Hi everyone, welcome to my page! My name’s Knox and I like to write stories/ fanfiction! Check out my interests in the tags below :3
I really appreciate constructive criticism and I’d love to take requests!
Sometimes I’ll just post silly stuff rather than stories, and I’d love to chat to you guys <3
˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚Rules˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚
-No racism, homophobia or discrimination for any group (it can be satirical, but state it!)
-We can have serious discussions about war (I.e genocide in Palestine, Russian-Ukranian invasion) but don’t spread misinformation, or show hatred towards either side.
-Reposting with proper credits and permission is great!
-Commenting and Reblogs are heavily appreciated
-None of my works will be posted on any other platform, unless stated
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
• carries guilt like it’s his winter coat. never takes it off. even when he’s holding you from behind in the kitchen at 2 a.m., chin hooked over your shoulder, breathing slow against your neck, you can still feel the weight pressing on his ribs. he thinks if he lets go of it for even a second the whole world will notice he’s not allowed to be happy.
• has the longest fingers you’ve ever seen and he knows exactly what to do with them. not even in a sexy way at first—just absentmindedly tracing the inside of your wrist while you’re both pretending to watch a movie. then one day he notices your breathing change and suddenly those fingers are around your throat, not tight, just resting, like he’s checking your pulse to make sure you’re still real.
• calls you by your full government name when he’s trying not to cry. “come here, [your name].” voice low, cracking at the edges. it’s never casual. it’s always when he’s standing in the doorway after a long case or a worse mission, suit jacket still on, tie undone, looking at you like you’re the only verdict he’s ever wanted to win.
• has a secret folder on his phone labeled “evidence” that’s just pictures of you sleeping. your mouth open. drool on the pillow. bonnet half-off. he scrolls through it on the train when he’s feeling particularly hollow. never shows you. never deletes one.
• gets mean when he’s horny. not cruel—mean. the kind of mean that makes your thighs shake before he’s even touched you. “you think you can walk around in my shirt with nothing underneath and i’m just gonna behave?” voice so low it vibrates in your chest. next thing you know he’s got your wrists pinned above your head with one hand and the other is already three fingers deep, curling slow while he whispers every filthy thing he’s been holding back all day.
• loves when you choke him. not lightly. hard. your smaller hands wrapped around his throat while you ride him, nails biting skin, his adam’s apple bobbing under your palms. his eyes roll back and the most broken, pathetic moan rips out of him—like all the guilt and shame finally has somewhere to go. after he’ll kiss your knuckles like they’re holy.
• leaves legal books open on the nightstand with little sticky notes inside. half of them are actual case thoughts. the other half just say things like “don’t forget to kiss her forehead when she wakes up” or “tell her she’s beautiful even when she’s mean about it.”
• has the most pathetic praise kink once you get him vulnerable. call him “my good boy” while he’s buried inside you and he’ll whimper into your neck and cum so hard his hips stutter for a full ten seconds. he’ll pretend he didn’t but the blush on his ears lasts for days.
• keeps your hair ties on his nightstand like they’re evidence he has to preserve. sometimes he’ll slip one onto his wrist under his suit cuff before court. no one knows. he just likes feeling something soft against his skin when everything else is sharp.
• after really bad cases he doesn’t want sex—he wants to be held like he’s small. head on your chest, your fingers carding through his hair, your heartbeat under his ear. he’ll whisper “don’t let go” so quietly you almost miss it. you never do.
