#sambucca

[heyimandyw]

Bit drunk innit 🫣 #wine #sambucca #gin #beer #nightout #lights #drunk #beard #bearded #gaybeard #moustache #gaymoustache #gayman #baldbro #bald #baldandbearded #baldbychoice #gay #lgbt (at The Loft Lounge) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpN5wpsIaw4/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[psychic-enemy-dragon]

And again...

[senor--brown]

#tbt #sambucca #galliano the clovelly bowels wild days (at Clovelly, New South Wales, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CgmG7oHl-pn/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[amarriageoftrueminds]

*points originally in a tag-dump under another post about* Bucky's goodness + Steve's belief in him 

+ the fact that the superserum worked on Bucky is empirical proof of his goodness:

+ this is also why the serum worked on Isaiah Bradley. + imagine if Isaiah had been made the Winter Soldier instead

Seriously it's a pretty eye-opening thought exercise to put any other character in Bucky's place and see just how poorly he's treated.

Do people really think Steve would hear about a man who had the same magic ‘only works on good people’ juice as him, tortured and enslaved by Hydra for decades… and then just NOT help him?

imagine if you had Sam saying 'Steve this 'Isaiah' guy he's not someone you save he's someone you stop.'

Nat saying 'Steve I know this matters to you but let the police handle Isaiah someone will arrest you if you interfere, it will inconvenience us all.' (LOL Nat have you met Steve who wrote this)

Sam agreeing, 'maybe Nat's right maybe we shouldn't bother helping Isaiah against the police in case they shoot at us,' and dismissing the fact that Isaiah could do good: ‘1945, maybe.’ 

When Isaiah was the guy that pulled Steve out of the river?

(And meanwhile the CIA have given police, that Nat and Sam are telling Steve not to interfere with, orders to shoot Isaiah dead on sight? quelle surprise)

Steve would still be arguing that it should be him to bring Isaiah in, since he's least likely to die trying. 

He would still have put taking down the Insight helicarriers first, and been reluctant (but willing) to dislocate his arm for that very important reason. 

He would still have lifted up the steel beam pinning Isaiah down

(and probably still tried to talk him out of his mind-control, even if he failed.)

imagine if everyone (Sam, Nat, Steve, Sharon, etc.) saw Isaiah -- when mind-controlled -- suddenly demonstrating a drastically different personality

and imagine if Steve and Sam saw Isaiah waking up with amnesia.. then proving his memory of his good, non-WS personality... but Sam was still rude/hostile to Isaiah anyway, insisting he and Steve should not be ‘cool' with him (then telling Isaiah he hates him). 

Tony saying 'I don’t care that Isaiah was mind-controlled he killed my mom imma murder him just to spite you for not trusting me not to murder people.'

imagine if you had the therapist telling Isaiah he needs to be monitored by the state to prove he’s not giving into his innate violence, giving him rules to follow like a child, (and he’s pardoned, not exonerated, meaning he had to admit to crimes he wasn’t responsible for in order to get a modicum of freedom) and that it’s bullshit to suggest Isaiah just wants some peace

Ayo telling Isaiah 'you are free' 😌 as he finally escapes his bondage, watching him cry with relief, then: ‘SIKE! we put a booby-trap in ur limb the trust was a lie.’

Sam cracking jokes about Isaiah's trauma, dehumanizing him as a killing machine 

taking part in a plot where Isaiah has to pretend to be WS, be sold to another human being, and have rape jokes cracked about him, 

but then still being like 'listen Isaiah if you really want to apologise f̶o̶r̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶ ̶s̶l̶a̶v̶e̶  you should just do the work.' 😔

*event horizon voice* DO YOU SEE? DO YOU SEE?? 😬

[mariemariemaria]

wiiiiish i knew my mother when she was my age

[murderballadeer]

i’ve never been a big drinker but it has been fun figuring out which alcoholic drinks i enjoy. for instance my favourite type of wine is rosé, my favourite mixed drink for parties is a rum & coke, my favourite canned drink is hard cider, my favourite fruity sugary cocktail is a frozen daiquiri, my favourite fancy cocktail is a kir royale and my favourite spirit to mix with stuff is rum

[lxnelyhearrt]

why do i insist on drinking like i’m 18 again when i am in fact not 18 and very susceptible to hangovers

[bitchinbarzal]

Definitely argument while Mama is pregers 🥺😭

Jack had past flings and girlfriends, you knew that.

He pursued you, he begged you to go out with him in the beginning and you made it so clear to him that his dating history made you uncomfortable and unwilling to go out with him.

