amourlyns - Tumblr blog

amourlyns · 5 months ago

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❛ red striped rhapsody. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

𐙚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: +fem!nonsorcerer reader. in which the reader has recurring visions of gojo satoru. and after three years of not seeing one another, they meet once more. but, unfortunate circumstances.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: suggestive content, proceed with caution. mentions of drinking, blood & gore, kissing & sensual touching, metaphors of sex. season two & jjk0 spoilers. past satosugu if you really squint! satoru coping in shitty ways!!!

𐙚 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: songs to listen to by the acts: 001. star girl interlude by lana del ray & the weeknd. i feel it coming by the weeknd & daft punk. fragile by tatsuro yamashita. is it a crime by sade. 002. i put a spell on you by nina simone. run by hozier + 505 by the arctic monkeys + fun fact, this was going to be a nanami fic but gojo felt more fitting 💁🏾‍♀️. anyways this took forever to finish but i kept adding more elements, let me know what you think about this fic !!! i had an amazing time writing it, im proud of this one. 🫦🫦 lmk how the characterization is too!

⟡ ⠀ | 𝐇𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐲, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐩—𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫. The mind. The brain. The meat. Oh, God. The rawness of this love will devour you whole.

He comes to you in hazy apparitions conjoined by the sun and moon. It’s sticky and sweet. His very touch taints. And the fingers on your warm subtle flesh seem to sink bone deep. The two of you merge into one being.

Then, he vanishes.

You’re awake now, damp in a cold sweat. Linen sheets are stained with perspiration. Your hair is mussed and your sheets remain frazzled after your unpleasant awakening. You’re alone, and you always will be.

Alone, in a bed that’s too spacious for your liking. Alone in a city you don’t belong in. Alone, in a flat you could barely call home. The bleak, undecorated landscape of your bedroom seems to mock you in this light. The faint humming of your fridge finds its way to your hollow walls, the tick of the clock seeps into your pores.

Must it always be this way? Should you continue on with the little fissures and pathways that lead him to you? Sometimes, he just felt all consuming. Like a catalyst meant to crave.

Your chest heaves and your world seems to crash all at once. It’s the same man. Every. Damn. Time. Your mind and body betrays you. Images of the stranger you called yours seemed to appear every night. Memories and unresolved feelings you desperately try to bury.

You could recall it now.

It was the year 2016 in some bar in Tokyo. The club is illuminated by multicolored, neon lights. A spectacle to behold under kaleidoscope flashes. You’re immersed with the electric current of the crowd. Buzzed with the alcohol that flows in your veins. Lead on by straight adrenaline from the party and the man you claimed as yours tonight.

Your two bodies seemed to drift towards each other.

Something magnetic is leading you towards the man that shined like a beacon within the crowd. He practically demands to be seen, his presence is everything but timid. He wants to be seen, desired and admired. Adore me, see me, crave me. Paying him mind was your first mistake.

Underneath the sanctuary of his shades. He’s a man graced with azure hues only the heavens could dream of matching, carved with aquamarine. You catch them under the vivid lighting. His skin resembles opal. For a moment, he feels untouchable. Maybe it’s his presence, how he carries himself⸻ but his energy is so immense. It’s overwhelming. Suffocating.

You move towards him anyways.

He lures you in with ease. You were pliable, obedient. Encaptured by this stranger of the night. Willing to listen to his beck and call.

You slide into the nearest seat, tensions are high and sweat slicks down the back of your dress. Your breathing becomes uneven (…) were you holding your breath before? It must’ve been the alcohol. The adrenaline maybe? The atmosphere even. You would use any excuse to deny the feeling this man evoked within you, to give into his charms.

His lips seem to glisten under the glint of neon lights, they’re covered in remnants of his drink of choice. (You would order the same), matching his body language. Leaning towards, sprawling out your limbs in a similar lackadaisical manner.

He’s the first one to speak. When he does, it comes out like a coo. It’s enthralling. The way he seems to pull you in with a simple touch. Two fingers grasping your wrist, the other hand is occupied with the glass between his slender fingers. His name evades you for the most part, but you know he called you his pretty star girl.

❛ IS IT JUST YOU HERE? OR DO YOU GAVE SOME FRIENDS I SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT? HM, STAR GIRL. ❜

You feel alive, electrified by his very touch on your skin. And if he was quite honest you were doing the same to him as well. But how could you say no to man like this? To decline such a man. A frosted brow raises in question, awaiting your answer. You’re too absorbed in the moment to answer verbally. So you nod instead⸻ finishing his drink for him.

It’s sweet, oddly enough. Must be a mock tail.

He laughs at that.