• when he finally says “i love you” it’s not during sex or some romantic dinner. it’s at 6:47 a.m. on a random tuesday. you’re stealing his coffee. he’s still half asleep. he just looks at you over the rim of his mug and goes “i love you.” like it’s a fact he’s been waiting to submit into evidence. then he goes back to reading the newspaper like he didn’t just change your entire life.
reblog if higuruma could choke you with his tie and you’d thank him 🖤
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
┆꒰ 💬 ꒱ descrip. you’d think it’d be rare your boyfriend, MARK GRAYSON, would indirectly post about you anywhere, especially in such a suggestive way. he had given you the impression he’s somewhat reserved, and he does keep his dirtiest talk in your private messages… yet you still come across little hints like these that let you know he’s thinking of you less than virtuously. maybe he misses you, maybe he can’t get a hold of you, maybe he thinks you’re busy right now, whatever the reason his friends on his profile can see clearly how infatuated he is with you and with what. talking about you like that it’s obvious to anyone reading that he’s got it bad and he wants you all the time.
:*¨༺ ♱Forgive me Father, for before you is a sinner♱ ༻¨*:
-Invincible [Mark Grayson x Rex]-
---
-‘Sypnopsis’-
⤑
Mark Grayson is a son of a son of a Father, brought up in a God fearing household of 2, and have yet to wander into Satan's shade. He follows the Bible down to a T, and internally criticizes people who don’t.
Rex, however, mirrors Mark, late nights out, drinking and cig-dragging. He is a familial amd local dissapointment in their town in Missouri, after being caught with a boy in a rather vulnerable position.
When Rexford’s parents have reached the end of their tether, they decide to make Rex pack up and stay with the Graysons as a last resort rehabilitation, and despite Mark’s faith to the Lord and Rex’s ever-so-present flaws and misdemeanours, he can’t help but feel his heart start to palipitate, and get caught inbetween these two emotions.
---
☁︎₊˚ෆAuthor's Note 001☁︎₊˚ෆ
Hey guys welcome to the first chapter of this fic! The initial plan was to write in bulk and upload the chapters at 5pm GMT every Friday, however, I got too impatient and uploaded chapter one on here. DONT WORRY THOUGH; Chapter 2 is already done and dusted, and I already have a good chunk of chapter 3 done. If you all could spare me and let me write three more chapters, then uploads will be more consistent!
☁︎Playlist here!☁︎
Enjoy ^^
---
*¨༺ ♱Matthew 13♱ ༻¨*
“Well, this is quite awkward, isn’t it?” Rex announces, after a comical quiet that followed after he entered his house through the living room window, to a ticked off Mr and Mrs Sloan.
Well, “ticked off” is a rather light and softer way of putting it.
“And what do you think you’re doing? Coming home at an ungodly hour?! Where were you?!” Mr. Sloan points to the clock on the adjacent wall. 2 a.m.
Damn, he could’ve sworn he was only out for twenty minutes, max, not for one hundred and twenty. He always lost his sense of how much time had passed whenever he drank. Not to mention, sense of self, the hand that waved at the clock blurred and doubled in Rex’s vision
“Just… out? Hey, listen, good talk old man, but I’m absolutely exhausted and would appreciate some beauty sleep.” Rex slurs out while untying his muddy combat boots, staining the glossy oak floor, and tries to make a dash to upstairs.
Unfortunately, his father was quick to grab him by the scruff of the neck. He sniffs, and shoves his son back with a face of disgust.
“Alcohol?!” His nose quivers again “Cigarettes?!” He boomed, and Rex winces, the entire house trembling along with him. Rex struggles to regulate his breathing.It felt like his ribcage was tightening up and constraining his lungs.
“No, Dad, please not now,” he mumbles. Rex makes a pleading look towards his mom, but she reels back, turning away from him, her body language painted with revulsion.
“No, Rexford. I’m not going to defend you any longer. This has gone on for too long, and you must pay for your sickening passions. You’re a disgrace to our family, I can barely even look at you.”
You could’ve heard Rex’s heart puncture and deflate.
“I wasn’t even doing anything, I was just with William, he’s just a friend-,” Rex bit the inside of his cheek to keep his voice from wavering, but his eyes still watered.
“Oh, like that friend you were gallivanting around with, and just HAD to let the entire world see?” His dad pulls him up, both hands wrapped around his neck, not enough to suffocate Rex, but the position does make him feel light headed. He could feel his breath shorten and his head spin.
