? Chandelure chimed at him something that sounded like ‘don’t fall asleep yet, you still have to eat’.

Ah.

So it wasn’t the song’s fault for having different-sounding verses.

He mouthed that he wasn’t asleep, voice barely leaving his mouth. He hadn’t even noticed he’d dozed off.

“... che, orati-mangida-den, tro, piccolo-pianeta-spen, to, come-una bri-ciolaal-ven-toe-un-bu-co-ne-roe-un-oc-chio-blu,” Briosa was continuing.

He wondered how much of it he’d missed.

“E, so-no-po-co-più-di-un-jamais-vu, tra tutte queste persone, nella-mia-testa-io-gioco-a-tabù, perdo-se-dico-il tuo no - me...”

A pinch at his leg.

Ow, he murmured, furrowing his brow; Durant chittered worriedly at him, nudging him to spur him into action. His eyelids felt horribly sandy against his sclera as he rubbed them with as much vigor as possible to shake any tiredness away.

He was not tired. He was not sleeping.

His knees popped when he straightened them to tense his legs.

He was not about to fall into a nap again.

“Io ti terrò la mano, tu tienimi l’anima...”

He bent down to grasp his feet.

“E pure se non sai chi sono non lasciarla mai...”

Maybe, if he went to check on Briosa, he would avoid knocking himself out on the couch for the next five hours.

He stood as though he were made of lead.

Following her saccharine voice, he slowly began wobbling towards the kitchen.

“Ve - di, ci sono, dei-ri, cordi, che-mi de - vi, sei grande, ma-ti, chiamo-an, cora ba - by,” (oh, a word he recognized) “Ho gl’occhi rossi ma non te ne accorgi, ti guardo mentre dormi, ma solo ieri-”

Her nose stuck out so much when you looked at her from the side. It jutted out from her forehead out of nowhere, somewhere a little above her eyes and almost right below her eyebrows, and then it came right down like a straight wall. It wasn’t perfectly straight, because there was a dent where it had likely been broken and incorrectly healed; so more than a wall it was like a waterfall interrupted in the middle by a rock. Despite the contrast with the rest of her more graceful features, it fit everything about her like a glove. Emmet’s nose showed no signs of harm and pointed outwards instead, like half the head of an arrow. What weird things to notice in the split second between two verses of a hook.

“-C’e-ri, nei giorni ne-ri, quelli che piove troppo fo-rte per stare in pie-di,” she sang: “E fottevamo anche la morte volando legge-ri, m’hai chiesto dimmi cosa te-mi, in che cosa cre-di, la mia risposta sei tu.”

She hummed loudly, thin lips pursed tight, tilting her head with the melody.

“La mia risposta sei tu...” she repeated while stirring the mass of rice in what little broth was left.

Emmet stared.

She had a nice voice.

When she turned to the door - maybe to call for him - she had a startle and flattened herself closer to the floor, little eyes blown wide and hand grasping the counter. She looked like she had a heart attack.

They simply stared at each other for a moment, before Emmet remembered she couldn’t have heard him come in and likely had shat her pants.

Whoops.

Briosa was quicker: “Hello!” she grinned apologetically. “I was really really loud, wasn’t I.”

Her boss shook his head, smiling back: No problem. You sing nice.

Expression losing any mortification, she flipped her wooden spoon to tap her chin with it a few times as though she were thanking a deeply captivated audience - giving a ‘youch’ and a ‘porca puttana bastarda’ when the heat carried by the utensil scalded her a little.

He wasn’t sure what that second thing meant, but it made him chuckle.

Briosa turned back to the pot and twisted her mouth: “Ok, since it’s almost ready, do you want me to put...” she rocked in place for a moment, hand waving a little, “A sensible person’s idea of a good amount of cheese and butter, or my idea of a good amount of cheese and butter?”

Second, he signed.

“Gotcha.” and she got her big knife back in hand and grabbed the brick of definitely softer butter like she was going to squeeze it between her fingers and annihilate it completely: “Drown it in dairy it is.”

