#Five Mineral Powder

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian fem reader & other characters.

#TAGS: trauma. talks of character death. hopelessness? mentions of prostitution. no appearance of canon characters because this is an intro. hunger games reference!

#NOTES: hi! still alive, just not writing for kny atm because my head is like a powerpoint presentation with all my hyperfixations and i can't write for requests when it is on another slide. hope that makes sense. this is the first chapter of my megatron x reader, a strangers to lovers to enemies featuring pre-war cybertron, a magnanimous amount of lore, a lot of non-cannon stuff like sparklings and stuff because i can do whatever i want, and my flickering motivation to finish it. i don't have a specific transformers i'm basing the timeline off, so we will see. i thought of publishing it on ao3 or smth but i have better judgement so i just figured i would upload the first chapter on tumblr. the new transformers movie was soooo good and it inadvertently rekindled my transformers obsession. enjoy? let me know if you like it, i would appreciate it if you have questions or anything :) THIS BITCH IS LONG SO BEWARE

part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

"Y/N, my optics hurt."

"I know, sweetspark, I know."

This place reeked. Pure flowing smoke and vapor, stinking energon, and the smell of the gray coal and ash that powdered the laborers' and miners' bodies like scintillating glitter filled the pavements of that day—such fragrant poetry. 

The barely perceivable light that shone down could not even be called proper illumination in the first place. Every once in a while, the wells of your optics danced up to gaze toward where the sweltering sunlight was supposed to be.

Still, your spark did nothing but wail at you when, each time, all that you caught were mountains upon mountains of pitch-dark vapor, dull particles of dust from the mines, and the visualization of the austere whispers of despair and anguish among the workers of one of the mining towns from one of Cybertron's Primus-forsaken satellites, Nuna 5PY.

Even if you turned to look towards the downtown streets, the particles infiltrated your vents and blistered your optics.

Some workers used gas masks, while others retreated to the mines, where the synthetic stench wasn't as foul, but most were forced to return to work. They snatched up energon everywhere they could, recharged in fits and starts among their screaming. You seriously needed to leave.

As Vaportrail coughed onto the city street, you held her small servo. Even with the torrential acid pouring last night, the smog got to her well before the rush hour. 

You realized things would not improve today, so you hurried in fear of the younger developing tear-streaked optics and a headache to match. It saddened you that Vaportrail would never know what a normal life would be like. It was as though they had collectively given up years before she was born, which was unjust to her and all the future sparklings. 

You grabbed her and pulled her into the cart. Traveling was enjoyable, but not at the price of introducing additional hazardous particles into the environment. 

Mining Outpost R–02 was one of the towns from Nuna 5PY, where unnamed members of the lower classes labored interminably, tediously. The gloomy, smoky shambles of a metropolis required the Communication Grid to communicate with other areas and locations simply. It was no place for a sparkling. 

The infant cybertronian lay quietly on the sulfurous mine carriage attached to the railway, more vulnerable than the glass that was painstakingly constructed for the masses of the High-caste buildings and just as giddily colored.

You wondered if her peds are dirty; how would you know? You pondered what she ate back when Starlight was still living in this downtown slum; where did her mother get energon to nourish her? 

Your servos were callous from several scars and defects, and a part of you ached to sweep her up in her arms and shelter her eternally. But. How could you ever live with yourself if you didn't allow such an innocent being to live a tranquil life?

"I'm sorry about your carrier," You told the sparkling wistfully, making sure she was comfortable for the long ride from here to where your late best friend wanted her youngling to go if something ever happened to her. You gave her a small pad which contained personal information like her name and situation, along with a plead for somebot to take her to safety, "Cybertropolis is a nice place, just make sure you reach the police station safely, they'll know where to take you." 

"Thank you," Vaportrail squeaked out, her knees pulled up to her chest plate. 

The train inevitably started, and you walked in tandem with the slow speed of the carriage just to get a good, final look at the sparkling's dainty, cheerless face. Vaportrail would surely be a problem when she got older because all of the mechs would swoon over her—deservingly so.

With those optics and a grin as charming and gauzy as that, she was the very picture of the youthful beauty who had once bored the name of Starlight. You believed she was the sweetest femmeling on the planet.

"I love you, okay? And I'm sure your carrier is so proud of you. Good luck!"

Eventually, you had to withdraw from the train, which only allowed you to stare at the vanishing small frame of a waving Vaportrail, whose response had been forever lost in the sad, sepulchral winds of the town. 

