#juanted

[mintmatcha]

cw: implied abuse (very slight)

You remember the first time you saw him, passing through the courtyard outside of your family room.

You could only see him from behind, the outline of scrawny shoulders and knobby knees silhouetted by morning light as he walked, but you could tell he was beautiful. It was in the way he carried himself, tall and proud, with a juant in his step like no worries weighed him down. The white of his hair was so surprisingly pure that you immediately thought of a star, a pure dot in the middle of inky chaos, so impossibly far and yet visible.

Three steps ahead of the boy were two older men that were once friends of your father, strong, burly folk that wouldn't explain their jobs to you when you asked.

"Do you see him?" Your mother pointed out the window with her wooden spoon, trailing the path of the boy like she's tracing a constellation.

"Who is it?" You were shushed as soon as you asked. She doesn't want them to hear, you realized. They mustn't be disturbed.

"That," Your mother whispered hurriedly, as if she's rushed in telling you, and you cannot tell if this news is good or bad, "is the most important man you will ever meet."

This tickled you. The guards dwarfed his child frame. He was a child, just like you.

"Well," you said, much too loudly, "He's not much of a man."

Your mother cracked her spoon against your knuckles. You didn't dare whimper at the pain, despite how it blossomed. She turned back to the stove, lips pursed.

"You'll understand under you're older. Gojo Satoru is special."

The second time you ever saw Gojo Satoru, it was three years later in the same patio. This time, he was alone.

He sat on the stairs to the main building, arms tucked over his knees and head buried in his lap. He was much taller now and his frame was more filled out, but he was still awkward and young, just like every other boy your age.

You knew you shouldn't bother him. You knew your mother would be cross if she found you bothering the boy, and yet you slunk out of bed anyway, padding across wood floors on bare feet. You knew the squeaky spots by heart, avoiding them on your tip toes-

and yet, somehow, he was turned to face you, as if he had seen you coming.

Just as you expected, he was beautiful. His round cheeks and wide eyes were almost picturesk, like someone up in heaven had been tasked to create the perfect boy and had crafted Gojo Saoru as the final product.

Even in the moonlight, his eyes were a shocking blue, cerulean like oceans you'd never seen, deep like gems you'd never hold. If you were clever, you'd come up with some poetic way to describe them, but mother always told you that you were simple, so the only thing you could think that was his eyes were simply blue.

Then, he opened his mouth.

"Why are you here?"

You sneered at his attitude. "I live here."

"No one lives here, it's just a meeting place." Gojo Satoru explained, like you were stupid.

"Well, I live here, so you're wrong." You kept your voice quiet. Your mother's window was just at the other edge of the courtyard, cracked so the night air could cool the room.

"I'm never wrong." The boy says so simply.

"We live here all year round and take care of the property."

He regarded you carefully, glancing up and down with a raised brow. "So you're just a maid."

That was the first time someone made you feel shame about the sentiment. Just a maid, said with a curled lip and downward spiraling tone, so sharp and degrading your cheeks immediately flushed with heat. Just a maid, as if nothing else about you mattered.

You twisted your night dress in your palms. Your voice became weak in your throat. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Well, you, Gojo Satoru, are just-" you struggled to come up with the words, tumbling through your vocabulary until you settled on a word you only learned weeks earlier- "a cunt."

The boy's jaw went slack with awe. You weren't even sure what cunt means, but when it first left your lips mother scrubbed your tongue with soap until the sink was foamy and pink.

Just as you had begun to regret it, an apology on your lips, he bounced up to his feet with wide, wide eyes. Instead of the anger you expected, you were greeted with a smile.

"You're the coolest girl I've ever met," he says, "Do you wanna be my girlfriend?"

"Do we have to kiss and stuff?" You didn't want to, but you thought about how his lips would feel against yours. Not very good, probably. Like paper.

It made your little chest ache anyway. Living in The House meant your experience with other children was more limited than you could realize as a child yourself. Gojo Satoru, the special boy you were told about, was more miraculous than the adults could ever know, simply because he was a boy you could touch.

"No, I don't think so," Gojo shrugged. You were both relieved and disappointed. At thirteen you were both enthralled by beautiful boys and terrified by them. "Probably just hold hands and hug."

"Okay then." You tried to shrug just as casually.

"Cool." Gojo pointed between you, back and forth, "Boyfriend Girlfriend."

"Boyfriend Girlfriend," you agreed. When you both fall silent, it was no longer natural. You were both strangers, yet more. You wondered if normal middle schoolers felt like this, or if this was just something that happened with Gojo Satoru, the special boy.

"But we can still kiss if you want to." Gojo held a hand out. You swore it was wet with sweat, even in the crisp night air. Gross, yet intriguing.

"I don't." You took his hand in yours. It was smaller than you expected, lithe and knobby in the fingers. You almost laughed when you remembered your mom describe him as a man.

"You probably have a bad tongue."

"Why would my tongue matter?" Gojo gagged. His hand was limp in yours. "Kissing is lips."

"Haven't you watched TV? Adults use tongue too."

He gapes again. "No way."

"Yes way."

