#nearest weed store

[blendedbuds]

Website: https://www.blendedbuds.ca/

Blended Buds is a locally owned licensed retailer with a 7 year heritage starting in Vernon BC. Our goal is to move the industry forward helping remove the stigma while nurturing the culture. We are here to help you thru the process. Whether a first time buyer or seasoned cannabis consumer come discover what to expect when stepping thru the doors of cannabis retail. With a huge selection and palatable pricing we’ll help explain your choices and create an experience that best fits your lifestyle. Guided in a rich history of cannabis retail, we provide a convenient and comfortable atmosphere to connect with others just like you.

We invite you to stop by, ask questions and discover a better perspective. Blended Buds helps you step away from everyday stress and challenges, and focus on a more creative, open and peaceful state of mind. Our state of the art POS system and multiple large menu boards help in providing a personalized experience. Blended Buds caters to your goals and expectations, ensures quality products, and protects your health and safety. We are your source for recreational adult cannabis!

About us:

Blended Buds was started in Canada, leading up the legalization. Our goal it to move the industry forward and remove stigma surrounding the industry. We are here to help you through the process of legalization and what to expect when you step thru the doors of cannabis retail. We’ll explain your choices helping create an experience that best fits your Cannabis Lifestyle. Guided in a rich history of cannabis retail, we provide a convenient and comfortable atmosphere where you can come connect with others just like you.

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[yardsards]

my neighbours gave me a wholeass used television. i feel like an animal crossing character.

[namelessbutters-doodles]

I want it!

[dankogden]

Cannabis store near me

High Times Made Easy-Uncover Simple Ways To Find A Dispensary Store Conveniently

Looking for a nearby Calgary dispensary store? Learn convenient methods to locate the perfect cannabis shop for your needs.

As the popularity of cannabis continues to grow, finding a cannabis store that meets your needs can be time-consuming and frustrating. 

Although it is becoming more mainstream, locating legal dispensaries selling quality products at affordable prices can still be challenging. This blog post will explore ways to make searching for a cannabis store easier and more convenient.

1. Search Online

The internet is a powerful tool for finding a cannabis store. Open your preferred search engine and type keywords like "cannabis store near me." 

The search engine will provide you with a list of nearby options, complete with addresses, phone numbers, and even customer reviews. This method lets you quickly locate dispensaries in your area and learn about their offerings.

2. Ask Friends And Family

Asking for recommendations from friends and family members who use cannabis is an easy and effective way to find a dispensary that meets your needs.

Your friends and relatives may have firsthand experience with a specific store and can give you insights into the quality of products and services. They may also provide tips on your area's most affordable and convenient stores.

3. Check Online Directories

Many online directories provide information about legal cannabis stores and their products. These directories typically allow you to sort stores by location, product type, and price range.

Using them can help you save time while searching for a dispensary, providing accurate information about the dispensaries to make a correct selection.

Some online directories may also include client reviews, making it easier to make informed decisions.

4. Consult A Cannabis Professional

If you are new to the world of cannabis, it is wise to consult an experienced professional. They will be able to guide you in the right direction and provide valuable insights on different cannabis products and their effects. Additionally, they can help you find a dispensary that meets your needs and budget. 

5. Explore Delivery Options

For those who cannot make it to a dispensary, many delivery options are available. Many dispensaries offer Mail order marijuana, allowing customers to purchase their products from the comfort of their own homes. 

Weed delivery services are also becoming increasingly popular and provide convenience for customers needing cannabis products.

Conclusion

Finding a cannabis store can be difficult, especially if you are new to the world of cannabis. Fortunately, there are several ways to make your search easier and more convenient.

From searching online to consulting an experienced professional, these tips should help you locate reputable stores that meet your needs.

With the right research, you should have no problem finding a cannabis store that provides quality products at an affordable price. 

Look at our homepage to get more information about Calgary weed delivery!

[dankdover]

Mail order marijuana

Convenience At Your Doorstep: Unveiling The Benefits Of Weed Delivery Services

In recent years, the world of cannabis has seen a remarkable transformation, and one of the most significant changes is the rise of weed delivery services.

Today, with the advent of weed delivery services, you can enjoy the convenience of having your cannabis delivered right to your doorstep. In this article, we will explore the many benefits of weed delivery services and why they have become a game-changer for cannabis enthusiasts.

Enhanced Privacy

Privacy is a significant concern for many cannabis users. With weed delivery services, you can maintain your privacy discreetly.

Unlike visiting a brick-and-mortar dispensary, where you might encounter other customers or acquaintances, a delivery service allows you to keep your cannabis use confidential.

The discreet packaging used by most delivery services ensures that no one will know what's inside your package.

Convenient Shopping Experience

Shopping for cannabis online is incredibly convenient. You can browse products, read detailed descriptions, and even check customer reviews to make informed decisions.

Many weed delivery services have user-friendly websites or apps, making it easy to place orders with just a few clicks.

This saves you time and money and gives you access to various strains you might not have had access to before. 

Time And Cost Savings

Weed delivery services can save you both time and money. By eliminating the need to travel to a physical dispensary, you can use that time for other activities. 

Additionally, delivery services often offer competitive prices and promotions, allowing you to find the best deals without the need for extensive price comparisons.

Reliable

Weed delivery services work with reputable growers and dispensaries to ensure that their clients get the best quality product.

When you buy from a reliable delivery service, you can rest assured that you're getting genuine and fresh marijuana. 

Discounts And Rewards

Weed delivery services are known for their excellent customer service and offering great discounts and rewards to their customers.

Many services have loyalty programs and offer rewards points for each purchase, which can be used for future purchases or even discounts.

Exclusive online promotions and discounts are also made available to customers, which can save them a significant amount of money.

Variety Of Products

A cannabis store near me offers a wide selection of cannabis products, from edibles to concentrates to smoking devices and more. This means that customers can choose from various options, depending on their preferences.

Conclusion

Weed delivery services are a great way to conveniently and discreetly enjoy marijuana without compromising on quality or privacy.

With their many benefits, such as cost savings, discounts, loyalty programs, convenience of ordering online, variety of products, and reliable quality assurance, it is no wonder that they have become so popular.

So, if you're looking for an easy way to buy cannabis, then Dank Cannabis may be just what you need.

With their Mail order marijuana feature, the wide selection of products, competitive prices, and reliable delivery services, you can rest assured that your cannabis needs are addressed! 

Visit our website to get more info about Calgary weed delivery!

Find Us On Google Map: (Dank Cannabis Weed Dispensary Dover)

[homunculus-argument]

To me, the interesting thing about travelling is noticing the things that nobody seems to photograph. What kind of birds dig through the trash here, what kind of weeds grow on peoples' lawns. The time we went to Arizona, we walked to the nearest grocery store (y'all aren't kidding about "unwalkable cities" btw) and one thing I noticed was how different city landscape there looks when it's run down.

In Finland, neglected pavement turns bumpy and cracks as the water in the ground beneath freezes in the winter and thaws and runs out again. Wild flowers grow through it, even brave saplings of birches and rowan trees. Moss starts to grow on the shaded walls of buildings where it isn't washed off, growing over graffiti. Seagulls and jackdaws swoop over town market squares, squirrels skitter across roads and at night, you see rabbits and hares.

In Arizona, the places that aren't maintained are taken over by sand and dust. The merciless sun scorches everything that's left outside, brightly coloured plastic fades into pastel shades and into white, as if the land itself prohibited these colours. Shaggy bushes and even cacti grow on neglected yards. I saw long-beaked birds, the like of which I had never seen before - the only sign of animal life.

I had never considered how desperately cities where I live long to return into being forest land, before I saw a city that was determined to remain a desert.

[strangersmunsons]

bloodletting

you're kind of dead. but so is Eddie, just in a different way.

"Oh, you were a vampire, and baby, I’m a walking dead."

Contains: Vampire!Eddie x Zombie!Reader, gn!zombie!reader, Eddie owns a record store, you’re newly (un)dead and still figuring it out. No use of y/n, no description of reader’s appearance, use of pet names but no gendered pronouns. Warnings: mentions of death and descriptions of anatomical parts, both of which may be a little gross. Allusions to murder, though nothing is shown. Eddie drinks blood. Word Count: ~5,000 Not sure if this has been done yet; I've seen vampire!eddie and zombie!eddie, but I don't think I've come across this particular x reader combo? so hopefully I'm not stepping on anyone's toes here. anyway - hope you enjoy!

The summer heat is miserable, suffocating; large swaths of shimmering air hover above the sticky tar pavement, beckoning you from a distance like a teasing portal to another dimension, always in sight but never in reach. 

You plod down the crack-ridden sidewalk, eyes cast downward. Dregs of once-lush moss and sprays of weeds poke through the shattered valleys in the concrete, now brown and withered beneath the cruel sun. 

You admire those tiny plants. How they survive. How they find a way to live, against all odds, in the most unlikeliest of places. 

They remind you of yourself. Especially now, on the verge of their death.

You continue on, shuffling aimlessly. Each step is halting, just the tiniest bit broken. And there’s an odd grinding noise that emits from your left knee if you take too large of a stride. You suppose that it would probably hurt, if you could feel pain.

But such sensations tend to be lost on you these days.

You glance skyward, the sun a winking yellow coin directly overhead. You’re not sure how it may affect your strange flesh — you haven’t quite worked out all the particulars of your condition yet. Some parts of you are lost, utterly lifeless; and yet, your sentience, amongst other random physiological capabilities, remain. You imagine your trillions of cells to be stuck in some kind of purgatory, hovering on the equatorial line between life and death.

