#merchandise and marijuana

[gudguy1a]

GIFTing Shops in D.C. - to Bypass Marijuana License

This is very rich indeed. Fuggitabout a MJ license, give ‘GIFTS’ instead. “Oh wait sir, ma’am, thank you for buying that very expensive T-Shirt but do not forget about your MJ ‘GIFT’ we have for you on the counter.” The theme for ‘Gift’ shops is — Buy some non-marijuana merchandise and we will ‘gift’ you, ohhhh, some certain amount of MJ. Ahhhh, basically, it depends how much the merchandise…

[weeddrawing]

Rose & Cannabis Leaf. Pencil On Paper. More info : www.WeedDrawing.com

[multi-fandomsfreak]

Hey! Would you mind if I requested headcanons for fnf Pico x reader who's a punk rocker/metal head? Thanks!

Pico With A Punk Rocker/Metalhead Reader

Hey there! Thanks for the ask!

First time writing for this ginger fucker. Absolutely love this man. Hope you enjoy reading this. ~Blaze/Dawn

Pronouns: Not Mentioned

Warning: ⚠️Mentions Of Shooting/Murder + Smoking⚠️

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Pico

Proofread: ❌

Credits: Art by vertiiyy on Twitter + Banner by zeminkat (Edited By Me) on Pinterest

———————————

- I like to think that Pico is kind of into punk rock music/metalhead music but not by a lot . Obviously he isn’t going to judge someone who does listen to them, he isn't a judgmental person. I just think he prefers more rapper style music than anything else but he has listened to at least a few songs of the genre. That being said, he actually thinks you're really badass. Just everything is badass about you. He thinks your way cooler than him in certain ways but he doesn’t really express it because he’s just not that expressive with his emotions.

- He’s honestly really interested in you. Even if he isn’t that much of a metal head or punk rocker himself he’s interested in your opinions about it. He’d be more than willing to just listen to what you like by slyly asking you questions that will lead into the topic, finding ways to subtly hint about it and just hear you just talk your heart out about your favourite artist. Honestly it does put a smile on his face when seeing you rant about it. Even things you don’t like about it he doesn’t mind.

- In terms of your looks with your style is punk rock or metal head he also thinks it’s pretty cool. Though it isn’t his style he thinks you pull it off really well. I mean he really can’t judge since his outfit is kind of basic but regardless he definitely compliments you on yours in his own way but it’s in a way that you can tell that he actually does mean it and isn’t being sarcastic or anything.

- If he ever hears that someone is making fun of you due to your style you can beat he’ll deal with it. He’ll most likely shoot them on sight not even giving a chance to explain or him confronting them. He doesn’t even think about it nor does he care even if he does think about it. If they talk shit about you, boom! A bullet to the head. He just ignores the surprised looks from everyone else if he did it around other people. But if he does do it in front of you he apologizes for it.

- I don’t know why but I like to imagine just the two of you just having a smoke session while zoning out listening to the music the both of you like. I think it’s actually canon that he smokes weed/marijuana so sometimes he just calls you and asks if he can come over to yours then just brings some weed and takes you to smoke. You two don’t even have a conversation. Sometimes you two are so zooted that you forget to talk. I mean some words are uttered here and there but except for that the only noise that can be heard is the music.

- If there was a concert including a band you liked he'd probably find a way to get you a place to go there. It doesn’t really matter if he’s dirt poor even if he has to steal it from someone he will. He just wants to put a smile on your face. If you offer for him to join he’ll act like he doesn’t have much of a choice and agree but honestly he kind of wants to use this as an excuse to hang out with you. Even if it’s something you like and he isn’t that much of a fan of it.

- Adding on to the previous point, if he finds something like an album or merchandise of a said band you like and he knows you don’t have it he’ll get it for you. Again it doesn’t matter if he’s dirt poor and has to steal it. If you want it he’ll get it. Maybe he’ll listen to the album with you or if you suggest it maybe find matching merchandise the two of you can wear that he only wears when hanging out with you or when the two of you are going to a concert. He is kind of bothered if someone teases him about it but if it’s for you he’ll put up with it.

- Overall, he’s actually really supportive of you even if he doesn’t directly show it. He will find his own way to show that he cares about you.

———————————

[yeahtimesten]

the summer after high school - pt. 1

patrick zweig x reader x art donaldson

summer break is what you look forward to all year, when your best friend, art donaldson, is back home with his family. the summer after graduation, he brings patrick zweig with him as well. you three are determined to have the best summer ever, before starting college.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of under 21 years of age drinking and smoking marijuana, profanity, mentions of semi-nudity/undergarments

Imagine growing up living next door to your best friend, but you really only get to spend part of your summer breaks with him. Well, you don’t have to imagine, that’s your reality actually.

While Art Donaldson was studying at Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy, you attended a local private school, stuck in your hometown. You longed for winter and summer break every year, when Art would come home and spend time with you and accompany you on your little adventures around town. Even then, with tennis practice, his schedule was spread thin, so you tried to make every second count.

Two nights ago was your high school graduation, his four nights ago. Usually, he’s flown in the first night of break starting, but you cut him some slack as you figured he’d have a school-hosted grad party and he had to pack every single one of his belongings this time to come home with. Still, you couldn’t imagine that he’d take this long to return home. And he wasn’t responding to any of your texts. You could have asked his parents, they were really close with your family, but they were so stressed getting their house together ready for his return as well as preparing for another graduation party, that was to be held to celebrate both of you with friends and family. You didn’t have the nerve to bother them.

Something in your gut told you he’d be home tonight and you waited up hours past your typical bedtime reading, listening to CDs, watching reruns of Lost. You even sat at your computer and typed an angry email.

Art,

Congrats grad! Where the fuck are you? Where do you get off? I’ve texted you 5 times since finals week. I’ve endured weeks of your mom showing me hauls of the new Stanford merchandise she’s purchased for you. What, you’re just going to ignore me? You’re not going to show up to your own grad party? You’re going to leave me alone all summer to spend time in your cushy living room painting your little sister’s nails and braiding her hair? Okay, not that that’s all that bad, I love your sister, but still. Fine then, throw away a lifetime of friendship with the coolest girl in the neighborhood. You’ll rue the day.$&:&3$:skehehxhseyurhreheb

You could have told him off for ages, but you fell asleep at your desk, arms resting against the keys of your laptop, drool dripping down your cheek. Suddenly, you heard familiar dings on your window. They weren’t very loud, but after hearing a few, it woke you up. Pebbles were being thrown your way. You lifted your head, feeling groggy and still fatigued. The laptop clock read 1:23 AM. You groaned as you got up and stretched, wiping the drool off your mouth with the back of your hand.

You sulked to the window, pulling back the curtains and lifting the window upwards to open. Across the way, blonde tendrils poked out of his own window, as an arm got ready to shoot another rock your way, but he looked up at you and flashed a dazzling smile at your presence. But, anger and annoyance still plagued you.

“What do you want, Donaldson?” You scowled, with your arms crossed over your chest. His smile faltered.

“Let’s go to the lake,” Art proposed.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Yes, you are. You’re literally talking to me right now,” Art laughed at you.

“I’m mad at you,” you huffed.

“Listen, y/n/n, I’m sorry I didn’t text you back. I got wrapped up in finals and submitting files and paperwork for my contract with Stanford. And we’ve spent the last 24 hours at the airport with a flight delay. Please, let’s go to the lake.”

Your expression softened, but you were still all puffed up and red. Until it dawned on you. “We?”

“Hey, y/n,” Patrick popped into frame.

You looked down and blushed, your face now totally betraying your tough demeanor. You had only spent two previous summers and one Christmas break with him. He’d probably have spent more of his free time with the Donaldson family, if Patrick’s parents allowed it. But, they felt Art was a bad influence (lol) and wanted their son to focus on more important things. Anyways, you always had a small crush on him growing up and you found it difficult to hide.

“Come on, meet us out front with your bike and we’ll ride to the lake,” Art pleaded.

“We have a surprise,” Patrick chimed in with a smirk.

Though you didn’t will it, your lips curled into a smile as you looked off, defeated.

“Fine. Give me five minutes, I’ll be right down there. And don’t be too loud outside. Your parents would sleep through a thunderstorm but mine wont.”

Art shook his head and closed his window, and you did the same. You started scrambling around, brushing your hair in your mirror, throwing on an oversized hoodie and running shorts, socks, and your dirty worn out pair of converse. Your contacts were out for the night so you grabbed your glasses and headed out the door.

You jogged down your long drive way and grabbed your bike from its place against the fence as you head off your property. The two boys sat on their bikes waiting towards you. Rocks and leaves crunched under your bike tires, greeting them and letting them know of your presence. They turned to look at you, but the three of you remained silent, as you requested. A simple thumbs up from you let them know you were ready to head out. You peddled slow as you reached further from the house down the road.