Despite that, you could still stare at the sparkling's naive, callow features and find colossal gratitude and admiration in its place, which made a lump form in your voicebox and squeezing palpation beat inside your spark chamber.

With Vaportrail gone, the smell of blazing smoke burned your olfactory sensors and induced you to cover them with your suitable servo. You had never before realized that the shrilling blare of the injectors, the drills, the massive excavators, and the wheels of the trucks could be so overwhelmingly loud, either. From the corner of your optics, the flashes and instants of the sparks that aimlessly flew around whenever metal met metal brought you out of your bewildered daydream. 

But then you turned and saw the portrait of shattered ambition, lost hope, undetermined origins, opaque bitterness, damaged honor, futile dreams, and wavering will that assembled the cybertronians of Nuna 5PY.

It was a blow to the back of your head.

Starlight was dead.

If you closed your optics, you could still see the glow on her metallurgical protoform, the spark that no longer burned, and the sound of her laughter that still reverberated in your audio receptors and processor.

Oh, you missed her desperately. 

She'd spent her days as a young and daring cybertronian who didn't let the vacillating shame of her prostitution career ridicule her or anything she was. A good, pleasant, and kind femme that thrived and existed, only for some mech to tear her from her home and forever close her laughing optics. She was a femme, a friend, a sister, and a carrier.

She was someone.

"Oi, femme!"

You knew that whoever was calling that word in such a degrading manner was referring to you and you only. You were aware that you were one of the few femmes working on that hellhole.

Sourly, you turned your helm to the source of the voicebox and found your boss—if he could even be called that—staring at you rigorously from across the street. Other mechs were beside him, and in their hungry optics, you could see hunger, amusement, a blatant lack of respect, and other things—all of it for you.

"You said five minutes. Start moving your aft before I tell someone to move it for you."

The group of despicable mechs started laughing at the humorous, unique, spectacular, utterly not-ever-done-before knee-slapper comment. You wondered what comedians told to get a chuckle or two out of their audience nowadays. 

You detested yourself when you started walking back to the mines with crystal-clear coolant forming in your optics and with the words caught inside your voicebox.

Even the clicking of your battered timer had a languid touch in the fading light of their (your) chamber as if it were a spark-beat at rest. The perpetual rhythm of it became more of a white noise inside the transparent yet spurious safety surrounding your beguiling, chimerical space bubble. 

The memory of the lingering perfume of Starlight's aromatic utensils saturated you far more intensely than it did only days before, making you want to pound and bang your head against the wall until you ran out of energon inside your body.

Your spark chamber was wrenched apart in the core by a hollow cavity. It had been there for forty-eight groons. Faithless and cynical, the pit that took form inside of you pulled you to the very depths of your revolted mind.

You were immobile, your bare servos lying at your sides and your digits tinkering with the berth. Everything within the room drove you crazy and made you want to tear out your optics under the scrutinizing, deep-rooted omnipresence of both the carrier and the sparkling.

Vaportrail was not napping on her carrier's bed; her small chest plating was not rising and falling according to her mellow, smooth breathing. You remembered how she would spring from Starlight's berth just to greet you after every single burdensome solar cycle of nothing but suffering under the cruel comments and sometimes spiteful actions of mechs and their superiors. 

You knew and understood that she left for a better life in Cybertropolis, yet you just can't comprehend why you are not hearing her dulcet giggles and her voice as soft as a feather.

"Y/N, look at me!"

You turned your helm lightly toward the soft-spoken sparkling from your spot on your berth. 

One of your stabilizers was crossed over the other, your servos snuggly behind your helm. Due to your horizontal position, you were seeing Vaportrail in a somewhat awkward manner, whispering something to her carrier excitedly, which made you turn your whole frame so you were resting against your side, lifting your helm with your right servo.

"What is it, V?"

Vaportrail, who had her mother's laughing optics, stood proudly atop Starlight's berth beside her laying figure, servos on her hips and grin on her dermas, meekly waiting for you to look at her so she could show her spectacular stunt.

She was no bigger than a mining pickaxe, which is why she was never let out of Starlight's and your’s shared chamber. She was still tiny, even for a youngling her age, but that was not unusual, as the impoverished environment and the mediocre energon didn't do much to help anyway. Primus knows what could happen to someone so small and so weak.

Her confident, puffed-up stand made you laugh casually, as while typically Vaportrail was a modest sparkling, never one to demand attention or directly ask for what she wanted, whenever she got like this and let out her inner childishness for the silliest of things, both you and Starlight would get tons of laughter out of it.