Can the sun hurt you? Have your cells gone far enough down the path of their programmed death so as to be rendered impervious to the ultraviolet rays, or are the thymine dimers still forming, creating mutinous clumps in your DNA? Or, would you react like a corpse left to rot in the desert, internal gasses bubbling up through your gut that will make you bloat and split, ripping you open like a spoiled piece of overripe fruit?

You’d rather not find out.

The strip mall you’re treading through is mostly deserted. You suppose that everyone is at home, waiting out the heat within the cool confines of air-conditioned houses. Only you, to whom the temperature changes barely register, are out and about.

You duck into the nearest shop without checking to see what store it is. You just need to kill some time, wait for some cloud cover before venturing back out. There’s a cheerful tinkling of bells when you push the door open, an inviting sound to welcome you inside.

Hovering at the entrance, you stare unblinkingly around at your new surroundings — a record store.

Here, it’s dark and cool. The walls are painted black, and only just visible beneath the hundreds of posters plastered overtop of them. There are rows and rows of vinyl records and cassette tapes on display, and one corner is sectioned off for t-shirts and band merchandise, along with a table offering a small selection of horror novels and VHS tapes. No one seems to around, though you figure at least one employee must be lurking somewhere. An unknown song crackles through the speakers, some band with a wailing guitar and an even louder singer. It’s not bad.

You take a deep breath, although you’re not sure what the action does for you, exactly, and move down an aisle to start browsing in. Your fingers pop at the knuckles when you stretch your hands out to file through the records, and you frown when you notice one of your fingernails has broken off.

Is that gonna grow back, or…?

“Help you find somethin’?”

You look up, careful not to move your head too quickly, lest it snap right off of your neck.

The store employee — Eddie, by the title on his nametag — is standing very close to you, much closer than you would expect him to be, considering that you hadn’t seen or heard anyone approaching at all. Your eyes rake over his figure.

He has dark, tangled curls that hang all the way down to his chest, and his eyes are so brown they’re nearly black. He’s wearing a denim vest over a black W.A.S.P. shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing thick, tattooed arms. He gives you a serene, close-mouthed smile that dimples his cheeks, full lips stretching widely across his pale face. If you could still flush, you probably would, but blood flow seems to be at a very minimum, if it’s even happening at all. He’s hot. 

Well. Interesting to note that that part of you hasn’t changed.

You cough. “J-just looking.” Your voice is dry, raspy; you sound like a sixty-year-old chainsmoker. But if it surprises Eddie, it doesn’t show.

He points at the album you’ve paused at. “You like The Cramps?” 

You nod carefully, not trusting your rusty larynx. 

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the merch section. “We got some cool shirts of theirs over there, too, if you wanna take a look.”

“O-okay.”

There’s a mild shift in his expression, a slight shadow crossing over that customer-service smile, causing it to fade from his pretty face. He stares at you curiously; you swear you see his nostrils flaring.

You take a cautious step back.

“Well…if you need anything, just holler,” he tells you, disgruntled. As he turns and walks away, back to the register, he casts a backward glance at you, brow furrowed. If you weren’t so nervous, you might have marveled at how silent his footfalls are. 

With shaky hands, you continue perusing the selection before you, though all you can really focus on is the feeling of Eddie’s eyes glued to your back from across the store.

Some of your senses might have been dulled, but you still know when you’re being watched.

Would it be too suspicious if you just dropped everything and made a break for it? You haven’t technically done anything wrong. Your only crime is being dead. And really, what can he — or anyone — even do to you?

Kill me? 

You snicker.

Then, to your horror, in between Smell of Female and Off the Bone, your left pinkie finger falls off.

Immediately you lurch forward to hide the offending digit from Eddie’s prying eyes, hunching over the display rack. The damn thing has been threatening to come loose for days, kept in its place with the help of a little surgical tape and some superglue — but you’d hoped that the remaining ligaments would be strong enough to prevent this from happening.

Desperately, you plunge further into the display box, jamming your lifeless hands down between the records, groping blindly for the missing finger. You glance back at Eddie, who’s staring at you unabashedly, face a mask of blank confusion. He rises from his seat behind the checkout counter.

Finally, your hand closes around the lost pinkie, and you pull it back out of the display box, keeping it hidden within the confines of your fist. You just manage to spin around with your hands clasped behind your back by the time Eddie manages to make his way over to you again.

He stands with his feet firmly planted on the ground before you, his hands on his hips. “Everything alright over here?” he asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Yessir,” you chuckle drily.

He’s unconvinced. “Whatcha got back there?”

Panic bolts through your ruined insides. “N-nothing,” you rasp. 

His dark eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “No? Prove it.”

He waits expectantly. You try to moisten your lips with your tongue, but the muscle feels like a dehydrated slug in your mouth. Reluctantly, you move the finger so it’s in just one of your fists, and then hold your other hand out to him, flat so he can see your empty palm, smiling weakly.

It’s stupid, but it’s all you’ve got.

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, but before he can say anything, your body betrays you once again. Your grip is none too strong anymore, and the missing digit slips through the web of your other, still-intact fingers, dropping to the floor with a tiny thunk.

Both you and Eddie stare down at the freestanding pinkie, sitting in the center of a white tile near your feet, mottled and sickly-looking. Neither of you say anything.

Suddenly his dark eyes are boring into yours again.

“Uh…I can explain.”

“I knew you smelled wrong,” is the first thing he tells you in the back office of the shop, as he rifles determinedly through the desk drawers.

“Wrong?” you ask, alarmed.

He shoots you a look, a reassuring smile on his lips. “Not bad — just different. Like…” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Like green. Earthy, I guess.”

You wonder if it’s worth mentioning that you crawled out of the ground a week ago. 

“It’s not how people usually smell,” he says casually, face turning triumphant when he finally finds what he’s searching for. Eddie holds up a pocket-sized sewing kit in a plastic case. “I keep this around in case one of my patches falls off. I gotta say, emergency finger-reattachment surgery is a first for me.”

You’re still stuck on his previous statement. “H-how do people usually smell?” your voice quivers, and you wonder how he can act so nonchalant despite your decidedly-undead condition.

“Oh, like lots of different things,” he muses, selecting a needle from the kit. “Some people are flowery, some are fruity.” He wrinkles his nose. “Some people have harsher smells, like…crude oil, or something. And then there’s some that are so sweet it actually burns my nose.”

Eddie holds the case out so you can peer inside at the contents. “Here. Pick a color for your stitches.”

You opt for a tiny spool of dark green thread.

He gestures towards the rolling chair behind the desk. “Have a seat.”

You do as you’re told, plopping unceremoniously down onto the cushion. The chair moves several inches back across the floor from the force of your graceless fall.

Eddie snips the thread, and pops the end in his mouth to wet the frayed fibers, smoothing them into one even strand. Then he threads the needle quickly with an expert hand, tying it off with a knot when he has a decent amount of string to work with.

He kneels down before you, gently taking your pinkie-less hand in his. “Lemme see…do you think you can hold it in place for me?”

You hold the missing pinkie to the spot it was ripped from, lining up the torn edges as best you can. The whitish bone poking out at the ends slips greasily against the stumpy flesh of your knuckle. Frustrated, you try to hold it still so that the phalange and the metacarpal bones are aligned at least somewhat evenly, but you don’t quite have the stability.

Eddie purses his lips, but amusement flickers in his dark eyes. He takes the finger back from you. “I’ve got it, I think,” he says kindly. “Just, ah, help keep it steady, okay?”

Tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, Eddie presses the needle lightly against your skin. His eyes flit up to yours. “Does that hurt?” 

“No,” you admit.

“Didn’t think so,” he says smugly. 

He pushes the needle in deeper, piercing the skin, maneuvering the slim point beneath the flesh of your knuckle and into the lost finger, connecting the two, then pulling it back out. He does it again and again, looping the thread through your skin until the first few knobbly stitches are formed. 

He checks in again, just in case. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

You shake your head. 

Eddie chuckles under his breath, then resumes his progress. For the next ten minutes, he weaves the needle in and out of your skin, until there are stitches going the whole way around your finger. He carefully ties the last one off, trimming the excess thread with a pair of tiny scissors. 

You hold your now-intact hand out, admiring his handiwork. It’s not perfect, but it’s certainly miles better than anything you could have done yourself. 

“Thank you.” You’re touched by his kindness, but still completely boggled by his non-reaction to a customer losing an entire finger. “I h-have,” you hack out a cough, “a question.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re very calm. How is that?”

Eddie, still kneeling on the floor, looks up at you, puzzled. Then it dawns on him. “Oh, honey. You don’t realize?” But he doesn’t wait for you to reply, maybe anticipating that your throaty, stuttering speech will take too long. Instead, his face scrunches, mouth twisting as though he’s running his tongue across his gums, and then his lips pull back, baring his teeth at you, and —

Shiny, lethal-looking fangs slide out through some hidden, gummy pockets right above his canines. They’re sharp, sharper than any needle he might string through you, gleaming menacingly even in the dim fluorescent light.

You let out a noise that might have been a squeal, in a past life. Clumsily, your feet push at the floor, sending you careening backwards on the rolling chair in an effort to get away from him. 

“Whoa, whoa, hang on! It’s alright!”

Eddie stands and moves a few paces back, giving you some space. He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. Pretty sure you don’t got what I need, anyway.”

Your body sags in the chair, which is pressed all the way up against the office’s back wall. You eye him warily, although you suppose you’re being a little hypocritical. 

But you’re not the one packing fangs that rival a pit viper’s. 

Eddie smiles at you, pointed teeth poking down over that full bottom lip of his. “What? Did you think you were the only thing that went bump in the night?” he jokes.

