#admin tan

[slavhew]

Tank top series

[kpodcast]

AREA - TAN

When TAN's newest album came out, we all listened to it independently and tried to guess which track would be each other's favorite. We all decided AREA would be Minji's fave, but the more I listened to the album, the more I realized it's probably my favorite as well. It's really just a fun vibe and such a great song. -Suji 🌸

[eccentricwritingbaby]

f1 driver's bday posts for their babies

daniel ricciardo, lando norris, charles leclerc, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz jr, oscar piastri, logan sargeant, max verstappen, george russell

masterlist

danielricciardo - it's these two's birthday so the twin's are old now??? stop growing up! your dad commands it!!

view all comments

youruser - their mum commands it too!! they've gotten too big 🥺

danielricciardo - maybe it’s time to try for more … youruser - push two kids back to back out of you and then we’ll talk about more danielricciardo - 🤐

user1 - i feel like just yesterday the twins were born

user2 - ME TOO!! i miss the redbull days when they were so so small user1 - ikrrrrr 🥺🥺

user3 - i forgot how cute they are omfg 🥰

maxverstappen1 - playdate with p again when??

kellypiquet - ^^she’s been asking!! ❤️ youruser - so have they!! drop by anytime 💖 danielricciardo - come to the farm 😀 maxverstappen1 - danielricciardo no.

user4 - i love that they’re so close with p it’s adorable

user5 - i mean they were babies together at redbull so user6 - that's so cute 🥲

user7 - mclaren jumpscare

landonorris - chat i'm afraid the monster's grown now. birthday boy will forever be a messy boy tho, some things never change with age.

view all comments

youruser - my sweet boy, takes after you a little too much 😆

landonorris - and what's that supposed to mean? 🤨 maxfewtrell - you're a slob, just like my godson carlossainz55 - godson?? 🧐

user1 - he really is lando 2.0

user2 - youruser is really living my dream

user3 - NO FR!! cutest baby and hottest husband 😩 user4 - like how does it feel to be god's favourite???!!

mclaren - happy birthday mini norris! 🧡

user5 - even mclaren admin is obsessed with the little lad user6 - who wouldn't be?!

oscarpiastri - my nephew's getting so big

maxfewtrell - nephew??!! carlossainz55 - nephew??!! oscarpiastri - nephew!!!!

charles_leclerc - ma petite fille, joyeux anniversaire! mon monde entier et ma douce fille, papa t'aime tellement :)

view all comments

youruser - aye! she's getting too big! mon ange <3

charles_leclerc - our sweet baby ❤️

user1 - little leclerc is too cute

user2 - remember when she was born 🥺 user1 - how could anyone forget 🥺❤️

scuderiaferrari - happy birthday baby leclerc! ❤️❤️

pierregasly - let kika and i babysit again!!

francisca.cgomes - yes!! let us babysit 💖 charles_leclerc - you almost didn't give her back last time?? pierregasly - not our fault she's adorable youruser - i'll give you that one

arthur_leclerc - her favorite uncle can't wait to see her!

lorenzotl - 🤨 carlossainz55 - 🤨 pierregasly - 🤨 arthur_leclerc - i stand by my statement.

lewishamilton - it's my baby's birthday! my beautiful girl is four, can't wait for many more memories to come with my little love

view all comments

youruser - the last picture 😭 she's just too cute!

lewishamilton - gets it all from you, youruser youruser - 🥰😘

nicolashamilton - my lovely niece! give her a happy birthday kiss for me!

youruser - alwayss ❤️ lewishamilton - she said she misses her uncle!

user1 - the mini gwagon 😭 she's adorably spoiled

user2 - with lewis hamilton as her dad? i think she always will be lewishamilton - exactly!

roscoelovescoco - i's love's you's birfday girl 🥰

user3 - i love that lewis comments for roscoe user4- i know he's laying in bed laughing doing it too 😭

mercedesamgf1 - our merc princess! happy birthday! 🖤

user3 - oh to have lewis hamilton be my father

user4 - right??! the most stylish baby with everything she wants user3 - so jealous of a four year old rn ...

carlossainz55 - mi niño pequeño ya no es tan pequeño, feliz segundo cumpleaños hijo, pronto karting! 💪🏼💪🏼

view all comments

youruser - two years old already! time is flying!

carlossainz55 - flying like he will be on the track soon youruser - im going to choose to ignore that carlossainz55 - 😐

landonorris - ok so when can i babysit again

carlossainz55 - you lost him last time???!! landonorris - WE WERE PLAYING HIDE AND SEEK youruser - no.

user1 - he's so small omfg

user2 - so cute 🥺

user3 - are we all just brushing past lando losing him?

landonorris - HE WAS STILL IN MY APARTMENT IT WAS FINE charles_leclerc - whatever you say mate landonorris - HE'S A VERY FAST BABY lewishamilton - sure, kid

scuderiaferrari - the sweetest baby in red! ❤️

carlossainzofficial - mi nieto, feliz cumpleaños!!

youruser - he won't stop asking for you, abuelo! carlossainz55 - ven aquí! carlossainzofficial - on my way!

oscarpiastri - happy birthday to my aussie beach baby! to many more sunsets and rises

view all comments

youruser - many more sunsets 🧡💛

oscarpiastri - always, love 💛🧡 user1 - the hearts 🥺 i wanna love like theirs user2 - RIGHT!?

mclaren - does the birthday girl need some more merch?

oscarpiastri - we'd never turn down some papaya

user3 - she really is just a beach baby

user4 - i feel like they're always there 😭😭 youruser - gotta give her the best experiences! user4 - that's so sweet 🥺

landonorris - she's just so wee

oscarpiastri - wee little papaya baby landonorris - my favourite! 🧡

logansargeant - hugs and kisses for the birthday baby!

oscarpiastri - always, mate!

logansargeant - baby birthday baby birthday!! a whole year old and plenty more to come from my girl

view all comments

youruser - the buc-ee's hat😭

logansargeant - she had to experience the vibes youruser - and i believe she enjoyed it 🙃 logansargeant - everyone who goes, does enjoy it!

user1 - the fourth of july picture 🥺

user2 - she's so smallllll 🥰

oscarpiastri - tiny baby

logansargeant - wym she's gotten huge oscarpiastri - you've got dad brain, mate, she's tiny

alex_albon - my baby! come over and visit with her...now

youruser - only if lily's there, i don't trust you alone with my child alex_albon - logansargeant are you hearing this?? lilymhe - baby...you shouldn't be alone with her logansargeant - lilymhe thank you alex_albon - i will not accept this 😖

maxverstappen1 - he's five now! verstappen legacy is about to live on as he starts karting 😡💪🏼

view all comments

youruser - he's so big now! fifth pic he was just a babe

maxverstappen1 - he's almost all grown up youruser - do not make me cry right now verstappen user1 - into the dog house he goes

danielricciardo - mate, he might take your seat soon

maxverstappen1 - he's gotta fight for it danielricciardo - he 100% will maxverstappen1 - i know 😂 user2 - this kid is so loved yet challenged user3 - max is healing his inner child with his own little boy user4 - i know 🥺

redbullracing - you're just warming the seat for our star, which is him

maxverstappen1 - i already know, verstappen dominance crossing centuries landonorris - can you just give us a break, mate maxverstappen1 - no.

user5 - he looks just like his dad 🥺

georgerussell63 - my love is now three, but i remember when she was only a fresh few weeks, i love you so much baby

view all comments

youruser - pretty girl 🤍

georgerussell63 - our pretty girl 🤍 user1 - they're still so in love, it's so adorable

user2 - she's so rich 😩😆

user3 - they're like old money old money user2 - i know...i am green with envy

mercedesamgf1 - our favourite cheerleader! happy birthday 🖤

georgerussell63 - the best cheerleader around!

alex_albon - SHE'S SO BIG NOW

georgerussell63 - I KNOW alex_albon - but she's still so cute georgerussell63 - i know 🥰

user4 - she's the sweetest little baby

user5 - happy birthday mini russell!

-

[dioneq]

# SALÓN: para un starter donde percy & dione se encuentren en un salón vacío.

“disculpa, ¿éste es el edificio de artes?”  ojos que se centran en el rostro agraciado, reconocimiento de encuentros anteriores, aunque breves. duda haberse equivocado, así que no entiende la ausencia de terceros  “quizá estemos buscando lo mismo” . / @pervcys

[lewisvinga]

my shot | alex albon x fem! reader x lily muni he

summary; after admitting in an interview about their crush on a certain youtuber, alex and lily decide to shoot their shot through instagram

fc; tara yummy

warnings; ?? none i think

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

notes; requested ! i’m obsessed w tara yummy rn

masterlist !

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: let’s go to the beach each

username: the shirt 😭😭😭

username: i just know y/n was struggling in the 5 ft end

yourusername: i was , i suck at swimming 🤕🤕

lilymhe: crazy i know how to swim !

username: lily what are u doing here 😭😭

username: the last picture is so cunty i love it

username: she’s so queen

username: not lily and alex in the likes 😭

alex_albon: let’s go get a wave

yourusername: they say what they gonna say

alex_albon: have a drink, clink, found a bud light

yourusername: bad bitches like me are hard to come by

lilymhe: you are the baddest bitch

username: this comment thread ???😭😭

username: alex albon’s attempt at flirting it just singing nicki minaj

username: he has a gf tho

username: you can’t tell me they both aren’t in love w her…

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; last few days here 😴] [caption 2; tanning bc i can’t swim]

lilymhe replied to your story !

lilymhe so you really can’t swim?

yourusername lol i suck at it, i always use floaties when i’m in the pool & i refuse to go in the ocean😭

lilymhe maybe if we happen to be in the same place , i can teach you😁😁

yourusername you just wanna see me in a bikini don’t you🥴

lilymhe i mean yes. deleted !

lilymhe just helping a girl out and shooting my shot?😁😁

yourusername ur cute

lilymhe and i think ur cuter

yourusername you and….

lilymhe alex and i think you’re cute 😁

yourusername: i’ll be at the miami gp btw, maybe you both can teach me how to swim😌

lilymhe oh, we’re ready, pretty girl

alex_albon replied to your story !

alex_albon heyyyy[100% rizz]

yourusername: oh your girlfriend is much better at this than you are

alex_albon i’m trying 😔

alex_albon but i managed to pull her anyways 🤓

yourusername you’re a dork but it’s cute🤕

alex_albon so me shooting my shot is working?😁😁

yourusername oh 100%

alex_albon a little birdie told me you’re going to the miami gp?

yourusername yeah, might be dressed in ferrari red

alex_albon why not williams blue? you should come to our garage instead 😁

yourusername hmmm u gotta convince me, pretty boy 🧐

alex_albon well, lily and i will be there , isn’t that enough?

yourusername you’re right ,

yourusername i’ll see you in the williams garage then, pretty boy😇

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and others !