"Go on! Show Y/N what you've been practicing," Starlight encouraged.

When you nodded at Vaportrail, signaling that your attention was entirely on her, her optics lit up. She walked towards the end of her carrier's berth, planting her peds at the very ends before turning around. 

Vaportrail crouched, and with a slight push from her servos and an impulse from her peds, she successfully rolled forward in the berth, landing on her bottom before scrambling to get up and putting her servos up in the air, muttering a small 'Ta-da!'

You had smiled warmly, watching Vaportrail giggle to herself giddily. Starlight clapped for her and swarmed her in a big hug, proud of her sparkling and happy that she had gotten her little trick right. Honestly, you were a bit jealous. You wished you could be this happy by doing something as simple as a gymnastic maneuver.

Vaportrail cheered along with her carrier, excitedly thumping her peds against the surface of the berth. Then she turned to look at you, her optics gleaming with happiness. "I did it! I did a forward roll!"

"Oh, did you?" After your rhetorical question, you languidly returned to your original position, lying with your back plates on the berth and your servos behind your helm. You cheekily turned to Vaportrail and Starlight, a sly, good-natured smile pulling at your dermas; you closed your optics. "I wasn't looking."

"Y/N!"

Both femmes happily laughed at the moping undertones of Vaportrail's voice.

"Just kidding!"

That day was a long time ago, at least it seemed to be; it felt like it. Those words were spoken in the same chamber you slept and resided in. That comical stunt was performed in the berth across from yours. They were not here anymore. Even if you wished they were back together, that deceitful dream would only be achieved by death.

No one can pursue their dreams or be free enough without it. Freedom is for the rich because dreaming costs money.

Starlight wasn't there to hold her youngling and hug you when you needed it. You weren't hearing her voice either, singing lullabies to help you both fall into a much-needed recharge. Her presence was so needed, so sought; in places like this, femmes like her were what one needed to forget about the harsh burden that was the act of being alive. To think that only forty-eight groons before she was still living, she was still here. 

Her memory made you miserable because best friends comprehend you like no other. Starlight was overly protective and brutally honest—as if she ever needed that. You felt so enraged and resentful at not being there to protect her that you feared you might break. 

Although you dug Starlight's grave, blatantly refusing to let the body of your best friend turn into waste parts or scrap metal, a part of you still suppressed the image. One day, you would properly weep for her, but first, you had to accept that she was truly gone. A part of you would never be able to accept that Starlight would never appear, skipping around a corner to tease you for falling for her clever joke.

‘How can she be dead?’

Harsh knocks against your metal door made you jerk from your position on the berth.

"08, are you in there?!" 

The boisterous tone of the mech standing behind your door made you remember that you were still real and breathing inside your crude, undeserving, unworthy existence. Your bubble-turned crystal cocoon inevitably started collapsing at the reminder that life could still go on without Starlight because, after all, no cybertronian knew who Starlight is—was. No cybertronian knew who Starlight was. The world moved on without her.

Without thinking much, you got up from the cold berth, chills flourishing in your metallurgic skin before walking the small distance towards the oxidized door and swinging it open. You would not have considered the thought of opening (being too engrossed in your self-pity and wallowing in grief, you know?) in the first place was it not for the genuine undertones of chipper motivation that were painted over H–01's usually harsh, asperous voice. 

Wait, why was he at your door anyway?

His hulking, rusted frame was as corroded as ever, and it was honestly a little sickening to look at. Despite the awful veil of dust and ash that littered him, the grayish, crimson, and dull turquoise glares of his deteriorated paint job could still be peeked at; his wheels were decaying, and his melancholic optics had lost their love for life— as had everybot else's.

Ancient as a cosmic star and twice as intelligent, with his towering structure and terse personality, H–01 was by far one of the town's most elderly seniors—and, may you add, one of the most cordial. 

You remembered the day you first arrived here, back when you were still an inexperienced femme in life, gullible, back when you dreamed dreams. 

After an accident in your old work establishment,—one of the mech coworkers had stepped over the line with you, resulting in a mining pickaxe protruding from his knee plate and a lot of energon spilled around— you had been sent to Mining Outpost R–02, and H–01 quickly took it upon himself to become a mentor of some sort as you shared letter unit. 

You recalled that he laughed as he had never before when you told him the story of why they had banned you from your previous workplace. Later, you met Starli—

"08?"

You blinked owlishly, and realizing that he was calling out to you, you grounded yourself and met his preoccupied gaze.