It’s a simple gesture, one you shouldn’t find yourself smiling to. (But you do), despite your weak attempts of dismissing the smile on your face. He catches onto it, of course he does. He’s quick to make a slick comment, rasping against the shell of your ear. The man speaks in engrossing, waxing vices. Soft murmurs and purrs that make your spine shiver in delight. The kind of words that makes goosebumps occur. The kind that makes a fire erupt in your stomach.

He drags you away due to your request, to Satoru, you’re a feast to be ravaged in front of everyone in this club. Repercussions be damned. He wastes no time when it comes to you, bodies are pressed into one another. Kisses linger and breath mingles.

Slender fingers hook around your waist, gripping the warm flesh of your hip.

❛ STAY STILL, YOU CAN’T ESCAPE NOW. I’VE GOT YOU. DO Y’KNOW HOW LONG I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU TO COME OVER STAR GIRL? ❜

He mutters against your collarbone, prodding away at the strap of your dress. It eventually falls, giving him access to your chest Your movement stills and he hums in delight. You apologize for your shyness. He laughs. You can feel his chest rising against yours and his shoulders shaking with fit of laughter. Underneath his breath, he calls you a good girl.

❛ WHAT, YOU SCARED? I DON’T BITE ❜

Which is a lie. He does bite, you can feel his canines finding sanctuary in your neck. Through the navy shades of his tinted sunglasses and behind full frosted lashes. There was a mischievous glint in his gaze.

He’s testing you of course. You’re more annoyed at the fact that you don’t have an issue with it. In fact, you’re leaning into his touch. Feeding into his greed, letting his tongue lap and swipe over your skin. What were you even doing here with this man? He was a stranger. You should know better. If anything, you were going to blame the alcohol in your system for all your indecent thoughts and lewd actions that’ll haunt you tonight.

All these thoughts are making you anxious. Your flight or fight is kicking in. The alarm bells are ringing in the back of your mind, your body is slowly tensing up. He can obviously feel it, because he’s slowly coming to a stop. How observant of him. Some part of you feels guilty, he’s already worked up and well, shit. You don’t owe the man anything but he’s so fucking handsome like this. Wait, what was his name again?

You’re soooo fucked. You didn’t even get his name, if you get murdered by some sexy ass man that was on you. What a way to die though. By now, his advances come to a full stop. He’s looking at you now, questioning this whole ordeal. Is he doing something wrong? Did he fuck up?

❛ YOU’RE NOT REALLY SCARED, ARE YOU? AM I MOVING TOO FAST FOR YOU? LET ME KNOW. I NEED YOU TO SPEAK FOR ME, STAR GIRL. ❜

When he detaches from your neck, you whine. How pathetic. You whine and he grins with the most obnoxious shit eating grin you have ever seen. If you ever saw him again after tonight you might actually faint.

❛ ME? SCARED? NO. I’M JUST (…) FINALLY THINKING CLEARLY. I THINK⸻ I THINK WE SHOULD SLOW DOWN. GIVE ME A SECOND, WILL YOU? ❜

He mulls over your words, caressing your thigh in thought. Your hands find a place against his chest, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. You had no reason to be nervous, but you were fidgeting and he wasn’t answering you. Which made matters worse. Until (…) He does of course, nodding in understanding. Reluctantly removing his grip from your waist.

After a few moments of silence and wayward glances, he pulls out his phone. Just in case you do run off, he can still catch you. He’s smart, isn’t he? You take it, sliding your number in his notes. A soft smile plays on your expression, what other faces could you make with him?

‘ Call me, we’ll finish this later. Xoxo, Stargirl. ‘

Then, you’re gone. Duh, Obviously Satoru. He half the mind to leave you alone, but the other half is itching to follow you. He really could, you wouldn’t notice anyways. It was just one of his many talents. He could tell you to just come home Mona Lisa. How there wouldn’t be Rome without Caesar. Load you to death with allusions and such.

The first thing Satoru notices is the smell of your perfume on the collar shirt. Then, it’s the taste of you on his lips. After that, it’s the feeling of your fingertips on his chest. You’re still with him in spirit. You left pieces of you in your wake. He only craves more.

Firstly, Satoru knows this path is only going to end in heartbreak because Suguru Gēto is on the mind. Secondly, he missed the feeling you gave him. Not you. He missed being touched by someone, he missed cherishing something. He missed⸻ filling the space up. Sex could do that. Lust could. Occupying himself with countless assignments from the higher ups could.

What was Satoru now?

Ultimately, he’s tired. He’s been tired of years now. Exhausted even, he felt it in his joints. His bones. But he was the strongest; the strongest there is. The strongest can’t succumb to such pressure. He was supposed to be untouchable. He is untouchable. So why did he let you touch him tonight? Why did he let you through infinity? Hah. Another question for another day.