He promised you that he wouldn’t hurt you, not like that.

Which is why you were left confused when Jack’s iPad kept dinging in the middle of the night while he was away on a roadie.

Your sleep was already disturbed due to the almost eight month old baby you were growing so the noise was less than impressive.

“Shut up” you grumbled, rolling out of the bed and into the living room where the iPad lay.

You pulled the iPad out of the charger and the screen lights up, you look at the notifications all from instagram.

messages from a @laurenkaytee

hey I’m the one you spoke to at the bar tonight? I think lol I found you from your friend!

yes that’s me! those shots were such a bad idea you didn’t drink much tho?

yeah babies will do that… BORING! well if you ever want a break from that life hit me up! you’re always welcome in cali 😘

aha, well here’s my number ***-****-*** when you need it

You felt sick. You couldn’t even see his replies, but he was obviously replying.

Tears were in your eyes and tears our hands were shaking with the iPad in your grip.

The tears angrily fell down your face and you felt the baby kick you

Your hand gingerly pressed onto the skin of your bump “I’m okay Stevie, I’m ok babygirl”

You didn’t go back to sleep that night, sitting on the couch and watching re-runs of sitcoms.

It wasn’t until you heard the front door unlock the next morning that you realised time had passed.

“Hey sexy lady! I’m home!”

You didn’t even flinch. Didn’t turn around.

“y/n? Babe? Did you hear me?” He frowns, walking to the couch and you don’t move.

Jack reaches out and touches you, you flinch “don’t touch me”

“What’s up with you? Why didn’t you answer me?”

He then notices the red rims around your eyes

“Baby, have you slept?”

You croak out “No”

“Why not? Stevie girl been keeping you up?”

“No, her dad”

He frowns “What?”

“You, your stupid iPad and your stupid messages to stupid models!”

He’s taken aback “What?!”

You look right into his eyes and choke out “If you want to go fuck models in California, don’t leave your instagram logged in on your iPad in New Jersey”

He’s shaking his head, confused “Fuck — what?”

Standing up you scoff “Just leave me alone Jack, I’m so tired and I can’t be bothered with this”

He watches you struggle to get up and waddle off to your bedroom, finally laying down after not sleeping.

Jack uses that time to grab his aforementioned iPad. He clicks it on and looks through the notifications, scrolling until he lands on instagram

His mouth drops open in an O shape and he hums in understanding

“that girl of mine, always getting herself all worked up” he mumbles and heads off to your room.

He slips in past the door and into your bed, you’re asleep and he knows it’s because you’re exhausted from your mind moving at a million miles a minute.

He gets under the blanket and pulls you into his arms, fingers carding through your hair. You have a frown etched into your features even in your sleep.

“Oh pretty girl, I wish I could take all of your stress”

You groan, tossing and turning. Jack’s hands reach around your back and press into your sore point.

You all but moan in relief, the change in pressure waking you up “J-Jack”

“I’m here princess, is it sore?”

You nod, wincing in pain and before long you remember you’re mad at him and attempt to push him away

“No, no baby don’t do that-“

“Jack get off me! I told you-“

He shushes you “Listen to me, let me show you!”

One hand is still on your back and the other now grabs his phone and pulls up his Instagram DM’s, tilting the phone for you to see

hey I'm the one you spoke to at the bar tonight? I think lol I found you from your friend!

hey, you’re shots of sambucca girl right? you didn’t look to good when we left. hope you’re ok?

yes that's me! those shots were such a bad idea you didn't drink much tho?

yeah we’re in LA for work plus my girlfriend is pregnant with our first baby back home in jersey so I’m not a party animal as I once was.

yeah babies will do that... BORING! well if you ever want a break from that life hit me up! you're always welcome in cali

appreciate it but I won’t be doing that. hope you got home safe.

aha, well here's my number *******-*** when you need it

You look up at him, pouting

“I’m so sorry J… I feel like an idiot”

“You are an idiot. My idiot! I love You, I love stevie and I’m not going anywhere” he says and kisses the tip of your nose “Now turn over and I’ll hold the bump so you can get some sleep”

[sarcasmandships]

red strings of fate ~ ii

the two people connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. this magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break

word count: 3.1k

The ground swayed in front of me slightly as I stumbled through the dimly lit streets of forks. my mind was hazy; I definitely shouldn’t have accepted that last sambucca shot. but it was a party after all, as my friend steph had chided as she forced the shot glass to my lips.