"What did you need?"

He frowned at your mediocre attempt at lying. H–01 was by no means stupid, and sadly, you didn’t give enough credit and didn't acknowledge how easily he could pick apart your facade, layer by layer, until your shell was utterly ripped apart.

"Kid, I may be rusty, but I'm shrewd enough to know that you're not well." You became conscious of how absurd you must have seemed in his words. He continued. "I'm sorry about your friend and her sparkling."

There it was again, that funny feeling, that blow to the back of your head. You felt your spark wail painfully, and your limbs tensed up, your optics frantically searching into H–01's face plates for any sign of mockery. You found none. You almost crumbled at his sincere words until your response was unwillingly driven back to your tanks when the piercing siren started blasting across the halls of the chambers.

Instinctively, you covered your audio receptors at the discomfort. At the same time, H–01 merely stared into the speaker device right up against the wall, a bit far away from them. From the corner of his optics, he saw many of the workers exiting their chambers, each of them confused, some of them covering their audial receptors as well, and others staring, irritated and visibly vexed at the gadget that was currently stripping them of their much-needed recharging hours.

The workers of the 8th unit, otherwise known as the H unit, approached the oldest mech from their division, questioning themselves about what was going on. Their optics wilted, and there was a slight lolling to their helms, drunk with weariness after a session of an endless cycle of mining.

"01, what's going on?" One of them asked rather loudly, trying to shout over the siren, coming up to them just as you got used to the loud siren and pulled your servos away from your audial receptors. 

You moved out of the entrance of your chamber to shut the door behind you, joining H–01 by standing beside him. They shared a brief glance, one filled with puzzlement, the other brimming with uncertainty. But before anyone could share their answer or even make a single move, the horrendous blaring of the alarm stopped. 

The speaker against the wall went completely silent, and a single red light started beeping. The Cybertronians looked at each other, baffled.

Someone talked via the speaker.

:: Attention, all workers. You are summoned to the patio at this instant. Once you reach the area, stand in your respective branch line and don't question your current predicament; ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining. I repeat: ignoring this order will result in immediate offlining ::

I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave. I need to leave.

That was what you were thinking when you, H–01, and the others walked among the congregation of cybertronians—you would have said mechs were it not for the few femme 'nurses' among the outer lines of the crowds, who as far as you were concerned, were the ones who took care of the workers who suffered minor accidents like infected optics, fractured limbs or something along those lines. 

It was not like they counted anyway. Primus knew what they were actually in this town for and what they did to survive.

The patio, used for Cybertronians during their spare time, was circular, wide of range, and littered with damaged devices and compartment containers, a whole mess of passed-down gear and materials. 

Whenever they got their energon rations and stopped here to rest, H–01 would remark that only the fuel granted to them wasn't recycled—well, that and the smoke. The patio boulders formed a patchwork, with stones obtained as useless scraps and waste from renovations resting together as lovely as crystalline statues from the High-caste buildings. It had artistry to it, as well as smoothness. You and H–01 used to sit there together.

You saw the executives of Mining Outpost R–02, violently shove some of the workers towards their specific department, yelling something at them that you couldn't quite catch. Considering the calm and easy-going attitude of the mistreated miners, you could just tell that they were the prissy, fastidious mechs of the upper divisions, maybe the 1st or the 2nd, where they didn't get punished for slacking off or harassing other workers along with the bosses just for the fun of it.

Your unit quickly got on its respective branches and neatly stood in line. You all exchanged terse nods, mentally preparing yourselves for whatever was about to happen. 

In front of you and the rest of your division were the mechs of the 7th unit, and behind them were the workers of the 9th, and so on. Judging by the others' facial expressions, they, too had no idea of why they'd been called here nor could muster up a word, which only fueled your desire to learn what was going on. The patio got tighter, more claustrophobic as cybertronians arrived.

You were the last number in your unit, meaning that you were placed in the furthest spot from your old friend. You lightly reclined your helm backward to attempt and catch a glimpse of H–01, but to no success, as you saw him and all the other mechs, for that matter, focused on the temporary stage ahead of them. 

It held a podium, a small staircase, and fifteen glass balls with electronic chips on them. One for each unit of the Mining Outpost. A chill went down your spinal plate at the thought.

An overwhelming, ominous silence suddenly governed the patio when a mech no one working here had ever seen before climbed up the staircase. The way he moved caused cybertronians to stare at him in fear. 