yourusername: i like to see cars racing now i guess

tagged; lilymhe, alex_albon, williamsracing

williamsracing: the cuntiest guest in our garage

yourusername: why thank u admin

lilymhe: ugh you’re gorgeous 😩

yourusername: hello?? you’re the most gorgeous 🥴🥴

lilymhe: in my f1 driver era liked by yourusername !

alex_albon: i feel so special knowing i had the 2 prettiest girls ever rooting for me

yourusername: you’re a dork but i’ll cheer for u every race 🤓

username: OMG HELLO😀

username: my fave youtuber and f1?? i’m so??

username: alex lily n y/n are acting very suspicious…….🧐🧐🧐

username: i just wanna know how this all happened

username: imagine lily and alex sliding into her dms 😭😭😭

username: they’re just like me fr

username: i gotta be REAL honest w y’all, they’d look hot asf as a throuple

username: oomf are u insane

username: look at oomf dawg😭😭😭

username: no i get it

[mmmichyyy]

40? for the prompt

#40. "am i your husband or your taxi service?"

the first time it happens, mickey doesn't think much of it.

can you pick me up after my shift? too tired to take the L

when mickey is near the station, he parks the van a block away. force of habit from when he and his brothers used to sneak up and collect from people who owed terry money. plus, he doesn't particularly want ian's coworkers to see their stolen ambulance, even though it's completely unrecognizable after debbie helped them revamp the entire thing and paint over it with the logo sandy designed.

here

i don't see you

i'm parked a block away

pick me up at the station

your legs don't work?

i'm tired :(

i drove the van

it's fine no one will be able to tell lol

mickey rolls his eyes and drops his phone in the cupholder. as he pulls up across the street from the station, he sees ian standing on the curb, chatting with someone wearing a matching EMT uniform, a shorter man with tan skin and curly hair.

mickey honks once, a bit impatient since he's hungry as fuck and there's a large pizza he ordered earlier waiting for them at their apartment. ian lifts his head and smiles. as he waves goodbye to his coworker and jogs over to the van, mickey doesn't miss the way the dude is gaping at mickey with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

the hell is this guy's problem?

"everything okay?" mickey asks, once ian buckles his seatbelt and reclines his seat.

"just tired." ian yawns. "had a long shift today."

"well," mickey puts the van in drive, reaching over the center console to ruffle ian's hair, promptly forgetting ian's weird coworker, "i already ordered a pizza so we can eat then turn in early."

ian smiles sleepily and interlaces his fingers with mickey's. "you're the best husband ever."

mickey shakes his head, biting back a smile. "sappy fucker."

*

after almost two weeks of ian asking to be picked up, mickey suspects something is up. not that he minds or anything, since he makes his own schedule nowadays. after the security business started turning a profit and ian went back to being an emt, he hired a couple of guys to drive the routes so he could work from home and catch up on admin work, freeing up a lot of time in his day to day.

but ian never used to mind the commute. he's the kind of long-legged freak who liked to take the scenic route and go on long runs in the morning, just for fun. absolutely deranged behaviour, in mickey's opinion. but lately, ian has been flashing his kicked-puppy eyes and asking to be chauffeured like a pampered prince and, well. mickey could never resist spending more time with his husband, so he hasn't said anything. not yet, anyway. god he's so whipped.

the excuses ian came up with, however, were more unbelievable as it went on, ranging from the train broke down (mickey knew for a fact it didn't), to spraining his elbow (though he had no problem throwing mickey on the bed later that night with his supposedly injured arm), to how it was going to rain later (it was sunny all day without a cloud in sight).

when mickey tried to call him out on his bullshit, ian either got down on his knees or flipped mickey over and fucked him senseless into the bed, promptly making mickey forget what the hell he was trying to say.

it's gotten to the point where ian stopped making excuses and simply asked mickey to come get him. which truthfully, mickey doesn't mind at all. but he just finds it odd how his beefy athletic husband had gotten so lazy.

"what's with you?" mickey finally asks one day, as ian climbs into the passenger seat.

ian blinks innocently. "what do you mean, dear husband of mine?"

mickey rolls his eyes. "am i your husband or your fuckin' taxi driver? 'cause i've been picking your ass up every day for the past two weeks when you have two perfectly functioning legs."

ian huffs, crossing his arms. "maybe i just want to spend more time with you."

"we live together," mickey points out flatly, "how much more time do you need?"

"i–"

a tap on the glass interrupts them, and mickey turns to see a woman with brown hair tied back in a ponytail, enthusiastically gesturing at him to roll down the window.

"the fuck?" mickey turns to ian, whose face has turned slightly pink. "did you forget something at the station?"

"ah, no." ian scratches his head sheepishly. "sue is just being... sue."

sue waves her hand again and mickey reluctantly lowers the window.

"mickey, this is sue, my supervisor, and sue, this is–"

"the elusive husband." sue grins. "i've heard a lot about you, mickey."

mickey raises his brow. "have you now."

"oh sure," she says, ignoring ian's frantic head shaking, "ian won't shut up about you, yapping on and on about mickey this and mickey that. we're all jealous at the station actually, everyone just complains about their partners while ian keeps gushing about how perfect and amazing his husband is. his words."

"huh." that explains a lot, actually, why there was always someone different waiting with ian every time he came to pick him up, and why they all stared at him like a circus freak. "well, i bet ian didn't tell you the time we stole an ambu–"

"okay," ian cuts in loudly, reaching over to turn the key in the ignition, "we're leaving. i'll see you tomorrow, sue."

"come to the company picnic next month," sue calls out. "it's a potluck and everyone is bringing their family. it'll be fun!"

"uh sure," mickey says, even though a social gathering with ian's nosy coworkers sounds like the least fun thing he's ever heard of. he looks over at ian, slumped in his seat, avoiding mickey's eyes. "I'll check my schedule."

once mickey drives around the corner, he playfully flicks his finger at ian's temple and ian rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

"you yap about me to your coworkers," mickey teases. "you're so fuckin' whipped."

"whatever," ian grumbles. "stupid sue calling me out."

"is that why you keep asking me to pick you up?" mickey asks, amused. "to parade me around like a little show dog?"

"well, eduardo blabbed to everyone he saw you, then everyone kept asking about you and wanted to see you in person, so..."

"hm." mickey reaches over and brushes his thumb over ian's palm. "what do you say about me?"

ian links their fingers together and sighs. "that you're attentive. funny. caring. protective. loyal. the ideal man."

mickey laughs. "you're really overselling me here, gallagher. did you forget i'm an ex-convict, pimp and drug dealer?"

ian waves him off and continues. "kind. loving. perfect in every single way, except when you leave your socks on the floor. oh and that you're hot as hell with an ass that won't quit."

"you talked about my ass?"

"okay, i didn't say the last part," ian amends, "your ass belongs to just me. but i meant everything else i said."

"you really are a sappy fucker."

"you love it."

"i'd love it even more if i didn't have to be your chauffeur every day, at least they get paid to drive back and forth."

"you come with me to the picnic, i'll pay you with favours in bed. i'll even throw in a big tip."

"a big tip, huh..."

[31-minutos-de-blorbos]

BANDAAAAA SÉ QUE ESTO NO TIENE NADA QUE VER CON 31 MINUTOS PERO

Llevo buscando una historia que leí en Wattpad que borraron, era una traducción de esta historia original

Sé que llevo más muerto quea mugre gracias a mi depresión y que mi salud física empeora cada día, pero no sé, quería saber si alguno la conocía

Un cabro, en un mundo donde todos obtienen poderes al creer en algún Dios, no reciba nada del Dios de su familia que se dedicaban a hacerle ofrendas a un Dios relacionado con el agua. El prota, que creo que se llama Noah, rompe todo y Lucifer le da su bendición

Es algo súper raro y entretenido

Por más que el Lunes van a ver qué órgano me está doliendo de hace semanas, voy a tratar de traerles contenido 🥹

I remember reading a story on the internet about man called Noah I think? In a world where everyone got powers from God's, after worshipping a God and never receiving anything, the protagonist destroyed all the things related to that God related to water

And Lucifer gave him powers

I want to think it's not something I came out with

[libraryofloveletters]

History Book Repeats Itself

pairing: fernando alonso x reader

summary: looking up and looking down, it never felt so right. 

author’s note: this is for the nando fuckers, even the ones on the lows. wife yn is giving supportive and y’all could never, she’s the superior wag - for @oconso

all photos are from instagram and/or pinterest :)

written in the photos series masterlist

youruser added an instagram story.

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youruser

liked by fernandoalo_official, alpinef1team, lance_stroll and 139,543 others 

youruser: goodbye alpinef1team 💙 - hello astonmartinf1 💚

tagged: alpinef1team, astonmartinf1, fernandoalo_official 

view 721 comments 

alpinef1team: we’ll miss you in the garage! 💙

comment liked by youruser

user14: I wonder how many green outfits yn can put together for next year

↪️youruser: already started shopping 🤣

fernandoalo_official: ❤️

user31: her using him getting out the alpine and into the aston so making me emotional like wtf

astonmartinf1: can’t wait to have you with us! 💚

comment liked by youruser

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youruser added an instagram story.

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fernandoalo_official

liked by youruser, felipedrugovich, lance_stroll and 323,833 others 

fernandoalo_offcical: magic💚 astonmartinf1 

view 1,882 comments 

youruser: fuck yeah baby 

comment liked by lance_stroll 

user16: he’s never gonna retire now is he 😭

astonmartinf1: 💚💚💚💚

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youruser

liked by pierregasly, fernandoalo_official, estebanocon and 127,534 others 

youruser: just a little humble brag about my man 🤭 10 races in and 6 podium finishes, he’ll see y’all on the podium when they’re back on track for the second half of the season 💚

tagged: fernandoalo_official 

view 890 comments 

astonmartinf1: okay mrs. alonso coming in with the energy we need 👏

comment liked by youruser, fernandoalo_official

user31: her calling him her man is taking me outtttt even tho it is her man 😭

fernandoalo_official: te amo ❤️

comment liked by youruser 

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fernandoalo_official

liked by youruser, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 342,543 others 

fernandoalo_official: mi vida ❤️ siempre tan solidaria, te amo siempre. (my life ❤️ always so supportive, i love you forever)

location: spain // tagged: youruser 

view 1,463 comments 

user00: yn always eats, no crumbs left ever. #bestwag

youruser: te quiero mucho!!! 

comment liked by fernandoalo_official

pierregasly: how he bagged her, I’ll never know 

↪️user16: pierreeeeee you’re not on your burner 😭

↪️pierregasly: oops 😬

am18: when will it be my turn!!!!

astonmartinf1: hottest couple in and out of the paddock 

↪️ajimmyslife: that was supposed to be commented from this account my bad 

user14:^this is why jimmy/aston admin is the superior admin 

[quitealotofsodapop]

Todos saben que el rey mono suele ser visto como alguien perezoso, que siempre esta durmiendo en su cabaña (Muchas personas sobretodo Pigsy ven a Wukong de esta forma) pero... ¿Como alguien tan holgazan puede tener una nacion tan prospera como Alolai?