Yes. Admittedly.

His face softens. “You haven’t been like this very long, have you?”

Timidly, you shake your head no, the vertebrae in your cervical spine grinding from within your neck.

Lost in thought, Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth again — a seemingly-unconscious movement. “Right…do you need a place to stay tonight?” he asks suddenly, concern lining his features.

You’re not sure how to answer. You don’t seem to really need anything. “Uh…”

He crosses his arms across his chest, mouth quirking up in amusement. “Have you just been wandering around town like you’re in Night of the Living Dead?”

You snort, a dry puff of air whistling through your nostrils. “Kinda.”

“Sheesh. Y’know, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are. It’s a wonder no one’s shot you in the head yet.”

“I th-thought I was blending in pretty well.”

He laughs, a deep belly-laugh that reverberates around the tiny room. “To the untrained eye, maybe. But not to me.”

Eddie, as it turns out, owns the record store, Vicious Vinyl, and lives in the apartment above the shop. The small space is decorated similarly, so much so that it might be mistaken for a second level of the store as opposed to his home. But while Vicious Vinyl seems to offer a wide variety of music options for its patrons, Eddie’s tastes are made clear when you enter the apartment; he’s a heavy metal guy. Pictures of thrash bands, big names you recognize and obscure ones you don’t, hang on all the walls, and macabre-looking baubles lie on every flat surface. Music equipment is scattered throughout the room, guitars and amps filling the empty gaps between the dark furniture. And the windows are all covered by heavy black curtains — drawn tightly shut, of course, keeping the poisonous sunshine from leaching in.

“I have a cot that I’ll set up for you,” says Eddie, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. You note that the cloth draped overtop of it is a deep crimson color.

Eddie pauses mid-step as something occurs to him. “Do you sleep?”

“Uh-uh. Do you?”

Eddie nods. “I do. Not in a coffin,” he adds, catching the way you peer around the room as though looking for a cobweb-ridden box. He nudges you playfully. “But you know where I do sleep?”

You imagine him hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat. “Where?”

His eyes twinkle, like he’s about to divulge something juicy. “Under the bed.”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, and he laughs at your awestruck gaze. “Don’t know why, just feels right.”

“Weird.”

“Weirder than not sleeping at all?”

You shrug, unsteady frame rippling with the motion. Your cracked lips pull up at the corners, forming your first true smile of this odd existence. Eddie grins back.

“You’re pretty cute for a corpse, you know that?”

Your dead body fills with delight that you don’t quite know how to express — you hope that your condition excuses your lack of verbal response. But either way Eddie doesn’t seem to mind it; he simply turns and heads into the living room, motioning for you to follow.

You obey, shuffling along as quickly as you can, feet dragging noisily against the hardwood floor. When he gestures for you to do so, you sink unsteadily onto the plush leather couch. 

“I have to get back down to the shop, but I’ll close early and come back up soon,” he says nonchalantly, adjusting the chain bracelet on his wrist. “In the meantime, you make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

He nods in acknowledgement and, with a smile, exits the apartment, leaving you alone. 

The door clicks shut, and you settle back into the cushions, eyes wandering around as your tap your feet gently, impatiently, against the floor. You pick up the remote from the coffee table and flick the boxy television to life. You flip through channels for a while, letting each mindless program play for a minute before moving on to the next one, the muted colors on the bulbous screen and scratchy audio leaving little to no impression upon you. Boring. You turn it back off.

You purse your dry lips in thought. Truthfully, what you really want to do is snoop, but it’s rather gracious of Eddie to let you stay here, especially unattended…trusting, even. Would he be able to tell if you took a quick look around? And would he be angry with you if you did?

You decide you can probably risk it. He told you to make yourself at home, after all. 

Rising once more, you peer around the room cautiously, scanning all the bookshelves and photographs and records, looking for anything out of the ordinary, or decidedly vampiric — whatever that should be. But the den seems to be pretty innocuous.

You make your way back into the kitchen. From here, a short stretch of hallway juts out of the room, with two more doors — one is already slightly ajar, offering a glimpse of Eddie’s bedroom, and the other turns out to be a tiny bathroom. You rest a hand on the bedroom door, ready to enter and unearth all of Eddie’s secrets, but hesitate, intuition flickering.

If Eddie’s in possession of any bloody contraband, there’s one certain place you suspect he might keep it, and it’s not in his room.

The refrigerator is humming innocently with life. There’s the crackling sound of ice being made. Its cool whiteness is smooth and clean. Your hand clasps around the handle, and you wrench the door open.

Jars rattle from the force of your pull. A burst of bright light floods the dark kitchen, illuminating your dead face in a nightmarish glow. 

The interior shelves are smeared with crimson fingerprints, speckled with dried puddles of red crust. No doubt spillage from the plethora of bloody bottles crowded inside, all filled with that human lifestuff that they — and he — need so badly to survive. The dark, thick liquid gleams within the confines of the glass, some filled to the brim, others containing only mere dregs. 

Fascinated, you pull one of the bottles off the shelf and give it an experimental shake, watching bubbles whir into existence on the surface, making a layer of soft pink foam. You twist off the cap, peering inside; almost nosing the lip of the opening, you give it a delicate sniff. You’re not sure if your olfactory nerves can actually detect the faint, rusty odor, or if it’s a phantom scent, pulled from your memory. 

You quietly screw the cap back on, and stowe the bottle back in its place. The refrigerator door swings shut once more, closing the gory sight out of view. 

Interesting.

Hours later, Eddie comes back to the apartment. You’re sitting at the kitchen table now, working on the crossword puzzle from yesterday’s newspaper, dry tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. 

“Hello,” he greets you easily, shrugging out of his vest and tossing it over the back of a chair. He comes to stand beside you, looking down at the paper from over your shoulder. “24 down is orc, by the way. O-R-C.”

You frown. “I’m not there yet.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Sorry.” He pulls the chair next to you away from the table and takes a seat. 

You tap the end of your pencil against the table. “I w-would’ve gotten it.” 

“I’m sure you would have,” he says indulgently, resting his head on his hand. “Is this what you’ve been doing all afternoon?”

You nod. Mostly, anyway.

He studies your face for a moment, then scrunches his nose.

You mimic his expression. “What?”

“Have you noticed that you don’t blink?”

“No.”

He pokes you in the shoulder. “It’s kinda spooky,” he chuckles playfully. “Which is fine! I’m kinda spooky, too.”

“I don’t think I n-need to.”

His head cocks to the side. “You are funny, aren’t you,” he murmurs. 

That’s one way of putting it.

Eddie bites his lip — fangs hidden away again, retreated back in their gummy slits — and, hesitantly, extends one hand towards you. You flinch back automatically.

“Sorry,” he says, but doesn’t pull his hand back. “But do you mind if I just…try something?” 

You nod cautiously, unsure of what he’s getting at. 

Eddie — slowly, so as not to startle you — leans forward and presses his palm to your chest, right over where your heart lurks inside. He searches for a pulse that isn’t there, feeling nothing, no meaty organ throbbing and thumping against your ribcage, just placid hollowness, as though there were no chambered fist of tissue there at all.

A hush falls over the two of you, while he waits in vain.

You offer an apologetic smile. 

Eddie simply hums, and removes his hand, settling back in his chair. “You and I aren’t so different, you know. Mine doesn’t beat, either, unless I…” he trails off, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Well, you can probably guess.”

“Yes. I found your stash.”

Eddie sucks in a quick breath, face hardening. “Forgive me. I know it’s a little gruesome, but a man’s gotta survive somehow, doesn’t he?”

You nod, understanding. The shock of his vampirism has worn off quickly, now that you no longer believe him to be a threat. As he’s so dutifully pointed out, and proven again just now, you don’t have what he needs.

“Listen, I was thinking when I was down there, and I know I already said you could stay for the night, but —”

Dismay. He’s already kicking you out, and you’ve only been here for a few hours.

“— we can talk about a more long-term arrangement, if you want?” 

Oh. Okay.

Eddie continues, oblivious to your inner turmoil, “I need some help around the shop. And I can’t trust myself to have too many employees hanging around, for obvious reasons,” he chuckles, gesturing helplessly towards his fridge, “so if you’re interested, I could give you a job. And I’d have you stay here with me, of course.”

“Really?” you whisper raggedly.

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah. And you don’t have to worry about rent or anything, either. Just a few hours of work a day, that’s all I ask.”

You nod eagerly, the motion exuberant enough that it makes your neck click.

Eddie’s eyes widen at the alarming sound, though he’s still grinning. “Okay! Be careful. Your head will be a lot harder to sew back on than a finger.” 

The next few weeks are a bit of a learning curve, you and Eddie both adjusting to your presence in each other’s lives. 

During the day, you get some basic retail training. Eddie handles the real business side of things, but teaches you how he likes to organize and stock new arrivals, and lets you try your hand at the register. You’re good at it, but he’s hesitant to let customers speak to you for too long, lest they notice anything…unusual about you. 

It’s all good fun, the two of you together, even when business is slow. You spend one dull afternoon crowded at the counter together, working on a nametag — Eddie’s a good artist, and decorates the space around your name with green, swirling designs and miniature doodles of tombstones. He even lets you swipe a Cramps button from the merch table to pin onto your lanyard.

When the shop closes up, you both trudge back upstairs to the apartment, and pass the time playing cards, watching movies, listening to records; Eddie will sip on a cup of dark liquid, puffing on a cigarette or maybe a joint, while you sit with your hands folded neatly in your lap, no needs or vices to trouble you, just enjoying this newfound companionship. Sometimes he even reads aloud to you, or plays you song on his acoustic guitar.