Vineyard country was beautiful. The homes were large and rustic, with big bulbed string lights dawning almost every house. It lit the way, as you sped up and whirred by greenery and shrub lining the pathway. Maybe you were a tad jealous your best friend was off at a gorgeous countryside boarding school, studying in a beautiful classic brick and mortar that looked like it came straight out of a book. But, where you lived was quite beautiful, and truthfully made for the best scenery in your teenage years.

The three of you took the typical path into the woods where this beautiful lake was tucked away. The sound of frogs and crickets filled the air and fireflies twinkled in the night. You took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of mildew and algae as you dropped your bike into the grass and leaves.

Art coughed. “So, no hug?” You turned towards him with a small smile, practically running towards him and leaping into his arms.

“Oh, Art, I missed you,” you cooed, as he twirled you around. “And Patrick, hiiii, welcome back.” You hugged him too, and he lifted you off the ground in a great big bear hug. “Soooo, how was graduation? What shenanigans did you two get into this year? Tell me everything!”

Patrick and Art turned and smirked at each other, unable to keep their secret for much longer.

“But first, don’t you wanna see your surprise,” Patrick asked in a sultry and mischievous voice. You raised your eyebrow at in in intrigue, matching his cheeky smile. Smoothly, he whipped out a long crooked and wrinkled white cone from his pocket. “We brought you a joint!”

The three of you sat in a triangle near the edge of the dock passing around the joint and a beer they got their hands on.

“And then, Art just hops onto the table, pantses himself, and starts shaking his butt like a treat in front of a hungry dog,” Patrick muses, holding back bouts of laughter.

You’re barely holding back you own, and Art has his head down in his hands from shame.

“No fucking way,” you say, shaking your head.

“But then, get this,” he continues. “A big ass bird swoops down by his head - they mistook his hair for straw they could steal for a nest - and he got so scared he fall off the table and damn near face planted into dog shit. We were both so hungover the next day, Art woke up late, and we missed our flight.”

“Oh! So, there was no flight delay, you missed your flight,” you caught on, smirking. “You’re such a dirty liar.”

“No, no. Our flight was delayed, because we woke up late,” Art defended. “I technically didn’t lie.”

“Whatever, you know what that implies,” you teased. “Way to try to dodge accountability, though.”

“It was more so Patrick’s fault than mine! He kept forcing me to do shots! He had me do a beer bong!”

“Whatever, I don’t believe you. You really expect me to buy this ridiculous story?”

“You really think Art isn’t capable of letting loose like that?”

“Letting loose? Maybe. But that’s a whole other ball park. You on the other hand, I could totally picture you doing this,” you pointed to Patrick.

Art holds his hands up to you, palms scraped and bruised. His face was shy, a tad embarrassed upon showing you the proof of his foolishness.

“Oh…”

“Do you believe me now?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” You grab his palms and hold them in front of you on your lap, inspecting the injury. “Ow, Jesus, Art… Isn’t it going to hurt, y’know, holding your tennis racket?”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “I mean, it doesn’t feel great closing and opening my fists, but it won't keep me from playing.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re good then.” You smiled at him. He met your eyes and shared a crooked smile back.

The three of you kept talking. About summer plans, your impending college experiences, your graduation. You told them you graduated as your class valedictorian, had a phenomenal speech, wore this gorgeous powder blue dress that snagged in the crook of a folding chair and ripped. Art’s parents were there for you and gave you the biggest hug after, they even held up little cardboard signs of your face. They told you Art was supposed to be there but he got held up at his boarding school.

“God, it’s fucking humid out here,” Patrick said, fanning the neck of his shirt. “I forgot how hot it gets out here.”

“There’s a lake right there,” you pointed. “Jump in!”

The lake wasn’t really a lake, it was a large pond, technically. More shallow than a lake, the sunlight still reached the bottom floor of the body of water. Many summer days and nights were spent there. It was the typical meet up spot for the three, or even just Art and you when Patrick wasn’t visiting as well. And besides that, plenty of barbecues and Fourth of July parties were spent there too. It wasn’t that deep in the little forrest at the inner edge of your neighborhood. It was a precious marked spot in your memories.

Patrick looked at you and shrugged, standing up and stripping down to his boxers. His lean and muscular body practically sparkled in the moonlight. His arms and thighs looked bigger than the last time you saw him. At first, he hesitated, looking at the water. You thought he was waiting for you to say you were just kidding, but you weren’t gonna. He leaped in front of him, somersaulting in the air, cannonballing into the water bellow him. He emerged to the surface, arms crossing his chest and holding onto his biceps as he shivered.

“You coolin’ off?” Art laughed with you at his friend.

“Get in here, cool down with me,” Patrick smirked. You shook your head at the boys tomfoolery. Moments like this are what you missed during the school year.

Art started stripping down too, his body more lean, way more pale, but still just as attractive. You couldn’t ignore that your best friend was pretty good looking as well, you had stolen plenty of glances when he wasn’t aware.

He ran off the dock, flailing about, penetrating the water with his butt. A beat happened, and he hadn’t resurfaced. Just as you started to worry, though, his top half thrashed out of the water, shaking out his long blond hair.

“Fuck, it is sorta cold in here,” he said, joining his friend in shivering.

“What if I just took your clothes and left you here,” you laughed. If only you were a superhero who could manage taking their clothes and bikes. You’d be waiting at the end of Art’s drive way, watching them walk up soaked in lake water and freezing.

“No, it’s your turn,” Patrick said. “Get in. Join us, y/n.”

“What the hell,” you said. “No. I just have my chonies on underneath this.”

They both looked at you with big wide bug eyes.

“We’re not wearing swimsuits either,” Art exclaimed.

It’s totally different, you thought. They wouldn’t understand, but even if they did, they didn’t care.

The two looked at you, you looked at them, tapping your foot on the wooden deck.

“Okay. Fine,” you gave in. “Turn around.” The boys sighed and rolled their eyes, but turned their bodies around anyways. You began to strip down; your shoes and socks off, hoodie and shorts next, then your glasses folded neatly on top of your pile of garments. Now you stood in a pinkish tan set: ruffled bralette and lacy boy-shorts.

You dolphin dove into the water, swimming out a couple feet farther than the guys. The splash sprinkled on top their heads, and they opened their scrunched up eyes to see you in front of them.

“It’s not that bad,” you regard the temperature of the water.

Patrick splashed you, you back, then Art joined on the fun. The air is filled with the three of your giggles and you are content. This is what you longed for every school year. To spend your summer vacation with your best friends.

a/n: hi guys! here is the first part of a new series i’m writing. i was between using an original character or using y/n but when i have an original character i get way too in the lore and details in an unnecessary way and i wanted to be more inclusive in the fandom. here and there might be some specific descriptors on like how the character looks or what she wears, i am not used to writing ‘readers’ so im sorry if it’s not entirely inclusive! personally, i love to link outfit photos of what she’s wearing but i'll try not to go into actual detail of what she’s wearing, so feel free to ignore whatever i have her dressed as!!!! dividers by - @/chachachannah

[moth---4]

Commision Info! [updated 1/12/2024]

See bottom of post for additional refrences!

○Commisions are ALWAYS open and I almost always have same day (24hr) delivery! I post my sfw art on tumblr and my nsfw art in an 18+ furry art site called e621. You can reach out to me through tumblr messages, discord, e6 messages, and telegram. Please read terms of use at bottom.

Tumblr: moth---4

Discord: oopsie-gay

Telegram: @oopsiethatsgay

E621: oopsie-gay

Prices are generally SET but there may be slight increases for very complex designs or scenes though this is rare.

I offer quite a large variety of things but if its not on the list please do not ask. The list is made for both your and my convenience.

○Fullbody- 65 (+30 for additional character #1, + 65 for ever character after)

○Halfbody-45 (+20 for additional characters)

○Icon-15 (no additional characters, intended for profile picture)

These are fully rendered (shaded) and have additional details to polish them.

These include a simple pattern or solid color background (like a pride flag or sunset)

Backgrounds can be added but they can vary wildly in price depending on what youd like. Example 1, a character at a cafe, with full veiw of desert display case and tables, +40-50. Example 2, a character on a couch, nothing but the back wall and a sliver of a coffee table, +20

Reference sheets are another can of worms! These can take much longer than regular commisions given the time and attention to detail needed sometimes.

○Furry Ref 80 Includes 2 veiws, front and back, along with a small pelt display generally used if clothes or pose is obstructing design, and both hand and feet paws, mouth, and eyes, and wings shown seperately if needed . Aside from that colors and name will be displayed.

○Big Pony Ref ((mare BASE only)) 65 (Includes 4 veiws of the pony and some additional boxes to showcase expressions. The cutie mark and colors will be displayed)

○Small Pony Ref 20 Any screenshot from the mlp show edited to fit your pony! Will NOT include background just your guy!