Porque eso es lo que es Alolai paso hace mucho tiempo ser un territorio terrateniente que los demonios suelen tener alrededor de China a ser pais por su propio derecho con economia, cultura y politica.

Algo que muchos demonios desearian en sus propios sueños; si hablamos de Alolai posiblemente no sea un pais reconocido por China, al menos por los humanos, pero en las sociedades demoniacas/celestiales/miticas de todo el mundo es un pais reconocido y posiblemente la potencia no. 1 de esas sociedades.

La economia del archipielago esta conformada en la agricultura de sus frutos, el ganado se basa en las granjas de saltamontes, larvas, escorpiones y entre otros insectos; podrian tener mineria pero no conozco mucho de eso (¿pero podria tener obsidiana? o algun metal que no posea China) y su amyor fuente de ingreso sera la pesca ¿porque no? si es un pais insular estan rodeado del mar; todo eso es exportado al continente.

Ahora el dia a dia de Wukong consiste en la adnimistracion de todo con su consejo (Que consiste en los incondicionales) hablando de como van las cosas, el manejo de leyes y de festivales importantes en la antigua capital (Huagoushan) la seguridad de los subditos en sus travesia de ida y vuelta a sus hogares.

Y tambien administra lo militar suele ver a sus tripas, supervisarlas y ver los reclutamientos, pero esto se encargan principalmente sus generales.

Dime que sus monos no estan entrenados... (Posiblemente tengan entrenamiento obligatorio)

Wukong se asegura de planificar los festivales con mucho cuidado para que todos puedan llegar y salir de las diferentes islas de manera segura. Casi como Hawaii

Esos 37 correos del abogado tratan de economia, festividades o cosas internacionales.

Me imagino una pequeña trama en donde Mkrew esten haciendo una actividad grupal e invitaron al rey mono (Mac no aparece por el bien de la trama, esta en el teatro trabajando y no pudo ir) y practicamente wukong brilla por su ausencia; MK y Mei van con el rey mono a la isla a pedir una explicacion y ven a Wukong muy ocupado con un joven escriba (Tiene una tablet en lamano) revisando las cosas del dia.

Practicamente es la trama de ''Reina por un día'' luego de que hablamos de esto me acorde XD

Pero resumento esto, le piden ser ''rey por un dia'' y el escriba le llega la memoria el celular de Mei con las lista de cosas por hacer, piden refuersos con el resto de MKrew... digamos que tiene un nuevo cambio de pespectiva del rey mono...

Por eso nuestro mono favorito aprecia sus siestas XD

translation via google:

"Everyone knows that the monkey king is usually seen as someone lazy, who is always sleeping in his hut (Many people, especially Pigsy, see Wukong this way) but… How can someone so lazy have a nation as prosperous as Alolai? Because that is what Alolai is. A long time ago, it went from being a landowner territory that demons usually have around China to being a country in its own right with economy, culture and politics.

Something that many demons would wish for in their own dreams; if we talk about Alolai, it may not be a country recognized by China, at least by humans, but in demonic/celestial/mythical societies around the world it is a recognized country and possibly the no. 1 power of those societies. The economy of the archipelago is based on the agriculture of its fruits, livestock is based on farms of grasshoppers, larvae, scorpions and other insects; They could have mining but I don't know much about that (but could they have obsidian? or some metal that China doesn't have) and their main source of income would be fishing, why not? If it's an island country they are surrounded by the sea; all of that is exported to the continent.

Now Wukong's day to day life consists of the administration of everything with his council (which consists of the unconditional ones) talking about how things are going, the management of laws and important festivals in the old capital (Huagoushan) the safety of the subjects on their journey to and from their homes. And he also manages the military, he usually looks after its entrails, supervises them and sees the recruitments, but this is mainly taken care of by his generals." [(screenshot of little monkeys in armor :3)] Tell me his monkeys aren't trained… (They probably have mandatory training) Wukong makes sure to plan the festivals very carefully so that everyone can get to and from the different islands safely. Almost like Hawaii. [(screeenshot of Wukong with his laptop, with many unread emails)] Those 37 emails from the lawyer are about economics, holidays or international things.

I imagine a little plot where Mkrew is doing a group activity and they invited the monkey king (Mac doesn't appear for the sake of the plot, he's at the theater working and couldn't go) and practically Wukong is conspicuous by his absence; MK and Mei go with the monkey king to the island to ask for an explanation and they see Wukong very busy with a young scribe (He has a tablet in his hand) checking the things of the day. [(screenshot from G5 My Little Pony where the princesses take over for their Queen mother for the day)]

It's basically the plot of "Queen for a day" after we talked about this I remembered XD But to summarize this, they ask him to be "king for a day" and the scribe gets the memory of Mei's cell phone with the list of things to do, they ask for reinforcements with the rest of MKrew… let's say that he has a new change of perspective of the monkey king… That's why our favorite monkey appreciates his naps XD"

I loved this conversation we had - basically the only reason Wukong has any time to hinself is because he has the Stalwarts and his lawyer hammering out the details of running the kingdom.

In terms of rare ore; the most expensive is Jadeite/Jade which is found throughout China (perhaps the kind found on Alolai has a distinct pattern?). And since Flower Fruit Mountain is meant to be an extinct or dormant volcano, its likely rich in obsidian and diamonds.

And ofc fishing is a great part of their culture - hard not to when you're surrounded by a super-fertile tropical sea! I can see a few islands in the chain being dedicated fisheries who periodically restock the local area.

Wukong is likely the only demon king with a recognised country, rather than a measly compound or an in-name-only kingdom.

And he knows it! He's a demon with big shoes to fill. So many permits and documents require his signature just to keep things running smoothly.

So when Wukong accidentally skips a group activity with his heir, MK and Mei stomp/fly over a little annoyed, only to see the King surrounded by his Marshals and Generals, all with different administration tasks to fufill.

Wukong: "MK, I am so sorry I flaked out today. I have a festival coming up in a months time, and we need to hammer out all the details before we can move forward. I also have a bunch of emails I need to answer from my lawyer. Need to approve the opening of a new bug farm. Quality control the latest durian harvest. I am swamped.' MK: "Can't you use your hair clones?" Wukong: "Nope. They have really poor sense of judgement. One nearly poisoned the whole archipelago by approving an untested pesticide. I sleep better knowing I read things over myself."

Mei and MK are genuinely curious! Who knew that the Monkey King was in charge of so many details of his kingdom? And he looks... pretty tired to be honest.

MK and Mei share a look.

Mei: "Hey, Monkey King. What say after you finish up these festival details - you take the rest of the day off? MK and I can deal with the other stuff!" Wukong: "You think you're able for it?" MK: "Uh yeah! I'm the Monkie Kid! If I'm your successor, I need to figure out how to do King stuff!" Wukong: (*shares sly smile with the Stalwarts*) Wukong: "Ok. Let me just message Fire Star to send Mei today's agenda. Don't be scared to call me if you need help with anything, ok?" Mei: "We'll be fine! I've seen my parents do legal stuff lots of times! I bet just one day-" (*phone starts blowing up with messages*) Mei, trying to save face: "Oh. Thats a... lot of things to do for one day." Wukong: "Are you sure you can handle it?' MK: "Absolutely! You finish up here, and we'll see to it that you get an uninterrupted afternoon of snoozing!" Wukong, knowing grin: "Okie-dokey!"

Of course things don't go according to plan.

MK and Mei vastly underestimated how much work is involved in running a country.

Namely the fact that everyone seems to want something from you! MK has to turn down multiple requests for photos, autographs, and interviews since nearly every other monkey is excited to meet their Prince in person.

Mei is forced to call up reinforcements via Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy to help lessen the weight on their shoulders. She also attempts to call Red Son, but he's busy at home, so all he can provide is context to certain legal documents they have to fill out.

Pigsy takes charge of evaluating the recent harvests - his shrewd opinion on fresh produce quickly proving him to be a drill sergeant of quality. Many monkey farmers come away from this day fearing Chef Pigsy. Though the pig does pass out when presented with the most recent yield of insect larva.

Tang thinks answering the emails is him getting away lightly. Until he nearly goes mad from the constant notifications from Wukong's Laywer, village leaders (or their more tech-literate family members), fishery owners, farmers, and the annoying requests from major companies asking for the King's endorsement.

Sandy is able to fulfil requests for transport and fishing pretty easily, but by the end of the day he's a little overstimulated.

Once the day is over, everyone is glad to see the Monkey King return to his throne.

Wukong, well rested: "Oh hey, guys! How did your day as Monkey King go?" MK, exhausted: "Never leave again!" Mei, crying from tiredness: "How do you do it!?" Tang, caffeinated and jittery: "Four different emails about ownership of a mango tree. Four!! And they all cited different legal sources!! It was the same tree!!" Sandy: (*downing chamomile tea like beer.*) Pigsy, ok but concerned for the others: "Maybe it's best we let the King do the king stuff from now on. Ok?" Wukong: (*fond chuckle*)

They are far more understanding if the King is too busy to attend group outings in the future.

[ohtobeleah]

Iris is giving Jake head under the desk in an office when Mav walks in, almost busting them in the act but Jake plays it off and thankfully the desk is solid to the floor so Mav can’t see under it.

Even better, Iris giving Jake head at Mavericks desk after Mav asked Jake to do some administrative stuff for him while he was out at an appointment.

I.R.I.S Masterlist

P.S: I got so carried away with this one.

Warnings: Blowjob under desk. Male receiving. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Maybe it’s during that limbo period where you’ve just come back from a lecture and don’t have anything until after lunch so you’re sauntering through the halls just looking for trouble.

“Rebounds been chatting mad shit about the fact he almost had you in that last run.” You barged into your father’s office, having spotted Jake sitting at his desk. Rebound – He’d been in so many rebound relationships that the name just stuck. As a double entendre, it is believed that his F18 must have made of rubber, since he couldn’t figure out landing…till graduation day at flight school. “You seemed a little distracted up there? What gives?”

Jake knew he was catching feelings. He had to act fast. Make sure that wasn’t a possibility. That couldn’t even be in the realm of probability, ever. Not with you. Not with Mavericks kid. 

Jake wasn’t in the mood for your antics. He was stressed. He was trying to focus on the admin crap that made no sense to him and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why Mav asked him of all people to do it for him. Bob seemed like a great candidate, he just looks like the kinda guy who knows how to use excel. 

“Do you need something?” You just stared at Jake blankly, not having expected such a shape and monotone answer. Hell, Jake didn’t even look up from the computer to look at you. He just frowned as he rubbed his chin and leaned a little closer to the monitor because, well, was that a speck of dirt or a decimal point?

“I may have been told a time or two that I need an attitude adjustment but besides that? Nothing really, just thought I’d come hang.” 

“You and I don’t hang, Iris—“ Jake took a second to peel his eyes away from the monitor in front of him to finally look your way. “You’re Mavs daughter.”

“You don’t have to remind me.” You let out a gruff as you slumped in the chair across from your dads desk. Jake looked a little too fucking good in his service tans. 