And then she went off with a boy and left me to stagger home alone in the bitter cold, it was only early october yet the wind chill made it feel like the depths of winter. there was a light mist of drizzle; it hadn’t looked too bad when I was still safe and warm inside someone’s living room, but now that I was outside, I was soaked to the skin with my teeth chattering.

I was always cold nowadays.

Ever since that day at the beach I couldn’t shake the cold that enveloped me, that soaked through my skin and into my blood, that coursed through my body and left me bitterly, and overwhelmingly, cold.

Everything had been different since that day, the world around me seemed to have adopted a dull, blue tinge that only I could see. When I had complimented steph on her new purple sweater she looked at me quizzically and told me it was red. The rain-soaked leaves that were soggy under my feet should have been golden tones of orange, red, and brown under the brief intervals of light provided by the streetlamps, but to me they were cold hues of blue and grey.

A car sped past me, hurtling through a puddle and spraying water five feet up into the air, which crashed over me like a wave and brought a new flood of icy cold. I stood frozen in my tracks, having gone from rain-soaked to completely dripping wet in less than a second. I wrapped my arms around my body and sat down on the small wall which ran along the length of the pavement.

I stared at the desolate scene in front of me and considered my options; my phone was dead so I had no hope of calling a taxi, my house was further away than the party but I didn’t want to start walking backwards and end up the school laughing stock when I showed up to a party covered in dirty rain water, and I did not have the strength or sobriety in me to continue stumbling home.

The street in front of me was hazy and blue, there were no houses here and no kind Samaritans who could offer me shelter or the use of their phone. My parents were out of town, and all my friends were still at the party so not like I had anyone else to call anyways.

Unless…

He had told me that he would always protect me. Whenever I needed him. No matter what.

I shook my head, a decision I quickly regretted as everything around me begun to spin faster. That was a stupid idea, ridiculous, out of the question.

Paul Lahote would not be my knight in shining armour.

Amongst the blurry, drunken haze in front of me my mind began to flicker back to that day on the beach, and everything that had happened after. When he took me into the woods, made me close my eyes as he stripped off his clothes and told me to open them after ten seconds, and when I did, I saw a huge wolf standing in front of me.

I don’t really remember what I did after that, the next thing I remember we were back in the truck, and he was talking so fast, about shapeshifters, and cold ones, and imprints.

‘I will always protect you. Whenever you need me. No matter what.’

That’s what he had told me.

All I could muster up was a pathetic, ‘please take me home.’

I didn’t say anything else to him after that, and he didn’t say anything to me. I didn’t look at him as I got out of the truck outside my house, I think he tried to say my name, but I had already slammed the door and was walking towards my house. With every step the world around me dimmed, and the saturated colours of the flowers in our garden faded to a dull blue.

I hadn’t seen him since.

I shivered again, even if I wanted Paul to help me there was no way for me to contact him.

What was I supposed to do, start howling at the moon?

I began to fiddle with the ring on my pinky finger, for no other reason to pass the time.

It felt like I was being snapped out of a trance when I hear the revving of an engine approaching me, I looked up just in time to see a beaten-up truck pulling up beside me. The truck’s paint was worn, littered with scuffs and scrapes, but it was unmistakably red.

“Get in,” he barked at me, rolling down the window as he spoke.

I stared blankly at the hard face of Paul Lahote, his pursed lips and furrowed brows made visible to me by the warm, golden glow of the truck’s interior light.

He didn’t need to tell me twice, I scampered to my feet and leapt into the passenger seat and melted back into the worn leather as I was enveloped by a dizzying rush of warmth. He began to drive off but didn’t look at me, his eyes fixed intently on the road ahead and I took the opportunity to take in his features. Sharp, angular jaw line and cheekbones, dark eyes, thick brows, and his characteristic scowl.

“Are you alright?” he finally asked through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, why?”

He laughed, a deep, chesty, bark-like laugh.

“Because I just found you sitting on the side of the road in the middle of the night, drunk and dripping wet,” he said, with a hint of ice in his voice.

“I never asked you to come and get me, I never asked you to take me…where are you taking me?”

Why hadn’t I thought to ask that before I got in the truck? For all I knew he could be taking me back into the woods to eat me.

“Home,” he said shortly, “and I couldn’t leave you there, you’d have frozen to death by the morning.”

“How did you know where I was?” I asked tentatively, not sure if I wanted to know the answer.

What if he was stalking me? Don’t wolves hunt down their pray before they eat them?