For someone so special, talking to him certainly felt like talking everyone else. You started to wonder if your mother was wrong and he was just some dumb kid too.

"I'm never wrong."

"You're always wrong!" You let your voice get too loud. Somewhere, deeper in the hallways than you could see, a door slammed open and you both scrambled away wordlessly, scuttling off in your own directions. Somehow you managed to get back into your room without waking your mother, cuddling onto the mat next to hers with the palm of your hand still tingling with the memory of touch.

The next morning, Gojo Satoru and the chaos that followed him was gone.

The third time you saw him, it was three years later. It was only a glimpse through a doorframe as he passed. Gone were the features of a child, replaced by the sharpened jaw and wide shoulders of an almost man.

When he saw you, he laughed, no malice in his voice. By then, the shame of your station had set into your bones and you avoided his gaze like a Just-A-Maid should.

"Oi, how's my girlfriend?" His voice wasn't familiar anymore. Puberty had stolen its high pitch and replaced it with low, cracking baritone.

You didn't look up from the task at hand, polishing the wooden floors on your hands and knees, but you hoped he caught the edge of your smile and you hoped he found it alluring.

That night you dreamt of him, at least the him you imagined him to be. The rumors and stories of him had made it back to you, of course. For once your mother was right- he was special from birth, but he was also more. You knew he was regarded as rude and vulgar, a rulebreaker who hated the higher ups.

Hearing that had always made you smile. You always knew he was a cunt.

Most importantly, as you laid there, in a house that was only a sliver of his life, nothing more than forgettable minutes and meetings, vignettes of something much, much bigger, you wondered if Gojo Satoru, the most important man you'd ever met, thought about you too.

[whynotjohnlock]

Hello! If it’s no trouble to ask could you write a platonic fic or headcanons for good omens?

Like where it’s Aziraphale x Crowley x teen!reader

Maybe something like how would it be to have them as parental figures/parents?

Anyways I hope you have a good rest of your evening!!

(and if you don’t mind could you add something in there about how they’d react if the reader ever came out to them? If not I totally understand!!)

A/N: I love the idea of Aziraphale and Crowley as parents! You didn't really specify what the reader was coming out as, so I made them non-binary, as that's what is most relatable to me!

In the beginning of the story the child is a girl, and they eventually figure out that they aren't a girl at all and tells our favorite angel and demon couple.

P.S (O/N) means old name and (Y/N) means Your current name

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Crowely had never been more angry in his entire life as when he first met (Y/N). Rage burned in his demonic blood and his mellow yellow eyes flickerd into a poisonous red. The only thing stopping him from calling thunder from the sky and creating mass destruction was those little innocent eyes he had met on that sorrowful day.

-Flashback-

Aziraphale had just started to reorganize the book shop, as he did every decade when the papers and memoirs and novels got mixed up beyond the ability to find them. Crowley knew Aziraphale. Without words, without any indication, he knew that the angel would get tired and would want some pastries to snack on before noon. They had been friends for eons together and words were not necessary to convey thought between the pair. Crowley went out to get some pastries because he liked to see the angel's face become soft and happy. The demon loved the way his angel's eyes seemed to cut through any darkness or pain he held.

Just the thought of Aziraphale seemed to brighten his day and a small unnoticeable smile formed on Crowley's face. Mentally he had scolded himself for being a lovesick aardvark and finally got the strength to leave the couch and swagger walk™ out of his flat's door.

A happy juant to his other beloved parked right next to the bookshop and a nice drive latter he arrived to a newly opened bakery.

The bakery itself was rather dull, and he hadn't even cared enough to remember it's name. The whole experience was rather annoying as the shopkeeper kept talking to him when he wanted to order. He stood there for what felt like ages- which considering his age was 6000+ was quite the achievement- bored and annoyed. Couldn't the shopkeeper see he was completely uninterested in conversation? While the shopkeeper was busy ranting on about the economy, the window clicked open on noticed by everyone but him.

From his periphery and under his designer black shades, a small girl that caught his attention as he watched them sneak in through the window soundlessly.

The child silently went up to one of the display racks with croissants and started stuffing them into a little brown worn out backpack to eat later. Whoever this child was, it was clear to Crowley that they would have to be very brave or very desperate or possibly both the rob a bakery in broad daylight.

Still, the shopkeepers were not the wiser as the little gremlin continued to steal their day supply bread and it appeared they would be able to escape unnoticed.

Then the floor creaked, and all eyes turn to the little girl furious and angry. "Thief! Thief! Somebody get her!" The man running the register shouted. In surprise the girl dropped her bag of food and make a run for it.

Crowley always had a soft spot for kids and it was no surprise really to anyone who had actually known him like Aziraphale, that he miracled a chair in the way of the shopkeeper so he 'accidentally' tripped and little girl could getaway.

Falling down in pain the angry man shouts "Ugh, I hate that girl! it's the third time this week! If she does that again I'll call the police to take her away!"

All respect gone for the man working the desk, Crowley decides to order three sandwiches instead of the usual two. Once the food is in his hands, he sets off to find the crafty little thief.

It only really takes 5 minutes for Crowley to find thief girl walking streets alone. "Hey kiddo, you lost?"