Eventually it reaches that point in the day where the sun finally sinks out of sight, wherein Eddie yanks back the curtains and throws up the window, letting the cool night air seep in. You watch with fascination every time, transfixed by the way the moonlight hits his pale skin, shines across his dark curls…dances over his pearly teeth.

Later, Eddie will retire to bed, bidding you goodnight and crawling into the small space beneath his floor and his mattress to sleep, while you sit up on the couch or the cot he’s so needlessly set up for you, with the gentle hum of the television keeping you company in the slumberless dark.

But other times he leaves, disappearing into the night and not returning til it’s nearly dawn, spattered with blood, bits of gore clinging to his clothes. He practically lurches into the apartment, blood-drunk, dragging what’s left of his kill behind him in a cooler for safekeeping. 

The bloodletting takes place outside. He never brings the body in.

The first time it happened, you simply watched, glassy eyes watching him from across the room. But the next time you were ready. When he finished stowing the fresh blood away in the fridge, you moved in, and gently tugged on the back of his shirt, prompting him to remove his clothing; when he was stripped down to his boxers, you brought the discarded, ruined garments to the sink, and ran them under cold water. He watched you treat his clothes silently, searching for any sign of fright or disgust, but found none. He rested his hands on your shoulders and squeezed, a nonverbal thank you, before leaving you to take a shower.

This becomes routine. Eddie feeds and brings home the leftovers, which will tide him over until he has to make another kill. This doesn’t bother you; with each passing day, you feel more and more disconnected from the humans around you, the true ones, the ones who live and breathe and pump blood through their veins. You aren’t one of them, and they aren’t one of you.

So you don’t ask who any of them are, or where he finds them, but you do wait patiently for your vampire to come home, with a damp cloth in hand, ready to wash the blood from his face.

Tonight is one such night; when he stumbles through the door and into the kitchen, you’re already seated at the table with a bowl of warm water and a rag. You rise unsteadily to greet him, and he unloads his haul, putting the fresh bottles away onto their cold shelves. When he turns to face you again, he leans in, letting you tenderly swipe the dried smears of red tissue from around his mouth. His lips pout slightly when you drag the cloth over them, like a small kiss barely felt through the fabric.

He seems different; charged and bristling, as opposed to his usual sated and sleepy state. 

“Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he strokes a thumb across your cheekbone, a light, experimental touch. “You’re sort of perfect for me, you know that?”

You pause your ministrations, startled by the unprompted praise. You swallow drily, and try to continue cleaning his face, but he clasps a hand around your wrist, keeping it in place.

His other arm snakes around your waist. “I’m serious,” he insists in a whisper. “Where have you been all my life?”

A faint smile touches your lips. “Had to wait until mine was over, I s’pose.”

His eyelids flutter, and before you can react, his bloody mouth is on yours. His kisses are sloppy, all fangs and tongue, smearing your lips and chin with gore. You return them dazedly, brittle fingers knotting in his tangled hair, letting him take what he wants.

It’s not like you need to catch your breath. 

When he finally pulls back, a string of red-tinged spit connects your mouths. He pants in your face, nose rubbing against yours, then dots bloody pecks all over your cheeks and forehead. You lean into him, letting him hold your dead body in his arms.

“My little love,” he whispers into your skin.

thank you for reading!! ❤️

btw did you know that the gaboon viper has the longest fangs of any venemous snake? this has nothing to do with the fic. just thought if you made it to the end, maybe you'd enjoy a fun snake fact I came across when looking something up for this story. their fangs can grow up to 2 inches long, and this species is in a genus called Bitis, so that's fucking hilarious.

[kernun]

Rainy Day with JJK Men

ft. satoru, suguru, sukuna, toji, nanami cw. suggestive, mentions of sex, mentions of drugs and alcohol note. this is my first time ever writing headcanons or anything in general so, I hope you like it and I would really appreciate the feedback If you have any. It's an AU cause dead daddies can't enjoy rain, thanks Gege. I may update this with some corrections. Also, English in not my first language.

SATORU. Hates rainy days. He's more of a sunflower. Won't stop complaining about being stuck because of the rain and how bored he is. He would be such a baby about it, all whinny and annoying.

Binge watches TV. But like, a whole series or a full fucking trilogy. Eventually loses interest and the TV becames some background noise as he scrolls through his phone.

Eats sweets cause he's bored. He would finish with all the snacks in the house and won't have a proper meal for the whole day.

Sex. He would chase you around the house, flirting and throwing shitty pick up lines until you give in.

SUGURU. Trying so hard to just chill. Since he's an overthinker, he enjoys rainy days when he has company and can keep his mind busy. Hates them when he's alone.

Windows open. He loves the sound and the smell of rain. Specially when it rains at night.

Bokworm. If you're into books, he would enjoy a long reading session as you both listen to the rain in the background. If you're not, he would still want to be in the same room as you, following you around with his book.

Plays some music, but something soft so he can still hear the rain ouside. Probably some Lo-fi.

SUKUNA. Nothing stops this man, he's a menace. Rain fears him. If he had to go somewhere, he just would.

Bike/Car dude. Spends some time in the garage cleaning or fixing his baby. Beer and hard rock playing on the background.

Casually joins you as you watch some episodes of some series but gets bored easily. He has the amazing skill to turn every situation into sex so...couch sex as Netflix plays in the background.

Orders food without thinking on the poor delivery guys getting soaked outside. He just doesn't give a fuck.

Smokes weed as he does any of the above.

TOJI. Watches some kind of sports stuff on TV. Whatever he can find. Or even shows like "Storage Wars" or "Forged in Fire". Probably with a beer. Or two...

He would have to run to the nearest store to buy frozen pizza for dinner and beer because he doesn't want to pay the delivery fees. He doesn't use an umbrella.

Takes some time to make tasks he's been delaying. You would have to chase him about it and tell him to move his ass but he'd eventually and reluctantly do it.

He would enjoy napping on the couch. ALL DAY.

Sex for sure. As many rounds as you're willing to go.

NANAMI. Restless daddy. He doesn't know how to chill. He needs to keep himself busy.

Fixes small stuff around the house he couln't take care of before because he's always working.

Cooks a nice recipe or bakes something. Definetly would ask you first if you crave something specific.

Cleans and do chores. If you're doing chores, he would take over cause he wants you to relax.

After a while of you complaining about how much load he takes, he finally listens to you and relax, spending the rest of the day with you, watching a movie or whatever you want to do riding him. He would struggle internally but he lets you take care of him for the day.

[dwaekkicidal]

Helloooo:3 i want to know if you can write how would hyunjin react when finding out that reader who is his gf smokes??? Like they been dating for some time and he jst now realize she smokes?? Cuz im currently 21 but i been smoking since i was 12 (ik its early:3) feel free to ignore it! I was just curious:3

hii <3 i'm not sure exactly what you meant by smoking so I did this about both vapes and weed (cause im not comfy with cigarettes, sry if that’s what you wanted!) hope u enjoy :3

Hyunjin with an S/O Who Smokes

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: mentions of vapes and that good good aka weed (pls have your first time with somebody you trust in a safe environment 💜)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: I know in Korea weed isn't legal recreationally and vapes are also supposedly not legal so just read this as if you're both living in another country or just completely ignore the laws for delulu sake

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Vapes:

Would only notice if he sees you taking a hit. Won’t notice otherwise, especially if whatever flavor(s) you use can come off as perfume or air freshener. (paboracha leader wont ask what that chilly gust of wind was or ask why the living room suddenly smells like grapes)

I think it would bug him for like a week and ONLY because “how did i not notice before..”

Eventually won’t care at all but it will make him nervous for the first few weeks

Begs Asks you to wean off to non-nicotine vapes if you aren't already using them just because he wants nothing but the best for his lover

If you introduce him to the idea of those anti-anxiety or melatonin vapes, he’d be curious and will want to try it eventually! (but will be shy about it when he comes to you to ask for help hehe ☺️)

Weed:

Would smell it before he sees you smoke it and would confuse the fuck out of him if he isn’t aware what weed smells like 😭

Paces around for 30 minutes like a lunatic, whispering under his breath “What is that smell. Where is it coming from.” over and over again until you fess up

Probably freaks him out him at first. Weed was just legalized in Korea for medical reasons in like 2018(?) (& only for very very few diagnoses) so if he hasn't been exposed to it then the idea might spook him

Will be anxious about it affecting your health, but with enough reassurance and enough time, he'll relax

That being said!! Eventually he wouldn't bat an eye. Worst case scenario might get annoyed about the smell and ask you to air out before he’s home

Might want to try it himself! especially when he finds out that it can help with stress/anxiety

Will try smoking at least once, but I can see him getting into edibles instead if he can’t get used to the lung burning or the smell but still wants the effects

Plan out an entire night and go the full mile with food delivery + snacks + drinks and cuddles with pretty rgb lighting for when he finally agrees to try getting high? He’s RUNNING to the nearest engagement ring store. The thought of you going out of the way for his first time will melt him into a puddle

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld

[anipgarden]

Tropical Milkweed, Its Problems, and What To Plant Instead

I am writing this to atone for the sins of my past (handing out tropical milkweed cuttings to my friends and teachers before I knew better).

