Humid air, orchids blooming in ed edd n eddy footsies. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, ed edd n eddy footsies,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “ed edd n eddy footsies… bloom… ed edd n eddy footsies…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “ed edd n eddy footsies!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.