Telegram stickers are a new addition to my commision list! They come in PACKS and can not be bought individually. To clarify, these are emoji like stickers used in the messaging app Telegram and are NOT physically printed or intended to be printed.

○3 pack 20

○5 pack 25

○10 pack 35

Customs are CURRENTLY CLOSED but Ill keep the info up. They have one (1!) veiw with colors and are not as polished as my regular art. They are NOT shaded so that the design can have accurate colors showcased. Just because they are not polished does not mean low effort.

○Pony- 25

○Pony-(ON BASE) 25

○Furry- 70

(Sexual content warning ahead, purely to list what Im okay with drawing NO VISUALS) Scroll to the "🌟" to skip to Terms of use

YEAH OKAYS!

Sexual art (I have an e6 for a reason lol)

Nudity in any capacity

Blood

MILD gore

Marijuana usage

(For full list of spicy content thats allowed just dm!)

NO THANK YOUS!

Mecha

Human (including humanoids like anime cat girls)

Foot fetish

Pregnancy

Scat, pee, or barf

Vore

Age play

Fat fetish (normal overweight characters welcome! Just no fetish art)

🌟🌟🌟

Thank you for reading!! The TOS is next Id appreciate if you looked at that as well before messaging me

☆Terms of Service☆

My art can and will be posted wherever I please though I will not take credit for your character. You may use my art for profile pictures, backgrounds or PERSONAL use with credit. My art may NOT be used for anything commercial including youtube videos in any capacity, twitch stream layouts, subscriber, donation or sub alerts. You may not print, sell, or produce any merchandise with my art regardless of if its intended for personal use.

You can post the artwork anywhere or use it on your profile as long as there is CLEAR and OBVIOUS credit to me with a link of some kind. You canot use the art for profit, that includes prints, merchandise or use in videos or games in any capacity. You may not edit the work or remove the watermark.

No refunds! Due to my fast work pace and 24 hour turnaround, refunds are not an option as I would lose money and time on my work. If you are unsure of my limits, being fetishes or anything else please just ask. It will save alot of trouble to just be open and communicate. If clear communication is not recived, and the art is not up to your standards because of it, that is on you. I will always sends work in progress things and you must request changes when I give opportunities.

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And one final word, I can and WILL take legal action if you attemt to profit from my work. Please understand this is my livelyhood and primary source of income.

Thank you for considering me for commisions! I really appreciate all of you that make my dream job possible

[luulapants]

“I don’t use cannabis. How do I write characters that do?”

This long-criminalized psychoactive drug is having a renaissance in the US these days, now legal for recreational use in 21 states. That means there are even more ways that people use cannabis. It’s still illegal in most of the world, and I will be writing primarily about use in the US, where my experience is.

What should I call it?

Ganja. The Devil’s Lettuce. Dank. Mary Jane. There are endless epithets for this drug, and most of them will make you sound absolutely ridiculous unless used as a joke. The use of the Spanish name, marijuana, is traced to efforts to use American xenophobia to demonize it. Cannabis is the technical English term you would hear in, say, a police report. Your average Joe on the street, though, will say either “weed” or “pot.”

Who’s using cannabis?

More people than you might think! Stereotypes once painted this as the drug of racial minorities, hippies, burnouts, and teenagers. These days, anyone you could imagine with a glass of wine at the end of the day could be going home to a cannabis gummy. People use cannabis to deal with chronic health issues like pain, insomnia, or anxiety. Some partake as a rare indulgence, like a cigar on a special occasion. The vast majority of people who use cannabis do so in moderation.

Habitual users are easier to spot - people who make pot a huge part of their lifestyle. They might talk about it incessantly. They might be stoned at inappropriate times or wake ‘n’ bake (getting stoned first thing in the morning and, presumably, staying stoned all day). Cannabis is not physically addictive, but for people self-medicating other issues, it can be psychologically addictive the same way as shopping or gambling. People can become dependent on it to help them fall asleep or regulate their moods, in absence of other coping mechanisms. Just as with alcohol, someone who frequently uses cannabis alone is at higher risk of dependence than someone who uses occasionally or only in social situations.

Where do they get it?

Depending local laws, a person might have access to a medical or recreational cannabis dispensary. Recreational dispensaries can serve anyone who is above the legal age. Medical dispensaries require a prescription. These are really easy to get, and the dispensary may even have someone on site that can diagnose you (with pain or anxiety usually) and write a scrip. In addition to many forms of cannabis, they may sell glassware, vapes, or other paraphernalia.

A dispensary is like any retail location with a couple of differences: Most merchandise will be locked in cases or behind the counter, due to the regulated nature of the substances they’re selling. They may have extra security measures, like a security guard or bulletproof dividers at the counter. This is because dispensaries are cash only and usually have large amounts of cash on location, because conflicts with federal law mean banks can’t work with them.

Not having legal access to a dispensary isn’t the only reason someone might skip it, though. Dispensaries, due to overhead, liability, and very high taxes, are super expensive. If your character can’t get to a dispensary or has strapped finances, they will probably turn to a street dealer.

The local dealer or weed man is never a normal person. If you are depicting a weed man in your story, please keep this in mind. They are weird in different ways, but they’re all weird. You find them through personal connections, and a friend usually has to vouch for you before you can meet them. You might go to their place or they might come to yours. They may have a public meet-up location (park next to me in the McDonald’s parking lot after midnight). If you’re nice and the dealer likes you, they may smoke you out, meaning you smoke a bowl together from their personal stash, free of charge. One stereotype is a dealer who doesn’t have any real friends and makes it difficult to leave the drug deal because he wants to hang out. You then have to tactfully (without offending/losing your dealer) engineer an escape.

Otherwise, you might buy from friends, reimburse them for a buy they made, or throw down some cash when someone shares their weed with you.

Are there different types?

Yes! There are lots of different strains and crossbreeds of cannabis, most with lofty or whimsical names (purple unicorn kush, hazy sunrise sativa). If you go to a dispensary, a sales person will give you extensive “high profiles” of how different strains make you feel: “This one won’t make you as paranoid.” “This one is a very mellow high.”

Honestly, (and I might get assassinated for saying this) most of it is bullshit. Different strains have different chemical compositions and will act differently, but each person’s individual physiology is going to have a much larger impact, so Mr. X and Ms. Y will react more differently to strain A than the difference between how Mr. X reacts to strains A or B. And the dude at the dispensary is entirely unqualified to tell you how a strain will impact you, personally. Your expectation of its effects and how much you consume are also major factors.

One scientifically proven difference is the impact of different THC and CBD content. THC is the psychoactive component and CBD is responsible for more physical effects. The two major variants: Indicas are high in CBD, more sedative, and better at pain reduction and appetite increase. Sativas are high in THC, more stimulating, uplifting, and can help with creativity.

Whether your character knows anything about different strains will more about them than what strains they choose: whether they pay top dollar for designer weed strains or if they’re just buying whatever the local weed man has. The weed man may talk a big game about the strain they’re selling, and some of it might even be true. But usually, their stuff is not top shelf and, aside from low-budget weed aficionados, most of their customers don’t care.

Edibles

Edibles are foods with THC and/or CBD. Edibles might suggest a character who’s more health conscious, not wanting to inhale smoke, or who is more secretive about their cannabis use - edibles won’t leave a smell behind. People who only started using after it was legalized might be comfortable with eating a gummy even if they still have negative criminal connotations with smoking.

THC and CBD are fat-soluble, so edibles are usually made by infusing butter (for baked goods) or oil (for other products) with cannabis. If your character is into cooking, they might make their own weed butter, keep it in the fridge, and bake brownies or cookies with it. Usually, you can’t really taste the difference. If they’re looking for something portable or easy to hide, gummies or other candies are the way to go.

Dosage is important with edibles because it takes longer for your body to process them, so the onset of the high is significantly delayed. Whoever made the edible should tell you how many milligrams are in each item. How much you should eat depends on your body weight, tolerance, and how stoned you want to get. You can’t overdose, but you can have a really, really bad time if you get too high. The classic joke is that someone will be warned not to eat too much, have half an edible, say, “These edibles ain’t shit,” eat the rest, and then when it finally does kick in, they’re on-the-moon high.

Smoking

Let’s clear one thing up: smoking anything is bad for your lungs. That said, people do be smoking weed! Unlike edibles, smoking has near-immediate effects. The whole high doesn’t hit you at once, but someone with a low tolerance will feel something by the time they exhale that first puff. Unlike cigarettes, when a person smokes weed (takes a hit), they are supposed to inhale deeply and hold the smoke in their lungs for as long as they can before exhaling.

Before your character smokes out of anything, the first step is to grind up the weed. The part of the plant which is smoked are the buds: dense, greenish clumps which are ideally sticky to the touch. (Old, shitty weed will be dry and brownish.) These are placed in a grinder, a metal contraption which is twisted to move metal teeth inside and break the buds into small pieces. Ground-up weed will dry up faster, so it’s best not to grind until you’re ready to smoke.