The girl looks up at him and surprise and then fear like a broken animal, and from her lips tumble a simple "No mister."

His heart aches, and to appear less threatening he gets down on one knee. "Hey it's all right kiddo I'm not going to hurt you. I even brought you some food."

Crowley gives the tiny human one of the sandwiches to prove he's not a threat. The girl blinks at him and then blinks again and then devours the sandwich like it's the first food she's had in weeks.

Actually, looking at her now it might be. This is the first time Crowley's been able to really observe her and from what he can see it's almost certain she's in a rough situation- which reminds him he hasn't even asked her name yet. "What's your name kiddo?"

The girl blinks once more. "(O/N)"

He hesitates. He doesn't want hell to find out he helped a small defenseless child and certainly doesn't want hastor to use the girl to get him. He looks down at the poor innocent girl who has already finished the sandwich and is eating crumbs off the floor. "I'll walk you home, just show me where you live."

(O/N) nods simply, before taking his hand and walking Eastward for a couple of blocks. She stops at the intersection between two houses. 'Maybe she needs to go in the back door?' Crowley thinks to himself. Alas, despite working for hell, his gut wasn't quite prepared for the twisting sensation when he sees (O/N) gesture to a pile of cardboard boxes.

"This is my super cool box fort!" She says truly proud of her creation and happy, as if this was an okay way of living. "Let me give you the tour!" All Crowley can do is nod dumbly as she excitedly explains her home.

"This is where I sleep! Oh, and this is where I look at the stars through my telescope." Her 'telescope' is a clear glass bottle attached to a thrown out tripod stand. "And this is where-"

Crowley is heartbroken and can't take anymore. He cuts the girl off in a gentle sad tone, "where are your parents kiddo?"

"My parents? Umm, mummy and daddy dropped me off and said they'd be back in an soon."

"When was that kiddo?" Crowley's voice breaks into fragments.

"Um, when they were painting that house red I think. Don't worry though! I'm sure they'll be back soon Mister, just like they promised!"

Crowley knew this side of town well because it was on the way to Aziraphale's house, and recalled they had painted that particular house red a year ago.

A year ago.

What in God's name had this child been through? From the size of a little girl she couldn't have been more than five or six years old.

The little girls face made him hurt so so much because she truly believed that her parents would come back to her even after a year of not being there for her. 365 days of fighting for herself alone just for the basic necessities to grow up; and some how she still had hope they were good people. It hurt that much more in that she reminded him of himself as an angel, naive and hopeful of God and the great plan she had for the universe. Her face held the same smile that Aziraphale had when he believed that Angels were good people. And by Satan and God did it hurt.

His pain fueled his rage and bitterness. Anger at the people who it forsaken the child. Bitterness for the world. Hatred for God and her holier than thou standard. His jaw clenched and fingers turned white from clenching so hard into his fist. Why had she forsaken him? Was he not good enough? Was it because he asked too many questions? God's prophet, Jesus had said time and time again that questioning was part of faith, so that really didn't make sense. The more he thought, the more none of the answers made any sense at all.

The only thing that seemed to make sense was the fact and desire and need to take (O/N) home and keep her safe. He decided he would do what no one else had done for him; he would be there, and he would protect her. He would take her home and answer all the questions she had without ever getting annoyed or angry.

No one deserves to be in trouble just for asking questions. 'It won't happen, not on my watch' he vowed.

He did not swear to God. He did not swear to Satan. Crowley sweard to the only thing that mattered to him, Aziraphale, that he would find a way to convince this little girl to go to his angel's bookshop with him and protect them from all harm.

And he did.

----------------------------------------------------------

*Flash forward*

His little girl grew up so fast. She wasn't little anymore. Heck, (Y/N) even a girl anymore.

It god was amazing when they came out. He was so fucking proud that his little thief was brave enough to question there own identity and gender through an incredible mental journey to find the words to represent who they where and had always been. He definitely was not crying when (Y/N) came out, even though Aziraphale had hallucinated and kept insisting that that's what happened.

They had grown into a fiercely independent young adult who had just finished education was pursuing the career of their dreams.

"Are you alright, dear?" An angel snapped him out of his thoughts, and he could have sworn his demonic heart stopped for a second.

"I'm alright, angel. I was just thinking about our little thief."

Aziraphale becomes a mother hen™ "Crowley! How meany times have I told you that they are so much more than a scoundrel who steals money in the night!"

"Angel, (Y/N) likes the nickname, and told me they like it several times!"

"Our starlight deserves a better name!"

Aziraphale had grown to love his starlight as much as he loved his wiley old serpent, with all of himself, truly, madly, and deeply. He read to (Y/N) every night, creating worlds and universes of words for his starlight to laugh and enjoy.

He took them to all his favorite restaurants, for sushi for brioche for crepes and even oysters to taste and try. Only the best for his starlight!

Both angel and demon become extremely serious and angry with one another for a few heartbeats.

Then, they burst out laughing together, unable to continue this silly argument any longer. Crowley falls over on the couch tackling his angel down with him.

They just lie there together completely unable to do anything but keep laughing together in pure unchecked joy.