“Well it’s probably time you start acting like it.” Jake just replied, again—as sharp as ever. You frowned at him, really trying to read the expression on his face. He had little frown lines running across the expanse of his forehead, worry in his eyes. Jake Seresin was stressed and for once it wasn’t about you. It was about his work. “I really need to focus, I can’t have you in here doing whatever it is that you do.” 

“Lieutenant Commander, I think you need a little stress reliever.” As you rose to your feet, biting your bottom lip, Jake rolled back on the office chair, pointing a finger at you. 

“Don’t you come anywhere near me.” It was all bark no bite. “I’m not in the mood for this shit.” 

“So—“ You began, stalking closer and closer to your dads desk. “If I told you that I had some time to kill and that I’d be pretty willing to give you head under this nice, sturdy oak desk, you’d say no?” Jake thought about it for a moment as you leaned over the desk. He was debating if he should, he knew his moral compass had been a little off lately since he’d first spilt those beers on you, three weeks ago. You were still here for another ten and Jake had to start being the bigger person at some point. 

“Damn don’t have an aneurysm thinking of an answer.” You scoffed, pushing off the table when Jake didn’t respond. “There’s Advil in the top draw, for the looming headache.” 

“Iris, wait.” Jake sighed, running his hands through his hair as he held onto whatever shred of decency he had left. “We just can’t keep doing this, alright?” 

“Doing what?” You played dump, you wanted Jake to say exactly what he meant. Something was eating at him, you could tell. Something had changed, something shifted in Jake but you just couldn’t figure it out. 

“You know what I mean, this—“ Jake sighed as he tried to get back to his work, he didn’t have time for games or impressionable honry Mitchell’s who can’t take no for an answer to anything. 

“No.” You chuckled softly, you knew what this was. It was casual sex. There was nothing to it. No emotion, no connection, just pure sex. But despite that you felt a little hurt, a little used. Jake knew who you were because you’d told him who you were. He was the one who started this. He was the one who still took you back to his and fucked you sensless knowing exactly who’d you’d be to him. 

You’d always just be Pete Mitchell’s daughter. Mirimars resident Nepotism baby. 

“No say what you actually mean, Hangman.” You challenged Jake as your emotions began to bubble, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared at him with a blank gaze. “You mean that you can’t keep doing, me.” 

“You’re gonna cost me everything!” Jake hissed through gritted teeth as he watched the way your usually overly confident self slumped at his statement. “My job, my whole career Iris, everything I’ve ever worked towards, gone because you’ve got daddy issues and decided to use me as a pawn in whatever fucking therapy technique fucking your TopGun Instructors is!” Jake didn’t mean what he was saying, but if there was a chance he felt a deeper connection to you then just a quiet fuck he knew that it was possible for you to. “Think about it, you came in here, with every intention to cause trouble.” 

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn't.” You had, but Jake didn’t need to know that trouble also meant you’d brought an extra Gatorade from the vending machine because you knew that blue razz was his flavour of choice and that the vending machine guy took forever to restock it when it ran out. So you got him the last one. “If you really think that about me then why did you fuck me that night? You know, after I told you who I was?” Jake just looked at you, there was a look in your eye he’d never seen before. You were usually so confident, so effortlessly in control of everything happening around you. So much like Mav in his ability to be a shit stirring little shit that Jake forgot that you had feelings besides a labido. “Why did you let this go on so long?” 

“I don’t know what you expect me to say or what you wanna hear?” Jake groaned, you’d called him out and he didn’t have an answer to give. “This just isn’t normal Iris!” It wasn’t normal to catch feelings for your mentor's daughter, that's what wasn’t normal about this. You knew this had to be about more than just the risks. Risks be damned, you and Jake were having fun. There were no strings attached. You were both consenting adults, your dad and his opinions didn’t scare you. They never had. 

“Yeah, well just because you’re struggling with your moral compass doesn’t mean you have to project that shit onto me.” You snapped, scoffing as you shook your head and bit back the lump in the back of your throat. “Nice knowing you asshat.” 

Jake should’ve left it at that. He should’ve let you walk away then and there, he should’ve kept his mouth shut but he didn’t. He watched as you stormed off towards the door and a pain slung in his chest. 

Fuck.

“I’m still your superior officer, you can’t talk to me like that.” Jake stood from the chair he’d been sitting on. He squared his shoulders and pointed directly at you. “Remember your rank when you’re addressing me, Lieutenant Mitchell.” Stunned, you paused in your tracks, what the hell had he just said to you? 

“Oh so you wanna play that way huh?” You chuckled to yourself, Jake looked so stupid up on moral outrage hill. “I’m still your student, yet you fucked my ass two nights ago! Now you’re telling me that you’ve had a change of heart?” You hissed back. “Fuck you Seresin, you wanna take the moral high ground be my fucking guest but don’t piss on my parade because you don’t have the guts to admit you’re fucking obsessed with me!” 

“That’s not what this is about!” It was. It was all this was about. Jake could feel the heat in his cheeks rising. Surely his face was red by now. 

“Bullshit! You’re falling in love with me around you, you fucking sap.” It was a rush, you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. “God I should’ve known, but I’m not interested in marrying old men—“ That was a lie if there ever was one. “I just like to fuck them.” 

“Enough!” Jake growled, he hated that he was straining against his slacks, pre cum was just oozing into the fabric of his boxer briefs. He hated that he loved this, this fire and lust and anger. It was infatuating, you were infatuating. “Shut your mouth, before I shut it for you.” Oh, oh there it was. You took the bait willingly and took one step forward toward where Hangman stood, sending steam out of his ears and nose. Red in the face. “Don’t be a brat Iris, it doesn’t look good on you.” 

“Or what!” The way you asked? The way you challenged Jake? It kinda scared him. He knew you were a ticking time bomb. A hot headed inferno, so when he saw the fire in your eyes he backed up. You could still tell any of the admirals about any of this and it would be Jake's head on the chopping block. 

“Okay, you know what? We got off on the wrong foot here—“

“That’s all you got Jake! two wrong feet and fucking ugly shoes to match.” Jake was speechless as you kept stalking towards him. He was bigger, stronger, had a hell of a lot more pull around here than you do if you considered the ranks you both had—but as you backed him up into the corner of your dads office? Jake Deadman Seresin nearly came in his slacks. 

“You can’t stand to look at yourself in the mirror because you’re infatuated with someone you’ll never have!” Jake had had a gutful of your attitude as he bit his tongue, watching through hooded eyes as you backed him into the nearest wall. “You caught feelings and that’s supposed to be my problem? No—!” You weren’t going to let Jake treat you like someone lesser than. “I hope I ruin every other woman for you.” 

“You have!” Jake admitted as he finally snapped back. Finally reached out to cup your face and pull you close into his chest. Hot and lusty lips on yours in seconds of his admission. “That’s my fucking problem here Iris! You’re off limits! Nothing good comes of this entanglement or whatever you wanna sugar coat it as.” Your hands worked to undo Jake's belt as he pulled away from your lips. “All you do is cause trouble for me.” 

“And yet all you do is crave me more?” Oh how Jake loved and hated you at the same time. Because even if you wouldn’t admit it? He knew you and him drank the poison from the same vine. Trying to hide all of your sins from the light of day would be far harder than he ever thought it would be, because as he leaned in to take your lips hostage, leading you back towards the desk, Jake let you undo his belt, unzip his fly, and palm him off through his boxer briefs. “Tell me to stop and I will.” You mumbled into Jake's mouth. All he did was moan in response as you pulled the elastic of his boxer briefs back and snapped it against his lower abdomen. “Hangman—“ 

“Under the desk.” Jake managed to get out as his chest tightened, leading you back and down to the floor. “Just do what your told for once in your life Iris, get under the fucking desk.” You did as you were told and got under your dads desk. Giggling wildly as you did so with adrenaline pumping through your veins and nectar soaking into the panties you wore under your flight suit. 

“Gonna shut me up?” You asked as Jake sat down and fished himself from his slacks. He was throbbing, it nearly hurt how hard he was. No other woman had ever affected him the way you could. The way you did. Jerking himself off for a few seconds as he rolled forward. “Fuck my mouth—“ 

“I was going to.” Jake growled as he cupped your chin, rolling closer so you could take him in your open and awaiting mouth. “I’m sick of the shit that’s coming out of it.” 

It was on from there on in. Jake sighed in relief as you worked him over, expertly sucking his length under your fathers desk. Jake couldn’t control the way he wanted to buck his hips up to meet your lips or how he wanted to push your head further and further down on him.

“Oh fucking Christ your mouth is perfection—“ Jake moved your head up and down his length as you hollowed your cheeks, looking up at him through hooded eyes as you sucked him off from under the desk. “Ohhh—ahuuggh, fuck that’s it Iris—“ Jake had you sipping on his soul like wine, trading glances like you were both loaded. “Tell me if you taste my motive baby, fuck.” 

You would have answered except Jake pushed you down, held you down until you gagged around his tip and gasped for air as you pushed off him. There was a trail of spit connecting your plump bottom lip to his tip. The sight alone made Jake want to cum them and there. He was a fucking goner. 

“I think you like me out of focus.” You pointed out. All it took was a little head and Jake was putty in your hands, his guard was down and suddenly that stoic broad shouldered ass that brought up your daddy issues, was gone. Replaced by a man sick in love with you.

“I think I like you in the moment.” Jake replied as you went back to work, know exactly how to move your mouth on Jake’s length to get him where you wanted him, just on the edge but not close enough to fall. “Fuck Iris, keep doing that baby, just like that.” It was Jake's hand on the back of your head, coaxing you up and down at a rhythm he couldn’t get enough of, that had you giving some of the best head you’d ever given. You were determined to ruin Jake for any other woman. “Feels so fucking good.” 

It was at that moment, that all important moment where you were just about to kick things up a notch and deep throat the ever living shit out of Jacob Seresin, that the door to your fathers office opened. You felt Jake stiffen and roll the chair further up the desk, pushing you back and further under. 

No, it couldn’t be. 

“Mav!” Jake acknowledged Pete’s presence. “What’s got you back so soon?” You froze, trying to get a read on the situation.

Holy shit, yes—yes it was. 

“Have you seen Iris anywhere? I gotta have a chat with her.” Mav asked as he walked into his office, sitting in the chair across from Jake as he went back to working on the computer. You knew there was no possible way that your dad could see you, so what better way to rile Jake up than to keep sucking him off. 

“N-no!” Jake tried to keep a level head as he felt you take him in your mouth again, spreading his legs under the desk as much as he could to give you more room. 

“You right?” Pete just asked, all Jake did was nod with his lips pressed together in a line. Because how do you say: yeah, I’m good man, your daughters just sucking the ever living Christ from my cock as we speak, without having your head caved in?