Joints are made by taking a small piece of rolling paper, sprinkling a line of weed into them, then rolling it up. The edge is licked to seal it and both ends twisted closed. They’re smoked like a cigarette. If you add tobacco, it’s called a spliff. Most adults will add in a filter or roach on the mouth-end so the smoke is less harsh, and leaving it out speaks to being un-fussy. Like a burrito, you ideally want a nice, fat joint, but hubris can lead you to an overfilled, falling-apart mess. Joint rolling is a skill developed with practice, so your character’s ability to do so successfully or unsuccessfully will speak to their experience. Joints are cheap and portable, so good for tight budgets or someone on the move.

Blunts are similar to joints but made with tobacco paper - the brown paper that cigars are wrapped in. You can buy tobacco paper on its own, but more commonly, they’re made by buying cheap, sometimes flavored, cigars (like swisher sweets), cutting them open, dumping out the tobacco, and stuffing them full of weed. They’re bigger, so there’s a lot more weed in them, and they’re also wider than a joint, so each hit delivers more cannabis. Blunts are associated with urban Black culture.

Glassware includes pipes, bongs, chillums, bubblers, and other smoking vessels made of glass. These can be simple or beautifully decorative. A simple pipe might cost $10-15. A huge, artistic bong could cost upwards of a thousand. Glass is the most popular material for smoking vessels. All of these consist of a bowl where the weed is packed (”pack a bowl”) connected to an end where your mouth goes. The smoker places their mouth on the end, then holds a lighter flame over the weed in the bowl. They inhale, which draws the flame down into the bowl and causes the weed to smolder (not catch fire). The weed may continue to smolder enough for the next hit or the lighter may need to be used again. When the bowl is all burned, it’s cashed.

A pipe has a simple tube from the bowl and a small hole for the mouth, plus a carb hole on the side of the bowl, which must be covered while inhaling. The carb allows air into the bowl when not smoking, so the weed doesn’t burn too quickly between hits. The longer the stem, the less harsh the hit will be, because the smoke has time to cool off. Pipes are less harsh than joints and blunts but still pretty rough. A pipe can be made of many different materials. DIY pipes carved out of apples are a classic “no other options” stand-in. A chillum is a type of pipe that is straight, with the bowl facing outwards instead of upwards with no carb. A pipe with a very small bowl is called a one-hitter, since you can only fit one hit in it. A character might choose a pipe for portability, ease of hiding, or price.

A bubbler is a water pipe that uses water to cool and condense the smoke. The hole leading from the bowl descends into a small, enclosed compartment of water. The smoke goes into the water, then rises up a second tube to the small hole for the mouth. Like a dry pipe, it has a carb next to the bowl. They’re about two to three times the size of a dry pipe, not as portable, and more expensive. They are much less harsh than a pipe, though, and a good compromise between a pipe and a bong.

A bong is a long tube with a large water vessel at the bottom, usually like an Erlenmeyer flask with a really long neck The top has an opening which fits around the smoker’s mouth. The bowl is not connected but is shaped like a funnel with a stem that fits into a long tube that descends into the water vessel. Instead of a hit, smoking from a bong is called a rip. The smoke goes into the water, where it’s cooled and condensed, then continues to cool as it moves up the long neck to the smoker’s mouth. The bong will fill with smoke as long as there is suction between your mouth and the smoldering bowl. To end the suction, the stem is removed so clean air can replace the smoke as you inhale it. In order to not waste smoke, you should know how much you can inhale compared to the volume of the bong. Bongs can be filled with ice to cool the smoke further or have multiple chambers and twisty necks. They are much easier on the lungs than pipes or bubblers. They are also large, cumbersome, easy to break, hard to hide, and can be expensive. A character that owns a bong is a dedicated weed smoker with their own space where they don’t need to hide it, and the quality or lavishness of the bong will say a lot. Broke characters could improvise a bong by cutting a hole in a plastic bottle and inserting a tin foil funnel. That is janky as hell.

Finally, vaping cannabis took off in popularity at the same time as vaping tobacco. Cannabis oil cartridges are installed into a small vape pen, which can then be smoked somewhat discretely (less smelly than smoke, but it still smells!) with supposedly less damage to the lungs.

Effects

Different people react differently, much of which is based on their physiology and their mental state. Anxious people may become more anxious. Depressed people may become more lethargic. Affectionate people might get cuddly. Here’s some key elements:

Stoned/Faded: Reaction times slow. Memory becomes worse. Time perception is altered. You might repeat the same conversation over and over. The body feels heavy. Everything seems funny. You might become hyperfocused on something very specific or become intensely immersed in a story or TV show. Imagination and creative thinking improve. You may feel sleepy or serene.

Paranoia: Paradoxically, cannabis can create anxious paranoia, usually related to worrying that everyone can tell you’re high. The world looks very different to you, so it’s hard to imagine that you don’t look different to it. Slow reaction times mean that you might not notice someone moving until they already have, which can be startling and make you jump.

The Munchies: Cannabis is useful for people with appetite or nausea issues because it does cause cravings and the urge to eat. It doesn’t cause hunger, just intense craving. The intense focus of being stoned lets you focus on flavors more, which means food usually tastes better.

Baked: This term is synonymous with ‘stoned’ but it also implies some unpleasant side effects, like dry or bloodshot eyes, smoke-rough throats and voices, and an oppressive laziness that makes it hard to do things.

Second Stoning: Happens to some people, not all. Because THC bonds with fats, if you consume fats while you’re stoned, it will become bonded with those fats as they’re stored in your body. Your body fat works on a first-in-last-out system, so if you burn fat the day after toking up, the THC will be released into your system, causing you to get high again.

Is there anything I missed? Let me know!

[ceph-the-ghost-writer]

OC Inverse Game

Rules: describe the opposite of your OCs!

Thanks for the tag @sunset-a-story! (Their post here.)

Kinslayer: Blessed with a wonderful destiny by the gods, and as such is brimming with nothing but love, light, and a desire to preserve hierarchical order. Would never, ever subject anyone to sexy torments.

Motley: Benevolent sorcerer who's really into quilting and couldn't harm so much as a fly. Is always happy to serve.

Oleander: Pious, charitable, and dedicated to the practice of turning the other cheek. Loves megachurch rock music.

Renato: The most honest, forthright, and humble man you could ever meet. Has zero regrets.

Isaac: Cold-hearted and petty, his only concern is obtaining power. Snazzy dresser, though.

Elfy: Timid introvert who would rather die than break a rule. Her favorite pastime is collecting Disney merchandise.

Dorian: A realist of the opinion that anybody who isn't thriving under a system is just whining for handouts and needs to be given something to really cry about. Vampires and dinosaurs are kid stuff.

Breezy: A prominent member of her local HOA and won't hesitate to report her neighbors if she catches even a whiff of marijuana. Calls herself an empath.

Ben: Chaste and meek as a church mouse, that's what everyone says. Yessir, the only missionary position he's interested in is the kind that spreads the Good News.

Tilda: Devoted to making her family--who are definitely loving and supportive--proud of her. Not a violent or weird bone in her body.

Dysthanasia Taglist: @thecyrulik @thatndginger @space-writes @scoundrelwithboba

Plus gentle tag toss to: @writingamongther0ses @orphanheirs @jezifster @elrallin @autumnalwalker

@k--havok @drawnecromancy @theimperiumchronicles @likegemstone

[beardedmrbean]

WINCHESTER, Ohio (AP) — Seven law enforcement officers have sued rap artist Afroman, accusing him of improperly using footage from a police raid on his Ohio home last year in his music videos.

Four deputies, two sergeants and a detective with the Adams County Sheriff’s Office brought the suit earlier this month, claiming invasion of privacy. Other law enforcement officers who were involved in the raid are not named as plaintiffs.

The plaintiffs say the rapper, whose real name is Joseph Foreman, took footage of their faces obtained during the August 2022 raid and used it in music videos and social media posts without their consent. They say that has caused them “emotional distress, embarrassment, ridicule, loss of reputation and humiliation."

The plaintiffs are seeking all of Foreman’s profits from his use of their personas. That includes proceeds from the songs, music videos and live event tickets, as well as the promotion of Foreman’s Afroman brand, under which he sells beer, marijuana, T-shirts and other merchandise. They also seek a court injunction to take down all videos and posts containing their personas.

The suit names Foreman, his recording firm and a Texas-based media distribution company as defendants. In an Instagram post made Wednesday, Foreman vowed to countersue “for the undeniable damage this had on my clients, family, career and property.”