‘Think of something to say, anything?’ He manages to sputter something out, despite his stupor. When it comes to his father, Rex becomes more sharp with him.
“Well, it’s not like the entire world saw, and what happened 6 months ago? Shit changes, exhibit A being your hairli-,”
Thwump.
Rex believed that if his father put any more power input, his neck would have snapped. The sting of a handprint lingers on his left cheek.
He felt like he was falling, everything in his periphery fading into black, only seeing the fury on his dad’s face, which starts to stretch and contort into something more sinister. His throat just clams up. All words he conjured in his brain got lost on the way to his mouth.
The tears spill. Fuck.
“Mom, please, do something”
Silence. Rex could hear the footsteps quieting into the distance.
Oh.
Oh no.
His eyes glaze over, and his Dad finally releases his grip, letting his son crumple to the floor.
Mr. Sloan must have felt even a bit of lingering guilt, or maybe even a shred of sympathy, because he pats his kid gingerly on the back.
“We’ll talk about this in the morning,”
Rex replies with a “fuck you” under his breath, but doesn’t even move an inch from his position for the next half hour that followed.
He looks at his tremoring hands and coughs. They’re slightly now covered in an unpleasant mixture of saliva and blood. He can feel the indents of his teeth on the inside of his cheek, which confirms his working theory.
He then moves from the stationary position and stands up, catching a glimpse of himself in the mantlepiece mirror.
Wow.
He looks like shit.
Looking exactly like how he felt.
He rubs his eyes roughly, feeling his skin itch. He goes into his room, littered with discs, cassette tapes and smelly clothing. He doesn’t bother changing into nightwear, and rather opts for getting a bottle of cheap beer hidden under his bed. He opens it, and takes multiple swigs, large gulps at a time. Immediately he felt a sense of relief wash over him, his muscles relax, and he felt everything almost slow down in real time, like an action flick.
After a record breaking 15 seconds of silence, Rex chucks the bottle at the wall, allowing it to shatter into haphazard pieces.Everything was blurred, and tinted in red when he tears the closest poster straight off the wall along with the wallpaper revealing the cemented brick walls that upheld this once happy home.
Profanities like “Fuck off,” and “Fucking Bastard” echo throughout the house, loud enough for anyone in proximity to hear them loud and clear. Which is what Rex wanted.
Or, was that what he wanted?
What hurts more, being beaten or being ignored? One allowed you to be seen, another let you do whatever you want without question.
The catch about the latter option is; being ignored means no one cares, they’ve given up on you and consider you a failure; a lost cause, a hopeless case. Broken beyond repair, not dissimilar to the shattered glass that littered Rex’s room.
God, when did he ever gave this much of a fuck, ever? Why now, of all the nights that paralleled this one? Thinking fucking hurts, it’s no wonder he never entertained that past-time often.
Rex punches and hits this area of the wall, scraping at it mindlessly like an animal, shouting and panting like a dog in the sun, pacing around his room, and repeating this process until his knuckles begin to bruise and bleed, broken glass shards embed themselves in the soles of his feet, and every part of his body was filled with nothing but pain.
Hell, moving an inch would take all his will to not pass out right then and there.
However, he isn’t finished; drunk with fatigue, the son of Sloan rattles and shakes his wardrobe, managing to kick off a closet door, slamming his head against it.
Eventually, his movements become more sluggish and uncoordinated, until the thumping in his head is replaced by a numbing, almost comforting ache. He can feel his brain dipping in and out of consciousness, until it drifts out completely, allowing Rexford Matthew Sloan to finally put himself to rest.
———
It was a throbbing headache that woke Rex that morning, or was it that time of day? The sun was glaring through the window, high in the sky.
He yawns and stretches his back, with unsatisfying cracks echoing in his room. Rex unsticks his fingers, which were now crusted in blood, and his stomach rumbles unpleasantly.