Emmet wheezed weakly.

He fetched a couple plates and forks to set on the table, slowly, so slowly. By the time he found the glasses and started checking for a bottle that still had some water before pikcing one and putting in the sink to fill it, the rice had completely dried up, and Briosa was stirring it with butter and shredded cheese with such a focused gaze and furiously quick hand that an inattentive onlooker might have thought she was busy making merengues instead.

(They had tried exactly once, and in the end they’d both ended up with aching wrists and a bunch of half whipped egg clears despite their best efforts. In the end they had made sweet white omelettes that weren’t as bad as they could have turned out to be.)

“You wanna lick the spoon?”

Before he could even register the question he had already clamped the wooden utensil in his mouth.

Clearly the correct course of action: that tasted great.

Must have been all the cheese.

Now he was salivating.

“This’ll kill you,” Briosa assured him with a calm tone. “If you’re not gonna be sleeping after this I might have to punch a hole in your head.”

He gave her thumbs up. A good last meal either way.

They ate in silence, fairly quickly. Had he really not noticed how hungry he was up until now? Dragons. He shouldn’t skip meals. But maybe it was just because this rice specifically tasted so good. Why, he couldn’t really tell. It was just rice and zucchini. Drowned in dairy, but still rice and zucchini. It wasn’t even that hard to make. He probably could have made it on his own.

Maybe it was because he’d fasted the whole day.

He stood and fetched a second portion. Briosa was eyeing the pot like a Braviary waiting for the right moment to strike a Basculin.

When he motioned for her to hand him her plate she shook her head: “I’m not hungry,” she claimed, though he never quite believed her when she said that, even when she sounded so honest - maybe she was trying to convince herself, but as to why he couldn’t tell, “It’s just gluttony. Keep that in a tupper or something, I made a lot for that especially. And!”

Her index waved a little in the air, possibly to distract her boss from how she was standing to wash her dish and everything before he might object: “And, when you warm it, do it in a pan. With some oil. Gets all crunchy like popcorn. Good shit, let me tell you.”

Emmet nodded. You know a lot, he signed back once both his hands were free.

“My dad always fries his rice instead of putting it in the microwave.”

I see. It was very good.

She smiled at him weirdly.

“You gotta do it like this,” and she signed ‘very’ back at him - though her index and middle fingers paused for a moment after parting, dipping just a second towards the floor before she finished the sign.

He tilted his head: he’d been fairly sure he’d learned how to sign that correctly. Nevertheless, he imitated her.

“There you go!” she grinned. “It’s too weird when you say it with no gemination.”

Twin?, he asked, even more confused.

She spelled the word quickly: “Gemination - doubling letters in a word to make a longer or stronger sound. Like rubble or throttle or bottle. In this case it’s over-gemination because no letter in ‘very’ is doubled but that doesn’t matter. You geminate it. It doesn’t feel right if you don’t.”

How do you know?

“Know what?”

Gemination.

“Ah. Your mouth.”

He pointed at it, surprised. It likely looked a little comical, since he had taken a rather big bite at that moment.

Briosa smiled a little wider: he watched her clearly mouth the word twice, slowly.

“The eh sound opens it a little wider than the ee sound,” she explained, and mouthed it again. “The R by itself has a shwah sound, a sort of ‘uh’ - that’s really weak, so it gets replaced easily by a different one. If you stall it after an eh sound, the lips remain in a similar position, and you can see how they flatten more once the ee sound comes along.”

He looked more carefully as she repeated the motion once more before gulping down his last forkful and imitating her, trying to feel the sounds on his lips. Huh! That was true. He could tell the different shapes made by the vowels. Curious.

Verrry interesting, he signed. The stalling made her grin. Where did you learn?

“Phonetics class in college I had to take to meet the right amount of credits. I actually chose it mostly because the professor was deaf too, so.”

Emmet clicked his tongue, understanding; Briosa clicked it back in affirmation.

Who knows where they’d picked that up from.