Law enforcement officers were acting on a warrant that stated probable cause existed that drugs and drug paraphernalia would be found on Foreman’s property and that trafficking and kidnapping had taken place there, authorities have said. Those suspicions turned out to be unfounded, though, and the raid failed to turn up probative criminal evidence. No charges were ever filed.

When cash seized during the raid was returned to Foreman, it appeared that hundreds of dollars were missing. A subsequent review by the state Bureau of Criminal Investigation determined that deputies had miscounted the amount seized during the raid itself.

Foreman is best known for his songs “Because I Got High” and “Crazy Rap,” which were both featured on his album “The Good Times." He is also known for his political activism and announced last December that he plans to run for president.

[thesoftboiledegg]

The dawn of another new Rick and Morty episode is upon us. But before "Rickfending Your Mort" airs, I went to the mall to see what new merchandise awaits.

Toxic Rick: now on boxer shorts!

The bootleg canvas sign store had a new illustration, complete with marijuana leaves that make me suspect that it's adorned a few head shops. And Rick's favorite thing: crystals! 💎

Spencer's had a new shipment of Rick and Morty blankets waiting to hit the shelves. One day, I might buy one.

Mini lanyards! I love it when merchandise leans into the trippiness.

Spencer's also had a new hoodie that I nearly missed because they'd piled it on a shelf with other black hoodies. I feel like you need 3D glasses to see the design.

When I visited the other mall today, I saw a Rick and Morty air freshener hanging in someone's vehicle in the parking lot. I took that as a good omen!

Sure enough, Rue 21 had a T-shirt with a twist: two views of Rick and Morty from the front and back. Rick looks pretty agitated!

More pajama pants. This is probably my favorite design yet. They're SO soft and snuggly, too.

The "nerdy" store had a beanie decorated with Rick's electrocuted skull. He looks a little like a pot leaf, which might be the idea.

Some of you might remember that I found tiny Rick and Morty figurines in the clearance section, doomed to a life outside the original packaging:

I browsed the shelves and found a collection of tiny people! Tiny Jerry, tiny Beth, tiny Summer, tiny Mr. Poopybutthole, tiny Arthricia: the season two gang's all here.

I wonder which brand manufactured these. Seems like somebody dropped off their whole collection like they did with the Funko Pops.

Anyway, this Spencer's location had what's now one of my favorite T-shirts:

I didn't buy it because white T-shirts stain easily, but that design is so perfectly bizarre. Everybody gather 'round for Rick and Morty Show! It looks like the best kind of bootleg merchandise.

Pickle Rick was crammed at the bottom of the cage. Tough break.

Who knows, buddy: the leg might become the new Pickle Rick. Dudebros might start screaming "I'm a leg!" at McDonald's employees. Spencer's will stock Rick leg pillows. Has Pickle Rick finally met his match?

Eh, let's be real: the pickle is here to stay. 🥒

[meruemhq]

Someday, Somewhere, Somehow, You'll Love Again [Chapter 1]

Master List

Alpha Gojo Satoru runs 80% of Japan's underground marijuana production. When a shipment goes missing Yuji takes it upon himself to retrieve the missing goods - all the while dragging Megumi into his shenanigans.

Among the stolen boxes and potted plants they find a Hybrid Omega.

It quickly sets in that this is a world far larger than illegal substances and turf wars.

Tonight's raid was unplanned, disorganized, and unsanctioned. A new street gang had shown up and started causing a ruckus on home turf. Gojo had laughed it off, dismissing them as nothing more than amateurs—big moves with even bigger noise, bound to catch the authorities' attention. They'd run themselves into the ground or straight into a jail cell, and Gojo wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

But Yuji caught wind of a shipment of bush that had gone missing and decided to take matters into his own hands, dragging Megumi along for the ride. Megumi, of course, voiced his complaints, but Yuji was as stubborn as a mule—someone had made a move against their pack, and he wasn’t about to let it slide. Alpha or not, no one crossed them without facing the consequences.

Megumi wouldn’t let him go alone, even though he truly wanted nothing to do with Yuji's airheaded antics. Still, Yuji was doing it for the pack, for Gojo, and Megumi could respect that. Even if he already dreaded the trouble they’d face when tonight’s events reached the pack. The last time Yuji got involved where he shouldn’t have, Sukuna had made sure his butt stung for a week.

It was a simple job. Sneak in after dark and light the place on fire.

Todo was the one who had provided the tip. Megumi wasn’t clear on where Todo had gotten his information, but Yuji had insisted it was legit. (Yuji’s confidence did little to ease Megumi’s concerns about its authenticity.) Still, Todo and Yuji shared a strange connection that defied normal understanding. Todo was also a known informant who sold intel, so his claim wasn’t entirely outlandish.

“We’re here.” Yuji had swiped a delivery van from the compound, conveniently left unlocked by Ijichi.

They pulled up to a rusted shipping container off a dirt path, two hours outside the city. The grass leading to it was dead, leaving only flat sand and scattered pebbles. Cut-down trees lay around in varying stages of processing. Signs of activity were evident, but it wasn’t much—just weeds and tree branches growing freely around and even on top of the container. Who knew weeds could grow on metal? The place looked more like a secret hangout for kids or a shelter for wild animals than an operational facility.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Megumi asked, exasperated. “Looks like an abandoned shithole.”

A grin split Yuji’s face as they climbed out of the van. “I’m sure of it! This is exactly how new gangs and growers set up their operations.” Yuji twirled the van keys around his finger, their jingle filling the air. “C’mon, let’s check the perimeter and get inside.” Yuji pulled down his ski mask and untucked his Glock.

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

Though both presented as Omegas, Yuji’s dominant and cheery personality attracted both Omegas and Alphas alike.

Megumi pulled on his own black ski mask, unclipped his Glock, and joined Yuji in checking the container's perimeter. Once they confirmed the area was clear, they regrouped at the van. They silently unloaded the gasoline cans. Megumi pocketed the matchbox.

With no vehicles or visible human activity nearby, they’d have to move quickly. Get in, find the stolen merchandise, burn the place, and make it back home before Gojo and the others woke up.

Yuji snapped the padlock and chains with a cutter. The place had awful security.

The container doors swung open, revealing a dusty interior no different from an abandoned shed. Barely touched tools hung on the walls and lay neatly on the workbench. Logs and timber were stacked in one corner, catching dust and sprouting mushrooms.

Megumi shot Yuji a bored look but couldn’t deny he found the setup mildly interesting. To the untrained eye, it looked like an abandoned woodworker’s shop. But its isolated location and meticulously arranged tools hinted at something else.

“Okay, where is it?” he asked.

With an excited laugh, Yuji pushed the workbench aside to reveal a stairwell leading underground. The faint glow of fluorescent grow lights lit his face.

“See? Told you!” Yuji exclaimed, practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation of Megumi’s praise. If he had a tail, it would’ve been wagging.

“Yes, yes, Itadori. What a good boy.” Megumi drew his gun. “Now, come on. We’ve only got a few hours until daylight.”

Yuji pouted but descended the stairs, his gun at the ready. Time was ticking, and Megumi already dreaded the two-hour ride back.

The facility below was standard: rows of marijuana plants and racks of drying stalks. No employees or guards were in sight.

“Look, there it is!” Yuji gestured to white boxes stamped with Gojo’s insignia on a metal desk near the entrance. Their product. Yuji opened one of the boxes to find everything intact.

“Let’s get out of here,” Megumi muttered, his exhaustion creeping in and making his eyes glaze over. There was something in the air. Not the smell of the plants or soil —not a chemical odor, but something else entirely. “You load the boxes into the van. I’ll spread the gas.”

With a mock salute, Yuji hauled the boxes upstairs while Megumi doused the plants, tables, and computers in gasoline.

Toward the back of the room, the strange scent grew stronger, almost tangible. His throat tightened, and his mouth went dry. The back third of the facility was caged off, floor to ceiling. Inside was filled with boxes and crates. Megumi considered ignoring it—he’d used enough gas to burn the whole place—but an itch in his brain urged him to investigate.

Dropping the gas can, he went back up the stairs to the entrance. Yuji had loaded in the last of the boxes and slammed the van door shut. The sound rang in Megumi’s ears.

“Are you ready Fushiguro?” Yuji's voice sounded so close, closer than he was standing.

“No..” Megumi’s throat itched and he tried to clear it. He looked around on the floor for the chain cutter but couldn’t find it. It felt harder to breathe. “Where’s the chain cutter?” He tried to school his voice but Yuji caught on to how tense he was.

“I packed it up.” Yuji went to grab it from the van. “Why? Did we miss something?”

“No, it’s... something else.” Tool in hand, Megumi bolted back downstairs.

“Wait!” Yuji called after him, but Megumi couldn’t stop.

Something was wrong.

Hands trembling, Megumi struggled to cut through the chains.

“Here, let me.” Yuji’s warm hands enveloped his own, and with one swift motion, the chains snapped. Megumi flung the gate open.