The mech was brawny and towering, and the way his helm fell over his lifeless, devoid optics and left shadows smeared on his cheek plates made others shudder. He was directly in front of the plain, pitiful microphone stand. However, an almost charming smile crossed his dermas.

"I suppose you're asking yourselves why were you brought in here."

Because of the microphone, his voice, profound and with a baritone tone, boomed across the patio, making you wince lightly at its loudness. You, of course, were desensitized from loud noises due to the continuous straining sounds of the mining machines around you day after day, as everyone else was. However, his statement caused many cybertronians to look among themselves, clearly disturbed.

"Gentlemechs, my name is Bullway, and I've come all the way here from Kaon to offer you a choice. I intend to give fifteen of you the chance of coming to Kaon with me and becoming gladiators."

Hushed whispers and inaudible sentences started falling from everyone's dermas at Bullway's words and what they implied. From the corner of your optics, you saw most of the mechs look at each other in mute amazement at what they had just been offered.

Their superiors, who were at the base of the set-up podium, quickly took it upon themselves to silence everyone with a loud yell, the absence of sound appearing once again.

"Think about it! Money, power, glory, fame, all laid at your digitprints!" Bullway threw his arms out to emphasize his words. "Join me, and all you have ever dreamed of will come true. A life of nothing but recognition! Isn't that what you deserve?! Isn't that what you dream of as you stare at the ceilings of your measly stations?!"

Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money. Dreaming cost money.

Almost as if he had read your mind, H–01 subtly leaned his helm forward to take a peek at the workers of the section he conducted. Most of them remained stoic, and he was very glad to see that, but what worried him the most right now was H–08.

His facial plates morphed into that of slight disturbance because as he peered into your face, he clearly saw what could only be described as contemplation, doubt, and consideration, which both bothered and worried him.

Bullway smiled at how he had you under a forged delusion and continued his speech, "See the crystal globes here? There's one for each unit of your Mining Outpost. They all contain chips with your respective electronic signatures. Each vorn you have worked here, your signature will be entered an additional time. You can figure out the rest, so let us begin!"

Each vorn?

You suddenly realized that the globes were not in order because, in the same minute that you let the circumstances sink in, Bullway had already slipped a servo inside one of the spheres and grabbed one chip from it, reading it aloud so everyone could hear the letter and number clearly.

"G–10!"

All of the divisions started looking among each other, searching for the (not) lucky mech, a pregnant silence following suit as the group in front of them all glared sympathetically at the chosen one, who stood frozen in place, optics blinking several times, wishing to Primus that Bullway had read the designation incorrectly and it wasn't him who was just chosen.

You felt a shiver run down your spinal plate when one of the guards roughly seized his shoulder and made him start walking toward the platform, ignoring the mech's begging and lightly dragging him across the patio as everyone stared in horror. Your intake suddenly went dry when Bullway moved to the next globe, grabbed an electronic chip, moved to the microphone again, and read it aloud.

This time it was from the upper divisions, A–07, you heard.

Just like that, another mech was whisked away from his branch line and thrown across the patio. He then ascended the flight of stairs to stand beside G–10, who apparently was still encapsulated in deep denial, continuously shaking his helm in disbelief. It was tenaciously obvious that Bullway did not concern himself with their worries and imminent fear as he once again moved toward a globe and grabbed another.

You wished cybertronians would step outside their own frames and oversee from the outside what was actually happening at that very instant in Nuna 5PY. Plucked from their workstations like flowers in a garden, sent off to Kaon for the purpose of entertainment for the Upper class with the bombastic excuse of 'MONEY POWER GLORY' behind it.

Prisoners inside their own bodies, trapped to fend off for themselves on a planet where no one cared about them.

Electronic signatures continued rolling off the mech's glossa like energon from a wishing well. The mechs that were chosen always did the exact same thing. They stood completely aghast for a few nanokliks, staring at the soot-stained ground in front of them in absolute shock, their frames deflating like rubber balloons, dermas parting in awe at themselves because they just couldn’t believe it.

F–03.

I–11.

D–04.

E–07.

K–15.

O–02.

When they got prodded by one of the guards, they stared at them, silently begging for compassion, but they found none. Eventually, they were pulled out of their place and shoved towards the staircase on the stage, where Bullway gleefully welcomed all the newcomer 'gladiators' just to grab another electronic chip and call out yet another designation, and so repeating the cycle.

C–01.

M–06.

B–09.

L–01.

J–02.

N–14.

Oh, there was still a globe left. The H unit.