(Also let me make this clear I am Floridian I am writing this from the perspective of someone in the United States if you live in Tropical Milkweed's native range this doesn't apply to you go forth pogchamp)

Look online, on TV, in books, in newspapers, left, right, up, down, anywhere, and you'll see people talking about how planting milkweed is crucial, essential for the survival of monarch butterflies. Milkweed is the only plant that monarch caterpillars can eat as they're growing, and the loss of it in our wild spaces is one of the most direct links to the ecological extinction speedrun of not just monarchs, but dozens of other insects who rely on its abundance of nectar-filled flowers to survive. You'll be urged to run, not walk, to your nearest garden center, buy as much milkweed as you can, and hurry fast to plant it in your gardens and be part of the solution, not the problem. The issue is that, oftentimes, the milkweed you leave the store with is a vibrant red and orange, with pointed green leaves, dozens like it lining the shelves across stores all over the nation...

Tropical milkweed. Scarlet milkweed. Bloodflower. Mexican butterfly weed. Asclepias curassavica. This plant is a being of many names, and our culprit of the hour.

'Culprit? Culprit of what?' Culprit of enticing people to buy it under the guise of helping, only to possibly cause more harm than good.

Let's discuss.

Tropical Milkweed (Asclepias curassavica) is a gorgeous milkweed (especially the yellow variety? ooh, that had me in a grip as a teen) that's easy to obtain--too easy. It lines the shelves of stores like Walmart, Lowe's, Home Depot, and even hundreds and dozens of smaller garden stores, and is sold for reasonably cheap because its quick and easy to grow from seed and eagerly roots from cuttings. It's extremely popular with butterflies too--in many scenarios, Tropical Milkweed will be preferred as host plants over other related species like Butterflyweed (Asclepias tuberosa), and its also popular with other species of butterfly, bees, and wasps as a nectar source. It lasts well into winter in some areas of the United States, is quick to regrow when cut back, and doesn't die back for periods of the season like some other milkweeds do. It's eager to reseed, creating capsules with tens of dozens of seeds and scattering across the winds with the help of little silky parachutes much like the ones dandelions are known for.

'Ani, what's the problem with that? This all sounds like its great for monarchs!'

See, here's the kickers. In fact, here's several kickers. Here's an entire mollywhopping of kickers.

OE Infections

In the temperate areas that it doesn't die back over winter (or even, in some cases, where it doesn't die back during the season like other milkweeds), it can become a host for OE. OE is short for Ophryocystis elektroscirrha, and its a protozoan parasite that can and frequently does infect monarchs. As infected monarchs visit different plants--whether its to drink nectar, to lay eggs, or even just doing a fly-by of the garden--they drop spores from their wings that can then fall onto the leaves, flowers, and even any eggs already on the plant. As caterpillars hatch and begin to eat the plant, they ingest the protozoan, which begins the cycle anew. High OE levels in adult monarchs have been linked to lower migration success, reductions in body mass, lifespan, mating success, and flight ability. And that's if the caterpillars don't succumb prematurely to the infection, or if they're able to even exit their cocoon and fly once they finish pupating--deformed wings are frequently a result after infections. Now, OE is a parasite that's evolved alongside monarchs--and monarchs are usually able to handle an infection just fine, but if they're carrying a high load? That's where the problem lies.

What role does tropical milkweed play in this? Most milkweeds die back after blooming, at least once or even twice per season--and the parasite dies alongside them. As native milkweeds push out fresh foliage, its parasite-free, offering a healthy new buffet for caterpillars. Tropical milkweed... doesn't do that. If nothing's done, (at least in my state of Florida) tropical milkweed will stay fresh and green all the way up until the first real frost hits way in December--and that's if there's a hard frost, when you travel farther south. And during all that time, OE levels are building up on the leaves, so any future caterpillars that feed on this plant are doomed the instant their egg is laid on a leaf.

Its not that it's utterly impossible for a monarch to get infected with OE on any other kind of milkweed--monarchs are known for their traveling habits, and the chances of them happening upon a different milkweed plant than the tropical milkweed in your backyard is pretty high. But whereas native milkweeds die back and essentially reboot their system with fresh, disease-free leaves at least once a season, tropical milkweeds are like downloading a virus onto a USB and then passing it to your friends.

But that's not all, either. Time for kick 2.

Migration Interruption

Sit with me a moment and imagine you're a monarch butterfly. You're hardwired to know that as your food source starts dwindling at home, its time to get a move on and fly on down to the family's vacation home in Mexico for the winter. The buffets shut down, you exit stage left. But on your way to what's essentially a season-long smorgasbord with friends, you find... a buffet is still open. You're supposed to leave when the buffets are shutting down, but this one's up and running, lights are on, and plenty of people are there having fun, so you step in to relax. You'll take your trip later.

Now imagine a bit after you entered that buffet, the staff stuffed the guests into the walk-in freezer, locked the door, turned off all the lights, locked up the building, and left.

That's basically what tropical milkweed being 'evergreen' is doing to monarch butterflies in the fall and winter seasons. In areas up north where it can stay growing far later into the fall/winter months--or worse, in the south, where it can basically be evergreen until a hard frost (if one even happens), it can interrupt the monarchs' iconic migration cycle. They'll stay in place and continue breeding, living life like they aren't supposed to be a country away--until a frost hits, and they're dead in a snap. And if there's not a frost, you're getting a bunch of OE spore-ridden monarchs flying around a bunch of OE spore-ridden milkweed plants that the butterflies who followed the rules and overwintered in Mexico are gonna be returning to. POV you're starting a family in a house so laden with asbestos and black mold that there's practically black dust floating around.

This is already pretty bad. Can it get worse? Absolutely. Kick number 3.

It's Pretty Invasive (in the US)

It's fast growing, its eager to go to seed (so eager that it can flower and produce seed at the same time), its growing all throughout winter--which would be great, if it were native to the United States. Unfortunately, it isn't! As one could imply from the name, Mexican butterfly weed is native to--well--Mexico, as well as the Caribbean, South America, and Central America.

Further North into the states, and it's more of an annual--a plant that lasts maybe a year tops, dies back permanently, and you go buy more next year, or start from seed. Further south? It's a perennial, baby--which means its got even more time to spread its seeds and really thrive in the warmer climates of places like Florida, Texas, California, etc. Not to mention, as climate change makes temperatures rise, places where tropical milkweed is an annual may quickly begin seeing it stand strong all year...

I won't pretend to be a Professional Milkweed Identifier. I'm getting better at it with time, but I'm not a pro. But most of the time I go outside and I go 'oh, that's a milkweed!' its tropical milkweed. I've seen it grow in the sidewalk cracks of a gardening store I go to--its a clean four feet tall, always flowering, always making seeds. Tropical Milkweed is eager to escape the confines of your backyard, or make more plants in your backyard--I started with 5 plants one year, and the next year I had seven, then twelve, and that's just the ones that didn't get mowed over in the seedling stage...

But wait, that's not all! Kick number 4, baby!

Toxic to Monarchs????

According to the Xerces Foundation, emerging research suggests that tropical milkweed may become toxic to monarch caterpillars when exposed to the warmer temperatures associated with climate change.

'What the fuck, I thought milkweed was good for monarchs! How the hell does that happen?!'

All milkweeds produce cardenolides in their sap--a type of steroid that are toxic to most insects (and even people). Milkweeds create it to repel herbivores that would munch on it otherwise--except for milkweed butterflies (Danainae family), like our legendary monarch, as well as the queen and plain tiger butterfly. Larvae eat up milkweed leaves like there's no tomorrow, to stock up on those cardenolides and become toxic to their vertebrate predators--except for a few species that have evolved to become cardenolide-tolerant (black-backed orioles and black-headed grosbeaks). But, when cardenolide concentrations are high enough, it's too strong for even monarch butterflies to withstand--they die because of the very plant that's supposed to give them life. Kinda fucked up. Comparatively, many native species have lower cardenolide levels--and don't immediately go into flux at higher temps like tropical milkweed does.

'Wait, Ani, if there's all these problems with tropical milkweed, why is it sold everywhere?'

Capitalism. The answer is capitalism.

Well, actually, its a bit more complicated than that but it's also still capitalism.

The very same things that make tropical milkweed so invasive and such an issue are what make it so incredibly popular to sell. It's fast growing, and eagerly starts from cuttings as well as from seeds--which is perfect for growing tons of plants in quick and easy batches to send to vendors all over and get a quick profit. It's easy to grow from the home gardener too--its resistant to most diseases, looks gorgeous almost year-round, is quick to return in many areas without even the slightest sign of a die-back, and is popular with monarchs and other pollinators. Want to start a pollinator garden with quick results? Plant milkweed--and when tropical milkweed is all that you see available when you walk into your beloved store, it's what most people are going to get without thinking twice. Not to mention, when you hear it starts quick from cuttings, and you really wanna get your friends and loved ones into pollinator gardening, well... you get well-meaning people sharing invasive plants with their homies, like I did in high school. I've been pollinator gardening for around sixish-sevenish years (I think) and I didn't even catch wind that tropical milkweed was invasive until three years in! To say I was mortified doesn't describe it fully.

'Wait, three years ago? So information about this has been out awhile! Why aren't more places selling native milkweeds by now?! Why are people still buying this invasive milkweed and not native ones?!'

It's capitalism again! But in a different way.

Compared to tropical milkweed, many other milkweeds are a lot more... finnicky to get started, or grow in general. Many of them are a lot slower to germinate, are more prone to failing as seedlings and falling victim to things like 'dampening off' or 'too many aphid' or 'the vibes were wrong.' If they do germinate, they're slower to get to size too--I've grown tropical milkweed from seed in solo cups and gotten something about four inches tall within maybe a month and a half. Some other milkweeds I've grown from seed take about a month and a half to get more than four leaves, or even poke their little green heads out of the dirt. In addition to this, milkweeds have taproots--and some are a lot more friendly to the concept of 'transplanting from a pot to the ground' or 'growing in a pot at all' than others, and tropical milkweed ranks at the top of that list again. Not to mention, their willingness and ability to overwinter in pots--many native milkweeds fail that test, meaning that even if all the resources and efforts are put into getting a milkweed to grow from seed, it won't survive longer than a year in that pot. Considering most milkweeds don't flower until a year or so into their growth, and it's easier to sell plants that are flowering... many plants are a tough sell.