The scent hit them like a wave. Beneath the hum of lights and the generator came a low, distressed whining—the unmistakable sound of an Omega in need.

It kicked Yuji into gear.

Frantically, Yuji moved crates and boxes. At the very back, concealed under a white sheet, lay the source.

Megumi pulled the sheet back, his heart pounding.

Inside a large dog kennel lay an Omega, bound and gagged. Bunny ears peeked out from their hair, and Megumi could only imagine a matching tail.

You were a Hybrid Omega.

That night, Megumi realized they were caught up in something far bigger than stolen weed.

[desertfangs]

Lestat/Daniel

First sentence: Hey! Where is that hand going?!

This went in a direction I didn't expect but I had fun with it and I hope you'll have fun with it, too! I don't usually write this way, either, so it's a bit of an experiment and I hope it works.

“Hey, where is that hand going?” Lestat smiles teasingly at Daniel as he reaches for his jeans, to pull the little box of cigarettes from his front pocket. 

Daniel gives him an exasperated look but it’s temperated by the elation in him, the joy from the concert they’ve just left. Lestat can smell the blood and sweat on him from jumping and dancing around to the music. 

He puts the cigarette to his lips and flicks the lighter until a tiny flame dances on the top. He touches the cigarette to his lips and inhales, his dead lungs expanding in his chest. Lestat can hear the breath move into them and the way his heart speeds up almost imperceptibility. He offers Lestat the box.

Lestat holds up a hand in refusal. Daniel shrugs and puts the box back in his pocket, creating a small bulge over his hip. Lestat’s eyes trail to the other bulge beneath his jeans and he smiles to himself. Such a mortal thing to notice. Such mortal desires. But then he’s not immune to the pleasures of the flesh. They’re no longer the same as when he was a human boy, but no less intense. 

He watches Daniel smoke, the cigarette held between two long fingers that bring it to his soft lips. His blond hair is damp with blood sweat near the roots and the aroma is intoxicating. Lestat moves closer without realizing and Daniel looks at him.

The look stops his heart. It’s so open with the hint of a soft smile on his youthful face. Lestat can see plainly how this boy captivated Armand so quickly. With his tenacity and boldness, surely, but no doubt his beauty played a part. He’s a captivating creature. And yet there’s a casualness to his movements, an almost unawareness of just how alluring it is when he sucks on the cigarette, his lips puckering around it. 

“Did you like the band?” Daniel asks, shifting nervously under Lestat’s gaze. Lestat turns away, watching the rest of the crowd exiting the building, their hearts hammering at frenetic tempos. They smell of sweat, beer, and hairspray, the faint smell of marijuana lingering in the air. 

“They had a good energy, though I was tempted to go up there and show the lead singer how it’s done.” 

Daniel laughs, a puff of smoke coming out of his mouth as he does. “Yeah, well, not everyone can be The Vampire Lestat.” The cigarettes make his voice rougher and give it a texture that sets Lestat’s hair on end. 

“I’ve been thinking it’s time for a reunion tour,” Lestat says. He doesn’t really mean it. Yes, he longs to do it, to be on stage again, but as much as teases Marius, he knows it’s not realistic. His new role is the role of a lifetime: the prince of all vampire kind. He works that stage brilliantly, plays the part with fervor and zeal. But sometimes when he posts videos of himself singing a few bars on the internet and the comments go wild, he wants to be on the stage again like he used to.

“Yeah, well, sign me up,” Daniel says. “I’ll work your merchandise table.” 

Lestat laughs. This is what he loves about Daniel. When he says things like that, Armand will frown trying to work out how serious he is and Louis gets that familiar little wrinkle in his forehead that marks his concern. Marius will jump into a long lecture of why he can’t ever be on stage again. But Daniel simply jumps on board.

Lestat moves closer and snatches the cigarette from his fingers. Again, Daniel gives him that exasperated look, the one perfected over years with Armand. There’s no real rancor in it, though. Lestat touches the cigarette to his lips, slightly moist from Daniel’s mouth, and inhales. The smoke is hot, filling his lungs with dry, crackling air. Daniel takes it back, putting it right to his own mouth and leaving it there hanging on his lip as he runs his fingers through his blond hair.

“You can be my tour manager,” Lestat says.

“I know you’re joking but if you want, we could make it happen,” Daniel says. 

Lestat’s pulse quickens. He imagines the heat of the lights, the microphone in his hand, the crowd in front of him going berserk like they did for this mediocre local rock band. 

“Armand has connections in the music scene here, he could secure a venue. Maybe even this one.” Daniel gestures behind him. “We could sell you as a cover artist. Get you a back up band for one night. No one would think it was really you but…” He shrugs. “Could be fun.”

It could be fun. Lestat can imagine it clearly enough. He can wear a costume similar to one of his more famous ones and go wild with the hair and makeup. He’ll be an impersonator to the audience, playing a role. 

“The role I was born to play,” he mumbles.

“Yourself?” Daniel snorts.  He drops the cigarette to the ground and grinds it out with his shoe. “Yeah, man, it’d be cool.”

Lestat considers. Puts his arm around Daniel’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug right there on the street. No one cares. That’s the best thing about this modern age in the big city. No one really pays attention to anyone else. Everyone is too busy stumbling out of the venue, heading for the subway or a taxi, or a bar.

“Let’s get a drink,” Lestat says. 

Daniel gives him a sidelong look, and his thoughts are easy enough to read. But he vocalizes his question anyway: “What kind of drink?” 

Daniel is young and he’s fed. He has no need of blood right now, though Lestat is tempted to take him somewhere dark and quiet and offer him some regardless. 

“In a bar! Let’s follow the crowd.” 

“Sure. I actually know a good place three blocks down,” Daniel says. 

Lestat grins. He lowers his arm so it’s around Daniel’s waist and Daniel puts his arm around Lestat’s waist in turn. They walk together, milling through the crowd. “If were to do this show—a one night only engagement you understand—“ 

Daniel nods. “Obviously.” 

“Do you really think Armand would help?” 

“Of course! He’ll love the idea. Getting to dress you up in 80s rockstar regalia and watch you perform? He’ll be first in line.” 

“I suppose you and your maker get up to plenty of trouble in this town,” Lestat says. 

Daniel snorts. “You can say that.”

The idea is stuck in his head now, and he can’t stop thinking of which songs he’ll want to do, how many rehearsals it’ll take with a new band, how much time they’ll need. “What about the others?” Lestat asks, as they stop at the curb and wait to cross. 

Daniel considers, worrying his lip. It’s an extremely human gesture. Louis might be the most human of them all but Daniel has retained so much of his humanity, and Lestat enjoys that about him, too. “I think Louis will come around once we explain the whole impersonator part.” 

“Hm.” Lestat can picture Louis’ elegant face shifting into disapproval, but then he remembers their reunion in the 80s, and how delicious it was. How delicious it always is to see him worried and perturbed and to prove him wrong. Besides, he’ll love it, too. Perhaps even more than rest, not that he’ll ever admit it. “Good. Then we should start making plans immediately.” 

The light changes for them to cross, and Daniel hesitates. Lestat can hear the uncertainty in his thoughts, not for this crazed concert venture, but whether it’d be best to go back to Trinity Gate and enlist Armand’s help immediately, or whether they can do some basic planning at the bar. Lestat is  still buzzing from the energy of the show and his new plan for a show of his own and he wants to be in a lively setting, surrounded by people. 

“To the bar, Danny,” Lestat says, giving him a hard pat on his ass. “You can call your maker and have him join us there. He can bring a computer.” 

Daniel laughs and shakes his head and they head across the street. 

[more-than-a-princess]

Continued from here for @the-ultimate-muses!

It hadn't occurred to Sonia until she'd said it that he might have preferred prison over his family. She flinched slightly at his words: her own familial situation wasn't ideal and was often a source of distress for her, but it paled in comparison to Kazuichi's. "I meant...with your talent...would it not complicate things in having a career if you have an arrest on your record?" She half-stuttered her reply, rather unlike her due to the subsequent shock and shame she'd felt from his admission.

Maybe getting into legal trouble wouldn't as severely impact him as it would her own future. But what Sonia did know was that to steer away from this terribly awkward line of inquiry...they'd need to get high.

He was a fish out of water in her dormitory suite, but there wasn't much she could do about that as she rummaged through her desk drawer. Her parents, upon her admission to the school, had insisted upon sending a royal-approved interior decorator to take the interconnected rooms the school had given their future Ultimate Princess and furnish them to her family's standard: sage green and pale blues, replicas of portraits in gilded gold and shiny wooden frames, more furniture replicas to evoke the feeling of Novoselic Castle whilst in Japan. A reminder that her 'normal' life would always be temporary, and that royalty was the only certainty she could depend on. Forgetting where she came from was all but impossible, even with Kazuichi Soda standing in the middle of her sitting room gawking at the 360 degrees of finery around him.