Booze on an empty stomach was not one of his brightest ideas.
He walks downstairs and meets his parents sitting at the kitchen table. The tense silence would have been uncomfortable, but he’s lived through days no different like this one before.
However, his parents are sitting beside each other, the chairs they’re sitting on not tucked into the table.
Which only means one thing.
Confrontation.
“Rexford, there is something we need to talk about,” His Dad starts, which earns him an acknowledging hum from Rex, who is currently trying to find a box of Cheerios in one of the cupboards.
“Your mother and I decided that what happened last night was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and-,” his Dad pauses, irritated by his son spooning handfuls of cereal in his mouth while leaning on the kitchen counter.
After a few seconds of crunching, Rex swallows thickly. “Go on, old man, no one is interrupting your spiel. Well, as if anyone was listening in the first place.”
His mom continues in place of her husband. Clearly, this lecture is a well-rehearsed one. “Well we thought it’d be best if you had… a change of scenery.”
“Fuck does that entail?” Rex tenses up, but opens the ancient fridge, the hinge whining as it always does. He gets a glass bottle of milk, and takes a swig of it.
“Well, maybe you should have a little… stay at someone’s house, so we can figure things out from there.”
“Oh really?! Tell me, Mommy and Daddy Dearest, who would want to put up with the ‘local fuck-up’? Huh?” He dares, taking bigger gulps of milk, ones in quicker increments, even though he feels like he’s about to burst.
“Pastor Grayson.”
He sputters and chokes, spraying white everywhere.
“What, the one with the holy, ‘oh so sanctified’, conceited son? You’re kidding.”
Spoiler alert: They weren’t.
“Well, Rexford, we think it’s in your best interest to stay with them for a few days. You never know, it could be good for you.”
“Good for me, as if you fucking care?!” Rex slams his hand on the table, getting into his father’s face.
“This is ALL to make you two look like better parents, when in reality, it proves you’re both shitty ones who can’t handle their own kid,”
“Rexford. Matthew. Sloan,” Mr. Sloan stands up from his seat, and unfortunately, he’s a good head taller than Rex.
“I will not tolerate any back talk in my household any longer. You’re 17 for God’s sake, you still have your whole life ahead of you. You still have time to change your way of living, and maybe grow into a fine young man.”
Rex yawns, rolls his eyes and mimes for the time. “Fine young man, my ass, I’m not staying anywhere with anyone except here.” He tries going back upstairs to kip down for a bit again, when his mother grabs his wrist.
“Rex,” her voice is soft, and well meaning. It was a stark contrast to the tone she had last night, but it’s one that Rex is used to hearing.
“Please, just give it a try?”
ᝰ.ᐟ·:*¨༺ ღ ♱ ღ ༻¨*:·ᝰ.ᐟ
When the sun began to awaken from its slumber, you could spot a Markus Sebastian Grayson sitting under the biggest tree in the family compound, its trunk knotted in on itself multiple times over, and its range of branches, skinny, thick, long, and short adorned with leaves, its foliage being most appreciated for shade in the summer months.
He has a crisp, leatherbound Bible propped in his lap, thumbing through the pages until he reaches one that is bookmarked with a polaroid photo of his younger self and his mother.
A wan smile appears on Mark’s face.
“Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you, Mom.” He tucks the photo bookmark in the cover of his book, and starts to read the page that he was on.
The page read:
“Exodus 20:12, Honour thy mother and thy father, so thee may live long in the land the Lord is giving thee,”
A verse that Mark lived by in his day to day life, at his father’s beck and call for as long as he could remember.
He considered his dad an all knowing mentor, helping him navigate through his life, even through the roughest moments that befallen the Grayson family.
As the local pastor, Nolan spent the majority of his days at the church, spreading the word of God and his gospels. Sometimes, (or rather, most of the time), Mark would join him on his own volition, helping with recitals, attending christenings or simply praying.
