#these edibles aint shit

[mischiefwife]

BG3 characters having a 'these edibles aint shit' moment:

Halsin is lying on his back in the garden and has been for like an hour straight saying nothing, he probably cultivated the weed and its like super strong through druid powers

Wyll spends the entire high fastidiously cleaning the entire camp, and sweeps the dirt under Halsin several times just to be thorough

Shadowheart is in a corner playing an entire Evanesence album and pausing it to explain how good it is and how good the lyrics are (she will move on to other similar music too)

Gale is somewhere by himself casting the simplest cantrips over and over and just being Amazed at the Amazing Properties of the Weave and how it contains Untold Power while he summons like one tiny candle sized flame

Lae'zel has the owlbear cub in her lap by like hour two and is holding up his claws saying stuff like 'murderous. fearsome. beast' and the cub is just going hoot

Karlach keeps forgetting she's put a hot pocket in the microwave and so ends up with like 7 and is trying to hard to relieve the munchies but she can't stop laughing

Astarion keeps panicking about his hair being messed up and going to find a mirror and then saying fuck everytime he realizes he has no reflection Aylin is convinced she can sober up through rigorous exercise and so is doing sets of one hundred unbroken air squats with Isobel on her back

Volo was vociferously booed for dropping the lasagna and they sent him out to pick up pizza but he doesn't get back til like 5am

Minthara is probably the most normal and is just like hanging out reading a book and from time to time looking up judgingly at everyone else who is losing their shit

Jaheira has made rice krispy treats

Minsc is having a very very troubling and extremely intense existential debate with Boo and is on the verge of tears and wants to give everyone a hug Withers what are you doing over there bone man

[rikaspotting]

Rika looking like she ate too many Scooby Snacks 👀

[zacharytherockoguy]

Someone dub this meme

[kiddkactus]

[rappin-drakken]

[allhailhu4l]

When they do hit though... 😶‍🌫️🫠😌

[fernsnailz]

strong contender for my new favorite tee k.o. shirt

[slymewitch]

Five Nights at Freddy’s, weeknights on the CW

[hogs-whole]

Just took an edible and it’s been an hour with nothing so I’m gonna take too more

[cyandocs]

My brother is a cannabis enjoyer, but he's been taking a bit of a break and he is IN IT because he took too many edibles. Reminds me of the time a few months ago I (not a regular cannabis enjoyer) accidentally shot myself into another dimension and managed to write it down on Twitter.

I took what I thought would be a 10mg homemade edible. It was NOT.

Oh. Girl. And laugh I did.

It does make me like... Uncomfortably twitchy. No clue why

The answer is: He got used to it, but it still actually gave him some anxiety before he dialed it down.

There's nearly a hallucinogenic feeling to the way my focus shifts. It feels like words are under magnification.

"This feels a bit too high to be" is a regular quote in my household now lol.

"Oh it's different. Oh it's different" is another one.

Genuinely crawled into bed with my mom like a 5 year old, freaking out after "emergency emergency"- I was feeling so abnormal. I just wanted some relief from some period cramps :'D

Fun fact: Because you consume them, edibles can create a different form of THC after going through your liver that is, essentially, a different drug.

(there's probably a better source out there but this is an interesting starting point)

Stay safe, and don't talk shit about your edibles!

[adrianathetransbitch]

POV: You ate your uncles brownies

This shits a club banger!

[duallahand-propaganda]

These edibles ain't shi-

...

[rikaspotting]

Rika gives me stoner vibes and I know this girl can make damn good edibles if they tried. Their signature pokemon is Clodsire, a pokemon literally the epitome of being a stoner. It's also why she's super chill 24/7.

[whendidthisbecomeawhorehouse]

Im allredy ahed of you and high lol

i hacve decided fuck it i am goin to do exacly that

[tojisun]

sun, i am on my knees begging while typing rn. PLEASEEEEEE HURT DBF!SIMON BACK. he has hurt reader and gotten away with it tooooo many times

im kinda zooted rn but

beg more, sweet thing.

okok but im feeling mean rn and i do want simon to start regretting. i wonder if it’ll take seeing john price treating his girl right for him to snap out of it. imagine if he got blindsided. if simon assumed that you would never look for affection somewhere else, not because you’re unlovable—dear gods, you are the perfect girl—but because what you needed was someone like simon. someone older, someone who provides for you, who spoils you. but simon got complacent. he thought that sprinkles of affection are enough.

but they aren’t, are they? yes, the thrill had been addicting but you’ve gotten too soft. too in love. you’ve forgotten that this should have been temporary, forgotten that simon isn’t one for commitment. you thought you would continue to be trapped in that endless cycle of eating the scraps of simon’s affection; living off of a passion that gets easily snuffed out.

then, john came along. beautiful and rugged and ‘old man’ john. john whose eyes are a storm as they gazed at you; whose hands have never strayed closer, only swiping your hair away or drying the tears staining your cheeks; whose words are short and curt but gentle and soft, and you realized that the timbre of his voice fills you up with want.

john who strapped his helmet on yours and plopped you on the back of his harley before dropping you off at your dorm. john who didn’t ask for anything—not your number, not a chance to climb up with you to your room. he did not even ask if you were going to be alright—john knew you wouldn’t be, and he rather stay silent than ask you to lie to him.

you felt so out of your element as you stood there, trembling, looking at him.