The crowd drew in a collective breath, and then you could hear a pin drop. You were feeling nauseous, your servos clammy, your whole frame tense, your processor hurt, and your spark ached. You longed to see Starlight, you wanted to chase after the train where you sent Vaportrail off to Cyberpolis, and you didn’t know how much H–01 was desperately hoping that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you, that it wasn’t you.

"And the last one! H–08!"

[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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[blueiscoool]

Large Piece of Rare ‘Egyptian Blue’ Recovered from Emperor Nero’s Imperial Palace in Rome

The discovery of this ancient synthetic pigment highlights the impressive artistry of Rome’s imperial era.

Archaeologists in Rome have discovered beautiful, ancient paint—but not just any paint. Known as “Egyptian Blue,” it’s among the oldest synthetic pigments in the world, with the newly found ingot weighing more than five pounds.

Two tanks found at the ancient pigment workshop

Archaeologists excavating the Domus Aurea, Emperor Nero’s vast imperial residence in ancient Rome, have discovered containers still carrying the splendid pigments artisans used to decorate the palace complex almost 2,000 years ago. Among the brilliant colors, researchers were most excited to find a rare chunk of Egyptian blue pigment. The Colosseum Archaeological Park announced the discovery in a January 20 Facebook post.

“The fascination conveyed by the depth of blue of this pigment is incredible,” Alfonsina Russo, Director of the Colosseum Archaeological Park, said in the Facebook post. “The Domus Aurea once again moves [us] and restores the brilliance of the colors used by the painters who skillfully decorated the rooms of this precious and refined imperial palace.”

The amphora containing yellow ocher. 

The archaeologists unearthed two tubs that, among other things, were used to process the colorful pigments while the palace was under construction. Presumably from within the tubs, they recovered an amphora containing yellow ocher, tiny jars with red pigments such as realgar and red ocher, and an ingot of Egyptian blue.

Unlike yellow and red ocher, Egyptian blue is a synthetic color achieved by heating a mixture of limestone, chemical compounds, and copper-containing minerals. Its earliest production and use dates back over 5,000 years ago to ancient Egypt; in Roman times, the pigment was produced in southern Italy. In fact, it’s the oldest synthetically-made color known to scientists. Archaeologists typically discover the ancient remnants of Egyptian blue pigment in the form of powder or tiny spheres, but the rarity of the recent specimen lies in its size: a whopping 5.29 pounds (2.4 kilograms).

Remnants of Egyptian blue previously uncovered in Pompeii suggest that the pigment was used in spaces of luxury and wealth, according to the Colosseum Archaeological Park. The context of the recent discovery within Nero’s imperial residence further affirms this suggestion, and provides insight into the refinement and specialization of the artisans who were employed to decorate it.

Scientists previously thought that the recipe for Egyptian blue was lost after the fall of the Roman Empire and only truly rediscovered in the early 1800s by the British chemist Humphry Davy. A 2020 study, however, revealed that Italian Renaissance painter Raphael used the pigment in his 1512 fresco, Triumph of Galatea. Perhaps the recipe hadn’t been lost after all.

Either way, the brilliant color connects artists and artisans across the vast annals of human history. Even some modern shades of blue used by artists today are called Egyptian blue in homage to the ancient pigment.

By Margherita Bassi.

Nero’s imperial palace, the Domus Aurea

[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...

[maya-no-more]

Smoke & Steel | Vi x OC: Chapter One - Ember

The air in Zaun always smelled of rust and rain. Ember had learned at a young age to breathe through her mouth to avoid the sting of metal on her tongue, but the damp, acrid scent still settled deep into her clothes, her skin. It was the smell of home—the smell of survival, of hunger, of blood.

She was seven the first time she remembered killing a man.

It hadn’t been intentional. He was a chem-runner, sloppy and drunk, reeking of booze and cruelty, and she was a girl with quick hands and a habit of taking what didn’t belong to her. She hadn’t seen the blade in his boot until it was flashing toward her ribs. He would have gutted her—should have gutted her. But she had grabbed the nearest thing, a jagged scrap of metal, and driven it up under his jaw before he could.

She had expected to feel something—remorse, fear, anything—but all she remembered was the heat of his blood spilling over her hands, the way the light faded from his eyes. Then nothing. Just the cold knowledge that, in Zaun, the dead stayed dead, and the living kept moving.

She had pried the coins from his pockets and ran.

No one had come looking for him. No one ever did in the Lanes.