Aziraphale and Crowley eventually get there giggles out, and hold one another in silence.

Aziraphale whispers softly into Crowley's ear: "I love you, my dear."

Crowley gives a half smirk half smile, "i fORgIvE yOu!"

"You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope!"

"Well, I suppose it's well deserved, but I want you to know that I really do love you more than books and oysters and crepes. I love you more than I can say with words."

"I know, angel. And I really do forgive you for whatever that word mess was. Can we go back to cuddleing?"

"Of course dear."

Crowley and Aziraphale had never felt more at peace with the world than they did with you since you entered their life. They where truly free from hell and heaven to be with one another happy.

They were truely free to be as they always wanted to be;

An Ineffable family.

[ringobingos]

hi juante / fluffbomb nation. are you guys still here. or am i alone

i love them so much you guys dont get it

[worm-anon]

cooper Grodin’s don juant robe was made of parachute marterial. He climbed onto the table in that scrne becsuse he was supposed to go doen a trapdoor. Notice how when he was on the table propetly he waslooking sround? He forgor where the trapdoor was.

[szottesfolditanyak]

Első találkozás, nyugati nők

"Don Juan világával való következő találkozásom a nyugattal történt. Kellőképpen figyelmeztetett, hogy az első találkozásom a nyugattal a legfontosabb esemény, mert így vagy úgy, de ez fogja meghatározni, hogy mit kell a későbbiekben tennem. Arra szintén figyelmeztetett, hogy embert próbáló találkozás lesz, főleg nekem, mert merev vagyok, és nagyon fontosnak érzem magam. Azt mondta. hogy a nyugathoz természeténél fogva alkonyatkor kell közeledni, abban a napszakban, amely egyébként is bonyolult, és a nyugat harcosai rendkívül erőteljesek, megragadóak és őrjítőek. Ugyanakkor találkozni fogok azzal a férfi harcossal, aki a színfalak mögötti ember. Don Juan figyelmeztetett, hogy a lehető legnagyobb óvatosságot és türelmet gyakoroljam; nem csak azért, mert a nők teljesen örültek, hanem mert ők és a férfi a legerőteljesebb harcosok, akiket valaha ismert. Véleménye szerint ők a második figyelem teljes mértékű meghatalmazottai. Don Juan ezzel befejezte a felkészítést.

Egy nap, mintha akkor határozta volna el, hirtelen úgy döntött, ideje útnak indulni, hogy a nyugati nőkkel találkozzak. Egy városba autóztunk, Észak-Mexikóba. Éppen alkonyatkor don Juan a város peremén található nagy, kivilágítatlan ház elé irányított, ahol megálltunk. Kiszálltunk a kocsiból, és a bejárati ajtóhoz mentünk. Don Juan jó néhányszor kopogott. Senki sem válaszolt. Az az érzésem volt. hogy rossz időben jöttünk. A ház üresnek tűnt.

Don Juan addig folytatta a kopogást, amíg láthatóan elfáradt. Jelzett nekem, hogy folytassam. Azt mondta, kopogjak folyamatosan, ne hagyjam abba, mert az itt lakó emberek nagyot hallanak. Megkérdeztem tőle, hogy nem lenne-e jobb később, vagy holnap visszajönni. Azt mondta, folytassam csak az ajtódöngetést.

Végtelennek tűnő várakozás után az ajtó lassan nyílni kezdett. Egy borzasztó kinézetű nő dugta ki a fejét az ajtón, és kérdőre vont, vajon az-e a szándékom, hogy betörjem az ajtót, vagy hogy felidegesítsem a szomszédokat és kutyáikat.

Don Juan előrelépett, hogy mondjon valamit. A nő kilépett, és durván félretolta őt. Elkezdte rázni az ujját felém, és kiabálta, hogy úgy viselkedek, mintha enyém lenne a világ, mintha rajtam kívül nem létezne senki. Azzal védekeztem, hogy én csak azt csináltam, amit don Juan mondott. A nő azt kérdezte, hogy talán azt mondták nekem, hogy törjem be az ajtót. Don Juan próbált közbeavatkozni, de megint félrelökte. 

A nő úgy nézett ki, mint aki most kelt ki az ágyból. Teljesen rendezetlen volt. Talán a kopogásunk felébresztette, és a szennyestartóból húzott elő egy ruhát. Mezítláb volt; a haja szürkés volt és szörnyen kócos. Szeme vörös volt és dagadt. Jelentéktelen nő volt, de valahogy mégis hatásos: meglehetősen magas, százhetven centi, sötét, és borzasztóan izmos, csupasz karján csak úgy dagadtak az izmok. Észrevettem, hogy gyönyörű formájú lába van.

Tetőtől talpig végignézett rajtam, és fölém tornyosulva rám kiabált, hogy nem hallotta a bocsánatkérésemet. Don Juan odasúgta nekem, hogy hangosan és érthetően kérjek bocsánatot. Amikor megtettem, a nő mosolyogni kezdett, don Juanhoz fordult és átölelte, mint egy gyereket. Azt dünnyögte, hogy nem kellett volna velem kopogtatnia, mert az ütögetésem az ajtón túl változékony és zavaró volt. Kézenfogva bevezette don Juant, átsegítette a magas küszöbön. „Öreg emberek legkedvesebbikének" szólította.