He leaned his strangely heavy head on his crossed arms, splaying himself on the table with a sigh. He felt comfortably warm, at ease; he grumbled a protest when a smaller hand slipped his empty plate and dirty silverware away to wash it in the sink, but didn’t quite manage to coax himself to stand up fast enough to stop her from doing his dishes. He did manage to seize the still half full pot before her, emptying its contents into a glass container and managing to hold onto it long enough to squirt some dishsoap in it - not to clean it, because Briosa twisted his arm behind his back without breaking a sweat (without hurting him either) forcing him to hand it over to her.

You should not clean, he pouted once he had both his hands free again: My house. I’m host. You’re guest. I clean.

“I invited myself over though.”

And cooked.

“And ate also.” and she kicked his hip gently to get him out of the kitchen: “Get your pijamas on while I’m busy, you’re going straight to bed once I’m done.”

You’re not my dad.

She stared directly into his eyes with a face so blank it almost made him laugh.

“Do you want me to adopt you,” she said like it was a threat.

Emmet’s entire body began shaking to contain a giggle. He shook his head.

“Then wash your teeth and put on your jammies.”

He wheezed in her face.

She snorted back.

“But seriously,” she chuckled, “Go get changed. The rice is gonna hit soon and you’re not gonna be able to move a muscle for the next three hours otherwise.”

Alright, fair.

He didn’t notice it, but the Pokémon chatting about in the livingroom were all greatly relieved to see him stumble into his room giggling to himself like a kid.

Flannel felt good on his arms. It was soft, warm, loose... It seemed like forever since he had last worn those pijamas. They were awfully comfortable. He had to make an effort to change into them more often when he came back home. They were much better than a dirty button up and dress pants.

(He hadn’t called before eating. He should have called now.)

(One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.)

“If you’re naked stick out your leg!”

The sound of Briosa’s voice shouting from the corridor made him almost throw the Xtransceiver into high heaven, fumbling to catch it so that it didn’t shatter on the floor and hastily closing the call before she could hear the ringing and ask about it.

The fact that she was deaf dawned on him a second too late, but that was done.

(And he hadn’t replied, anyways.)

He settled the gadget on the nightstand, trying to pull himself out of the spiral he’d almost been sucked in; without even thinking he proceeded to stick his leg out through the doorway.

There was a beat of silence; then: “I said naked!”

Emmet cawed out a laugh.

His head peeked through as well. Briosa looked at him, face plain, coat in her arms and hat in hand.

“I thought you’d passed out,” she noted.

Nope, he signed back. Still awake.

“Not for long!”

Sounds evil.

Her brows furrowed: “What’s that mean?”

You sound like you’ll knock me out.

She thought it over a moment before squeaking a chuckle.

It would be verrry easy, he shrugged.

“It would!”

He accompanied her back to the livingroom. The various bags of food had been transported away, the bowls had disappeared back into their cupboard, Crustle still refused to grace the room with his handsome face, and Gurdurr hurriedly scuttled away from Conkeldurr despite having barely come close enough to graze her, deathly embarassed by his crush and round nose redder than usual; Cryogonal shrieked something in his general direction as greeting.

He gave her thumbs up.

“Alright my beautiful death machines,” Briosa called with a tone so affectionate it felt as though her mouth was dripping cotton candy: “We’re goin’ back home! Time for the circus trick.”

She patted her belt a few times, looking for her set of Pokéball. Emmet helpfully pointed them to her from where he’d laid them on the table; Mawile took that as an opportunity to gently bite her shirt as she collected the spheres to rapidly sign something at her and direct her attention over to Heatmor, who was fidgeting rather nervously with his yellow claws.

Once he had her undivided attention, he pulled the sweetest pair of Baby-Doll Eyes he could muster, wiggling demurely as though whining.

Briosa smiled: “Go on, give her a snuggle,” she allowed.

In a second the Fire type wrapped Durant in a tight hug, rubbing his snout on her with a concert of thrilled chirps; the Steel Bug for her part clacked her mandibles rather happily as though to remind him they were going to see each other tomorrow at work anyways.