“i-…thank you,” you said.

john said don’t worry about it. said don’t forget to drink lots of water because crying can cause dehydration, and don’t forget to grab a chew because he heard your stomach grumble on the ride home. you don’t tell him that you are starved for something else so you nod and climb upstairs to your room, thinking that was the last you would see john.

but john isn’t the type to let what he loves slip from his grasp so he began to fill your days. he’s always there when simon can’t—doesn’t—come, filling up the hole in your heart one fragment at a time. always there to distract you from the yawning in your chest. always there to listen to you, to watch you, to spoil you.

he smells of ozone and burnt rubber and petrol. he has weary lines on his face and unimaginable exhaustion buried within his irises. he has scars on his palms and his forearms and on his knees. and yet, he is gorgeous to you. so gorgeous.

john’s the one who tells you he loves you first. you don’t say it back. not yet. he understands.

then, simon confronts him. asks what he’s doing with you; why is he driving you around in his harley; why is he picking you up from uni.

why is he putting a wedge between you and simon?

john downs his bourbon and rumbles, “cause i love her.”

and simon fumbles because—

[delphi-shield]

classified intel // jill valentine

Jill x GN!Reader Fluff wc: 1,543 read on ao3 suggestive themes bc reader sends jill a tasteful nude, reader implied to be civilian, post-di!Jill.

this almost turned into angst, but i excised the sad parts and it turned into another wip. tbh i should be prepping for my tabletop tomorrow but i miss my wife.

Jill's on a work trip, but that's never stopped you from texting her before and it sure as hell's not going to stop you now.

also known as:

i am ruminating on a relationship with jill once more. 😔

Technically speaking, your relationship isn’t long distance.

Just because Jill spent a large portion of her time overseas, god-knows-where, doing god-knows-what, did not mean that you were long distance. Yeah, maybe you do have to schedule calls, fighting timezones and your responsibilities to carve out a measly half hour with each other. That doesn’t qualify, technically, as long distance. You tell this to your friends over and over again. Still, they roll their eyes, hum their doubt, and insist that you may as well be long distance.

Their point remains. You and Jill are apart far more than either of you would like. She’s a busy woman by her own design. Her drive had been something that you had admired about her, even if it was the very same thing that kept her from you. You hadn’t entered this relationship blind to the fact that she would be gone sometimes. You had learned to be okay with it, learned to handle the distance that was often double-edged. 

Texting was usually infrequent when she was away. Her personal cell phone was usually left behind when she went out for assignments - and if she did have it, it was turned off and shoved to the bottom of her pack. You texted her throughout the day, leaving behind a collection of your thoughts for her to come back to. She had taken to responding in one text, a bullet-point list to catch up on everything that she had missed.

 Once, you had gotten anxious about bothering her, about the egregious amount of notifications she would be flooded with when she finally turned her phone back on. You had sent her just one text, telling her to be safe, that you loved her. She had called you the moment she had service, demanding to know what was wrong. Thought something happened to you, I don’t know, she had grumbled, dismissing her paranoia easily over the phone. You had let it go unchallenged, quietly returning to your text spam. The next time she had a chance to talk to you, she had saved her bullet-points for a phone call.

The last time you had heard from her, her plane had landed safely. Her day was going to be packed with intelligence meetings - not really the kind of thing she could be on her phone during. You’ve just gotten home from work when your phone chimes. You take your time checking it, not expecting your girlfriend to be able to chat. She was at least three hours behind you, still in the middle of her work day.

It's a pleasant surprise to see a text from her. Instead of her usual bullet-point reply, she had sent an unflattering picture of a pitbull. Jill’s arm came in from the side of the frame, her hand blurred in the motion of a head pat. The text accompanying it simply read:

5:12 PM: PB&J.

Before you could even ask what that was supposed to mean, Jill sent a second text.

5:29 PM: His name is PB&J.

You grin at your phone, sending her an array of emojis to show how cute that is. You flop back onto your bed, your phone held over your face.

5:31 PM: can you call? just got home lol

5:35 PM: Sorry. Waiting for my next meeting to start.

