#ann writing

[bbyfacedx]

thinking about the first crota fireteam and how crucial eris was to recruitment. the mission in itself was to avenge guardians lost to crota but there was a specific tint of focus toward avenging wei ning, something eris didn’t have much of a personal stake in aside from being a friend of her’s and eriana’s. and yet, she went on to recruit people who were obviously incredibly important to her; sai who seems to trust her with complete faith, vell who saved her life once and is willing to do it again, omar who only agreed to go because eris supports the cause, toland who she’d probably looked up to even in his exile, who has genuine faith in the mission despite everything.

and then, they die one by one and eris is entirely helpless to stop it. maybe it would be less bittersweet if they’d accomplished anything close to their original goal, if eris could come out of the hellmouth knowing her team’s deaths weren’t in vain. but they don’t, and they are, and everything was all in vain from the very beginning.

it’s interesting how eris emulates them, keeps them alive through herself. like sai, she trusts herself to carry out this insane hive ascension ritual with little concern for the personal risk. like vell, she adventures out into a hostile frozen wasteland and fights to protect others no matter the cost, even those she barely knows. like omar, she keeps talismans and charms and gives them to others who need reassurance, a reminder she’s in their corner. like toland, she’s the hive expert who still seeks to teach and mentor despite her more self-imposed solitude.

and of course, like eriana, her passionate love and craving for vengeance are constantly at war with one another. her sorrow, he guilt, her anguish over what she’s lost, competing with her desire to help, to mend, to protect what little she has left, to save a world she still somehow has faith in. the difference between them is that eris’ love will always win. she will not be led blindly into any pit again, not by her thirst for revenge, not by her despair, not by the darkness, not by the deep.

#ann.txt #eris morn #destiny 2 #toland the shattered #omar agah #sai mota #eriana 12 #vell tarlowe #ann writing #first crota fireteam

[mournfulroses]

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters

#lit #anne sexton #letters #quote #words #a self-portrait in letters #fragments #quotes #writings #p

[jaegersdevil]

dad!sukuna based on this tiktok that gave me insane baby fever

the birds chirping outside in the dawn light makes your daughter giggle from where she stands in your bedroom doorway.

"baby," you whisper to her, beckoning her over to your side of the bed. "c'mere."

your 3-year-old wobbles around the bed, having gotten out of bed by herself. she stands before you with her hands out and grabs your arms.

"layla," you whisper, glancing over your shoulder at your husband, whose hair pokes out wildly from under the duvet. "tell daddy mommy wants a coffee."

your daughter's wide eyes round, and she tilts her head. "cowe?"

you suppress a giggle. "coffee."

"coppee?"

"yeah, good enough," you mumble, nodding. and then you lift her onto the bed. layla clambers over your body and falls face-first into the space between you and sukuna, her pink hair splayed everywhere.

you slap your mouth with your palm to stop the laughs from escaping. your husband stirs, groaning deeply under the white blankets. she looks over at you with a smile on her face, and you give her a single thumbs up.

"dada," layla says, climbing on top of him. "wake up!"

"hi, babygirl," sukuna slurs, eyes half open.

"i want coppee."

"hm? what?"

"coppee!"

"coffee...?" sukuna takes a moment to process the word and then looks at you over his shoulder, eyes puffy. "really, bro?"

you giggle, hiding your face in the blankets.

"you want coffee..." sukuna says, pointing at your daughter. "you go get it."

"no, mummy wants coppee! you get it!" she giggles, chubby finger aimed at him, too.

“noooo,” he whines, though it’s barely one. he shoves his face back into his pillow. “you.”

“daddy!” your daughter yells. “coppee!!”

sukuna scoffs a laugh and rubs his eye with his knuckle while your daughter dances around the room singing, "coppee, coppee!"

"you're lucky you're cute," sukuna grumbles, swinging his bare legs out of the bed, looking over at you as he does so. "you too."

#sukuna jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #dad!sukuna #— ann writes!