The beasts who hadn’t visited the station in quite some time eyed the exchange with genuinely dumbfounded gazes.

It probably felt a little like beholding a glitch in nature itself.

A brief whistle tore Heatmor from his friend; he waved her bye one last time before a reddish ray sucked him right back into one of the six balls being juggled by his trainer, followed suit by each of his associates while Mawile latched herself onto her aidee’s elbow.

Emmet followed the trajectory of the flying spheres without trying to keep up with their increasing speed, head heavier than lead lolling back and forth until all six were caught with a fluid graceful motion between the fingers of the Substitute, the little Fairy swinging from her arm leaping onto her head and landing perfectly balanced - thanks to her main maw acting as counterweight - right on her buzzed mousy hair with a little flourish, like an olimpic gymnast.

He weakly waved his hands in a silent applause. Mawile bowed deeply, proud; Briosa curtsied and thanked him by grazing all ten fingertips to her chin.

Must teach me, he signed as he forgot to stifle a yawn.

“Maybe when you’re not falling asleep on your feet.”

Agreed.

Galvantula gently nuzzled her leg.

“Ye, ye, I’m leaving him to y’all now,” she assured the Bug. She saluted the rest of the beasts as she slipped her coat back on hurriedly and helped her aide back down into one of her pockets: “Thank you for not mauling me!”

A chorus of noises she couldn’t hear bid her farewell.

Socked feet accompanied her to the door. Emmet stalled for a moment before opening it; his fingers drummed on the knob under eyes of rotten green waiting patiently for him to send them on their way.

Instead he turned towards her, hands a little sluggish as he signed: Thank you. For rice. And company. Elesa does this, usually. When she can.

“That’s nice to know.” Briosa noted.

Not always. She comes, not always. I mean that. Always nice, when she comes. But doesn’t come always.

“Yeah, I imagined you meant that.”

Sorry. Verrry tired.

“I can see that.”

I am... Bothering?

“Not at all! You just kinda look like you’re melting. You should go sleep.”

Will do.

Briosa smiled. It was the most angular smile he’d seen on her yet, and it fit her like a glove. It made him think like the smile that made Elesa’s eyes too small and her face too round. It was sweet.

“Next time I’ll make you a soup,” she said. “And if I remember them I’ll sing you some songs from old cartoons to keep you awake.”

He liked the idea of a next time.

He gave her an ok; she tilted her hat at him.

“Goodnight.”

Goodnight.

Then he closed the door behind her; tucked his and his brother’s partners to bed; turned off the lights; crawled under the covers.

He slept well.

[muntzerism-diggerism]

In the warring states era club getting fucked up off five-minerals powder

[whencyclopedia]

Great Sioux War

The Great Sioux War (also given as the Black Hills War, 1876-1877) was a military conflict between the allied forces of the Lakota Sioux/Northern Cheyenne and the US government over the territory of the Black Hills and, more widely, US policies of westward expansion and the appropriation of Native American lands.

The Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868 had established the Great Sioux Reservation, including the Black Hills, and promised this land to the Sioux in perpetuity. When gold was discovered in the Black Hills in 1874, the treaty was ignored by the US government, leading to the Black Hills Gold Rush of 1876. The Sioux, Northern Cheyenne, and Arapaho responded with armed resistance in raids on wagon trains, skirmishes, and five major battles fought between March 1876 and January 1877:

Battle of Powder River (Reynolds Battle) – 17 March 1876

Battle of the Rosebud (Battle Where the Girl Saved Her Brother) – 17 June 1876

Battle of the Little Bighorn (Battle of the Greasy Grass) – 25-26 June 1876

Battle of Slim Buttes – 9-10 September 1876

Battle of Wolf Mountain (Battle of Belly Butte) – 8 January 1877

In between these, were so-called minor engagements with casualties on both sides but, after June 1876, greater losses for the Sioux and Cheyenne. The final armed conflict of the Great Sioux War was the Battle of Muddy Creek (the Lame Deer Fight, 7-8 May 1877), by which time the Sioux war chief Crazy Horse (l. c. 1840-1877) had already surrendered and the chief Sitting Bull (l. c. 1837-1890) and Sioux war chief Gall (l.c. 1840-1894) and others had fled to the region of modern-day Canada. Although the war was over by May 1877, ending in a victory for the US military, some bands of Sioux and Cheyenne continued to struggle against reservation life until the Wounded Knee Massacre of 29 December 1890 broke their resistance.