And then doubling over laughing when she'd presented him with a choice of edibles. He found it hilarious, but Sonia frowned, her eyes losing a bit of mischievous light they'd recently possessed. "I appreciate you not commenting on this matter," She told him dully, "It would be an irritating situation to untangle, and I doubt it would be favorable to you in the end." Her family's PR team could turn anything into a positive, or simply neutral, spin in favor of the royal family, and she didn't want him to get caught in the crossfire as a result. Maybe it was because they were friends now, or trying to be, that she didn't wish for the worst for him.

"You know, Soda-san, you think far too highly of the aristocracy if you believe we are above recreational drug possession and use," She remarked as she took a chocolate edible for herself, handing the open fruit gummy bag to him for him to take the flavor of his choice from. "It is practically a requirement of membership."

Alongside using 'holiday' as a verb, having a preferred polo horse and being upset when the favorite was otherwise indisposed, inheriting instead of purchasing priceless works of art, and backing at least a dozen charitable efforts purely to bolster a good name and avoid paying taxes. Well, not her family: the royal family didn't pay taxes, they just received them from everyone else. But for the general aristocracy, all of that plus the requisite vices were part of the lifestyle. Sonia simply tended to choose alcohol and purchasing rare horror film and occult merchandise in secondhand shops for herself, but edibles weren't out of the question.

 She popped one of the chocolate ones in her mouth before sealing the bag and putting it away. Unlike most confectioneries on the drug market, the ones made in Novoselic had mastered how to balance the taste of the concentrated THC oil with smooth, milky chocolate. "I hardly ever run out," She told him, taking the bag of gummies back once he'd made his choice. "Why not just visit when you'd like one? Though I suppose it is less of an activity than smoking marijuana, we just have to wait for the effects to take over."

[k03lover]

Narcos / Narcos Mexico- La Vida (Fem-OC)

Isa Marina Ramos Bayona was the daughter of Lupe Christian Ramos Bustos y Maria Pita Bayona Solorzano. She was their perfect daughter, always striving to learn more and truly study in school. So, when Isa had gotten approved for a student visa for a university in Texas, they weren't all surprised. They were, however, surprised to find that she'd be an art student studying film, of all things. Her parents couldn't fathom what she could film, that could ever possibly earn her enough money to make a living. However, they were proud anyway. They supported her as her father took on to growing what Americans know as 'weed', otherwise known as marijuana to try and help support Isa and her dreams of American schooling. What Isa didn't know couldn't hurt her, right? Right?

Within her first year of university, she made friends with all the officers in the city. They seemed to love her respect for the law even as an immigrant, along with her very outgoing and kind personality. Her English was what caught them off guard. She barely had a Spanish accent when speaking in her second language, though to her, it was less an accomplishment. Her parents had introduced her to many white foreigners when she was younger. They always loved taking her around with them as they visited different parts of Mexico, allowing them a translator and her parents a free babysitter. These white couples would teach her more and more English as she grew up, and in turn, she would speak on their behalf, so they didn't get overpriced merchandise and translate for them.  To Isa, this was embarrassing to talk about, so she simply didn't. 

It helped when she was in Texas that she already knew english. It helped when she was able to learn the Texas Accent when she traveled around. It didn't help that when she was so... extraverted. It led to her meeting many people. Many of them police officers. She loved making new friends and feeling like she herself was a good person because the people she surrounded herself with were good people too.

She was never very outgoing in her hometown. Sinaloa was never the best place to be so talkative. She stayed with her parents and helped around the house when she wasn't studying. But in Texas? She was able to go on dates, and most of the time, the men asking her out were the police officers she made friends with along the way.

Within her first year of being a film student, she'd made a documentary about Police Officers. Focusing on their traumatizing experiences within interviews, she was able to make a masterpiece regarding their mental health and the stigma around them. While living in America, she was able to appreciate their law enforcement. How their system worked and how much they truly had to go through that most civilians couldn't understand. She pitied the officers for having to see so much death. For having to compartmentalize everything they witnessed on a daily basis.

In her second year, she was home sick. Ready to get her associates degree and go home. Her homesickness didn't discourage her from falling in love with one Officer Thomas. She thought he was kind. He had the prettiest blue eyes and fluffiest blond hair. After many dates and sleepovers, she'd finally shown him pictures of her parents waiting back at home for her. They'd joked about a 'zombie apocalypse' and what they would do. What she wasn't expecting was for Officer Arthur Thomas to joke about how she should leave her family for dead. How her parents were fat and only he would truly be able to protect her. She felt disrespected and disgusted by his words as she plastered a fake smile on her lips paired with a fake laugh. Though it seemed he never noticed. She was glad to be going home. Ready to avoid any more Gringo's and their bad humor. The disrespect they think is normal.

Not long after she got her associates degree, she practically ran away back to mexico with a note to Arthur that she didn't think they were a match. A giggle as she had thought about how she had written it with his own pen and paper, left in his mailbox, her name signed at the bottom with her signature 'xoxo'.

_______________________________

'Papa?' I ask as I close my car door and walk up to the front entrance of the house.

Silence is all I'm met with as I open the squeaky door. Concern filling my eyes as I look at the door on its hinges.. Mama would've forced mi papa to fix that by now. She'd always hated unnecessary sounds, made it a habit to either fix it herself or force my father to make it stop.

Slowly I walk through the house looking for them. Anxiety filling my chest as the only thing I can hear is the creaking of my steps against the old wood floors.

It wasn't long until I was outside again. My eyes on the vast land of my parents farm. It looked destroyed. Dead. Deciding against being in the dark, I walk out into the farmland.. Minutes of searching stretched to an hour... two hours. Until I found them. Laying there holding onto each other... their bodies covered in bullets. My eyes filling with tears as I scream out in agony. My daddy... Mi mama....

_______________________________

I didn't take long to ensure they had a proper burial. Who knows how long they'd been there in the field like that? I held a sense of disgust I never realized I could hold for 'Authority'... The towns people who came to the funeral whispering about how Soldiers were killing and destroying all marijuana farms they'd found.

Let me explain this in simple words. A hatred grew in me that day. A hatred that made me want to prove to everyone that those of us from nothing, can be something powerful and great.

This is where my story truly began, its a story of guns and violence. Blood and gore. Love and war. A woman with a camera, me, and a thirst for more.

[burningdeerfestival]

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[athetos]

A collection of my favorite letters and packages I’ve had to sort in my short time at a corporate headquarters:

A 30 page handwritten document stating that we’d make more money if we bought a wide variety of other businesses, and started a casino with showgirls and marijuana.

An envelope that contained nothing but a collection of candy wrappers and someone’s state ID card.

People saying they’re boycotting our company because we’re “giving in to libtard woke culture”

An illegible newspaper scan with what appeared to be blood stained all over it

An envelope with something in it that wasn’t anthrax, but caused mild irritation if it got in your eyes (thankfully I didn’t personally handle that one)

Every month someone sends a Catholic comic with no context other than… trying to convert us? The company??

Several boxes full of fortune cookies and an advertisement for a company that I’m fairly certain doesn’t exist

A lot of letters from kpop fans asking if we could sell kpop merchandise. Like 50% of all “I want x product” letters are requesting kpop.

Elementary school students being taught how to write business letters telling us their favorite dinosaurs and video games

[alessabriel]

┆𝐎𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫! 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐗 𝐍𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ┆

Summary: Ellie and his wife in their daily lives, work, relationship, romance, love, love, and some jealousy of each other. Cw: Ellie Williams Officer x nurse wife, cursing, swearing, canon violence, Ellie very much in love with his wife (she's very much in love with you), blood, etc.

જ Ellie didn't really expect to become a police officer, truth be told in college she was even a dealer which still, to this day amuses his wife and they met in high school when she was just starting to have contact with a trusted supplier, and ended up being a couple when you hid his merchandise in your cosmetic bag, they got along better in college.

¦¦ Ellie really couldn't show herself like that to her friends Jesse or Dina, they were both extremely stressed out and not to be outdone a pregnancy in the home stretch of college was even worse, so she found herself in her van with cigarette smoke in the air and the stressful feeling under her skin, simmering, eating everything inside and rising through her veins. It was like being on fire and feeling wet, it was strange.

I was spiraling down.

“Do you want to get out of exposing your thesis to the jury by drowning yourself in pot smoke?” he hears the voice, your voice soft and sweet, a gentle mocking twist in the tone.

Ellie sighs, letting the smoke go before she rolls down the window with the door handle, and that's when she sees it, it really is a lot of fucking smoke. But he unlatches the doors letting her in.

“Something like that Do you think they'll give my certificate to Joel if I die?” she questions, taking a puff on the cigarette she had forged hours ago.