That was the way of things: survive or be forgotten.

She didn’t remember much about her parents.

Her mother had died giving birth to her, or so she’d been told. Her father had been a miner, a giant of a man with hands like iron and a voice like gravel. She remembered the way he used to carry her on his shoulders, how he’d tell her stories about the veins of raw ore that ran like lifeblood beneath Zaun. He called her his little ember, said she burned too bright for a world like this.

Then one day, he didn’t come home.

They said it was an accident—that the mine had swallowed him whole, just another body lost in the dark. She was six, alone, staring at the doorway, waiting for a man who would never walk through it again.

That was the day she learned what Zaun did to people who weren’t careful. It ate them alive, and it didn’t even leave bones behind.

After that, she spent weeks living off scraps, barely surviving. The other street kids were ruthless, preying on the weak. She learned quickly—how to steal, how to fight, how to make herself invisible when she needed to. The world did not care for lost little girls. It was cold, brutal and relentless. If she wanted to survive, she had to become something more.

And so, she did.

She was ten when she met Vi.

All sharp angles and defiant eyes, Ember had been living in the crawlspaces of an abandoned warehouse with a handful of other gutter kids. Hunger was a constant, curling up in her gut like a living thing, and trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She didn’t have a family, not like Vi did—didn’t have a Vander or a Powder or anyone that would stick their neck out for her. She had herself, and she had a reputation. That had always been enough.

Then Vi showed up and decided she didn’t like her.

It had started over territory. The underpass near the bridge was prime ground for scavenging, and Ember had been working it long before Vi and her crew came sniffing around. Mylo was the first to call her a rat. Vi was the one to throw the first punch.

The fight was ugly—bare-knuckled and brutal, the kind that left bruises deep in the bone. Ember was fast, but Vi was mean, and it had ended with Ember spitting blood and Vi’s knuckles split open. They stared at each other, panting, battered, but something had shifted in the air between them.

She half expected Vi to warn her off, to tell her to stay away from her territory, but instead, Vi had offered her a hand up and said, "You fight like hell."

And that was that.

The five of them were inseparable after that—Vi, Powder, Mylo, Claggor, and Ember.

They were loud, reckless, invincible in the way only street kids could be. They pulled jobs together, stole together, bled together. Ember was the one Vi turned to when she needed backup, the one who watched her back when things got messy. She was the one who slipped into tight spaces, who charmed marks with a grin before cutting their purse strings.

But more than that, they were family.

For the first time in her life, Ember had people who mattered. People she would kill for. People she would die for.

They spent nights huddled together on rooftops, counting the stars that flickered faintly through the smog. They shared stolen bread and dented cans of sweetened milk. Vi taught Ember how to throw a punch with weight behind it. Ember taught Powder how to shoot. Claggor hauled the grunt work, his goggles always slipping down his face, and Mylo, of course, complained about everything, but they were hers. And they were happy.

She let herself believe they always would be.

Then they were in the old canning factory.

Ember had helped Mylo undo Vander's final lock, who was brawling Silco's goons with inhuman strength, and Claggor was standing proudly in front of their chance at escape. Through the opening in the concrete, Ember caught a glimpse of the moonlight shining over Zaun's horizon, bouncing off dusty rooftops and catching on her friends' smiles. In that moment, despite the gut-wrenching sounds of Vander's shimmer-induced rage and the faint rhythmic clicking sounds in the distance, she felt as though this was where she was meant to be.

Click, click, click, BANG!

Ember saw it all unfold in slow motion—the shimmer of blue light, the crackling energy, the split second where she glanced at her friends' unknowing faces. And then the blast.

The force of it had knocked the air from her lungs, sent her flying, but not before a monstrous pair of arms wrapped around her, cradling her against the inevitable contact with the ground below. The world was shrouded in black for a moment as pain bloomed sharp and hot in her ribs, her skull. Crack. She was gasping for a breath, wheezing as the smell of burning metal and charred flesh filled her nose, and when she tried to move, something heavy pinned her down. Vander.

She had called out for Vi, for anyone, but only silence answered.

When she finally clawed her way free, the factory was in ruins, and they were gone.

Vi. Powder. Mylo. Claggor.

All gone.

Tears streaked through the grime on her face, turning an angry shade of crimson when they mixed with the still-wet blood seeping from the top of her skull. She didn't bother to wipe them when they caught in the permanent creases of what were once smile lines.