Background

Although the first armed conflict between the Plains Indians and Euro-Americans was in 1823, problems between the Sioux and the US military began on 19 August 1854 with the Grattan Fight (Grattan Massacre), when 2nd Lieutenant John L. Grattan led his command of 30 soldiers to the camp of Chief Conquering Bear (l. c. 1800-1854) to demand the surrender of a man they claimed had stolen a cow from a Mormon wagon train.

Conquering Bear refused to surrender anyone, offering compensation instead, and, as the negotiations broke down, Grattan's men fired on the Sioux, mortally wounding Conquering Bear, and the Sioux warriors retaliated, killing Grattan and all of his command. The US military responded with campaigns against the Sioux in the First Sioux War of 1854-1856, which also included actions against their allies, the Cheyenne and Arapaho.

Tensions escalated after the opening of the Bozeman Trail in 1863, the establishment of forts to protect white settlers using the trail, and the Sand Creek Massacre of 29 November 1864. Red Cloud's War (1866-1868) was launched in response to the construction of these forts and the policies of the US government, concluding with the Fort Laramie Treaty of 1868, which established the Great Sioux Reservation (modern-day South Dakota and parts of North Dakota and Nebraska), including the Black Hills – a site sacred to the Sioux – which was promised to them for "as long as the grass should grow and the rivers flow."

When Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer (l. 1839-1876) discovered gold in the Black Hills in 1874, the Fort Laramie treaty was broken as over 15,000 white settlers and miners streamed into the region during the Black Hills Gold Rush of 1876. The US government offered to purchase the Black Hills, but the Sioux would not sell. More settlers arrived, the government ignored Sioux demands that the 1868 treaty be honored, and the Great Sioux War began in March of that year, with the Reynolds campaign on the Powder River.

Continue reading...

[teamugdraws]

"That sounded like too much work, so I tried using a liter of powdered starfish instead."

"You j..."

"Oh! And I mixed in some iron-filings 'cause I figured stardust was more, ya'know, mineral-y, than actual starfish."

"Hang on, I'm still stuck on the part where you found a magic cookbook."

"At this point I'm thinking more 'sufficiently advanced', but yeah."

"Fair. But still, you found it. You made multiple dishes from it, enough to figure out the next-page trick."

"Yeah, they're really tasty! I think I use it for maybe four out of five meals, now."

"What's the fifth meal?"

"Coffee."

"Huh. Anyway, your magic book"

"Sufficiently Advanced"

"Too many syllables. Your 'magic' book, gives a design for a spaceship."

"Yep."

"And you decide not to build it?"

"Yep."

"WHY NOT?"

"Ok, two reasons: First, trying to get my hands on that much uranium would probably get me shot."

"Avoid lead poisoning, fair. And?"

"And second, the rocket design includes an ascent stage, but no way to come back down. No aerobrake shell, no parachute, nothing."

"Ok? Bit of an oversight there, but I mean if you're already building..."

"AND! And, the book is titled How To Live A Delicious Life."

"... I don't follow."

"To Serve Man?"

"What?"

"Second base."

"What?"

"You need to learn your classics. Point is, I think the ship is meant to be one-way."

"...sure? Why?"

"I think its the lure on the anglerfish. I think the book is bait."

"What does... Oh, I get it. So what, the rest of the book, those recipes, are just to get your guard down?"

"Some, yeah. Maybe also as seasoning. Like, um, those Japanese cows that are fed the special grass. Is that a thing? My brain is telling me that's a thing."