He didn’t answer for a few moments, just continued to stare ahead, glaring at the road as if it had personally offended him somehow. I was just opening my mouth to repeat myself when he spoke, his voice barely a whisper so I had to lean closer to hear him and instantly I felt a degree warmer.

“I don’t know, I was at home, and I just felt this…I don’t know, this feeling-”

I snorted, “you felt a feeling? Groundbreaking.”

He turned to glower at me, and I saw the warm flecks of gold in his deep brown eyes and the copper hue of his tan skin. He looked over-saturated somehow against the dark backdrop of the streets rushing by us as we drove, or maybe it was because my eyes weren’t used to seeing these shades of gold and red after so long in the blue tint.

“I felt something tugging on me, like someone was pulling me off my couch on a string. And I can’t explain how but I knew it was because of you,” he sounded almost irritated as he said this, “and I felt that same sensation of being strung along the whole time I was driving, and it led me to you.”

I didn’t know how to answer that, but luckily, I didn’t have to as at that moment he pulled up to my house. It looked usually ominous, the dark frame a silhouette in the night lit only by the dim porch lights.

“Well, your parents will be pleased you managed to make it home in one piece,” he said shortly, turning of the ignition.

“They aren’t home,” I said hesitantly.

In the short car journey, I had been too preoccupied by everything else I was having to process to remember that they were out of town, and the prospect of entering the dark house along sent a shiver up my spine. But I couldn’t tell if it was that, or the thought of leaving Paul again that sent a familiar cold creeping up and over my body.

“Oh, well then least you won’t get in trouble.”

“Always a silver lining.”

We stared at each other for a few moments, and then my eyes flickered back up to the house.

I don’t know what made me say it, whether it was the alcohol or just because I was delirious from the cold, but the words were flying out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Do you want to come in?”

He raised an eyebrow at me, “parents away for one weekend and you’re inviting strange boys into your house?”

For once he didn’t sound angry but rather amused.

I blushed, “forget it,” I mumbled under my breath as I snatched my bag up from my feet, keen not to let him see the embarrassment creeping across my face.

“No, I’m sorry,” he said quickly, and even he looked surprised to hear himself say the words, “I would like that, a lot.”

“Ok then.”

I got out of the truck and made my way up to the front door, with Paul close behind me. I flicked on the light in the hall and was surprised to see it give off a warm golden glow, rather than a dull blue one for the first time in months. But it was still cold in here, the bitter kind of cold that you can’t shake off no matter how many layers of blankets and jumpers you arm yourself with.

Paul is like a burning sun behind me, I can feel the heat radiating off him as he follows me up the stairs and along the dark corridor to my bedroom. When we enter my room, I am embarrassed to see it’s still in the state I left it in before the party, with a dozen rejected outfit choices strewn across my bed. I hastily gathered them up and stuff them on a chair as Paul leant against the door frame looking amused.

“I’m gonna have a shower,” I said quietly under my breath, grabbing some clean pyjamas from a drawer and cradling them in my arms.

“Want company?” he says cheekily.

And I can’t pretend that something doesn’t jolt in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Paul Lahote standing naked in front of me in my shower.

But instead, I glare at him, “put something on to amuse yourself,” I say, thrusting the TV remote into his large, warm hand as I storm off into the ensuite.

I slam the door behind me and lean my back up against it, my heart hammering against my chest, and feeling hotter and more flustered than I had in…well in forever.

When I can hear the faint voices from the TV through the door, I find it in myself to turn on the shower and begin to peel off my wet clothes. Even with the shower on the hottest setting it feels lukewarm as I wash my hair and body several times to remove any dirt or grime from the dirty water, I had been drenched in.

As I showered my mind began to feel clearer and sharper, and I felt almost sober. And then the realisation of what I had done began to sink in. I had invited Paul Lahote into my house. A werewolf. A werewolf who had imprinted one me.

I had never really allowed myself to process the imprinting thing, Paul had explained everything but that didn’t necessarily make anything any clearer to me.

‘I can be anything you want me to be, a friend, a brother, a lover. But I will always protect you. Whenever you need me. No matter what.’

I stepped out of the shower and dried my body, wrung out as much water as I could from my hair, and changed into my pyjamas. The sound of the TV seemed to remind me again that he was really out there, waiting for me, probably lying on my bed. The thought sent another jolt of tingles through my stomach.

I took a deep breath and exited the bathroom, and I had my theory confirmed, he was lying on my bed. One arm behind his head, one flat against the duvet and spread across to the other side of the bed.