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Anne Sexton, A Self-Portrait In Letters/ Anne Sexton, from a letter to Anne Clarke dated 23 March 1964

#anne sexton #words #quotes #literature #literature quotes #book quotes #quote #dark academia #light academia #chaotic academia #poem #poetry #prose #books and libraries #bookworm #books #english literature #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark acadamia quotes #writing #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #dead poets society #lit #academia #aesthetic #typography #poems on tumblr #life #love

[thebookquotes]

I want to calm down, to rest, to outlive this nonsense.

Anne Sexton, from a letter to Dennis Farrell written c. June 1962

#Anne Sexton #books and libaries #book quotes #bookblr #quotes #lit #spilled ink #poetry #literature #original #zitat #thoughts #writing #words #text

[dervampireprince]

something about being ruined. not just fucked or teased or even used, but ruined. someone making you unable to think, unable to speak, just moaning and twitching and leaving you unable to ever be satisfied for anyone else, anything else, always needing them, craving them, every hour of the day, being unable to control your arousal anymore, how wet you get, how hard you get, how flushed you become, all because they’ve ruined you.

#the vampire writes #iiiiiii hadnt been hypersexual in so long and then i got back into ann old fandom and look i just voices okay so like voices right voices #nsft #nsftumblr #nsft concept #nsft fantasy #nsft writing #ftm nsft #mlm nsft #nblm nsft #t4t nsft #trans nsft #trans man nsft #transmasc nsft #lgbt nsft #bi nsft

[moonstoast]

—about god

#was gonna caption this ‘on god’ #but then i was like #???? #words #prose #writings #on god #web weave #web weaving #allie long #s. osborn #ilya kaminsky #anne carson #religion

[metamorphesque]

What kind of writer am I? With all this love and no words for it?

— Anne Sexton, Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters

#quotes #literature #classic literature #anne sexton #writing #self portrait in letters #selfhood

[thehopefulquotes]

Fall in love with someone who's comfortable with your silence. Find someone who doesn't need your words to know it's time to kiss you.

Clairabelle Ann

#Clairabelle Ann #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[thoughtkick]

Fall in love with someone who's comfortable with your silence. Find someone who doesn't need your words to know it's time to kiss you.

Clairabelle Ann

#Clairabelle Ann #motivation #quotes #poetry #literature #relationship quotes #writing #original #words #love #relationship #thoughts #lit #prose #spilled ink #inspiring quotes #life quotes #quoteoftheday #love quotes #poem #aesthetic

[feral-ballad]

Carol Ann Duffy, from The World’s Wife; “Delilah”

[Text ID: “but I cannot be gentle, or loving, or tender. / I have to be strong. / What is the cure?”]

#carol ann duffy #excerpts #writings #literature #poetry #fragments #selections #words #quotes #typography #poetry collection

[bbyfacedx]

trying to finish some destiny wips ive been working on for ages and this is genuinely one of my favorite drifteris snippets ive ever written. maybe perhaps i will Finish It

Eris Morn is not a woman who wishes for pity. Sympathy makes her ache nearly as bad as any physical ill she’d suffered; more foreign in her than her own three eyes. The tentative, placating words of others do nothing to put her at ease. Words alone cannot bring back anything she’d lost, sacrificed, or gambled away of her own free will, after all. She isn’t fond of them in the slightest.

The only balm capable of soothing her is a strange one, made from unknown ingredients and applied in a thick layer whether Eris likes it or not. It stings, seeping into her skin, penetrating her down to the marrow each time. He can’t help being obnoxious, she’s aware, it’s simply in his nature. An ointment of his own to rub over the wounds of being known. As much as she’d like to say she knows the Drifter, she doesn’t. Eris has no weapons or words capable of piercing through that thick, cold skin, but she doesn’t necessarily mind it.