“Yeah, I just hit my knee.” You couldn’t help but to smirk around Jake cock as he twitched in your mouth. He tasted of self loathing and denial. “But no, I haven’t seen Iris since this morning's training session.” Mav just nodded, he was angry, Jake could see it written clear as day in the lines on his face. “What’s up?” 

“I just got back from an appointment—“ Pete scoffed. “Or a meeting really, with the Admirals because apparently six of the recruits complained to Admiral Simpson.” Pete sighed, he hated every minute of this. “They threatened that if Iris placed at the top of the class they’d call for an internal review.” Immediately as if you’d been shot in the chest you stopped what you were doing. 

“You’re kidding?” Jake frowned, his voice dropped into an octave of concern you didn’t recognise. “Why would they do that?” You pulled away and just sat on your knees, listening in on the conversation you were trapped under the desk listening to. 

“Wish I was, something about favouritism, nepotism.” Mav explained as he leaned forward, letting his elbows rest on his knees. “If anything she’s had to work twice as hard to prove herself, because she was never gonna get a free ride from me, the kid always knew and respected that.” 

“Well it’s not her fault she’s the best in the bunch.” Jake felt your hand come up to rest on his knee, he moved his hand over yours under the desk as he played it off on the surface that the only two people in the room were him and Mav. 

“No, but it’s our problem because we’ve been told to pull her point.” 

“That’s bullshit Mav, how’s that fair on her?” Jake argued. “Why do these guys get to cry about the fact they suck ass? Now they’re taking the easy way out and blaming their incompetence on the fact Y/n is this generation's Maverick.” You felt your heart skip a beat at the compliment. 

Fuck. 

“They’re jealous sir, I want names—“ Pete just shook his head in response. 

“Cyclone wouldn’t give me names, but hey, I’ve gotta go chat to Bradley about this too—he’s basically her brother so it won’t look good if he keeps grading her name off at the top of his list after every class.” With that? Mav stood. “I was gonna tell her, but now I’m not so sure if I will.” 

Your dad left soon after he questioned if he should tell you or not, he was defeated—but not as defeated as you when Jake rolled out and offered to help you out from under the desk. An offer you didn’t take as you crawled out and stood up with a soullum look.

“Iris—“

You just shook your head. Humming as you pressed your lips together. You hated this, being here in this stupid office with your guard down and your emotions all out of sorts. 

“You’re worried about what getting involved with me will do to your career?” You just asked as you wiped the corner of your mouth clean. Jake could see the tears in your eyes as you tried your best to not let him see how much you hated yourself right now. “Least you have a chance to end things between us Lieutenant Commander, cut the cord, quit while you’re ahead and I really wouldn’t blame you for wanting to.” You had to pause, hold your breath and count to three. “Because at least you can do that, I can’t run from myself can I?” 

“Iris—“ Jake tried again but you just turned around and made a beeline straight for the door, making your way out of the room before Jake Seresin saw a side to you that you never let anyone see. 

“At least you have a career to worry about Hangman, mine was over before it even began.” You turned, looking at Jake over your shoulder.

He didn’t recognise you, the look on your face was something he’d never seen in you before. “You were right, we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

[errorink-a-la-mexicana]

¡Buenas noches a todxs!

Queremos notificarles que, por parte de toda la administración de EALM, hemos decidido eliminar uno de los antiguos asks que existieron casi al inicio de este blog. Queremos acompañar esta decisión con una sincera disculpa.

El ask en cuestión consistía en una persona que nos había escrito "¡Arepas arepas! ¡Arepas gratis de Venezuela!". En respuesta, hicimos un "chiste" en el que Error e Ink se cuestionaban si siquiera los venezolanos comían.

Aunque en todo este tiempo jamás hemos recibido críticas por esa respuesta, ahora somos conscientes de que ese chiste fue de muy mal gusto, especialmente considerando la situación que se ha vivido en Venezuela en la última semana.

Su admin Acahual, quien originalmente dibujó esa respuesta y es lx encargadx principal de este blog, desea dedicar unas palabras más:

¡Buenas! Sé que este post es algo repentino, pero llevaba un par de días recordando aquel ask viejo y me he sentido fatal por ello.

Para todxs mis seguidores venezolanos, sigan aún este blog o no, quiero dedicarles mis más sinceras disculpas, fue una broma cruel hecha desde mi mera ignorancia, aunque tampoco me culpo mucho de ello porque cuando dibujé esa respuesta tenía 14 años, como decimos coloquialmente por acá "estaba chavo, se me hacía fácil", pero aunque nunca fue mi intención ser ofensivo ni en ese momento ni ahora no quita que estuvo mal bromear de una situación tan delicada como la que han estado viviendo ustedes en las últimas décadas.

Aunque este blog fue creado con el mero fin de sonzear un rato con nuestras calacas favoritas, siempre he deseado que este lugar sea un espacio segurx para todxs mis seguidores sin importar sus edades, géneros, sexualidades, religiones y/o sus culturas dentro y fuera de México. Evidentemente ese ask no cumplía tal filtro, es por eso que decidí consultarlo con lxs demás admins para eliminarlo.

En varias ocasiones he mencionado que no tengo la certeza de si este lugar volverá a ser tan activo como antes, pero sea como sea me comprometo a que no volverá a haber chistes de tal calibre.

Podemos seguir siendo chistosos sin necesidad de meternos a temas sensibles :) 💖

Y para finalizar, les mando un gran abrazo y mucha fuerza a todxs nuestros seguidores y hermanxs venezolanos. Sé que su pelea aún no finaliza, por ello les quiero dedicar este pequeño dibujito de nuestra pareja favorita 🤎✨💙

Les agradezco mucho por su apoyo durante todos estos años, les mando saludos desde México 🇲🇽🫶🇻🇪

Y en general para todxs lxs demás también les deseo lo mejor ¡Cuídense mucho! ❤✨

[alleyesony0u]

Mumbo Jumbo headcanons regarding his vampirism because i'm bored

cw: discussion of blood, blood drinking, and death

- instead of eating food to restore hearts he just whips out a vial of animal blood from his belt and downs it like a shot

- has a bunch of tiny scars on his bottom lip because he bites it while focusing on redstone projects and ends up puncturing his skin with his fangs

- extremely fast and also nocturnal. definitely not the guy you want to be against in a pvp server at night

- additionally, he is much stronger than he looks. he is extremely lanky but he can absolutely carry an entire tree log without chopping it up (with a little bit of struggle)

- vampires don't burn in the sun, mumbo is just unlucky enough to be a stereotype who is always pale and just gets sunburns instead of tanning

- on the contrary, his skin is cold because he is a vampire. all vampires have icy cold skin because of their need of nutrient intake from blood, due to their lack of vitamins

- he was born of and raised by vampires, not turned.

- mumbo finds drinking human blood immoral and repulsive and because of this, thinks human blood tastes disgusting. he has never drank human blood...

- except once. :)

- as a vampire, mumbo isn't necessarily immortal, rather, his lifespan is longer than that of most other species. he is also extremely difficult to kill because his vampirism heals him so quickly, but it is not impossible to kill a vampire. oftentimes when in pvp servers, admins have to alter the server code to ensure it's easier to kill mumbo.

all done! :D

[twstbookclub]

Inked Blossoms

Summary: Jamil didn't think much of you when he received a flower basket. You were his new neighbor running a flower shop—nothing more, nothing less. So, why can't he stop coming by after visiting you once? POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Tattoo Artist x Florist AU, Tattoo Artist!Jamil, Florist!Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Mentions of Blood and Self-harm, Use of Flower Language, Jamil's POV Word Count: 4, 025 Main Reference for Flower Meanings: Boeckmann, C. (2023, November 17). What does each flower symbolize? The Old Farmer's Almanac.

And I thought the Riddle fic I wrote is my longest one 💀 I actually had this plot in mind in the same month as I thought of the Riddle fic, which was back in April of last year. I only put in one link here, but I fact-checked every flower I used in this fic with other sources. Admittedly, when I wrote this, I received some heartbreaking news that morning and I cried my eyes out. I may or may not have projected those feelings into this and incorporated my previous experiences here. To all the Jamil stans, I'm so sorry that my first fic of this guy is long and angsty. I hope you all enjoy, though 💕

Jamil stared at the flowers on his parlor’s doorstep. Pink peonies and coral roses filled the twine basket, along with a purple flower that he didn’t know the name of. The arrangement emphasized the purple flowers, while there were a few peonies mixed in with the roses. What piqued Jamil’s curiosity were the leaves that lined the edges of the basket. He squinted, subconsciously leaning down to peer at the blooms at his feet.

“... Is that basil?” He mumbled, confused about the inclusion of a familiar herb. It was something he often used in his cooking, particularly when he was roommates with Kalim back in high school. That boy’s palate was too refined for anything bland and ready-made, so Jamil always had to cook with spices and herbs. It came to the point that the smell stuck to his clothes, even after a thorough wash in the laundry. Not just his clothes—even his hair. He already had a meticulous process with his hair care and bejeweled braids, so it was a nuisance.

He shook his head, before he took the flower basket in his hands. The blooms jostled a little, and a gentle hand pushed a peony back in place. Something nagged at Jamil to look to the left, for some reason. When he turned his head, the sign of the shop next door caught his attention.

“A flower shop, huh.” That was new. Jamil vaguely remembered this lot being sold recently, but he never thought it’d be turned into a store like that. It used to be an antique store owned by an elderly woman. She minded her own business, despite the weird and judgmental looks he received for the henna tattoos that decorated Jamil’s tan hands and arms.

Jamil’s eyes darted from the cursive letters of the sign to the flowers and plants displayed behind the glass walls. The name of the shop was painted on one of the walls in gold—above some of the artful arrangements of red roses, white carnations, and calla lilies. There was a shift of color behind them, and he narrowed his eyes again for a better look.

Someone was tending to the flowers. He could vaguely make out the color of their hair and the verdant apron over a white polo shirt. With the large bouquets in the way, Jamil couldn’t see a face. Sighing and shaking his head, he walked into his tattoo parlor with the flower basket in his arms.

If all his time in the city taught him anything, it was that nothing in this world was free.

Still, Jamil couldn’t help but wonder what the purple flowers were. They reminded him of tulips, but the petals were thinner and pointed at the tips. The stamen was visible, too. It was a stark contrast to the blooming tulips he knew: blunt-tipped and oval petals without the stamen being visible. He made a mental note to search about them once he went home.

Jamil found out that the purple blooms were called crocuses, and he wound up finding a website detailing the meanings of every flower imaginable. The flowers replaced the lamp that used to be on the table next to his bed. Every morning, he’d wake up to the colorful arrangement in a vase with his mind stuck on the meaning of each flower.

Maybe he should see what the florist was like. If they were like the antique shop owner from before, then Jamil would just remain polite and ignore them whenever he could.

On a slow and quiet day in the parlor, Jamil flipped the sign and locked the door. He shoved the key in his pocket, while his eyes drifted to the flower displays and bouquets through the glass walls. A blur of white and green moved behind them, but he still couldn’t put a face to the florist.

Jamil would have to see if he was curious enough to put a name to that face, too.