“Sorry, made myself comfortable, you were taking ages,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from the TV.

“I had to wash my hair,” I said flatly.

He looked up at me then, and his lips curled into a smile at the sight of me in my pyjamas with my hair damp and limp around my face, but I didn’t get the impression that he was laughing at me, there was a look of something more sincere behind his eyes.

I shivered slightly under his unwavering gaze, and he frowns.

“Cold?”

I nodded, “freezing, I always am now.”

“Come here,” he says, patting the empty patch of bed next to him with his outstretched arm.

Slowly and uncertainly, I shuffle towards him, laying down next to him and curling up into his warm body, he wraps his arm around me and squeezes gently.

“Better?” he whispers in my ear.

And I shiver again but not from the cold.

“Much better.”

His body is like a furnace, when I lie next to him it feels like I’m lounging on a beach in Mexico, even with only half of my body pressed against his I feel the warmth all around me as though the room has increased ten degrees in temperature.

I can’t stop myself from nuzzling closer into him, I greedily want more of his warmth, so I throw one of my legs around his body and drag my hips closer to him.

For a split second his breath catches in his chest, then his breathing returns to a deep, rhythmic pattern that feels familiar to me somehow, as if we have done this a hundred times. When I am like this against him, I feel warm and safe and comforted.

“I only seem to feel warm when I’m next to you,” I mumble breathily into his neck, “I don’t know why.”

That’s true, I don’t know why. And I don’t know why I said it.

“I do,” he says quietly.

Keeping my leg tightly hooked around his body I twist my torso and sit up slightly, propping my head up on my elbow to stare him. From the expression on his face, he didn’t know why he said that either.

“Why? Tell me,” I say, too curious to care about the desperate whine in my voice.

He hesitates and I can almost see the cogs working in his brain.

“Paul, please.”

“It’s because of the imprint,” he blurts out, “it’s my fault you’ve been feeling this way…and I’m sorry.”

His expression is pained.

“Because of the imprint?” I repeat.

He nods slowly but refuses to look at me, “the imprint bond is very strong, a wolf is never going to reject their imprint because it just isn’t in our instincts…but on rare occasions an imprint can reject the wolf and unfortunately it has consequences for both parties…that day when you slammed the door and walked away from me, it must’ve counted as a rejection.”

“So, you’ve been feeling like this too?” I ask eagerly, desperate to know that I hadn’t been alone in all of this, “everything all cold and blue, like all the colour and warmth in the world is gone?”

He shakes his head and I frown, feeling stupid for blurting all of that out, I must sound insane.

“No,” he says finally, “it’s different for us…wolves are always warm, no matter what it seems. For us it’s pain, physical and mental pain, I’ve never felt anything like it, and it’s almost unbearable, and nothing takes it away…not unless I’m close to you. Sam explained it all to me,” he adds hastily, as though he can’t think of anything else to say.

I don’t know what to say either.

My heart feels heavy and cold in my chest, like a block of ice. Paul had been in pain, unbearable pain, all because of me. I don’t know why I care so much about someone I barely know.

“I’m sorry.”

He looks down at me, his deep brown eyes with golden flecks are rimmed by a set of thick, dark eyelashes.

“You didn’t know, plus it’s not your fault, you didn’t choose to be imprinted on.”

“And you didn’t choose to imprint on me.”

We don’t speak again for a few moments, we just stare intently at each other, as his eyes burn into mine and the icy feeling in my chest begins to melt away, leaving a dizzying and ecstatic warmth flooding through my veins.

“So how do we fix it then?” I ask finally, “I don’t want to only feel warmth and see colours when I’m with you.”

Paul breaks the stare first, “we need to repair the bond, Sam says that if you accept me and accept that you are my imprint then it should undo any damage, and you’ll feel normal even when I’m not there.”

I stop myself from saying, but what if I don’t want you too never not be there. Because that’s stupid, I need to have a life too and it’s no good if I always have chattering teeth and can’t distinguish between the colours of traffic lights.

“How do we do that?”

“I don’t know exactly…do you want to accept me?”

He refuses to look at me, and his usually strong and deep voice is shaky and weak, it sounds as though he’s been wanting to ask this question since he laid eyes on me again.

I ponder the question for a few minutes. Do I want to accept that I am the imprint of a wolf the size of the house? Paul told me his life was dangerous, that he was dangerous, that he couldn’t always control himself. He told me about Sam and Emily, and the story behind her deep scars. Do I want that?

I put him out of his misery and answer his question by crashing my lips against his.