"..."

"..."

"WHY ARE YOU STILL EATING THOSE RECIPES?"

"Because they're delicious."

You discovered an abandoned one thousand page cookbook one day, and strangely, you found that you can’t flip to the next recipe without making the current dish. Flipping the page, you see the next dish calls for a liter of star dust and gives a “simple” explanation of how to build a starship.

[theonlyfanslife]

OnlyFans Star Reveals She’s Pregnant With Step-Brother’s Baby

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[praeteritus-memories-muses]

Name: Powder Jinx

Series: League of Legends

Continuity: Arcane

Age: 11-19 (RP dependant)

Height: 5'3"

Birthday: Unknown

Birthplace: Zaun

Orientation: Pansexual

Species: Human, experimented on (infused with Shimmer)

Occupation: Anarchist, Vigilante, etc

Father: Connol (deceased), Vander (adopted, deceased), Silco (adopted, deceased)

Mother: Felicia (deceased)

Sibling(s): Violet

Bio:

CONTENT WARNING: MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLES, WAR, ABUSIVE BEHAVIORS, ETC

Born in Zaun, previously known as "The Underground" for the city of Piltover, Powder was born five years after her sister, Violet or "Vi" for short. Vi and Powder lived a rather loving home, albeit impoverished as their parents were miners who didn't make much, with Vander looking after them when their parents were working.

As a small child, it was noted by her parents that Powder always had signs of something going on with her mind but both of them chose to wait until Powder was older before taking her to a doctor to see exactly what her issue was specifically.

Their sigh of relief would also be that Powder was very gifted at tinkering and machinery, albeit she wasn't old enough to craft anything yet but they were amazed to see she could fix things like watches and wind-up toys at such a young age.

However, these happy days with her parents came in the form of blood and smoke when a rebellion took place on the bridge connecting Zaun and Piltover. The parents of all the Zaun citizens tried to rise up and rebel for independence so they could get better assistance from Piltover instead of being treated like it's garbage can, but Enforcers came and silenced everyone violently. This included Powder and Vi's parents, who the two sisters found dead after hearing of a disaster on the bridge. As the two girls sobbed in each other's arms, Vander took them in as his own and the two would then be raised by him.

Due to witnessing such brutality at such a young age, Powder's issues with her mind began to worsen. She had severe tantrums and reactions over people leaving her, hitting herself, zoning out and extremely heightened emotions. This was taken notice by Vi but simply viewed it as a reaction to their parents' death rather than an actual issue.

Both sisters would grow older and help Vander on gigs stealing things in Piltover, albeit Powder always struggled when she wasn't physically strong like Vi. Instead, Powder was always quick on her mind with some agility while Vi was much stronger.

To try and keep up with everyone around her, Powder would learn how to make gadgets and bombs as a means to have something to defend herself, except none of these gadgets worked as they all failed or broke before working.

This made everyone around the sisters, except Vander and Vi, label Powder as a "jinx" who ruins every theft mission because of her physical weakness and lack of working machinery.

During a particular gig, Vi and the gang had stolen from a Piltover Academy student, who had strange blue crystals that blew up upon impact as Powder accidentally dropped one which caused it to blow up. Enforcers were after the kids, and this left an opportunity for a man named Silco to slither in and take revenge on Vander. Unbeknownst to Vi and Powder, Silco was close friends with their mother and Vander years ago, but a falling out left Powder never meeting him before.

Silco had kidnapped Vander at some point, where Vi and their friends work together to try and free him. Except, Powder couldn't handle being left behind due to her trigger of abandonment, and used one of the blue crystals in a device that finally worked and blew up the place. This killed their friends and technically Vander, which left Vi devastated.

When Powder happily told her sister that a machine worked, Vi punched her and told her she was a jinx, walking away to abandon her sister.

