It grows native local to me, and it's kind of a bear to cultivate for tea. Most I've seen around claims wild harvest: catspringtea.com?srsltid=AfmB... It's very green tea, but also not.

Me, a monk: Evil rears it's ugly head, I'm gone punch it 'til it's dead.

Me, a monk: Punch walls until they open. PUNCH WALLS BREAK OPEN EVERYWHERE AND MY BOY IS FREE.
DM: Uh... 'kay.
Me, a monk: It worked, right? I punched the wall open?
DM: It did. Crushing damage, damage riders... yes. Yes, it worked.
Me, a monk: Is the cleric tied up?
DM: nods
Me, a monk: PUNCH ROPE

DM: you've broken into the place, and you are certain to face magical traps. Maybe a thief would be... Me, a monk: nah, man. Reflex like a cat. Let's just punch those chests open. If I can't sell it, punch it.
DM: Okay... That worked somehow with only minimal damage. Okay. Still no cleric.

The fact they treat prompt writing as a coveted skill is such a tragic self-own and they don’t even get it. Society is being pressed through cheesecloth by illiterati.

(context: I'm 46 and a single parent to a 7 year old boy...)

DM: It seems your party healer has been kidnapped. You will have to rescue him from the locked palace of elder evil full of evil and magic evil. Me, a monk: Okay, so I punch the door really hard. Then I punch everything that moves really hard. Punch the ghost. Punch the gargoyles. Punch the mirror.

What if AI is the way to make the idea machine more profitable for the people who have no ability to have ideas, themselves, instead of hiring and paying and working with people who have ideas?

At our age, no one has the energy left and that's where the things start.

Dm: you have fallen into the water where the Sahaguin have pulled you down to drown you. me, a monk: I will punch them in the nose so hard their faces explode into the water and blood goes everywhere and blinds them so I can escape. Dm: F***, why does that work? You succeed. #monk #bg3 #dnd

Dm: the tiefling general of Zariel’s army considers you carefully. He asks “Why have you journeyed to Averbus, outsider? You seek to join the Blood War?” Me, a monk: I came here to punch you in the face, and then punch the devila in the face. All of them. You ready for the punching?

Dm: the elder dragon emerges from its slumber, furious at your intrusion. The battle will commence. Roll initiative! Me, a monk: so I’m gonna just jump on its face and slap it so hard it basically feels the slap in its dragon soul and dies. Dm: I see… I… okay, the dragon fell to your quivering palm.

Dm: the master of the thieves’ guild has betrayed you and calls in a clan of master archers to assassinste you! Me, a monk: I punch the arrows. Then I run over and punch the archers. In the face. punching arrows and peoples punch punch. Dm: and… that actually worked? How did that work?

Dm: the mighty iron golem lurches towards your ally preparing a mighty blow. me, a monk: I punch it really hard in the face with like magic boxing gloves or something. Like so hard. In the golem face. dm: the magic-infused golem head is… crushed!

Dm: The enemy elder vampire rises from the grave ready to eat your soul me, a monk: I punch it in the face six times. Dm: and… now the vampire is dead.