Another reason? Some native milkweeds are way more picky about when they want to make seed pods, or what conditions their seeds want to be grown in. If the seeds are hard to obtain? Good luck growing them in a production greenhouse. Let alone finding seeds for sale to grow them yourself at home--in my hunt for native milkweed species, I've seen packets of ten seeds sold for twenty bucks, packets of 25 seeds sold for anywhere from 50 to 100--meanwhile, you can find dozens if not hundreds of tropical milkweed seeds sold in a pack for maybe a dollar or five.

Let's be real. Producers haven't figured out the magic ticket to pumping out native milkweeds like they have with tropical milkweed--as such, finding native milkweeds for sale is rare, and they're often pricier. And as someone who's been to a native plant sale and found the stands sold out of milkweeds not even 30 minutes into the event--you are likely not the only person wanting native milkweeds. It is war out there in the garden parties.

And that's assuming you've actually found native milkweed for sale! As you get better with milkweed IDs, you'll be able to clearly identify the liars who are telling you they've got something that they don't, but for those who aren't In The Know--if you see a milkweed labeled like a native milkweed and want to buy native milkweed, it might be too late by the time you realize you just got sold tropical milkweed with a mislabel. Whether its on accident or on purpose, it still bites.

I've asked some of my favorite, smaller greenhouses if they'd be willing to start selling native milkweeds. Most of the time I get an exasperated 'I would love to.' But they can only sell what the vendors can produce--so if they can't find a vendor that's selling swamp milkweed (or at least reliably), then they can't give me swamp milkweed when I poke my head in asking if they have any in stock. Of all the times I've gone to dozens of different green houses and gardening events, in different cities even, to see if they have any native milkweeds I've only had success a few times--one small vendor who only has them in stock at events sometimes (and that's if I don't show up late), and the one time I rolled into a not-big-box-but-not-small gardening store near my friends house after being sad that I couldn't find it at a different gardening event. And the one I found there was the last one they had in stock for the next month or two. Until The Vendors get better at growing native milkweeds, your best bet is going to be growing it from seed yourself, getting a start from a friend, or dumb luck at smaller nurseries and events. It's rough out here, friends.

Granted! Keep in mind! That whole last paragraph was personal anecdotes. It's entirely possible that other places' greenhouses have already caught on, and I'm simply in the shadowlands where nobody's selling native milkweeds except for once or twice a year and selling out within 20 minutes of opening their damn booth. And I've heard tell of people getting milkweed popping up willingly in their backyards by doing things as simple as not mowing. I pray you have better luck than I do, young Padawan.

Now, keep in mind, there are people actively working on this. Whether its a team of university scientists dedicating themselves to a project, or a few home-growers in a sunny backyard and a greenhouse doing their damn best to grow native milkweeds as efficiently as possible for themselves and their friends, there are people working on this, sharing advice and communicating online. This isn't some unresolved issue that no one has noticed. We just... aren't at the end post yet. Until then, we scrounge for what we can.

'Oh no, oh god, I have a bunch of tropical milkweed plants in my garden!! Am I a bad person?!?!'

No You Are Not A Bad Person For Growing Tropical Milkweed

And I'm perfectly honest about that. Because I'm here telling you this and I've still got tropical milkweed plants in my backyard. As that one comic once said, about 10,000 people learn something new every day, and unfortunately today that 'new thing' is a bit sad and a bit untimely. In full honesty, oftentimes in my brain I refer to Tropical Milkweed as Starter Milkweed--its what a lot of pollinator gardeners end up starting with, because its just so available! But! There are things that you can do to mitigate the Damage that tropical milkweed can bring to your backyard butterflies.

Step One: Cut back your milkweeds! At least once a year, maybe even twice a year if you want. This will force them to put out new growth, which will be free of OE spores and give monarchs on it a good head start against the Disease. But for sure, for sure, cut your milkweeds back in the fall--once October hits, I go into the backyard and I snip down everything that's tropical milkweed. Usually at this point (at least for me), the milkweeds don't try to grow back again until spring. This is to prevent monarchs from seeing a buffet and getting locked in the freezer.

Step Two: Cut back seed pods! You would not believe how many seed pods milkweed makes. You see those little green footballs? You wanna snip these back ASAP. Even if they're tiny, but especially if they're bit. In peak flower production times, I'll go out there at least once a week and just do a look-back and cut them off. You can even yoink them off with your hands if you're in a rush--just don't get that sap into your eyes. If you do this, you're stopping seed production in its tracks--and don't forget, these plants want nothing more than to split those pods open and unleash a hellfire of flying seeds all over the place. They'll float on air, they'll float on water, they'll do whatever until they land on a prime patch of soil and get started.

If you see these you're a tinge too late. But also still yoink that off and Dispose of it.

Step 3: Don't give cuttings to your friends. It's tempting. If you're raising caterpillars in a little enclosure and see that every time you refresh your cuttings, the old ones have tons of roots and are ready for a little pot of soil and a name tag? Don't. Resist the best you can. Dispose of your cuttings whenever you go in for a trim.

Step 4: Consider replacing them with something else! I know I already went off about just how hard it was to find native milkweeds for sale, how expensive and difficult they can be to grow--but they're not impossible to grow, and putting in the effort could be worth it! Even as I speak, I'm trying to add as many native milkweeds to my garden as possible--and when I've got something that grows reliably in my backyard, I will eagerly rip up my aging tropical milkweed plants and promptly toss them in the bin so i can put a new, better milkweed in its place. Native milkweeds are more likely to be suited to your environment, making it easier to maintain and more welcoming to the pollinators we gardeners want to help. Not to mention, a lot of them are way pettier than tropical milkweed (in my opinion). Do some hunting online to see what's native to your area--your state's extensions office will likely be great for this! You've likely got great variety--the state of Florida has 21 native milkweeds! Who knows how many your state has! (Not me, I am Floridian, and I am already getting dizzy trying to learn about all 21 of our milkweeds).

Conclusion!

Anyone who knows me knows I'm not gonna be the one to discourage someone from starting a garden, especially a pollinator gardener, and especially growing milkweed. But avoid tropical milkweed when you can--the harms it can cause far outweigh the quick satisfaction of a busy garden it can bring. Take some time to select a native plant more suited to your area, give it some friends and some time, and soon you'll have an amazing pollinator garden that'll be teeming with life!

[slvt4lanadelrey]

Your Person | Vada Cavell

Warnings: swearing, weed, kissing(?) Mention of school shooting.

Your leg bounced up and down, your shoes sole slamming into the floor each second that passed. It was almost like Chronos-Aeon himself was teasing you for each second that passed; the clock that was placed in front of you haunting your every move. Somehow, you ended up in detention, for a reason you were too mad to ask for. Mrs Logan demanded you to leave her class, and you held no obligation in leaving maths. So, you were left stuck with a thirty minute detention even though Vada, your girlfriend, was waiting for you at her house.

In all honesty, you weren't sure she was waiting for you. She hadn't replied, leaving you on read for hours at a time. You weren't going to give up, though. You had been on holiday with your parents when the school shooting happened, completely missing the traumatic event; instead, you were sipping a vodka soda with your feet embedded in sand.

Vada stopped being the bubbly girl she once was. She stopped smiling, laughing, speaking to you in general. But she had messaged you earlier that day, much earlier at four in the morning to come over after school. The message sent butterflies to your heart, your fingers sweating when they pressed down onto the keyboard and replied with an uncool, sure. Too late to go back in time, but sure as hell whatever demon spawn that had stopped time permanently was pissing you off.

"You can leave now-" the moment the words left the women's mouth, your hand was already pressing into the door handle: pulling it down before taking charge and sprinting out of the door. Your feet threaded into the outside, towards your car without a care. It was a challenge, difficult to avoid the passing cars. Finally, your car key jammed into the keyhole, slamming open the door before sliding it. You were hit with the aroma of the scented rear-view mirror bobbles.

Your hands were sweaty when they ran over your steering wheel. You clicked onto your phone: dialling Vada before backing out of the car park.

"Hello?" Your heart seized, her groggy voice leaking into your empty car. She was addicted, even the simplicity of her voice just after she woke up. Guilt flushed over your face, wondering if you woke her up.

"Hey, V. You still want me to come over? I- I got snacks." You felt shame, for some reason. You were embarrassed to admit the moment she messaged you, you had ran to your nearest store to buy all her favourite snacks.

"Oh, yeah. That- that sounds awesome, what snacks though?" She shuffled on her bed, evident with how her audio came out ruffled and unclear. You coughed into your fist, shifting up the leather seat to drive slightly faster.

"Your favourites."

There was a pause, a painful gap in the conversion.

"You got sour patch kids!" She squealed down the phone, practically whistling with her high pitched voice.

You smiled, a heavy sigh leaving your lips at the sudden life that sprung through her voice.

"Yeah, I got the watermelon ones too." She hummed at the statement, readying herself for the countless hours she will no doubt spend with you.

"Get here soon, I've missed you." A light buzz travelling through your lips, in reality a loud roar wanted to leave; Vada missed you, she actually missed you.

"I missed you too, V."

You parked into her drive-thru after a few moments, throwing your bag into her window before hustling yourself into the small hatch yourself.

She laughed when your body jumbled its way through the gap, smiling into the weed laced air at your body thumping into the floor.