Shit. You push down your disappointment and look for the silver-lining. At least you could text her for a little bit before she got wrapped up in work again. The dishes in the sink were forgotten in favor of the back and forth between you and Jill. It was hardly the most thrilling conversation. You exchanged the daily monotonies with each other - what sort of coffee she had that morning, how terrible traffic had been for you on your way home, your coat forgotten over the back of your chair at work and Jill’s pen borrowed from an embassy, blue ink, ballpoint and scratchy. It’s easier to superimpose the memory of her alongside you when you have the little details to work with, when you can fill in the gaps in your imagination with the particulars.

Naturally, this devolved into teasing.

5:47 PM: what are you wearing?

5:47 PM: That’s classified.

5:48 PM: tank top and jeans again, huh was kind of hoping for a pantsuit 👀 i know u packed that navy one send pics

You scrolled through your photos, searching for a set of pictures you had taken a few nights ago. If you were going to ask for pics, it was only fair that you send one in return. You had taken them early in the week, consumed by a swell of confidence that had been flushed away the moment you had to scroll through them. You had scrutinized every angle, pinpointed every flaw, every way the light played off of your skin. Your motivation to send them had dwindled quickly. They were filed away into a password protected album, a break in case of emergency stash of photos that may never see the light of day.

Rip the band-aid off, you tell yourself. Send it before you can second guess yourself. You pick your favorite photo, your thumb hesitating over the send button for a fraction of a second before you decide fuck it. She’ll like it. Hopefully.

You drop your phone facedown onto your chest so you don’t stare anxiously at the conversation. It takes all of ten seconds for it to chime again.

5:55 PM: You know the BSAA monitors my texts, right?

Your heart lurches. No way. No fucking way. She’s got to be bluffing. The idea of Jill’s colleague scrolling through your messages with her was mortifying. It wasn’t like this was the first time you had sent her pictures like that. Even if you hadn’t sent those, there were still plenty of texts that you didn’t need anyone else seeing.

She’s bluffing. Has to be.

5:57 PM: bullshit lol 5:57 PM: very funny 6:13 PM: youre not serious right 6:14 PM: ?? 6:14 PM: jill pls 6:24 PM: omg ur not joking are you

Logically, you knew that Jill’s meeting had started. That was why she wasn’t responding. You knew there was no way the BSAA monitored her personal communication 24/7, and you knew that if they did she would have told you about it the first time you had sent her a picture like that, not the hundredth. However, you also knew that she loved keeping you in suspense. No matter what she said to the contrary, you knew that Jill loved to watch you squirm. She found it cute, or so she had confided in you one night, half-asleep and tangled in your sheets.

It took a full hour later for Jill to get back to you. During the course of that hour, you damn near paced a track around your bedroom and filled your google search history with plenty of things to ruin your targeted advertising. Choice examples include ‘employee handbook bsaa north america’ and ‘bsaa employee phone policy’. 

Your phone doesn’t even finish the first ring. You see Jill’s name flash on screen, and you’ve already got your phone up to your ear.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you blurt out, your thumb wedged between your teeth.

Jill blurts out a confused what, her voice wobbling with a laugh. It clicks for her a moment later.

“Oh - the ‘monitoring my texts’ thing?” She says, voice lighting with amusement. “Yeah, no. They don’t do that. You look good, though. Did I buy that?”

You let out a relieved groan. “You are such an asshole,” you huff. “I was worried the entire United Nations had just seen my ass.”

“Oh, c’mon. I would have told you not to send stuff like that if they were pulling my texts.” You can’t argue with that. She may have liked to see you squirm, but she was well aware of your boundaries.

“Got any other angles? I remember that outfit having more straps.”

You snort. “Maybe. Gonna need some reciprocation first, though.”

You hear Jill hum over the phone. A door opens in the background, a deep voice drifting over the phone, indecipherable. Jill pauses, listening.

“I’ll see what I can do. Gotta go.”

You hurry to say goodbye, squeezing a quick love you in before the call cut off.

The quiet creeps back into your apartment. You’re left staring at Jill’s contact photo. You tap it to view it in full. Jill’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head thrown back in a laugh. You were cuddled up on the porch swing of a bed & breakfast, an impromptu weekend trip Jill had taken you on a month ago. You had cropped the photo, centering it on Jill - on the way she looked at you and smiled, her eyes soft in a way that you had never seen before.

Your phone buzzed, and you nearly swiped the notification away out of habit. You caught yourself just in time, catching Jill’s name.

8:53 PM: 1 attachment

Your eyes scoured the picture, grin crinkling the corners of your eyes. Goddamn - you knew she had packed that pantsuit. You’re typing a reply when she sends another text.

8:54 PM: Do not say awooga.

You delete your draft and think of a different way to express your appreciation.