Don Juan nevetett. Megdöbbentett, hogy úgy csinál, mintha örömét lelné ennek az ijesztő nőnek abszurd viselkedésében. Miután besegítette a házba az „öreg emberek legkedvesebbikét", hozzám fordult, kezével olyan gesztust tett, mintha elhessegetne, mint egy kutyát. Nevetett meglepetésemen, a fogai nagyok voltak, egyenetlenek és piszkosak. Aztán úgy tűnt, meggondolta magát és azt mondta, jöjjek be. Don Juan egy ajtó felé vette útját, amit alig láttam a sötét előszoba végében. A nő leszidta, hogy nem is tudja, hová megy. Egy másik, sötét szobán vezetett keresztül minket. A ház hatalmasnak tűnt, és egyáltalán nem volt fény benne sehol. A nő egy nagyon nagy szoba ajtaját nyitotta ki, mely majdnem üres volt, kivéve két karosszéket a szoba közepén, a leghalványabb villanykörte alatt, amit valaha láttam. Ódivatú, hosszúkás égő volt.

Az egyik karosszékben egy másik nő ült. Aki bekísért minket, leült egy kis gyékényszőnyegre a padlón, hátát a másik karosszéknek támasztotta. Combjait felhúzta a melléhez, teljesen közszemlére téve magát. Nem volt rajta alsónemű. Megdöbbenve bámultam őt.

Kellemetlenül haragos hangon megkérdezte, hogy miért bámulom a vagináját. Nem tudtam mit mondani, azon kívül, hogy letagadtam. Felállt, és úgy nézett ki, meg fog ütni. Követelte, hogy mondjam neki, hogy azért bámultam szájtátva, mert még soha életemben nem láttam vaginát. Bűntudatot éreztem. Teljesen össze voltam zavarodva, és dühös voltam, amiért egy ilyen szituáció fogságába kerültem.

A nő megkérdezte don Juant, micsoda Nagual vagyok én, hogy sosem láttam vaginát. Ezt elkezdte ismételgetni újra meg újra, teli torokból kiabálva. Körberohant a szobában, és megállt a széknél, ahol a másik nő ült. Vállánál fogva rángatni kezdte, és rám mutatva azt mondta, hogy egy olyan férfi vagyok, aki sohasem látott még vaginát egész életében. Kinevetett és kigúnyolt.

Elgyötört voltam. Úgy éreztem, don Juannak tennie kellett volna valamit, hogy megvédjen a megaláztatástól. Emlékeztem, korábban mondta, hogy ezek a nők elég őrültek. Don Juan megszépítette a valóságot. Ezek a nők nem csak őrültek, de a diliházban volna a helyük. Don Juanra néztem segítséget és tanácsot remélve. Elnézett másfelé. Ugyanolyan tanácstalannak tűnt, mint én, noha azt hiszem, rajtakaptam egy kaján mosolyon, amit fejének gyors elfordításával rejtett el.

A nő hanyatt feküdt, szoknyáját felhúzta és rám parancsolt, hogy nézzem meg teljes odaadással, ahelyett, hogy lopva nézegetném. Az arcom egész biztosan elvörösödött, a fejemben és a nyakamon érzett forróságból következtetve. Annyira mérges voltam, hogy majdnem elveszítettem az önkontrollomat. Úgy éreztem, legszívesebben beverném a fejét.

A nő, aki a széken ült, hirtelen felállt, megragadta a másikat a hajánál fogva, és látszólag erőfeszítés n��lkül, egyetlen mozdulattal felállította. Majd arcát néhány centiméterre tartva az enyémtől rám szegezte merev, hunyorgó tekintetét. Illata meglepően friss volt.

Fennkölt hangon azt mondta, hogy térjünk a tárgyra. Mindkét nő közel állt hozzám, a villanykörte alatt. Nem egyformán néztek ki. A második nő idősebb volt, vagy idősebbnek tűnt. Arcát vastagon púder borította, ami komédiás külsőt kölcsönzött neki. Haja elegánsan kontyba volt fogva. Alsó ajkának és állának folyamatos remegésétől eltekintve nyugodtnak tűnt.

Egyaránt magasak és erőteljesek voltak; fenyegetően fölém tornyosultak és hosszasan bámultak rám. Don Juan nem tett semmit, hogy megtörje a jelenetet. Az idősebb nő felém bólintott és don Juan azt mondta, az ő neve Zuleica és álmodó. Azt a nőt, aki ajtót nyitott, Zoilának hívták és ő egy cserkésző. 

Zuleica hozzám fordult és papagájhangon azt kérdezte, igaz-e, hogy még sosem láttam vaginát. Don Juan nem tudta tovább tartani higgadtságát és nevetni kezdett. Egy kézmozdulattal jeleztem neki, hogy nem tudom, mit válaszoljak. Azt súgta a fülembe, hogy jobb lenne, ha azt mondanám, hogy igaz, vagy legyek felkészülve arra, hogy el kell mondanom, milyen a vagina, mert az lesz Zuleica következő kívánsága.