You groaned, hissing as you arched your back. She stopped laughing, holding out to help you up instead of carrying on to laugh.

"Shit. Are you okay, Y/N?" She wiped down your face, her thumb running over your chin. You shivered, her touch igniting a million flames within you. She smirked at how you were so easily flushed, leaning over to kiss your lips.

"Candy. now." You chuckled into her lips, the vibration rattling through both of your lips.

You handed the girl her candy, not bathing to put up a fight.

She giggled, plopping her small body onto her bed and shuffling into a more comfortable position: one with her legs crossed and elbows pressed into the mattress.

"I don't have fleas, you can sit on my bed." She called out, plopping another piece of candy into her open mouth, she hummed at the taste, eating the small food whole.

"I know that—'' your fingers etched closer to the bed, wanting nothing more than to let yourself indulge in Vada and be engulfed by her: her smell, her smile, her laugh, her baby brown eyes; but like every anti-climatic horrible rom-com we're it's just too painfully obvious that the goofy guy best friend is going to win the girl instead of the planned, and untimely charismatic princes charming man who was the first choice, you gut felt off. Vada was smiling around you, she was patting the spot above her head: no doubt wanting nothing more than you to let her rest her head on your thighs, but you couldn't.

"It's just." You sighed, feeling awkward under her warm hearted gaze.

"You stopped calling." She looked guilty, a wave of hate flushing over her adorable plush face. Her bottom lip pouted out, acting like a saddened child.

"I know, I know, baby. I'm so sorry, I'm- I'm sorry, I shouldn't- you didn't deserve that." Like cracks in an ancient dam, water began to seep through the tight spaced cracks: water freely spraying out; Vada spewing out apology after apology.

You stood with something in your eyes, sinking into the hard wooden floor underneath your feet. You didn't want this, you didn't want Vada to consume herself with guilt over something you were over with.

"No, no. Vada, baby please don't do that." You reached out, hands pulling her gripping ones out of her untamed hair.

"Vada, please." She wanted to put up a fight, to scream that she was a bad person for making you wait for her: for making you wait until she felt better, until she could stomach to see herself in the mirror without hating what reflected back on her.

"Stop! I'm a bad person, Y/N. I'm a bad person!" She screamed into her hands, crying as her anger festered into a knot of hatred swarming her memories of the past weeks where she acted so distant.

"You're not a bad person, V. You're the best person I know, you went through something- something so fucking painful, and I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I'm sorry I wasn't wasn't a good girlfriend to you when you needed it. I shouldn't have let you push me away, I should have stood my ground and told you—as your girlfriend I want to respect you, and your decisions, but also as your girlfriend I'm not letting you go through this alone. That's one thing you'll never be, Vada, you'll never be alone. Not when I'm here, or nick, hell even your mom. We're all here for you, V, so please don't think that you're a bad person. You're my person, I still love you, even though you made me watch over a hundred hours of Grey's anatomy."

You licked your lips, wetting the dry patch that occurred in your heated rant, preaching about nothing but the truth. Vada was truly a work of art, the great creation mankind had to offer. You would sooner crumble to your knees and beg like a saint before ever hearing Vada say such nonsense about herself again.

"I love you." You whispered into her hair, holding her close to your chest. She still wept with tears, memories still feeling like burns, haunting her like a bad spirit.

"You promise, you promise you still love me." Without a doubt flashed through your mind, Vada was everything you wanted, craved, needed all nicely wrapped up in a pocket sized person; if dropping dead right now would ensure the girl in front of you would achieve and get everything she ever dreamed of you would be gone in an instant.

"Of course, I promise." Your pinkies interlocked, kissing the thumb for pulling away to release a teary eyes laugh. She was perfect, your perfect girl. Your hand wiped her face clean of her hair, and the tears that still shimmered like lost diamonds on her olive skin.

You pressed countless kisses along her face, not missing a spot; assuring each inch of her skin was worshipped, and cared to like she deserved.

Vada was a handful, a bottom half filled with bubbles of everything hyperactive, but she was yours: Simple and clean, poetic and romantic.

You loved her, even with a broken mind that would take a lot to mend. She wasn't a problem, she didn't need a solution: she just needed a shoulder to cry onto, an ear to rant to and you were more than happy to be that person.

[heavenlyakin]

Suguru who is obsessed with lawn care.

The second you buy your first home with him he’s at the nearest home improvement store buying the newest model lawn mower and weed eater. You’re amused with his commitment, never really paying attention to it when he’s outside taking care of business. You let him have his fun every Saturday, hours spent outside while you catch up on tv shows and your favorite novels.

However, one Saturday morning you get curious and set down your book. You hold your warm coffee mug between your hands, looking out the window from the curtains, watching as he rides the lawn mower back and forth through your backyard, leaving behind perfectly striped grass. The sun beats down on him and you see the sweat glistening on his skin.

You smile, biting your bottom lip to keep from grinning too widely. You have to crane your neck to watch him out the mower up in the shed, wiping his forehead with a towel, but then grabbing the weed eater. He revs it up a few times, the muscles in his arm flexing as he goes.

You’re embarrassed when you meet eyes through the glass window as he cleans up the high grass around the house, his eyebrows raised in amusement. Your cheeks heat and you start to turn around, but Suguru’s unserious ass kisses the window and you, of course, kiss him back through the glass.

[countmothra]

More misc. Abbey operation thoughts because I’m insane.

• There is an Infirmary of sorts within the abbey that will deal with the populations more minor to moderate health problems. But for anything severe like broken bones and serious and chronic illnesses they go to the nearest hospital for licensed medical attention.

• The abbey also has a Nursery/Daycare area because there are obviously kids living in the abbey because some siblings of sin come into the church already with kids or choose to have kids.

•Speaking of which, and going off an old headcannon of mine. Children in the abbey are raised communally, sure they know who their parent(s) are but everyone pitches in regardless of if it’s their kid or not. Only exception is Emeritus kids, they are raised ONLY by their immediate family (parent/s, siblings, grandparents) to make sure they have as much exposure to their future role as possible.

• Some of the siblings plan activity nights. Be it making crafts, watching a movie or playing board games, it’s all meticulously planned with sign up sheets and a suggestion box.

•Every six months there is 100% a day where EVERYONE in the abbey is tasked with deep cleaning. Nobody is safe from cleaning day. Ghouls, siblings, papas, higher clergy member, everyone is put to work scrubbing every last stone in that abbey until it shines. The chapel of ritual stinks like dead human sacrifice and Sister Imperator is tired of it.

• Old lady knitting club. Just a bunch of the oldest sisters of sin knitting and talking shit. Imperator goes on Fridays to decompress and gossip.

•there are secret passages in the abbey that some of the teenage inhabitants of the abbey hide in to do the typical rebellious teenage things like smoke weed and drink the wine they stole off the altar.

•BIG! LIBRARY! Books, lots of ‘em! All over! Just a whole bunch of physical media meticulously stored in a library for anyone to use for any purpose. Books? Hell yeah! Vinyl records? Of course! Cassette tapes? You bet! CD’s? Whole section of them! Film reels? They may not be pristine but they got those too! VHS tapes, DVD’s, they have it all archived.

•jobs for each and every sibling and ghoul are posted on a bulletin board outside of imperators office, just in case anyone forgets.

•piggybacking off my last batch of headcannons, they definitely sell some of their excess produce when the Papas aren’t actively touring. Money is still coming in from albums and whatnot, sure, but it’s nice for the ministry to have that little extra cash.

•The papas teach some of the religion classes and it’s a gamble on who they teach because their class could be made up of adults just entering into the fold or literal toddlers who can’t even spell “cat” yet.

Which brings me to silly scenarios that have 100% happened because I said so.

• Primo had to teach toddlers once. They did not care about the simplified version of how Lucifer fell, all they cared about was the sick new monster truck in the toy chest. Primo did have to admit that this monster truck was pretty cool as it was one of the cars where you pull it back enough and it goes forward on its own. (You know what I’m talking about)

• The old ladies in the knitting club are old enough to remember when each of the Emeritus boys were born. So whenever a rumor spreads about one of those boys, they are the first ones to discuss it. “Did you hear that Nihils youngest boy got drunk and started doing the most bizarre things to the furniture?” “Terzo?” “No! The younger one! Copia I think his name is… oh I remember when he was just a tot…” these devolve into wandering down memory lane.

• When Imperator goes, it’s mostly to gossip and drink wine. She’ll maybe knit a scarf…maybe…

• Terzo taught a class of teens once, and never again. Two teen girls pointed out how damaged his skin was and that he did a shit job covering his grays with box dye. He never wants to do that again.

• During those big cleaning days twice a year, it’s never the chapel that’s the filthiest, it’s the ghouls quarters. It’s always the ghouls quarters.

[glittter-skeleton]

OUAT smoking hc from me and my friends

cuz we noticed nobody smokes in this darn show which is not how what would go

Emma: She smokes whatever’s the cheapest in the nearest grocery store. Blue camel blue-type bitter ugly stuff. She’s been smoking for a while she does not care anymore. Couldn’t really hide it from Henry on the drive over and didn’t care enough to, so he knows. But eventually she does start putting them out anytime he catches her. Henry’s not impressed.

Regina: Fancy rich lady menthol thins. A blessing of the modern world. She’s discreet about in and only ever does it outside but it’s a habit. Emma finds out eventually and they take smoke breaks together during planning sessions. Switch cigs once and both come away from it with distain.

Snow: Took a drag once. Fainted.

Charming: Took a drag once. Also fainted.