A chime echoed in the store once he stepped inside, and an onslaught of fragrance hit him. He noted that it wasn’t as powerful as the smell of spices, ones that he can taste from the scent alone. Still, it was strong enough to leave him a little lightheaded.

“Ah, welcome!” A voice rang through the back, behind an open door that led to what Jamil assumed was a small greenhouse. Sacks of fertilizer and clay pots filled with flowers peeked out of the metal shelves. The sight was obscured by a green apron, stitched with the same cursive letters of the store sign.

Charcoal gray eyes met lively, cheerful ones. The gloved hands that gripped the door frame were smeared with soil, maybe even fertilizer. Dirt smudged your cheek, but his gaze drifted to your lips. Your smile—too bright to be natural—was difficult to look away from. Something churned in his chest the longer he looked at it.

“Oh,” you mumbled, which made Jamil look back into your eyes again, “you’re my next-door neighbor. Hi! I hope you like the flowers. I’m, uh…”

A sheepish chuckle left your lips, making Jamil’s heart lurch. He resisted the urge to scowl at the feeling. He just met you, and he’d rather not make a bad impression. The tattoo artist came to your store to meet you like a proper neighbor, not to antagonize you.

“I came by to say hi, and you weren’t there. I had to get the shop ready and all, so I decided to leave the basket and hope that it stays there—” You sighed, took off one of your gloves, and ran a hand through your hair— “and I’m rambling. Sorry about that.”

Jamil watched you, anxious and fidgety, and he suppressed a smile. There was something amusing about how you acted like a mouse: squeaking and retreating at any sign of danger. Although, he highly doubted that you saw him as a threat.

You were just… shy. You talked a lot, but you were shy.

“It’s fine,” Jamil raised a hand and smiled, practiced and polite, “and I appreciate the flowers. Thank you. It’s a beautiful arrangement—you have a way with bringing out their natural beauty.”

He probably laid it on too thick. It was a habit at this point: butter up people to ease them, to let their guard down. Jamil merely planned to meet this florist to satisfy his curiosity. He never considered the option of befriending this person, much less engaging in a long conversation with you.

Your face lit up, as if something dawned on you in that moment. Chuckling, you stretched out the hand without the glove and gave him your name. It was followed with a cheerful, “It’s nice to meet you! I hope we can get along, um…”

“Jamil,” he shook your hand with that same, practiced smile, “Jamil Viper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He noticed your eyes dart towards his hand and arm, inked with the traditional motifs and patterns of his homeland. Under the sunlight that streamed through the glass, your eyes seemed to sparkle. Your mouth parted in a silent, “Oh.”

“That’s so pretty,” you blurted out and continued to stare at the henna tattoos. Jamil simply watched you with wide eyes, but the surprise disappeared in that same instant. Your voice, loud and happy, filled the silence of the room.

“The amount of detail here is amazing, and—Oh, there’s even more tiny patterns inside another pattern. That’s so cool!”

Even though this much praise usually annoyed Jamil (it reminded him too much of Kalim), he found himself flustered. A faint warmth spread across his cheeks as he watched you marvel at the tattoos. You raised a hand, probably to trace the design with a finger, when you paused.

Your smile was frozen on your face, as if you caught yourself doing something embarrassing. Your own cheeks flushed in shame, before you pulled away with a nervous giggle. Jamil almost laughed at how ridiculous you looked at the moment.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that called you cute.

It was supposed to be a one-time encounter. Jamil only visited your flower shop to see the person who opened a new business next to his tattoo parlor. He wanted to see whether this new neighbor of his was going to be tolerable or otherwise. One meeting was enough to deem you tolerable; someone that Jamil could politely wave to if you two happened to pass by each other.

So, why was he looking at a bouquet of irises and white jasmines right now? Why was he standing in your store on a Sunday morning?

“You’ve been coming a lot here lately.” Your voice rang from the back, much like how Jamil first met you. He looked over his shoulder to see you admiring the other flowers with a small smile.

“I don’t mind, really, and it’s nice to have you here. I just didn’t expect you to come here almost every day,” you clarified with a chuckle as you approached him. The telltale flush of your cheeks already told Jamil about how embarrassed you were to confess that. He watched you caress one of the petals of a hydrangea with a gentle look.

For a weekend, it was surprisingly quiet here. People flocked to your store during its first week, and Jamil observed all this in the comfort of his parlor. The window provided a clear view of what was going on, so he didn’t need to go outside. You became frazzled in a matter of moments—running around and arranging the flowers yourself—and that amused Jamil. Just a bit.

Still, you smiled throughout that hectic week.

Me neither, Jamil wanted to say. Instead, he answered, “It’s another slow day in my shop, so I decided to visit. I suppose it’s become a habit whenever I have nothing else to do.”

You chuckled, and Jamil pretended his heart didn’t skip a beat. He ignored the twitch of his lips, curling into a small smile. Oblivious to the look the tattoo artist gave you, you continued to admire the flowers.

“That’s fine with me. Besides, I like your company.”

Your shameless honesty was going to be the death of Jamil. The tips of his ears grew warm, and he tugged his hood over them. He already concluded that you were a thoughtful and considerate person after spending some time with you. You prepared tea and cookies, ones you yourself baked, every time he visited. Careful hands arranged the flowers by meaning and color, which already said enough about you. Being a florist sounded just right for someone like you.

Jamil briefly wondered what flowers you’d give him if you wanted to give him a bouquet.

He cleared his throat, mimicking a cough, before he shifted his attention to the irises and jasmines again. Ever since he searched the meanings of the flowers in that basket, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Can you tell me what these mean in flower language?” He asked, glancing at you from behind his hood. Whether you found this action odd or not, you didn’t comment on it.

With a curious hum, you leaned over to look at what Jamil referred to and smiled wider. You replied, “Ah, irises can mean wisdom, faith, trust, valor, and hope. As for white jasmines…”

You raised an eyebrow at Jamil with a mischievous grin. He didn’t dare entertain the thought that you were being adorable from the action alone. He didn’t dare hope that the gesture actually meant something.

“They can mean sweet love, and the person who receives them is seen as friendly and pleasant.” You paused, before you suddenly left Jamil’s side and reached for the adjacent wall of flowers. Before Jamil could say anything, you already extended a white bloom under his nose.

Wide-eyed and bewildered, he stared at the flower in your hand. It somewhat resembled a rose in full bloom, but the petals were shaped differently. Another amused laugh echoed in the room. You took his hand, inked with intricate patterns that crawled his skin like vines, and placed the flower in it.

Jamil realized that it was a gardenia. This species of flora grew in some part of the botanical garden of his high school. He was only familiar with it because he used to pass by the area to relax, preferably alone.

“I think this suits you, though.” You hummed and returned to the counter with a spin of your heel. Jamil watched you wordlessly as you disappeared into the greenhouse. From where he stood, the tattoo artist saw pink and white camellias peeking through one of the shelves. He nearly jumped when your head popped out of the door frame.

“Oh, and can you help me carry some of these pots around? They’re pretty heavy, thanks!”

It was only until Jamil got home that he searched for the meaning of the gardenia. The bright laptop screen glared at him as he entered the keywords in the search bar. He clicked on the first result and—

Jamil stared at the words with darkening cheeks. His mouth became dry, and his tongue was tied into knots. His hand slammed the monitor shut, before he abruptly stood up and left for the kitchen. He needed some water. He needed to not think too much into things. You were going to be the death of him, Jamil swore to that.

Still, the words were already seared into his memory: you’re lovely.

Jamil found himself visiting you whenever he could. You always asked for his help whenever heavy labor was involved. If it was anyone else, he would’ve felt annoyed. With you, it was just an excuse for Jamil to stay longer.

Fleeting touches, subtle glances, and shy smiles—it was like your own language. Not a single word was exchanged, yet it felt like you said more than Jamil could comprehend. He didn’t miss the moments when your hands lingered too long over his. He would be a fool not to notice that a cookie jar and a box of teabags sat on the counter each time he visited.

For the past year, you’d give him a single flower every day without fail. One time, after the usual tea, it was a morning glory. Another time, when you were particularly homesick and Jamil stayed to chat, you gave him a hydrangea. When he visited your house and took care of you when you became sick, you gave him a yellow lily the next day. He always brought them home, but it came to the point that a mishmash of flowers in a vase brought color and life to his workspace. It sat under the window, where it bathed under a patch of sunlight. He even considered buying another vase due to the sheer amount.

You gave him all kinds of flowers, but he’d never forget the first gardenia he received from you.

“That looks out of place,” one customer pointed out while Jamil prepared the needle. He already knew what he was talking about, but the tattoo artist still followed his line of sight. A soft smile stretched from one ear to the other, and he didn’t bother hiding it.

Without looking away from the flowers, he answered, “They’re gifts from a friend. It’s the only place I can think of where they can be cared for.”

He ignored the sly, knowing grin on the customer’s face. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Jamil gestured towards the chair and continued to prepare everything he needed for this job.

One sunny day, your storefront was crowded more than usual. Jamil paid no mind to the crowd as he pulled his hood over his head. Inked hands grabbed a bundle of flowers, tied with twine, from the table. They were placed far from the vases that decorated the parlor; just to avoid confusion. His eyes fell on the gardenia he drew on the back of his hand. Jamil added that some time ago, maybe around the past month. Still, it made him smile.

Jamil locked the door, then he instinctively looked at the flower shop. His heart stuttered at the sight of the flowers amongst the crowd. The vibrant and lively blossoms were like a splash of color against the dull tones of the city. What used to be gray pavement and monochrome buildings seemed to come to life with just a few flowers.

He blinked his surprise away, before he gripped the bouquet in his hands. The thrum of his heart and the sweat on his palms weren’t something foreign to Jamil. He always felt like this at the thought of you, even Kalim noticed the change in his friend when he visited once. Your smile flashed in his mind, and his own lips curled into a small one. His feet led him to where he knew you were.

Past the flower shop; past the crowd that lingered at the storefront; past the fresh flowers that gathered against the glass walls. Jamil’s feet grew heavier with each step, as if lead hit the concrete and left faint cracks behind. He stepped through the iron-wrought gates with a soft exhale. His grip on the flowers tightened. He considered going back to the tattoo parlor.

In the end, he thought he’d regret it if he backed out now. Blades of grass grazed his sneakers as he walked through rows of stones. Names were etched into each one, a reminder of who they were to the loved ones left behind. Charcoal gray eyes looked straight ahead. He didn’t bother looking at any of them.

It had been a year since that day, but he still remembered where you were.

Grass crunched under his feet as he stopped in front of an unassuming headstone. Engraved in the stone was your name—funny how he never knew your surname until the funeral. You never told him when you introduced yourself, and he didn’t pry. He even imagined you with his surname at some point, but…

Jamil swallowed the lump in his throat. He crouched on one knee and laid the bundle of flowers on your grave. The tattoo artist made the effort of arranging the colorful blooms in a way that you would. At least, how he remembered that you would.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, and he stared at your gravestone with that same lump in his throat. A sigh rang in the empty cemetery. A cool breeze carried the hustle and bustle of the city. The laugh that used to plague Jamil’s everyday life here was missing. It was gone for months now, but he could still hear it clearly in his head.