Ennek megfelelően válaszoltam. Zuleica azt mondta, sajnálatot érez irántam. Aztán utasította Zoilát, hogy mutassa meg nekem a vagináját. Zoila hanyatt feküdt a lámpa alatt és széttárta lábait. 

Don Juan fuldokolva röhögött. Könyörögtem neki, hogy mentsen ki ebből a megtébolyult házból. Ismét a fülembe suttogott, hogy jobban tenném, ha figyelmesnek és érdeklődőnek mutatkoznék, és alaposan szemügyre venném Zuleica vagináját, mert ha nem, maradnunk kell az örökkévalóságig.

Miután gondosan és figyelmesen megvizsgáltam, Zuleica azt mondta, hogy mostantól fogva azzal henceghetek, hogy szakértő vagyok, és ha netán belebotlanék egy nőbe, akin nincs bugyi, nem leszek olyan otromba és közönséges, hogy hagyom kidülledni a szemeimet, mert most már láttam vaginát.

Zuleica nagyon halkan kivezetett bennünket a belső udvarra. Suttogva mondta, hogy van kint valaki, aki arra vár, hogy találkozzon velem. Az udvaron vaksötét volt. Alig tudtam kivenni a többiek körvonalait. Aztán egy férfi sötét sziluettjét pillantottam meg, tőlem néhány lépésnyire. Testem önkéntelenül megrázkódott. Don Juan nagyon mély hangon beszélt a férfihoz, azt mondta, azért hozott engem ide, hogy találkozzak vele.

...

Számomra, együttműködésünk legkellemesebb meglepetése Zuleica és Zoila átalakulása volt, akik korábban olyan undorítóak voltak. Kiderült, hogy ők az elképzelhető legjózanabb és legkötelességtudóbb harcosok, ahogy don Juan megmondta. Nem hittem a szememnek, amikor újra láttam őket. Eszeveszett időszakuk elmúlt és most úgy néztek ki, mint két jólöltözött mexikói hölgy. Magasak, sötét bőrűek és izmosak voltak, ragyogó sötét szemük világított, mint a fénylő, fekete obszidián. Nevettek és azon viccelődtek velem, ami első találkozásunk éjszakáján történt, mintha nem is ők vettek volna rész benne, hanem valaki más. Könnyen meg tudtam érteni, miféle zavarodottság vett don Juanon erőt, jótevője társaságának nyugati varázslóival kapcsolatosan. Képtelen voltam elfogadni, hogy Zuleica és Zoila valaha átalakulhatott olyan ellenszenves és undorító teremtményekké, amilyennek az első alkalommal láttam őket. Sokszor szemtanúja voltam az átváltozásuknak, mégsem tudtam már őket olyan erősen elítélni, mint az első alkalommal."

Carlos Castaneda -- A Sas ajándéka

[darka-art]

I loved and I loved and I lost you And it hurts like hell Yeah it hurts like hell

_________________________________________

Been working on it for a good while, but I'm glad it's over. I've been thinking about making a mini ''animation '' with it later on Premiere pro, I must work on the audio.

Draker Flense from the Gaunt's ghost novel , and my Ocs, Sopheea. They have complex story, and lets say, she is presently being angry at him for very good reason ( its never a good idea to break the heart of your beast friend).

Short story, this is after Mr Flense came back to Juant After have saved a world from the Tyrnids. Draker was of course decorated with medal, and it of course boosted his pride. Sopheea and the woman who was at the time, his Fiance, warned him if he continued like that, his pride and anger would be his downfall.

Needless to say, he was too pride and blind, and literally Left Sopheea and his Fiance behind, in the search of glory and revenge against Ibram.

⛔

© 2023warhammer 40000K belong to Game Workshop

🎶Hurts like hell by Fleurie Art is mine, do not trace/edit, use as NTF , reblog or clams as your own.

[karmareign03]

Wuntayk sa hephop

Lapat mo sa beat ni Kendrick na reincarnated

Top 5 emcees all time ko in no particular order

Mga mc na Origins ng rap battle elements

Loonie multi

BLKD pen game

Tipsy D 4 bars set up

Aklas Unorthodox

Dello Rebut

For sure naman may influence mga yan sa underground at mainstream di kasi ganon ka accessible dati sa mga social media ang rap battle. Uso dati diss track cassette tape. Sila lang din nagpatuloy ng mga aral na natutunan nila sa kultura ng hip hop salamat kay Boss Anygma don.

Goat sakin

Loonie tingin ko sya yung Jon Jones ng fliptop, successful din sa music industry at personal na buhay

Di man ako emcee pero tagasubaybay ako since day 1 di nga lang live. Pero ngayong taon mga new emcees era di na ako ganon kasubaybay lalo na sa dos por dos, sa tingin ko dahil halos magkakamukha na lahat ng style mostly multi at holo nakakabingi na pakinggan wala na akong left field na nakikita

Halos mokujin na lahat pero respect parin sa mga new emcee na sumasalang sa stage. Recycle din dapat di na puntusan kung di na exceed yung original. Switch sa metal.