Silco saw the vulnerable Powder, sobbing as her sister solidified her insecurities, as she clung to Silco for the comfort of anyone. This melted Silco's cold heart and became the one thing he took care of with adoration, adopting Powder as his own and giving her a new identity as "Jinx" to take back the insult others threw at her.

Now as Jinx, she was encouraged by Silco to embrace chaos and continue tinkering with her bombs and gadgets. Except, everyone in Silco's group noticed that Jinx' mental health grew worse as the years went on.

Jinx suffers from hallucinations, disassociation, tantrums, talking to herself, mood swings, impulsive behavior and all the other previous problems she had as a child. This made everyone call her a 'loose canon', but the reality is that Jinx is a deeply troubled young woman who desperately needed help and better support.

All these years later, Jinx has a bad relationship with her sister and especially hates Enforcers and those from Piltover. This includes Caitlyn Kiramman and Mel as an example. Though she does struggle with her mental health and trauma, she can get along well with people at times. She particularly gets along with kids and those who like to indulge in machinery.

Jinx is funny, bubbly and even nerdy but she's mainly erratic, impulsive, immature and even manipulative. She's also a genius with mechanics and managed to figure out how to use Hextec energy in a single day compared to the years it took the founders of Jayce and Victor.

[organicsupplement]

Top 5 Benefits of Shopping at Organic Supplement Stores

The top five benefits of shopping at organic supplement stores are as follows Pure,Chemical-Free Products Organic supplement stores prioritize products made from natural, chemical-free ingredients. This means the supplements are free from pesticides, artificial additives.High Quality Ingredients Organic supplements are typically made from sustainably sourced, high-quality ingredients. These products are often more potent and nutrient-dense compared to their non-organic counterparts.Transparency and Trust Organic supplement stores usually provide clear labeling and transparency about the sourcing and production of their products. Many organic brands adhere to strict certifications, Holistic Health Support Organic supplement stores often offer a wide range of products that focus on overall wellness, from vitamins and minerals to herbs and superfoods.Environmentally Friendly Many organic supplement stores focus on sustainability, offering eco-friendly packaging and supporting environmentally conscious brands.

What is an organic supplement store ?

An organic supplement store is a retail business that specializes in selling supplements made from organic ingredients. These stores focus on offering products that are free from synthetic chemicals, pesticides, and genetically modified organisms (GMOs). The supplements they sell, such as vitamins, minerals, herbs, protein powders, and superfoods

In which cities of India Organic supplement stores are popular ?

Organic supplement stores are becoming increasingly popular in several cities across India, driven by a growing awareness of health and wellness. Cities like Bengaluru, with its thriving health-conscious community, and Mumbai, India's financial capital, are at the forefront of this trend, offering a wide range of organic supplements to cater to fitness enthusiasts

Why are organic vitamin companies better than any chemical based vitamin company ?

Organic vitamin companies are often considered better than chemical-based vitamin companies for several key reasons, primarily due to their focus on natural, sustainable, and healthier practices. Organic vitamins are made from whole foods, herbs, and natural sources,

Precaution to be taken while visiting an organic vitamin shop ?

When visiting an organic vitamin shop, it's important to take several precautions to ensure you make informed and safe choices. First, research the brands available to ensure they are reputable and prioritize quality, sustainability, and transparency. 

Does an Organic Vitamin shop provide discounts to regular customers ?

Many organic vitamin shops offer discounts and special deals to regular customers as a way to encourage loyalty and repeat business. These discounts may come in the form of loyalty programs, where customers earn points or rewards for each purchase, 

Conclusion 

In conclusion, shopping at organic vitamin shop offers numerous benefits, from high-quality, chemical-free products to a more sustainable and health-conscious approach to supplementation. These stores not only provide natural, potent vitamins but also often offer discounts and special deals for regular customers, making it easier to maintain a healthy lifestyle without breaking the bank. By taking precautions such as researching products, reading labels carefully, and consulting with healthcare professionals, you can make informed choices that support your well-being. Ultimately, organic vitamin shops present a valuable resource for those seeking pure, effective supplements and a more holistic approach to health.