There is no man that Mark is most loyal to, other than his father.
Who calls out to Mark.
“Son, come and join me for a splendid breakfast.”
The ‘splendid’ breakfast in question was fried fish (a fine substitute for sausages on Fridays), two sunny side up eggs apiece with a side of baked beans.
Mark sits on the opposite end of the table from his dad, a calming silence filling the room.
It gets broken by the man of the house.
“Mark, starting today, you will find that for the next few weeks we’ll be hosts for a guest in our home,”
Well, this is news to Mark. Had he missed it on this week’s calendar?
No, it can’t be, whenever they had visitors for longer periods of time, he and his father would deepclean the already pristine house multiple times over the day beforehand.
So, to say the least, this was unusual behaviour from his father.
“Really, Father? Who?” Mark inquires, assuming it’s a friend of friend either here for business or maybe for their child’s communion? It is that time of year after all.
“Are you familiar with Rexford Matthew Sloan? I believe he’s in your year at school.”
“Uh, yes, I think I have heard of him.. once or twice.”
A blatant lie.
Mark is more than familiar with who he is, and how he’s like, along with everyone else in his year.
Personally, he already has a very formulated opinion of him, though he hasn’t seen the guy more than twice in his life, and both times were quite brief.
“Well, he’ll be staying with us for a few weeks. His parents called me earlier this morning. They’ve decided that their boy has grown mischievous, and wanted me to… reel him in,” Nolan finishes his meal and stands up.
“They are supposed to bring him in this morning, so before they get here, promise me one thing,”
Mark perks up, putting his bias aside. “Yes, of course,”
“This is a heavy task, so I’d like you to assist me in guiding him, you know, so he has someone to relate to who will be a good influence on him simultaneously. I know I can trust you, and I doubt that you will let me down,” Nolan pats his son on the shoulder, making Mark’s heart swell with pride.
“Yes, Father, I won’t let you down,”
——
A morning later, Mark is up in his room, when he hears his dad call from the patio. He dashes down, seeing his Dad, along with another two adults, presumably Mr. and Mrs. Sloan conversing.
Another figure lingered behind, He had a fallen face and nothing except the clothes on his back and an embarrassingly small rucksack.
And boy, he looked rough.
His skin was scored with fresh scars, carelessly covered with plasters, stuck on in any old way, topped off with eyebags that washed out his skin. He was a mess.
‘But,’ Mark thinks at the back of his mind, when their eyes meet, Rexford gives him a polite, but wan smile.
‘Despite all the blemishes and impurities, he was… pretty?’
Mark flushes with shame and shakes his head, dispersing the thought. A disgusting one at that.
His ears tune in to catch Nolan bidding Mr. and Mrs. Sloan farewell.
“Well, Aabel, thank you for entrusting my son and I with this. In three weeks your son will grow to be a God-fearing, fine young man.”
Aabel shakes the hand of the pastor. “No, sir, thank you! You are so generous, giving us this offer, helping in a time of need. God bless you sir, and may you and your son prosper,” He, and his wife turn to leave, and walk down the steps on the patio.
Then, as an afterthought, he stops. “I wished I was gifted with a son like yours.”
They take their leave, abandoning Rex with the Graysons. He turns to them both.
“Er, hello, I’m Rex?”
“So I’ve heard,” Nolan replied curtly, which makes Rex anxious. He didn’t know what to make of this guy, whether he’s chill, or hiding his more sinister side if he toes out of line.
The man of the house heads inside, and if he had a cape, Rex would swear it would’ve billowed dramatically
“Mark, could you please give Rexford a tour of the house, before we can fully settle him in?”
His son straightens up a bit, nodding, and begins to direct Rex around the house, taking him through each and every room.
Instead of using idle brain power to listen to what Mark’s saying, Rex sizes him up. About his own height, sturdy, toned muscles from exercise.