“Hey,” Jamil mumbled, clenching his hands into fists, “it’s been a while. I’m sorry I only visited today. It… took me some time to come to terms with what happened. Regardless, you deserved an earlier visit.”

No answer, Of course, there was no answer. You’ve been dead for quite some time now. That was an understatement, considering that a year has already passed.

Jamil’s stomach churned, and an insufferable heat filled his chest. His eyes stung. His nails pierced into the skin of his palms. The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger, and he found it hard to breathe. Memories of your smile, your laugh, and the time he spent with you and your flowers overlapped in his mind.

He dug his heels into the dirt as he gritted his teeth. The sting behind his eyes grew worse. It was hard to breathe, and he found it harder to speak. He somehow forced the words out with a broken heart, pieces scattered along the ashes of what was left of you.

“You idiot,” Jamil choked out as his vision blurred with tears, “you could’ve called me to help you. How was I supposed to know you were still sick? How was I supposed to know you needed to carry that ridiculously huge flower display across the street? How was I supposed to know that car would lose control and—”

Jamil looked up to the sky with a clenched jaw, teeth clacking and shaking his skull from the force. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse whatever deity existed in this world. He wanted to forget how you looked, pale and bleeding on the street, that day. He wanted to erase that memory of you until his heart bled out and his voice croaked its last scream.

“—they haven’t found the driver. Everyone who knew you petitioned to keep the shop in your memory. Someone else took over, too. You don’t have to worry about your flowers anymore.”

Since that day, whenever Jamil looked at the ink that adorned his hands and arms, all he remembered was your loud voice and bright smile. Your praise and astonishment echoed in his head like a broken record player. He couldn’t count the amount of times he tried to scrub them clean from his skin. If that didn’t work, he scratched at them until he bled and the patterns were hidden under that shade of red.

In hindsight, Jamil thought that was idiotic of him. Love turned anyone into idiots, anyway.

Sighing, Jamil forced the tears back and looked down at your gravestone. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine you smiling and laughing again. The image of you, lifeless and still on the road, would become a scar that faded with time. He hoped it would be.

“I thought of giving you baby’s breath,” Jamil began as the lump in his throat returned, “along with forget-me-nots, and blue salvia. It would be a horrible contrast, but I also thought of adding pink carnations.”

He paused, before bitterly chuckling to himself. “I don’t have your skills, though. You were always amazing with flower arrangements. I couldn’t hold a candle to you, and I rarely tell anyone that. I didn’t want to give you something that was less than perfect—you deserve more than that, so I settled with sweet peas.”

Jamil knew he was talking to himself. He always found it ridiculous how anyone talked to the dead, even if he understood the necessity to respect the ones who passed. This one time, he understood why people did this. Jamil just couldn’t bring himself to accept the circumstances that led to that revelation.

“They mean goodbye in flower language, but I prefer the other meaning. Maybe, in another life, I would’ve bought you flowers for a date. I was thinking of asking you on a date before. Did you know that?”

Another bitter chuckle. Another shaky breath.

“I was supposed to ask you that day. I finally found the courage to try, and what did I see? You…” The words were stuck in Jamil’s throat. He couldn’t force the words out this time. The clamor outside and the harsh slam of his parlor door echoed in his memories. He didn’t want his last memory of you to be your dying breath. He’d rather not remember that at all.

Jamil shook his head and continued, “I apologize for that. What you need to know is that I like you. I may even go so far as to say I love you, and I’m sorry I never told you earlier. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

The tattoo artist sat down in front of your headstone. He didn’t care if dirt and grass stained his jeans this time. He reached out to trace the name etched into the stone, with the same hand where the inked gardenia peeked out of his sleeve.

“I like your flowers. I like all of them. I still keep them with me. I wish I told you that sooner,” Jamil mumbled, voice cracking at the end. A tear rolled down his left cheek and dripped into the soil. His shoulders shook in a silent sob as he breathed his last words to you.

“Thank you for a lovely time. I’ll never forget you.”

[latinotiktok]

Hola admins. Solo vengo a sentarme acá en la esquina del blog mientras se me pasa el coraje y la tristeza de que tumbaron una ley para prohibir la terapia de conversion en Colombia y la gente esta celebrando porque “asi si vamos a proteger a los niños”

La falta de empatia, respeto de la dignidad del otro y de comprensión lectora esta atroz 😔

Lo lamento tanto, hermane :( te mando un abrazo gigante en este momento tan feo

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

First Date. - Price x OC

|| [ Part Two ->] ||

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 2.8K~ cw: flirting, insults, banter, smut mentioned, sexual innuendos/intentions

"NURSE 20040132, RECEPTION ASAP."

Kathleen looked down at her pager and cocked a brow. Usually, she didn't get called to reception unless stuff was going down.

Sighing, she took off her latex gloves and walked over to the sink, washing her hands up to her forearms, before she left the A&E area through one of the double doors.

Scanning her badge on the sensor by the staff-only doors, she stepped out to the reception, clad in her royal blue scrubs.

She had been expecting a reception packed full, or maybe a very distraught family member reaming out the receptionist... But instead, the reception was not very full, and her eyes locked on one very tall and burly Captain Price.

He looked different this time. Still tall and imposing, with big hairy arms on display...

But sporting a thicker, fuller beard... and now wearing a full uniform. A quarter-zip fleece with camo print on the arms, and plain tan on the body, cargo pants and boots... and a kevlar vest.

It had been two weeks since she'd gone over to Stirling Lines to ream out the man and, true to his word, he didn't put in more requests for Wallcroft's release... But now, being here, it rang alarm bells in Kathleen's mind.

Was she about to get reamed out in front of hospital staff the way she did to him, in front of his inferiors? Or was he about to warn he was pursuing Non-Judicial Punishment for her?

Approaching him, she clipped her I.D. back on the left breast pocket of her scrubs and approached the reception desk, leaning on the surrounding wall of the desk, where one of the admin nurses was stationed. "Parker, you rang?" She beckoned.

"I did." Price spoke up before Nurse Parker could get a word in. Kathleen turned her face to look up at John with a cocked brow before she sighed and nodded.

"What can I help you with, Captain?" She asked him, placing her hands in the front pockets of her blue scrubs top.

Price looked at her with a slight tilt of his neck and head, as if he wanted to appear smaller for her, or, maybe, to hear her and see her beter.

His blue eyes took in the shape of the beautiful woman in front of him, the way her uniform didn't conceal the curvy nature of her body, or the size of her breasts, even with an extra layer in the shape of a black underscrubs top beneath the blue scrubs.

"Wanted to see you." He replied as his gaze slid back up to meet her brown ones.

"See me, huh?" She asked and tilted her head to the side, noting the way his hands slid up to grip the straps of his vest right below each shoulder.

The man nodded in agreement, eyebrows raising up to his hairline, which was concealed by a toque, as if he was inviting her to argue about it.

"Well..." Kathleen trailed off as she looked at him. "You saw me." Kathleen said. "Now if you don't mind, I've got better things to do than stand here looking pretty." She began to turn away to duck back behind the security doors.

"Moore, please, wait a minute." Price said, calling her by her surname, which she had no clue he knew. It caused her to stop and look over at him again, over her shoulder.

Sighing loudly, she turned fully to face him and rolled her eyes. "What, Captain?" She asked, conceding in giving him another moment of her time.

John took a step closer, and another, until he was standing over her again. "Let me take you out."

Kathleen cocked a brow. Not the first time a soldier or officer had tried asking her on a date. Hell, not the first they'd turned up after they had been cleared or discharged from treatment just to see her...

But it was the first time that a man invited her out after she had cussed him out.

Shaking her head, she turned away again, and walked over to the double doors she had just emerged from, scanning her I.D. on the reader and pushing the door open. Then, she looked over her shoulder.

John was still standing there, hands on the straps of his vest, looking at her with a deep gaze, like he was trying to see through the layers of her scrubs. Sighing and tapping her foot on the floor twice, she finally waved him over with her hand.

He quickly rushed toward her just as she pushed the door back fully. "Walk with me." She demanded as she began moving down the hall. The man obeyed, staying by her side.

"Don't touch anything, don't look anywhere, don't talk to anyone." She warned him as they passed another doorway, which she pushed open by pressing the crash bar down with her wide hip.

Price followed after her, slipping past the door by turning to the side. "Are you going to let me take you out?" He insisted.

"I'm busy." Was the only reply she could give him, eyes glued forward as they weaved through the hallways.

"I mean on your day off, love."

"I'm a nurse. We don't have those."

"Well, when's your next break?"

"I'm on my feet for 12 hours a day. I don't eat a full meal or drink water for those same 12 hours. I'm genuinely considering starting to wear an adult nappy so I can cut the amount of times I have to go to the loo which are already not a lot because I have a strong bladder and don't drink nearly enough to need to go often, hell, I already wear nicotine patches because I can't get myself smoke breaks."

A normal man would've flinched or winced or shown disgust at what she was saying. At the very least, because it was TMI, and at the most because she's clearly trying to gross him out and scare him away.

And yet John remained impavid, looking at her with the same expression as always, a slightly amused smirk tugging at his lips, eyes locked on her face, on her mouth, as she spoke.

"Didn't answer my question, love."

"I don't have breaks, Captain."

"John." He corrected her.

"Hm?" She cocked a brow as she finally turned to actually look at him.

"John Price." He replied, introducing himself to her.

Sighing and rolling her eyes, she introduced herself in turn. "Kathleen Moore."

"When are you free, Kathleen?" He insisted as he looked at her, right in her eyes, head dipped at an angle.

"Not anytime soon."

"Well... whenever 'not anytime soon' comes..." John began as he reached into his pocket and produced a piece of paper in which he'd scribbled his number prior to the conversation. "Give me a ring." He reached the folded up paper toward her.

Kathleen took his number carefully and stuffed it into her breast pocket. "I'll think about it."

"I'll make sure to wipe all the thoughts from that busy head of yours when you do, love."

"Yeah, right." Kathleen scoffed as they finally entered the A&E department and she quickly washed her hands once more and popped on a pair of latex gloves, before disappearing behind a curtain to check on a patient, leaving John standing there, by the doors leading back out.

-

As it turns out, 'not anytime soon' was actually almost a week later, on Saturday. She shot him a text a bit last minute and, as such, they agreed on coffee, not far from base.

Kathleen arrived and went inside the quaint coffeeshop, immediately catching a glimpse of John in the corner of the room, having claimed a booth to himself. He caught sight of her too, blue eyes flittering over her body, almost shamelessly so.

Kathleen got in line and ordered herself a tea and a raspberry tartlet, paying for them before she headed over to John's table. He was already sitting with his own cuppa and a lemon drizzle cake slice in front of him.