Rumple: Has been smoking the same cigar for the last five years as a lil treat

Belle: Lacey smoked so when she gained her memories she had to deal with a nicotine addiction. Wore patches and stuff and quit.

Neal: Same shit are Emma but quit in New York only to start up again in Neverland. (The bums tobacco of of Hook. Hook does it Very begrudgingly cuz his boy shouldn’t be smoking)

Hook: Carries a pipe around with his flask. His preferred sin is alcohol but he does whip it out if he has the time. It’s in mint condition cuz 1) it has to be if you’ve ever known a pipe smoker 2) it’s killian he’s Like That. Has tried harder stuff in his days, of course. Tried to quit when he was planning on parenting Neal. That didn’t pan out. The tobacco he keeps in the Jolly Roger was what saved Emma in Neverland cuz she only had like half a pack when they left and Regina refuses to magic in anything other than her darn menthol thins. She used up like a fifth of his savings to make her own bunch for the trip. After returning funds out smoking indoors is not a thing people do now so he switches to bumming cigs of Emma to keep up with the speed of her smoke breaks. Eventually just buys whatever Emma prefers (but just a tad pricier) to be able to offer her one at any time. Still indulges the pipe but like… as a treat now.

Graham: Blue Winston with a button for just a tiny kick on his miserable life.

Grumpy: The only person Emma can bum the “good stuff” off

Ruby: Cherry starter cigs, obviously. It’s chapman where I live but idk if that translates for u people. And weed, obviously

Robin: Only when he had the means to. Grew the wrong plant one time so now he’s more into rolling a joint when he has the time. He doesn’t know it’s what that is tho.

[stevethehairington]

HC that Steve smoked a fair amount of weed during his Scoops days to take the edge off the cold harsh reality of Life and bought from Eddie a few times so he def saw Stevie in The Shorts (prob with a hoodie over top, sans hat duh) but it wasn’t until Eddie was taking a look in the new record store / going to see a movie that he saw Steve in the full get up through the window. He was tempted to tease him about it the next time he sold to him (read, flirt a little maybe) - something like ‘Ahoy, Harrington’ or ‘do you prefer Captain Steve over King Steve now’ but then the fire happened and Steve was looking like hell after (not just physically) and needed a break from mind altering substances for a while (until Eddie saw him in the booze aisle while he was making a snack run before the new Hellfire crew had their first meeting). The time for those flirty jokes was long passed and the next time he sees Steve it’s when he’s pressing him up against a wall in the boathouse…

ohhhh i LOVE it when they sort of kind of know each other from Before™ like this yessssss. also LOVE anything that has to do with eddie having seen steve in his scoops days lol, that is just PURE GOLD content right there. (also LOVE "do you prefer captain steve over king steve" YES thats SO GOOD)

but yesss, they know each other in passing, have only met up a few times but it's only been for business. until eddie stops by the new mall (despite telling himself he'd never be caught dead there) because they have a record store, one that actually sells the music he likes according to gareth, and the nearest other one that carries any of the music eddie likes is in indianapolis and he CANNOT swing driving all the way out there just for a couple of records. so he goes, and right across from the record store is scoops, and eddie snorts at the nautical theme, sees a girl he vaguely recognizes behind the counter in a silly little hat with an annoyed look on her face as she serves some kids. and he doesn't think anything of it until he hears a verrrrry familiar voice (one that HASNT been haunting his dreams lately, it has NOT) and his head snaps back over and there, in all his glory, is steve harrington, wearing the dorkiest (and somehow hottest what the fuck?) uniform ever, wearing the biggest goofiest grin on his face as he pretends to swordfight some curly haired kid that's grinning just as big and laughing gleefully.

and eddie's like GONE after that.

he doesnt hear from steve after that, and eddie tries not to be disappointed. and to fill that void, he ends up going to the mall just about every day. it's embarrassing, soooo embarrasing, and he tries his best not to be seen by anyone, especially as he loiters near the bushes outside of scoops ahoy. if anyone asks he's just trying to get a good look at the ice cream, that's all, nothing else. he forces himself not to actually go up to the counter because if he does he'll end up coming back every day, he knows himself, and he cannot cannot afford to pick up an ice cream habit.

so he tells himself instead, that the next time steve reaches out for his goods, he'll say something about scoops. reeeeeal casual, of course. test the waters first, see how receptive he is to it. then, if it goes well, he'll comment on the uniform (how could he not?) and depending on how that goes over, maybe he'll push his luck a little.

except he doesn't hear from steve the rest of the summer, and then the mall burns down, and steve was caught up in all of that. eddie's relieved that steve survived it (and not just because of his crush, okay? it's fucking horrible for anyone to die in a mall fire). part of him thinks (hopes) that maybe after all of that trauma steve might finally start coming back to him for a little something to take his mind off of it, a little self medication. it probably wouldn't be smart to sell to him after that, but eddie would do it. not only because he wants to see steve, but because he wants to make sure steve just goes for the easy stuff, not the hard stuff, and he wants to make sure he's not overdoing it too. (what can eddie say, he likes to take care of his customers.... or like. he does now.)

except steve doesn't.

and the next time eddie sees him, he's shoving steve up against the wall in less than ideal circumstances, wishing things could be different.

[97keanu]

FUCK IT EVIL TED LOGAN x READER IMAGINES:

You originally know sweet, lovable puppy in human form, Ted Logan, so when you see him and he's cruel to you it totally confuses you in more ways than one

Its likely that evil ted even uses that to his advantage, like he acts all sweet and before you know it he's trying to stick his tongue down your throat

Evil ted is a total grungy, mean, rowdy boy. He skates, he smokes weed and cigarettes, he makes fun of people for fun, but when you enter the picture, I imagine that at first, he wants to treat you like all the others, but somehow he ends up fascinated by you and actually begins to be endearing in his own ways.

This boy is HORNY!!! If he can convince you, (and he will try he's super persistent) expect it no less than once a day if not multiple times. Since he's a robot, there's also basically no down time, so you're going round for round baby!

He's all hands, he's finding ways to roam your body you didn't even think possible, he's feeling you up any chance he gets, even in public if he thinks he can get away with it, then acts like he wasn't the one who just grabbed your ass

Look, I know he's a robot, but this boy smokes weed, and when he does its actually when his goofy, more laid back side comes out. Not to say he isn't still a horn dog or a mean boy, but he's def going to take it slower with you when he's high, make sure you really feel it.

There may even be some after sex extended(he always makes sure you're okay after sex regardless, he knows humans are fragile little things, and he loves having you has his play thing so he would never want to break his toys) cuddle and movie sessions if he's blazed, expect him to still tease you during the movie, he probably puts on a horror and chuckles when you get scared or tries to grab your arm to scare you as the movie leads up to a jump scare.

As time goes on I see evil ted going from being downright mean towards you (first meeting, he's likely to be very conflicted about his feelings towards you as well, and may act as if he doesn't like you at all at first) to being more of a prankster lover, like he's the type to do shit that very much gets on your nerves but he's also not out to get you or push you away anymore.

And with that robotic cock its hard to stay mad at him, he probably pulls a prank on you, and follows up by grabbing you by the waist and putting you on the nearest spot (bed, table, couch, counter top etc) and eating you out until you're breathless to make up for it before making you beg him for it after

If you go longterm with Evil Ted expect him to buy your love (even though the thing he 'bought' for you is probably stolen anyways), he's taking flowers from the cemetery and gifting them to you, stealing chocolates from the store, and once even ripping off someone to get a pretty gold necklace for you. He actually probably brags about his easy scores and how he "totally does if for you, babe!"

Expect Evil Ted to spend a lot of time with Evil Bill as well, they get into a lot of mischief around San Dimas, and spend a lot of time at the skatepark and the mall stealing, bullying, and overall playing sometimes cruel pranks

He probably asks you to join in on the fun a lot, and if you choose to, you find it can sometimes actually be fun if you have a mean streak yourself.

Now here's the interesting part, I could see two ways reader would have a power dynamic with Evil Ted in the bed room

A) you're a sub, and he LOVES it. You're his little play thing that he loves experimenting with how many different ways he can make you cum. Prepare for some BDSM moments, tying up, pain play, Dom/sub talk, maybe even a bit of a kink to see you crying out in a mix of pleasure and pain. I could also see him having to learn how to be a good Dom, since he's a robot and isn't sure of human limits and how to care for you after. I would imagine after your first time, he does try to help you clean up, but he's not sure about other aftercare and the need for more than sexual intimacy, so he would have to be taught that. A more subby!reader for me is going to be a relationship with evil ted where you're likely to be a regular if not good natured person, and ted actually for some reason covets that about you. He loves your innocence even if he plays pranks or teases to exploit it at times, he loves how you are so different from him, and he loves how sweet you can be to him despite his evil ways. Long term he probably begins questioning the humanity inside of him, and how being a robot changes things between you and him.

Or B) you're a switch who tries to Dom him and it doesn't go as planned. I would imagine this to be like a wrestle for power with maybe some legit "wrestling", like reader is on top, and ted flips you over and holds you down, before somehow you touch on a spot that makes him go wild, and you use that to your advantage to get back on top and take what you want. I think sometimes he would let you think you're the Dom just to be able to see you sit on top and hold him down and bounce. I don't think ted truly ever looses all his power and becomes subby, but he loves letting you try. Could even be a bit of a bratty!reader situation as well, evil ted would be an amazing brat tamer. I also think switch!reader could be a case for a mean girl or just as mean reader. Like evil matching evil and he loves you for it.

Overall evil ted is your stoner, prankster, evil but not towards you anymore, sex robot boyfriend, and I love it

Also please send prompts for him, I wanna write some fic but I'm blanking 😭