Top na nag mumulti madami pang pwedeng ma-mention pero sakin ito yung mga nag excell pati sa ibang katigorya

Loonie nagpakilala ng multi sa rap battle scene

Abra timeless yung multi at crispy ika nga ni Loonie

Speed rap

Smugg no doubt

Crazymix

Sparro sayang parang isang battle lang ata sya sa fliptop ewan ko sa ibang liga

Damsa late bloomer grabe din improvements nya dun kay Lanz

Flow

Smugg

Damsa

Flict G

Jokes

Sinio

Zaito

Jonas

K-Ram

Pen Game

BLKD

Tipsy D

Aggression

Zaki

Batas

Leftfield

Emar

Presence

Aklas

Sak

Sana maglaban tong dalawa

Bias

Sayadd

Emar

Rebut

3gs

Well rounded

Cripli

Jonas

Personals

Shehyee

Best duos

Cripli/Towpher

Lanz/Invictus

Shernan/M-Zhayt

Favorite era

1st Dos por dos

Favorite battles

M-Zhayt vs Sak

BLKD vs Tipsy

Loonie vs Tipsy

Favorite reactor

Loonie with guests

Wishlist battle

Vit vs 6t

Mhot vs GL

Worst Battle

JuanT vs J-skeelz

Gustong bumalik sa scene

Fuego

Datu

Bogchik

Papew

Underrated

Sur

Kregga

C-Quence

Active

Poison13

Pistol

Frooz

Favorite yawa emcee

GL

Fav tangalog emcee

K ram sana kaso half bai din yun e

Si badang nalang king ina nya

O si akt

Anygma & Phoebus

Pinakapangit Nikki

Pinakagwapo Abra

Pinaka punyeta Zaito

Pinaka g Don Pao

Pinaka Ma L Sir Deo tang ina ka

Pinaka maganda: yung taga kuha ng photos

Ka vibe: Tweng

Kamukha

Anygma

Kasabog

Aklas

Wishlist isabuhay rep nxt yr

Uncrowned Kings

Abra

Apekz

Goriong Talas

Tipsy D

Pricetagg

BLKD

Sayadd

Emar

Harlem

Cripli

Towpher

Plazma

Poison13

Lhip

Romano

Tatz

Royal rumble isabuhay champ winner

Aklas

Kung maging emcee man ako

Emar Sayadd magiging influence ko

Sa music Industry

Stick Figgas, Uprising, Illustrado, Donggalo yan lang pinapakinggan ko ngayon, dati BnK kaso naging mainstream naging mapanghi, Sayang 187 mob di na active tsaka repablikan hs days

Overseas

Eminem

Lil Wayne

Kendrick Lamar

J. Cole

Big Sean

Mac Miller (rip)

Montana of 300 (FGE)

Sa hiphop ngayon sa pinas

Masasabi ko lang parang pinapanood ko lang yung sarili ko nung 2013 era ko ganon padin music industry na tinatangkilik nila party drugs sex. Walang bago nahaluaan lang ng bagong element pero ganon padin paksa o tema. Tyga YMCMB era haha.

Well rounded✖️

Breakthrough✔️

[bookbaran]

Nothing like a quick juant through a 600 page book to get out of a reading slump.

[444names]