Hell, Rex would consider him even cute if it weren’t for the fact that Markus Grayson is a stuck-up, naive, obnoxious, bootlicking bra-
“Argh! That hurts!” Rex squirms at the stinging alcohol cotton pad Mark pressed onto his face, being slapped out of his daze.
They were in the lounge, and Rex realises that the cuts on his hands were bandaged with clean beige plasters.
“Geroff me,” He grumbles, shoving Mark’s hand away. Mark, though annoyed, is insistent.
“Hold still, it’ll get infected if we don’t treat it properly right away. Father says that this is the best remedy,”
“Yeah well,” Rex pulls away again. “If your dad told you blue fire was cold, would you believe him?.”
Mark’s brown eyes darken, and his face almost turns into a defensive sneer.
Rex sighs, and for the second time today, gives in.
“Fine, but be careful,”
——
“And, finally, this is my room. I doubt you’ll need to be here for any reason, but still.” Mark motions to the marvelously bland room, it almost looks like Rex’s sleeping quarters, no more different than a guest room.
The only shred of personality that smeared that room was a series of photos of the Graysons, and a bookshelf with novels with muted colours, and textbooks with cracked spines.
“How quaint,” Rex replies shortly.
“Welp! Thanks for showing me around, truly enamoured being in your presence,” The brunette puts on a bravado, bowing dramatically. Mark’s stone face cracks a slight bit, and dusts with a faint blush when Rex gives a comedic wink.
“I- have to pray… now.”
“Oh, how splendid! And tell me, Master Grayson, am I at liberty to join you on this religious endeavour? This could be the start of my sinless and pure lifestyle!” The tone Rex takes on is an unrefined and distasteful one.
Mark’s eyes narrow. “You mock me.”
“Moi? Mock? Never!” Oh yeah, he’s getting his spunk back. If these few weeks mean he can see what makes the perfect boy tick and annoy him, then maybe there is a silver lining to this cloud.
Mark deeply sighs and replies firmly. “Well, yes, but..Not now.”
He walks, or rather, marches out of his bedroom, and think to himself ’I need to talk to William.’
—-
“Seems like your dad is trying to do DIY conversion,” William deduces, sticking a fry into the strawberry ice-cream, and then eating it. It wasn’t hard to find William, as he usually spent his free days lounging at the ice cream parlor, abusing the summer ice-cream discount.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Mark huffs, sucking on his straw. William scoffs.
“Ugh, not this again, you cannot be serious.”
“What?” Mark looks up from his drink.
“You know gay people aren’t the ‘devil’s spawn’, right? You tolerate me on an almost daily basis.” William downs his drink, and wipes his mouth
“Yeah well, it’s different with you,”
“Literally how?”
That stumped Mark, he ponders for a moment. He could only come up with an underbaked reply.
“I mean, like, you don’t flaunt being queer, and stuff,” he mumbles.
“Well, neither do most, use your brain. Unconscious bias, take a leaf out of your holy book, I doubt Jesus died for you to be a hypocrite.”
Mark truly hates it when his friend is right, especially when it doesn’t work in his favour.
“Look, Mark, I know Rex myself, he’s a pretty sound dude, dude! This is a situation where my very ample intelligence-” Mark raises an eyebrow. “Is at the end of its tether.So the most you can do is laissez-faire, and try not to make things worse,” William pauses.
“He goes through a lot shit at school, home and everywhere he goes actually, so maybe show some ounce of compassion? Love thy neighbour and all that.”
Mark goes stoic, and his eyebrows furrow. “Well, counterpoint: ‘honour thy father and mother’ and ‘all that,’ I think I trust my father and God more than some junkie I barely met.”
William slams his glass down, slides a five dollar bill on the table. He glares, actually glares at Mark.
“Listen, you have to figure this shit out yourself, alright? I can’t spoon-feed you, but a word of advice; not everything is black and white, Mark, you need to make your own decisions for once, and not just blindly spew whatever you’re being told verbatim.For a smart guy, it shocks me how you can’t notice nuances.”