"Took your sweet time, love." John told her as she took her seat beside him, placing her purse on the other side of her body, leaving her left side open for John to come closer.

"Yeah... I didn't want to come." Kathleen replied as she shook her head and gave him a dismissive, mocking glance.

John sighed and shook his head. a smile tugging at the corner of his lips... which only grew when he noticed she was smirking too.

"You think you're funny, huh?"

"Oh, no, I don't think so, I am funny, Captain." She teased him.

John's blue eyes squinted at her in mild amusement, before he leaned a bit closer to her, setting a hand on her hand over the table. "Worth the wait, though, I've gotta say." He remarked, looking her up and down.

His date smiled a bit in the face of the compliment and shook her head. "Thank you..." She said sincerely.

Kathleen looked radiant, her long brown hair tied in a half-up half-down style, wearing pretty make-up and jewelry, and a stunning black and gold cami top, with skin-tight blue jeans and black high-heeled boots.

"You could've put in a bit more effort, though." She quipped as she looked at him. "Looking like you've just rolled out of bed and threw on the first thing you saw in your closet." She said, a mean smirk on her lips, as she watched his eyes narrow.

She had a point however. She had definitely tried harder than him... In his blue jeans, grey quarter-button shirt and black jacket, paired with blue sneakers.

"Oh is that how it is?" John taunted her while cocking a brow, sliding even closer to her, wrapping an arm around the small of her back and onto the side of her hip, pulling her tight against him.

A normal woman would already be pulling away. John was too bold, too handsy... But as Kathleen stared right into his eyes, she couldn't find it in herself to mind.

"Mhm... that's how it is." She murmured as she leaned into him as well, swiveling at the hip in order to face him, setting her hands on his chest.

"We'll see who'll look like they just rolled out of bed when I'm done with you." He murmured in her ear, only pulling away as soon as the waiter came over with Kathleen's order.

It reminded them, forcibly so, that they were in a public place, and caused them both to put some distance between them.

-

"Portuguese, huh?" John asked as he sipped on his second cuppa, holding it around the brim and trying not to burn himself on the hot liquid.

"Mhm..." Kathleen stirred the spoon in her own second cup almost mindlessly.

How they had gone from flirting shamelessly and nearly jumping each other's bones to having a normal, cordial getting-to-know-each-other conversation was beyond them.

They had been at it for nearly two hours now... and they had talked about it all:

What they studied and where (RMA Sandhurst vs. King's College);

How they came to be in their respective careers (wanted to do something good with his life vs. got recommended to enlist due to her bedside manners being 'tough');

What they do in their free time (reading and working out day-to-day, and fishing, woodworking and home/car restoration when he's home vs. reading, yoga and baking);

And now, of course, they were venturing into getting to know more of each other's pasts.

"Where in England did you grow up?" He asked her.

"Around Colchester." She said with a shrug before setting down her spoon and sipping her tea as well. "You?"

"Right around here. Hereford." He replied as he set down his cup and rested his right hand over hers again, fiddling with her feminine hand with his calloused hands, admiring the red nail polish she had put on.

"Big family?" She asked him with a cocked brow.

"Already asking me about my family, da'lin'? A bit eager, aren't ya?" John teased her while cocking his brow, then, slid closer again, lifting her hand up to his mouth and peppering a stupid kiss on the back of it.

"Oh, I'm sorry, 's it making it seem like I want to take yer last name or something, you big bastard?" She taunted in return, which earned her a laugh from him.

"You're a terrible woman, you know that?" He replied, causing her to roll her eyes. "God help the man who marries you one day."

Kathleen scoffed at him and rolled her eyes again. "And this is coming from the man that nearly groveled on his knees to ask me out?"

"I didn't grovel, you hellcat."

"Right, you just accosted me at work and begged me to go out with you, innit, John?"

John scoffed too but dropped another kiss on the back of her hand, and then over her fingers, and onto her palm, blue eyes glued to her brown ones.

There was something in his eyes, something in his kisses. Every nasty word they traded, paired with those stupid kisses of his, and his beard rubbing against her soft skin... She could see herself getting lost in it. In him.

"Didn't answer my question." She told him swiftly, changing the subject as she slipped her hand off his grasp and pushed his head back playfully by the forehead, before grabbing her cuppa and sipping it a bit more.

John didn't feel deterred, he simply slid over, wrapping an arm around the small of her back again and looking into her eyes from up close, even as she drank from her steamy tea cup, his lips almost pressed to it from the other side.

She regarded him through the steam, and over the rim of her cuppa, as if forcefully drawing out her sip of tea, to force him to wait, to have to answer her, the eye contact between them electric and full of heat.

"Just a younger sister." John finally gave in and replied, and so, she finally pulled back the cuppa and set it over the table again.

"Two sisters, two brothers." Kathleen replied in exchanged, which caused John's eyebrows to shoot up.

"Big fuckin' family, that there." John remarked, and she nodded in reply. "You're the big sister?"

"Second oldest." She replied, causing John to nod this time.

"No wonder you're so feisty, sweet'art."

"And no wonder you're such a cunt, John."

"Oh, are big brothers cunts for ya, are they?"

"They are. It's like they make it their life mission to be cunts to their little sisters."

"And you'd know it all about being a cunt, wouldn't ya?" John teased with a cocked brow.

Kathleen didn't deny it, she didn't even seem offended, she merely shrugged and smirked.

John's eyes caught the way the corner of her plump lips curled up in satisfaction and smugness, the cupid's bow well-defined even with just a light layer of peach coloured lipstick.

He leaned his head forward again, taking advantage of the cup no longer being in the way and, slowly, rubbed his lips against the corner of her mouth, his beard rubbing against her jaw and cheek.

His large nose brushed the side of her shorter, upturned one and, softly, he whispered against the skin of her cheek. "Should let me get you out of here..."

"And why would I do that, Jonathan?" Kathleen asked in return, playing coy.

As if her breathing hadn't already hitched in anticipation at the idea of what John was proposing, as if she hadn't been boldly staring a him and the way his clothes clung to his muscular body, the way his cologne wrapped around her like a cloud, as if his strong arm around her didn't make her want to mount him.

"If you keep saying my name like that..." John murmured under his breath as he pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. Kathleen's hand slid down his stomach and over his belt buckle, before settling over the growing bulge in his blue jeans.

"Fuckin' 'ell... You'll be the fuckin' death of me, Kat." He added with a hiss, eyes fluttering a bit from the mere fact her hand was rubbing over his bulge under the table. "Let me take you out of here, sweet'art." He pleaded in a whisper.

"I don't know..." Kathleen continued teasing him in a coy tone. "I'm not really the type that goes to bed with a bloke on the first date... Not that this even counts as a first date." She added in a scathing tone, causing John to hiss again.

"Right... except I'm not a bloke... I'm a man." John murmured. "And this isn't a first date, according to you..." He listed off. "And... I don't plan on taking you to bed. I plan on watching you ride my cock in the back of my car..." He added, his blue eyes finding hers at the same time as she sucked her bottom lip behind her teeth.

Kathleen wished she could argue with him... But it's not every day that a man not only tolerates her attitude but hands it back equally. And, hell, she couldn't deny that John was attractive... Maybe a bit too attractive...

"So what do you say?" John added with a smirk.

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Compañeros, hermanos, amigos escuchen y regocíjense.

Europa está en caos, el imperio español se está derrumbando, Portugal continúa perdiendo influencia y Francia pelea en demasiados frentes, es hora de unir nuestras fuerzas, nuestros pueblos pelearán por la libertad, por la justicia ¡Por América!

No sólo derrotaremos a los gachupines, portugueses y franceses en el campo de batalla ¡También nos veremos mejor que ellos mientras lo hacemos!

Esta encuesta determinará quién de todas estas sensuales personas latinoamericanas será la que opacará más a los europeos, a la que más gente le encantaría tener en su cama por una noche ¡El mas grande ejemplo de exquisitez latinoamericana!

¿Quieres nominar a alguien para tan aclamado premio? Puedes hacerlo aquí

Reglas:

1. Puedes nominar a todas las personas que quieras, el formulario no tiene un límite

2. Animamos a que manden propaganda (en inglés o español o portugués)

3. Sexy man/hombre sexy es un término sin género, todos, todas y todes son bienvenidos.

4. Serán juzgados en base de las edades que tenían durante las guerras por la independencia y los admins se esforzarán para encontrar los retratos apropiados.

Eng:

Comrades, brothers, friends listen and rejoice.

Europe is in chaos, the Spanish empire is collapsing, Portugal continues to lose influence, and France is fighting on too many fronts. It is time to join forces, our people fight for liberty and for justice. For America!

We will not only defeat the gachupines, the Portuguese and the French on the battlefield. We will also do it while looking better than them!

This contest will determine who among these sexy Latin Americans outshines the Europeans the most, who most people would invite to their bed for a night. The best example of the exquisiteness of Latin America!

Do you want to nominate someone for such an honor? Nominate them here.

Rules:

You can nominate as many people as you want. The form does not have a limit.

Propaganda is encouraged (in English or Spanish or Portuguese)

Sexyman is a gender neutral term.

They will be judged based on the age they were during the wars for independence and the admins will try their best to find appropriate portraits.

La lista hasta ahora/The existing list is here:

Virreinato de Nueva España

México:

1. Agustin de Iturbide

2. Leona Vicario

3. Juan Aldama

4. José Maria Morelos y Pavón x3

5. Vicente Guerrero x2

6. Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna

Virreinato del Nuevo Reino de Granada:

Colombia:

7. Antonio Nariño x3

8. Antonio Morales Galavís

9. Policarpa Salavarrieta x2

10. Francisco de Paula Santander x 2

Venezula:

13. Simón Bolívar x2

14. José Antonio Paez

Virreinato del Perú:

Perú

11. Manuela Sáenz de Vergara y Aizpuru

12. Micaela Bastidas

Ecuador:

15. Manuela a.k.a Manuelita Saenz x4

Bolivia:

16. Antonio José de Sucre x 2

17. María Ana Carcelén de Guevara y Larrea-Zurbano

Chile:

21. Manuel Javier Rodríguez y Erdoíza

22. José Miguel Carrera Verdugo

Virreinato del Río de la Plata:

Argentina:

18. Manuel Belgrano

19. José de San Martín x 3

20. Martín Miguel de Güemes

Uruguay:

23. Manuel Ceferino Oribe y Viana

24. Juan Antonio Lavalleja

25. José Fructuoso Rivera y Toscan

Haití:

26. Toussaint L’Ouverture

Brasil/The Empire of Brazil:

27. Joaquim Pires de Carvalho e Albuquerque

28. Maria Quitéria de Jesus x2

29. Joaquim Gonçalves Ledo

30. Maria Leopoldina

31. Pedro I

32. Hipólito José da Costa Pereira Furtado de Mendonça

33. José Bonifácio de Andrada e Silva

34.Francisco Gomes da Silva

35. Domitila de Castro Canto e Melo, Marquesa de Santos