“Yeah, I don't think so and Joel would be able to bring you back from the dead by the hair by force.”

She can only laugh as she listens to him, it's a truth and she can imagine Joel doing it or trying to and with how stubborn he was, it might as well be a truth and she can only laugh, because if she thought any more she would cry.

“Yeah, that sounds very daddy” she says, trying to keep her voice from breaking but it's useless and when you're next to her, when she can smell the sweet, clean scent of your perfume that strips her naked, violates her in a way that should be illegal and maybe it's part of your chosen career, the one where you were always making seams in that strange latez but it doesn't feel right, it feels like it's going to break, that it's going to explode and the seams couldn't contain it ”Sometimes, s-sometimes you want to drop everything? “she asks, because that question is stuck in her throat with such force that she wants to vomit and the marijuana can barely relax her.

“Sometimes yes, but nursing really excites me even though sometimes I feel gross, and putrid after my internship where doctors talk to me like I'm stupid, but I like it”

“sounds like you like poison” she says, almost wanting to laugh but everything breaks down and she just hides her face in her hands, on the steering wheel ”I-I just can't, I can't anymore and it's stupid, I worked so hard for this shitty career and in the end I can't, I can't anymore, damn it I can't anymore and it's ridiculous because I like this damn career but, but fuck I can't complete it, submit the thesis, do the whole process…it terrifies me so much, I don't want this”

And that night, of smoke, tears, promises, kisses and hugs, Ellie didn't submit the thesis and entered police training school, having the courage to tell Joel. In the end communication was the key, who knew? ¦¦

જ The training at the police school was exhausting but he felt good and he found pleasure in the job, had perfect results and ended up in a permanent position. It was tiring, exhausting and he hated the uniform the first few days but now he got the hang of it and maybe because he wore it a good part of his days (not influenced by his wife who loved to see her in uniform, of course not).

જ If Joel and his friends still found it funny that it was official, well, he just laughed and played along. Because it was funny, in college he had so many felonies that he could end up in jail or some charges at least, but hey luck was on his side.

જ His shifts were grueling, yes and he encountered so many louts on his shifts, what he wanted to disfigure their faces with punches and once in a while he could do it only with certain terms in between, was it ethical? Not so much, he enjoyed it? Very much.

જ Her married life started when her girlfriend graduated from her major and she was still in police training school. He cried when he saw his girlfriend receive her degree? No one could prove it. And of course he tried his best to be able to take her to a fancy restaurant but his girlfriend, being his girlfriend would have none of it and they ended up having dinner at a fast food restaurant, degree papers on the table and his next schedule in mind with red knuckles from training.

¦¦ Ellie really wanted to take his girlfriend to a fancy restaurant, the kind where they put a napkin on her lap and the prices were not listed on the menu, but well he was really looking forward to it.

“I could take you to that expensive restaurant babe” he grumbles with a mouth full of fries, outside it's night and the folder with the university emblem on the table even next to the food trays ‘let yourself be pampered, don't be bad you finished your degree and a specialization, you deserve it’.

“well yes, but I want burgers and here was our first date, I decide where to eat on my graduation Els” she says with a sweet smile, holding the glass of lemon-lime soda, before stealing a kiss from Ellie leaving the taste of the soda ”but I thank you for going out of your way for it, I love you but eating a crushed sandwich on the sidewalk for me would be the ideal date”

“you're cheesy” replies Ellie, feeling her cheeks flush and rubs her nose nervously, seeing how her girlfriend even eating looks beautiful and should be illegal ”but you're my cheesy”

“exactly, officer Williams” she purrs kissing Ellie's cheek smiling ”with the uniform you sure will look beautiful.”

Ellie knew the dinner was the best of her life, with extra burgers and fries, a nursing degree with major on the table and the uniform in her truck. ¦¦

જ Officer Ellie Williams! Whose daily routine starts early, as she is an early riser and is the one who puts the coffee pot at home leaving his wife to sleep just a little longer, and starts her training in the designated room at home.

જ Officer Ellie Williams! That he has a hard time leaving his nurse wife at work in the morning, his arms around his beautiful wife's shoulders, almost with a pout on his lips, because it was legal to stop seeing his beautiful wife? It wasn't fair, but the job put food on their table, paid for services and kept them afloat, it was still illegal in his eyes.

¦¦ Ellie feels needy, he knew how to identify that feeling from the moment he woke up in the late morning and saw his wife come out of the bathroom, lavender towel over her body, covering soft, insinuating curves which lead towards restless fingers as she craves to kiss every inch of visible skin, but against his wishes he showered, dressed, ate breakfast and watched his wife put lunches together with that sweet voice humming a song he now has installed in his head.

She was a strong woman, both against the louts she was supposed to stop and against her own desires to leave her wife in bed.

Hence, with her uniform on, and her black punch bowl; a small dinosaur keychain hanging on the handles of it with several containers inside with her favorite foods and she had made the drinks in thermoses; hers was lilac and her wife's was army green. He loved his day to day life, the only thing he hated was being separated from his sweet, attractive wife, the woman of their lives and who could ask for his full paycheck and he would gladly give it to her if she would give him some of it. He wore the uniform, the belt on his hip with his gun holster and his arms around his wife, in the parking lot of the employee hospital and leaves butterfly kisses on her cheeks, her jaw, and a hundred, feeling the fabric of your nurse's uniform, tasting the warm skin and your fresh-scented, clean perfume. Hiding her face in the hollow of your neck, clinging to your body and feeling the softness of your body against her stiff, pressed uniform.

“honey” you tried, again convincing her to let go but you enjoy her slender, muscular arms wrapping around your shoulders, her face hidden in the hollow of your neck and shoulder, you almost hear her make disgruntled little noises and gently cradle her hips with your hands, she wears the belt of her uniform and you feel the holster of her gun against your side ‘I'll see you later my love, and I made you your favorite as your lunch’ you say, softly spoken, lovingly caressing her hips feeling her squeeze your shoulders.

“But I couldn't even eat you before, it's unfair you know and I have endless paperwork to do at the office, it's not my day babe” you grumble annoyed, paperwork days don't please your wife and you know it, you let out a giggle and feel her hand squeeze the side of your ribs gently ”Don't laugh, I'm in withdrawal from my wife, I'll die”

“You won't die Ellie, you're just being dramatic.”

“no, no, no my wife is my drug and I'm not on it, I'm dying”

Ellie hears his wife's laughter and how it reverberates against his ear, carrying validity inside his bones and relaxes his muscles.

It was not her day, but it was her life. ¦¦

જ Officer Ellie Williams! Who at her meal times, must keep Jesse from wanting to take away from her food and has to physically push him away from her lunch.

જ Officer Ellie Williams! She is lucky that her partner was Jesse, although she has complaints; of course she wouldn't tell HR, so she enjoyed her job.

¦¦ “Just a little bit Els!” exclaims Jesse trying to get closer to the food containers that Ellie keeps away from his hands and even feels the sole of his vita against his uniform “Hey Dina I washed that!”

“I wouldn't mess it up if you kept your sticky hands away from my food” warns Ellie pushing Jesse away from herself and eating with the kuromi cutlery that her wife gave her, and almost falls off the table when she pushed Jesse another and felt Jesse's tug on her leg ”That Dina's food doesn't fill you up?”

“Yes! But even Dina says your wife's food is tasty!” says Jesse trying to get closer to his best friend and fellow patrolman in the break room ”Give me some!”

“I'll rip you to pieces if you come near me sticky hands!”

“I'm not sticky hands!”

“Yes you are!"¦¦

જ Officer Ellie Williams! That her meals and break times are fun because of Jesse but she hates paperwork and that there are stupid men and women out there who think she's stupid, when she pushes them up against her patrol car when they get out of control it's a good payback.

જ Officer Ellie Williams! Who occasionally has to take some people to the hospital, and it's always where his wife works. Although she doesn't like to go if she's hurt, but in that chase she only took a dislocated shoulder but managed to catch the idiot and when she sees you down the halls, she almost wants to call you but you can't attend to her, you're Nurse Williams and she's not supposed to deal with people close to you. Bullshit. But she enjoys watching you work

✄— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

I don't know if this really does justice to the character of Ellie Williams and as an officer, damn it, I can't imagine her older and as an officer, in her uniform, well, my love for the character is stronger than that c:

Officer! Ellie williams X Nurse wife! reader moodboard

Ellie always coming into your hospital dropping off someone or something to a new case having to greet her beautiful wife! All the nurses jealous of you because i mean imagine her in that uniform omfg…you getting death stares when ellie brings you into a heated kiss and bidding her goodbyes. Ellie coming to see you on breaks and bringing you a lunch when working or not she does it cause she misses her sweet girl. You being the picture perfect couple, always working the same hours, understanding the exhaustion and both being their for one another. Her muscles. Those handcuffs def are used on you more than people think.

(ME NEXT)