Distract yourself, Satoru. Never let the mask slip. Let it become you.

When Satoru sinks into the bed, sleep escapes him. Like every other night. Then, he thinks of you. Didn’t you ask him to text him? To ‘finish this later’ (…) The thought of Suguru makes him want to keel over and vomit. He couldn’t, not tonight. Besides, he’ll call you in the morning.

He did, Satoru did. It was stupid, dumb even. But he did. You answered, called him. Even held a conversation with Satoru. What a one eighty from last night, right? Somehow, he listens. Satoru was never one for listening, it’s too out of character for him. He wants to be seen, to be heard. He’s the greatest, he’s the strongest. The honored one. So why would he silence himself? Still. He listens. This goes on for months.

A period of time that’s too long for Satoru. The only reason you haven’t left yet is because he hasn’t shown you the real him, he’s kept you at arms length this whole time.

He keeps seeing Suguru in you. And maybe thats why he can’t let go. Or maybe he wants to see Suguru in you. To say you have any similarities would be a stain on his name. A sin. He can’t taint you too.

You know when Satoru is lonely. It feels like it, at least. You call. He answers. You talk. He listens. You eventually come over. Never asking for his name. But he can see it in your eyes, feel it at his fingertips when he touches you. It’s ‘Gojo’ you want to callout at night. Not just baby or sweetheart. You don’t want your lips on his collarbone, you want them on his lips. Satoru knows it. He feels it. But he can’t cross that line. He refuses it. If he refuses it, he’ll deny you of it. Deprive you.

But you eat at the palm of his hand. Taking everything so obediently. It should be criminal really. Why aren’t you biting at the hand that feeds you? Plead for more, ask for more. Beg for it. Like you are now. You don’t. You never do. You’re satisfied with the trail of kisses on your thighs that send an electric current down your spine. You’re fine with the way he pries them open, splitting you apart like a pomegranate. Fragile. Meant to paint his fingers with certain wetness.

You let Satoru delve in, you let him indulge too much. The nightly escapades go on for eight months. That is until you bite his hand. And he pulls away. You call for his name, not honey, not sweetheart, but his real name. In his lust, he says it. Gojo. You knew a line was crossed. You knew it. He knew it.

After sleeping with him, wait no. Gojo. Because he’s not just any random figure. Not just he. But Gojo. You’ve realized two things. One, you’ve never kissed. Two, you’ve never said his name. You also know that he doesn’t fully see you when you’re together. He’s somewhere else, not with you. He thinks you can’t see it. But you can, you always could. Ignore it, that’s what you told yourself. You could ignore the way he always wears blindfolds to cover his eyes, the way his lips twitched to utter another name. You could ignore it. Up until now.

For once. Satoru hears his name coming out from your lips, not the voice he’s seared into his mind. It’s not Suguru. It’s you. Suddenly, your fingers on his skin feel scalding. Too close to the flame. He moves away, letting you go. Why did he tell you that? Why did he feel the need?

❛ WHO DO YOU SEE WHEN YOU’RE WITH ME? (…) WHO AM I GOJO⸻ ? ❜

It’s almost humorous, the way you’re asking him who he sees. But at the end of the day, do you know who you are? All you do is give to Gojo, yet it’s never enough for you. Or him. So who are you really trying to fix here? You know there’s too many broken pieces for you to handle. To conjoin. Instead of setting them in place, you’ve sliced your finger on a glass edge.

❛ SUGURU. ❜

Why couldn’t you be mad at him? A nasty, bitter, feeling settles in your stomach but it’s not towards him. It’s towards the name he utters. How deluded you were. Jealous over someone you’d never know, someone you couldn’t compete with. To you, Gojo is an angel, a cosmic entity with a halo choked tight around him like a vice. His vice? Well it would be this so called Suguru.

Unfortunately, if he loved you. He did it in a way you couldn’t understand. If he truly desired you, you couldn’t tell. You call out to him. Really call out. ‘ Gojo, Suguru, Gojo, Suguru. ‘ Letting the names sit heavy on your tongue. It’s almost as heavy as the tears that roll down your cheeks.

Satoru Gojo is the living, breathing, vessel of impatience. He is ravenous. The encapsulation of gluttony and greed. Satoru bites and licks away at everything like a rotten dog. He moves in blurs and takes no time to enjoy things in the moment. When he loves, it’s snatched and taken away from him. Satoru knows what it’s like to bleed. So he’d rather move forward instead of licking old wounds.

Satoru does remember this one thing though.