Hopefully you wont need to wait too long for part 3, please leave comments if you can it is very motivating :))

part 3

tags: @evanstanwrites @secondratecomplaint @fatiguing-thoughts @batmanunicorns523 @cole22ann @chloeinlondon2021 @imaginingmanyfandoms @britty443 @husherstan @rigbystrashboat @stvrrysprout @reallykosborne @fandoms4ever97 @carnationhcs @geminidas @rosefreckles06 @destanimnowland @dillybuggg @gbaabyyyy @philsloveycacti @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx @cherrywinepoison @didntpayattentioninclimbing-blog @lendeluxe @lilmowmkw @mynerdself15 @angelxfics @littleblackspider @zealouspursecowboydeputy @rinthewriter @cevans-winchester @asherrenwrites @leonardzapit @sonnensplitter @cassandraevans @sorrow-and-bliss @ladiadia @the7thheroine @can-this-be-a-fanfic @rottenstyx

[localplaguenurse]

Got any dottore hcs?

Domestic maybe or any flavor if hcs you feeling rn

I just went with whatever headcanons I could think of off the top of my head which ended up leaning towards like, modern Dottore

I mentioned once before, but Dottore has random perfectly square scars on various parts of his body. They’re from him taking various skin/tissue samples of himself to use for cloning/growth/regeneration research. 

Is this a headcanon? I’m not sure, but I associate Dottore with 4 degrees by Tool, but I think he’d also actually really like Opiate (both the EP and the song itself) and Webttore/Beta I think would be really into either Undertow or Ænema. 

I think Dottore likes bitter or umami tasting things. He rarely indulges in sweets besides dark chocolate and black licorice. Even the younger segments don’t eat a lot of sugary foods. Some like sweets more than the others but they all prefer bitter foods and meats. 

Dottore gave himself/his segments sharper teeth specifically to make eating meat easier. 

None of them handle spice well. They all turn bright red and start sputtering.

Their alcohol tolerances and preferences also vary. 

They once made Beta drink sambucca and he almost threw up on the floor and in the sink. 

Okay that was less a headcanon and more me remembering when I almost died as Webttore at a Halloween party-

So you know how everyone associates Dottore with Zydrate Anatomy? That’s the one song he’d like from Repo! The Genetic Opera, because it’s the only good song. He’d think the rest of the movie fuckin sucks (as do I and you can’t change my mind). He’d much rather watch Little Shop of Horrors or Sweeney Todd. 

He would be into really gory films. Saw is a guilty pleasure series but he’s actually really into body horror. 

Would do your top or bottom surgery no questions asked. Don’t even need a note or anything.

[someguyiguess]

Alcohol req

Green ginger wine, or black sambucca

now how am i gonna credit you on the list if youre anonymous

[fcksocietysideaofbeauty]

Der Titel des Bildes lautet: Sambucca auf Eis

[amusedbouche26]

Dreamt I was in south America studying and I wanted to pick up some weed. I got on this deep web site and did some coding until I brought up this chat box. I spoke with this Jamaican guy who said if I wanted the weed I had to climb these cliffs so I set off.

Sigma helped boost me up a few times , there' was a cafe, houses and everything built on the cliff side then we got to this Inn . They had these free seaweed snacks that gave you a gradual high so I had some.

I made some friends along the way who joined me in my quest. I joined this queue to climb the rest of rhe way using these old steps.

I got to the top and there was some dirt trails and lots of unusual trees and plants. A guy sat on the floor of Jamaican decent calls my name as I'm reading this information board and I buy my weed. He offers me some liquor out of a few different types as a prize for making it. Instead of volume it says "victims 4000" on the bottle and tasted like vodka or sambucca.

A sweet lady also offered me a souvenir necklace out of all these different silver ones which I gladly accepted then me and my new friends had a spliff and read about the history of the place.

[murderballadeer]

is soju supposed to actually taste like anything bc i've only had it once and it was mixed with lemonade and the whole thing just tasted like lemonade but idk if that's bc it was a high ratio of lemonade to soju or bc the soju just didn't taste like much

[oathkeptroxas]

note to self: do not allow a man dressed as a grandmother to pour sambucca straight into your mouth out of the bottle

[machetemaiden27mcx]

Playjn sims 4 and its a litle too realistic. Me and sigma just had twins and we on the verge of divorce coz we both so busy with work, our daughters, the kitten and our pet hedgehog. Also im banging bb who lives next door with his doggo, j and little kitten sambucca. I made everyone, pets included so fuckin accurate