Ember ran until her lungs burned, until the drumbeat of her own heart deafened her and her legs felt as though they'd snap in two. She searched the wreckage, desperately screaming out to the empty streets they used to run through, and the back alleys where they used to hide. But Zaun was a hungry city, and it swallowed its own, until there was nothing left of a family but their faded portraits, scrawled in crayon, on the crumbles of their old home.

Still, Ember gripped tightly onto whatever fragment of hope she could, her knuckles turning white as the waited. Sitting on that rooftop, she stared at the stuffed rabbit, and the smears of red paint, and the tattered blanket by the exhaust where she and Vi would snuggle up in the colder months. And she waited. Memories came in painful flashes, catching her off guard as she rubbed her eyes through the late hours of the night. She became scared to even blink should she miss some sign that her best friends, her family, might still be alive.

Then, one night as Ember sat perched above the Last Drop, a group of chattering drunkards stumbled by below, and she overheard what had actually happened that night—heard about Mylo and Claggor, about Vander, about Vi. In that moment, the last shard of hope Ember had been grasping had sliced through her palm and shattered against the cold concrete of reality. She was bleeding out, and nobody even knew. So, as the last fibers of her old self trickled from her veins, and she turned translucent to the world, Ember learned how to disappear completely. By the time the enforcers came down on the Lanes, Ember was just another shadow slipping between the cracks.

Because that was what you did in Zaun when you lost everything. You disappeared.

Ember became smoke in the streets, a ghost that even the undercity forgot. Days turned to weeks, weeks to years, and Ember learned that grief doesn't leave scars like the sparks shooting from that old burn barrel did—it hollows you out, scorches you clean from the inside until nothing remains but the charred remnants of what once was.

And so, Ember abandoned her name, her hideouts and changed the way she moved. She hardened, buried the part of herself that ached for the family she lost, and walked away from everything tying her to who she once was. The streets taught her how to erase herself, how to become something untouchable.

She had been named after fire.

But embers didn’t burn forever.

And whatever part of her had been alive before that night—before the blast, before the screams, before she lost everything—had long since turned to ash.

WC: ~2,200 words

A/N: hey hey! if you're here, thank you for reading the first chappie of Smoke and Steel! i'm so excited for where this story's gonna go, and i can't wait to write more :) i know this chapter was pretty short and concise, but i just wanted it to set the stage and ember's backstory. i promise the next chapters will be longer! i'm not suuuuper consistent with upload schedules, but i also don't have a life, so i'll likely upload pretty often lmfao. hope you enjoyed the first chapter!

seeya in the next one~~

♥♥♥ maya_no_more

[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.

[markhood5]

I’ll recommend the psilocybin capsules

These Micro-Dose capsules are a blend of Psilocybin and Maca Root Powder.

100mg Psilocybin Per Capsules 

Maca root powder-is very nutritious, and is a great source of several important vitamins and minerals. Maca is high in carbs and rich in a number of nutrients, including vitamin C, copper and iron. It also contains many bioactive plant compounds.

Micro-dosing– is Typically integrating a small dose of Psilocybin into your weekly routine. Often micro-dosers report higher levels of creativity, more energy, increased focus, and improved relational skills. Some enthusiasts also report micro-dosing mushrooms helps to heighten spiritual awareness and enhance all five senses. Many people microdose mushrooms in order to treat depression or anxiety, often with remarkable results.

[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!

[your-bud-crud]

A hearty and nutritious soup filled with winter veggies and quinoa for a satisfying meal. Packed with vitamins and minerals, it's the perfect choice to keep you warm and healthy this winter.

Ingredients: 2 cups butternut squash, cubed. 1 cup carrots, sliced. 1 cup kale, chopped. 1/2 cup quinoa, rinsed. 4 cups vegetable broth. 1 onion, diced. 2 cloves garlic, minced. 1 teaspoon ginger, grated. 1 teaspoon turmeric powder. Salt and pepper to taste. 2 tablespoons olive oil.

Instructions: Add the onions, garlic, and ginger to a large pot and heat them up in olive oil until they smell good. Put in the quinoa, carrots, and butternut squash. Stir every now and then for 5 minutes. Add the vegetable broth and boil it. Turn down the heat, cover, and let it cook for 15 minutes. Add the turmeric, salt, and pepper, and mix them in. Let it cook for five more minutes. If necessary, change the seasoning. Enjoy the warmth of winter while the food is hot!

Prep Time: 15 minutes

Cook Time: 25 minutes

Kendra D

[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

[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...

[muntzerism-diggerism]

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

[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.