William leaves an incensed Mark sitting at the outside table of the gelato bar. The anger ebbs away almost immediately, and Mark considers going after him to apologise.
He decides against it, thinking arrogantly, ‘He’ll get over it, he always does,’
He also pays and leaves the bar, the words “Not everything is black and white,” echoing in his mind.
Not everything is black and white.
---
☁︎₊˚ෆAuthor's Note 002☁︎₊˚ෆ
Hope you all enjoyed! Not so fun fact erhm, the scene with rex's father at the beginning is heavily based on my past experiences with my own mum (Venting on the first chapter, mb 💔🥀). I tried to embed my feelings during that event into my writing, and how you can't feel your feet in such a time of distress, how time can slow down and what you're experiencing may feel uncanny or unreal.. sorry if what im saying makes NO sense, I'm writing these author notes at 2am and I pulled an all nighter the night before 💔💔
!! imagine kissing mark for the first time after months of pining and him getting so giddy he finally got to kiss you that he starts floating dreamily.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I’m doing a Philosophy paper on Asexuality. Please reblog if you think Love without Sex is possible! I really need the data. Like if you think love has to have sex.
THIS IS NO SHADE TO THE POSTER OF THIS BECAUSE I UNDERSTAND THEIR OPINION. THERE IS ALOT OF THINGS I CRINGE AT AND SCROLL AWAY FROM AS WELL..
But yall know NONE of this real life right? Lol none of it. These are fictional characters with fictional backstories in a fictional universe. And fan fic is used to expand on that universe or create your own. Whether you wanna make Toji sound like a 30 something year old man born and raised on the east coast, make Gojo a rich boy from California…or when we make any of the JJK men attracted to black women or immersed in black culture lol or whatever your beautiful mind wants to make him..Do it. Because theres an audience for it. Please don’t be discouraged about what to write over others opinions.
We don’t get paid for this and do alot of it for comfort so if you want to make the most non-canon version of your favorite character, then do it❤️ someone will enjoy it.
Hello everyone! I hope you guys had a lovely Christmas and or New year :)
Probably you guys have forget who as was and I don’t blame you, I lowkey forgot about this account too..
If you didn’t know, summer of ‘24 was rough for me, and despite the fact I had an abundance of time on my hands, I spent it rotting at home.
Then school started, specifically the first of the 2 exam years in secondary level education, so I’ve been stuck into that aswell.
I apologise for the radio silence from me and lack of content due to the after-mentioned points above, as well as the fact my lucifer hyperfixation worn off (what satoru gojo does to mofo)
Despite that, I really want to show you guys the rest and end of something stupid, despite being in a writers slump, I’ll try my best!
To be honest, right now, Hazbin as a series doesn't have a place in my heart as it used to a year ago, and I've been considering rebranding this account.
Of course, the following I've built around hazbeen (haha pun laugh now) one in the HH/HB community so I wanna know what you guys think!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Hello everyone! I hope you guys had a lovely Christmas and or New year :)
Probably you guys have forget who as was and I don’t blame you, I lowkey forgot about this account too..
If you didn’t know, summer of ‘24 was rough for me, and despite the fact I had an abundance of time on my hands, I spent it rotting at home.
Then school started, specifically the first of the 2 exam years in secondary level education, so I’ve been stuck into that aswell.
I apologise for the radio silence from me and lack of content due to the after-mentioned points above, as well as the fact my lucifer hyperfixation worn off (what satoru gojo does to mofo)
Despite that, I really want to show you guys the rest and end of something stupid, despite being in a writers slump, I’ll try my best!
To be honest, right now, Hazbin as a series doesn't have a place in my heart as it used to a year ago, and I've been considering rebranding this account.
Of course, the following I've built around hazbeen (haha pun laugh now) one in the HH/HB community so I wanna know what you guys think!
