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YOUR WRITING IS NOT DEFINED BY THE NOTES YOU RECEIVE.
i’ve seen way too many people, including my lovely mutuals, who are experiencing low interactions with their work.
this is incredibly frustrating. you work so hard to put out content for yourself and others to enjoy. it’s not a great feeling to post something and have it be looked over, especially because writing is so vulnerable.
that being said, it does not define you. low notes on a post does not mean you are any less of an amazing writer. you are creative. you are talented. you are a writer.
and we want you to keep writing. i want you to keep writing.
Y’ALLL!!!! If you need writing fodder, especially smut fodder, Az Apathy is INCREDIBLE!!! It’s literally BDSM religious trauma poetry and that is, for better or worse, my shit 👌🏻😩
I’m so serious, this majority of this album is horny questionable choice goodness
The submissive fictional men scenes I have conjured just from the songs on here, SHEEESH!!!
Give it a listen if this sounds like your vibe!! <3
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.
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Summary: You confront demon Dean in an abandoned warehouse, telling him you still believe there’s good left in him. He gives some hope of redemption
Warnings: deanmon, angst
WC: 446
ao3 // Tag List
The air in the abandoned warehouse smelled of smoke and iron, thick with the kind of heat that made your skin itch. Dean leaned against the rusted metal wall, horns glinting faintly in the flickering light above. His eyes were black, pupils slit like a predator’s, but there was something raw, human still, buried beneath the demon façade.
“I still believe there’s good in you,” you said, your voice trembling—not out of fear, exactly, but out of the weight of what you were about to reveal.
Dean tilted his head, a smirk tugging at his lips, sharp and unsettling. “Good?” His voice was low, grating, like gravel sliding over steel. “You know that’s funny coming from you.”
You swallowed, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Maybe. But I mean it. You’re not… all this darkness. Not completely. There’s a part of you still fighting for something better.”
His smirk faltered, and his eyes darkened further, almost stormy. “How do you want me to react to this news?” His tone was dangerously calm, but you felt the tension in the air coiling around you like a snake ready to strike.
“Honestly?” you whispered. “I don’t know. I just… I need you to hear me.”
Dean pushed off the wall, stepping closer until the heat from his body was oppressive. You could see the faint glow of hellfire along the edges of his form, flickering like the warning lights of a train barreling toward you. “You really think saying that’s gonna change anything?”
You shook your head, but your hand reached out, brushing against his chest where the dark aura seemed to hum beneath his skin. “I don’t know if it will. But I know that if I don’t try, I’ll regret it.”
For a moment, he just looked at you, the demon side of him rumbling, angry and dangerous, but something fragile—the Dean you knew—peeking through. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a bitter laugh, one part frustration, one part awe.
“You’re insane,” he murmured. And for the briefest moment, just long enough to make your heart hammer, you saw him waver, the battle inside him playing out in his eyes.
“And maybe,” you said softly, “insanity is the only thing that keeps me here with you.”
Dean’s hand brushed yours—not with the full force of a demon, but almost gently, a spark of the man you once knew. “Damn it,” he muttered, voice thick. “Maybe… maybe there’s hope.”
The warehouse seemed to hold its breath, the dark air hanging heavy between the two of you. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Dean looked like he wanted to believe you.
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.
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like. i'll leave this alone. but HOW are historical romance books not sexualizing the fall of breeches. literally a blowjob flap. not to mention the collars that open to the diaphragm. the décolletage with a wide neckline one swift tug from being revealed. the calves on display. the intimacy of finally seeing the real hair beneath the wig. cmon it's basic storytelling
i love making a post that attracts everyone with usernames like mozartswigsweat and bonnetenthusiast and foppishrake and petticoatsonpetticoatsonpetticoats and dandyismunlimited within 48 hours. blessed webbed site. merry christmas to us all.
Y/N, shouting from the bedroom: I got you a Christmas present!
Daryl: Ain’t need ya to…
Daryl, walking into the bedroom and stopping in the doorway because Y/N is laying on the bed with nothing but his boxer shorts and a ribbon tied around her chest on: …
Y/N, biting her lip: Wanna unwrap it?
Daryl, leaning against the doorframe to keep his balance: Fucking hell, woman.
*3 seconds later, Daryl unwrapping you with his teeth*
Daryl: Should I tie it ‘round my dick fer ya to unwrap yer present next or me filling ya up ‘s gonna be enough?
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.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
if u get a ★★★★★ in ur inbox it means ur moot appreciates u, and your efforts in the community !!!!! send this to 10 mutuals to continue the love 🏩
(this is @twd-bee3 - I can only send asks using my primary blog and you might not recognize that lmao)
This was so sweet!! The fact you sent it and then figured out a way to let me know it was you makes it even sweeter 🥹❤️ right back at you, always! ❤️❤️❤️
Milo. 27. MDNI! AI 🚫 @b33narywrites - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
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