Whatever truth lies buried under the Drifter is inconsequential to her. She knows his hands, each scar and callous and imperfection; his voice, the cadence and lilt of it, the way he clips the ending clean off of his words and slurs them into a drawl. She knows that he fiddles with his jade pendant when he’s nervous, upset, frustrated, thinking hard, or holding back excitement. She knows his nicknames for her; Moondust when he’s trying to be romantic, Three-Eyes when he’s trying to push her buttons. Eris knows enough about the Drifter to keep her curiosity sated, for now.

The Drifter’s Gambit is one thing Eris has never bothered to study much. Why should she invest her time learning the ropes of a simple game meant for trigger-happy Guardians to shed the blood of aliens and their own? How could Eris hope to participate while she had nothing but an Ahamkara bone in hand and Stasis replacing her Light? Why was she pacing around the Drifter’s alleyway, eyes darting impatiently from the open grate to the swirling bank of motes to the jade coin discarded on the table? More questions with answers that Eris will never know.

#destiny 2 #eris morn #d2 #destiny 2 fanfiction #drifteris #drifter #ann writing

[mournfulroses]

Anne Sexton, from a letter featured in Anne Sexton; A Self-Portrait In Letters

#lit #anne sexton #letters #quotes #words #a self portrait in letters #writings #fragments #typography #p

[jaegersdevil]

fresh out the slammer [sukuna x reader] cw: singular mention of sa w/c: 1.1k a/n: all characters mentioned are 22, shoko is your best friend.

"you're not meant to be here."

the man who stands at your doorstep scoffs. your 6 foot 3, pink-haired ex takes up the entirety of the doorway, and you have to force down the urge to jump him.

you tilt your head when he doesn't answer. "ryomen, you need to leave. right now."

a single eyebrows arches. "i know damn well you ain't talkin’ to me like that."

rolling your eyes, you know he won’t do anything you say. so, opening your front door wider, sukuna steps inside, his left hand scratching the back of his neck.

“see, being nice isn’t that hard,” he teases, glancing at you over his shoulder. sighing, you close the door, eyeing him wearily as he lingers in the hallway.

“new key hook?” sukuna smiles, pointing at the wall.

you shake your head in disbelief. “why’re you here?”

sukuna raises his eyebrows, spinning to face you. but you realise your mistake too late.

with the door at your back and nowhere to go, you’re cornered by your ex-boyfriend. yet, he seems to know exactly what he’s doing, with his tongue poking his cheek as he approaches.

“where were you on sunday?”

your breath hitches in your throat when he runs a finger along your collarbone, but you won’t let him get you that easy.

“nowhere,” you insist, staring him down. he always said you were brave for doing that — you were the only one to ever do so.

“funny,” the corner of his mouth turns upward. “i heard something different.”

you give him no reaction. besides, what’s it to him?

“ok, and?”

“ooo,” he laughs deeply, his head tilting. “so it’s true.”

“ryomen—“

“come on baby, you know that’s not my name to you.”

“ryomen,” you press, putting your hand on his chest to keep him at a distance. “you need to leave.”

the faux pout he gives you makes you want to slap him, but you can’t bring yourself to do something so heinous to him.

“fine,” you concede. “yeah, i went on a hinge date, so what?”

“so what?” sukuna mutters bitterly. “it’s not ‘so what’ when he tries to force himself on you, baby.”

your face heats at the mention of it. “sukuna—“

“and you didn’t think to tell me?” he presses his hand on the door behind you, his body dangerously close to yours.

“i was scared,” you whisper, gaze on his chest to avoid his eyes. you notice his body visibly relax, his head hanging closer to yours to hear. “i knew you would do something about it, and i didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“you don’t need to worry about me,” sukuna asserts, his finger under your chin to lift your face towards his. “it’s already been taken care of, and i’m still here.”

your eyes widen slightly, head moving to look at his right hand on the door. spread on the brown wood is his hand, larger as always, the pale skin on his knuckles red and purple and bloody and you’re shocked you didn’t see it before.

reaching up, you grab sukuna’s hand to cradle it in your own. “you’re joking.”