african american forenames

Aasha Aasharen Adarr Aireveita Aizzalius Ajayon Akeishonta Alandrion Aleita Andravine Aneem Angellon Angelm Anquan Anteyah Antre Arphem Ashia Aumaraysha Beberalco Beuliff Bricarra Brikarcus Brius Calisha Camethee Carcus Carious Carita Carquia Carte Catevonne Catri Cedra Cedran Chajuwua Chamonye Chanya Chatandre Cheniya Cherne Chukwan Claneis Clasha Conna Conya Dabri DaJashana Dajuan Dajukwata Damad DaMard Damis DaMola Damonyan Dandez Dandra Danji Dantez Darcus Darevohna DaRhon Darisha Darnasha Darquez Darquitayk Darrelle Darrik Darry Davin Davionn Davisheka Davondaia DaVonte DaVontia Davorre Daysha DeAnell Deika DeJar Dellissa DeMal DeMalos Demalyn Demira Denaequis Deonn Deonyah Deorra Deovauna Dequa DequaYvez Deray Dermertay Derry Deshajuani DeShan DeShathere Deshawn Deshice Detishauna Devineque Devontez Devontoya Devorious Dious Donda Dontery Dontre Drayasia Drayquana Dvontree Dwone Dwontez Dyreem Dyren Dysius Dysta Dytoin Dywona Elicena Emandrey Emell Ethawndann Faari Faroberion Garius Gorevon Gwelle Hakee Harcoletta Harissia Hidarlo Ieshaun Imaun Iyente Jabrez Jachaya Jakeis Jaleaughn Jalekeis Jamarelo Jamarrius Jameene Jamika Jamil Jamimbe Jamimilley Jantre Jaqua Jareavina Jariuston Jarra Jarrika Jarshawna Jasha Jatez Jaule Javia Javio Javonta Jawaun Jazighna Jeffanelis Jenna Jeontrena Jerius Jesha Jihia Johna Jomaina Jovandra Jovaun Juandrika Juante Jubre Jyaacrenée Jyqwaurne Jyvon Jywua Kalari Kalica Kavisha Kavona Kazza Kazzan Kefia Keishalyn Keitrin Kemarkira Kenayquona Kenik Kenry Kente Kesha Keshawan Kevionna Kevontin Keymodnien Keyneth Keysha Kiann Kitan Kmahala Kwashanda LaChaughn LaDavon Laforgell Lakeemima Lakeya Lakira Lakitanne Lakitrice LaMarco LaMarcus Lamee Lameshida Lamiqua LaMonta Langel LaQua Laquana Laquanell Laquanta Laqueelne Laquere Laquian LaQun Larco Larel Laria Larius Lasha Lashan Lasharlos Lashonn Latal LaTamee Latayquine Latelon Lathawata Lathod Latichad Latopul Latrek Lavid Lavis Lavon Leenaia Leetc Leevious Lelon LeMarle LeQuane Lequasia LeQuaya Lequon Lesha Lesleani Lishan Lonteemar Loushadeka Maijah MaiWay Malarika Malius Mandashae Maray Mares Marielo Marin Marlee Marmarry Marra Marrius Marronna Marte Marus Meanic Miahmo Mondresha Monnayvem Monta Montita Mumisha Myala Myishosa Naija Najent Nakeel Nakirence Naquelon Nashawn Nashosha Nettey Nilne Nykee Nykeiga Octay Oluwa Oluwanda Oluwon Omadarius Onzan Onzelle Orlann Orlaun Orleta Oshananiti Patane Peringen Peron Peronnara Phale Phyne Quandai Quangellis Quany Quellijah Quirontez Qwsha Rande Rasianda Rayate Raynisha Raysha Rayssa Reensha Reeshan Rekwuavia Rhoniquell Rhontife Rosha Ruthawn Ryshon Rysia Salius Samaishawn Samika Saniquais Savida Seany Serius Shamber Shana Shanda Shanta Shaquance Shaquet Shata Shaundarza Shawn Shawnahj Shawnti Shays Shell Sheny Shida Shondy Shonta Shoshinda Soheria Sohnne Sojous Steem Sybria Tacre Tacrell Taelle Tainte Tairrik Taivana Tajukta Tajun Takeell Takiasond Talica Tamekeon Tamera Tamerione Tamishani Tanna Taqua Taquani Taquella Tarar Tariania Tarlon Tarnell Tasharrae Tasia Tavie Tavin Tavious Tavius Tavon Tavone Tayniqua Tenita Teraya Terius Terne Terraya Terryon Tertin Thamarez Thangisha Tianice Tiffon Tinauna Tinste Tiquane Toshawne Toyand Tramil Tranna Trell Tulisa Tyees Tyjuwonte Tykeis Tykeveona Tykwuayvon Tylan Tyqua Tyraesha Tyrelle Tyzha Ukille VaJon Vashaqua Vatishia Vauli Vonta Wakeema Wakeika Wilicquell Xavia Xaviontia Xhane Yousa Zanthan Zesha Zoyana

[milkandheavysugar]

Portrait of Allen Juante Meadows (a model hailing from Harlem, NY), photographed by Carl Van Vechten, 1940

[charmed-redemption]

"So not my type."

Rico spoke as his eyes glowed a bright blue and he saw the creature tormenting humans. Though he felt bad for them he was a neutral and as such had to stay out of it. Like the generations before him was not allowed to side with good as it could tip the scales forcing a bigger badder enemy to appear. However the presence of the judge who had chosen the source was forcing his hand. The young man sat reading his books as he did every day learning more about his power and how to control it. His eyes flashed a bright blue forcing him to realize the creature was there for him. As the juant moster stood over his with his hand outstreached to burn away his humanity and tipping him toward evil. Words left the princes mouth in the hopes of saving his life.

"Spirits of air, sand, and sea, converge with my words to set the Angel free. In the wind, I send this rhyme. depart the world of the living, as it is his time!"

As he spoke the unkillable cloaked as his life essence was being burned away. The angle of death was free to claim a soul long overdue and far too foul to be counted among the living. Rico seemed unphased until he realized that he had taken a side where he and his family prided themselves on neutrality. The young man simply shrugged a little as the creature died in screams only for the ashes to fly through the air into his book where his power and collective knowledge were made the property of the Medici man. Despite the city being a place of darkness magic was still something that was supposed to be private and he had forgotten to check who was around. Turning the page his eyes rose to the figure not far away that had gone unnoticed until then.

" Oh fuck! "

CMD: Golden Age of Magic

[bulkbinbox]

lan juante jergerhadutha meadows por carl van vechten

[wizardsspellbook]

[insaneinspireddreamer]

It’s easier to recycle though. And it’s just the one pitcher.

[universitybookstore]

Marking the birthday of gay novelist and photographer Carl Van Vechten one last time, with his portraits of beautiful male dancers: Archie Savage, Alvin Ailey, Claude Thompson, Ram Gopal,  Anton Dolin, Lorenzo Newby and Zebedee Collins, Donald Sadler, Alan Juante Jergerhadutha Meadows, and Paul Meeres.