“you’re not a joke to me, sweetheart.”

sighing, you side step him, holding his injured hand in your own. he follows mindlessly behind you, checking out his left hand that is just as bloody as the other.

entering the bathroom, you don’t need to tell him where to sit before you dig the first aid kit out of the cupboard beneath the sink. you hadn’t had to use it in a while.

“kuna,” you murmur, observing his hands. he doesn’t reply. instead, he watches you, like he always does.

faces level, you set everything onto the counter. standing between his thighs makes your body feel numb. and when one of his hands covers your hip, you focus on the other.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you clean his knuckles with alcohol, and doesn’t object when you smooth frozen band-aids over the particularly bad cuts.

“thanks, baby,” sukuna says, not checking to see if you cleaned them correctly—you always do.

“don’t mention it,” you dismiss flippantly, putting the red soaked cloth in the sink and the aid pack back in the cupboard.

the silence is comfortable but charged with something you don’t want to acknowledge. the muted chatter from the tv in the living room penetrates the bathroom wall, and you come back to your senses.

“does shoko know?”

“she told me.”

you sigh, if she couldn’t get her hands on your hinge date, she’d tell someone who could—and he did.

“he had a bruise where you punched him,” sukuna quips. “but i may have made it worse.”

you twist your lips sheepishly. “yeah, well, i wasn’t letting him get away that easy.”

“that’s my girl.”

the comment makes your stomach flutter pathetically.

“you wanna stay over?” you blurt, face warm.

sukuna knows better than to tease you right now, so he nods, and stands from the closed toilet seat.

you swiftly leave the bathroom, pacing down the hallway to curl up on the couch. sukuna walks in idly, taking in the space he’s spent so much time in. one thing catches his eye, and then he’s poking fun at you.

“nice picture.”

your eyes dart to where he’s looking on the bookshelf, and god forbid, it’s a photo of the two of you at tokyo tower. but, you’re not embarrassed.

“yeah, i look hot.”

sukuna chuckles, sitting next to you and propping his feet up on the coffee table. “you look hot all the time, shut up.”

drawing in a breath, you can’t contain yourself anymore. you circle your arm around his neck, fingers threading through his pink locks. sukuna turns his head toward you, lips inches apart.

“feet off the table.”

“don’t tell me what to do.”

you snicker, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“fresh out the slammer,” you joke. “and you come here.”

“of course,” sukuna looks confused. “where else would i go?”

you bite the inside of your cheek to stop your emotions from showing.

“i don’t know,” you glance down at when his fingers play with the drawstring of your sweatpants. “a new girl?”

“please,” sukuna scoffs. “like anyone else would put up with my shit.”

you give him a deadpan look.

sukuna rolls his eyes. “you’re my pretty baby, i’ll always come home to you or whatever,” he says lazily.

you run your thumb over his cheekbone. "kuna.”

he raises his eyebrows in question, but he knows what you’re asking.

“i need something from you," you mumble, tracing his lips with your eyes.

"oh yeah?" he smirks, voice low. "and what's that?"

you shrug, licking your lips. “nothing.”

sukuna rolls his eyes and lifts your hips up and over him, your knees bracketing his thighs. you squeal softly, forgetting just how strong he is.

sukuna shifts his hips underneath you. “you’re so—”

“kiss me.”

you don’t have to tell him twice.

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #jjk #jjk x reader #— ann writes!

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

Anne Michaels from "Infinite Gradation"

#November #love #words #anne michaels #quote #literature #typography #quotes #dark acadamia aesthetic #dark acadamia quotes #poetry #poem #prose #classic literature #English literature #writing #spilled thoughts #spilled ink #light academia #dark academia #chaotic academia #romantic academia #english literature #books #bookworm #book quotes #books and libraries #lit #poems on Tumblr

[thebookquotes]

I am a collection of dismantled almosts.

Anne Sexton, "Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters"

#Anne Sexton #books and libaries #book quotes #bookblr #quotes #lit #spilled ink #poetry #literature #original #zitat #thoughts #writing #words #text