You thanked him for his love, for his heart. For the fact that you haven’t had a single lonely night for months. Even if this love was misguided. An empty valentine. Apparently, you ran from love for a long time. So long, it became an empty game.

Would you hide your heart again?

That’s the last time you see Gojo. The last time you felt his touch. The last time you⸻ Well, damn. You missed it, missed him. Was it a crime? To miss that sort of relationship? To want him? The thought of Gojo sends a feeling of yearning in your chest. It constructs a deep hole in your heart, rippling through your chest like the deepest ocean. You would give him more than you actually gave him, surely he’d want you back then.

Shoko calls him an idiot. He deserves it.

It’s been a year since or two since Satoru has thought of you. A year since you’ve said his name. A year or two since (…) A lot has changed for Satoru. A lot, actually. Nanami called him, Nanami Kento. He was missed of course, finally back after the life of a salaryman chewed him up and spat him right out. After they both lost someone they cared about, they’re reunited again. Funny.

There was another change in his life too. Sukuna’s fingers. Which is why he’s here today, side by side the his little protégé Megumi! Wasn’t he the cutest?

Yaga carefully instructed the pair. Of course, Megumi was more focused on what the principal had to say. Satoru was set on tuning out everything that the man said. He didn’t have time to listen to all that, besides Megumi could handle it.

So, the first order of business was sending Megumi out to do his dirty work while he shops for something to quell his hunger for sweets. Truthfully, Satoru already completed his most recent mission hours ago. He just wanted to indulge in some dango before he met up with Megumi. When he hears the electronic chime of his phone ♪ ringgg ∿ bringggg ∿ ringing ♪ ♪ He picks up, answering with the brightest tone he could evoke. Megumi, on the other hand is obviously not in the mood for games. He never is.

❛ THERE’S A PROBLEM. ❜

He’s there in a heartbeat.

When Satoru arrives, there’s a disgruntled Megumi beside a kid with rosé colored hair. He’s bright—eyed. Ultimately youthful, a good heart. He senses it. He recalls Megumi explaining how the kid ate Sukuna’s damn finger. Why? ‘Because he’s brainless!’ that’s what young sorcerer said anyways. Satoru could hardly believe it. ‘Hah!’ He laughs, like really laughs. Isn’t this something? ‘The higher ups will behead him.’

Occult club friends almost get eaten up by curses. Sukuna arrives, they hash it out, blah, blah, blah. None of that is important. What is important however, is when he shows up the next day and the kid, Itadori is there. He’s athletic, strong—willed. All this praise from a certain teacher. Satoru asks Megumi to lead him towards her in order to grasp and explain the important matters at hand.

Then, there’s you.

It’s a slap across the face, it really is. He is royally fucked. You haven’t noticed him yet, he would know. The six eyes would tell him. In fact, he wishes you had some sort of cursed energy so he could preface what he was walking into. Your door is ajar. You’re still so welcoming, so open like the years before. Dressed in a black blazer and blue button up. Your pencil skirt shifts as you pace around your classroom, your heels make a soft click, click, sound.

Across from you, there’s Megumi. Then, there’s Itadori and his fellow occult members at your side. Satoru needed to get a grip. This was life or death, yet he was too consumed with the thought of getting ripped to shreds in the eye of your storm.

He moves, only an inch. But it’s like you knew he was approaching, coming into your space. It was the same magnetic field that pulled you into the wondrous depths of Gojo in that bar you first met him in. He finally steps in, the electricity buzzes like static. Eyes meet, breathing stops. You had to be insane, you had to be. The man who haunted your dreams, here. In the flesh? You wanted to see the heaven in his eyes like the first night you met.

Oh, you’re absolutely insane. Mental. Act cool, act casual. Act normal, just please don’t let him affect you.

❛ ♪ MEGG—UUU—MMI! YOU STARTED WITHOUT ME ∿ ? HOW COULD YOU, SAVE SOME ACTION FOR ME. WILL YA? ❜

Megumi was unimpressed with Gojo’s dramatic speech. Stating that he was late and unreliable. On the other hand, the others with entranced with this mystery man in your class room. You shift, rocking on your heels in short intervals. This was uncomfortable. Suffocating, even. Why was he here? What else did you not know about Gojo? Was he ignoring your presence as a whole? Shit, he’s looking at you.

❛ HEYYY. IT’S BEEN AWHILE, HASN’T IT? HOW HAVE YOU BEEN STAR GIRL? HM? IT’S FUNNY. YOU’VE ON MY MIND LATELY. ❜

Speechless, that’s what you are. Gojo simply slinks back into your life and it’s like he casted a spell on you. Megumi sneers at the thought of his sleazy mentor having his way with you. Quite frankly, from what he could tell. You were too sweet, passionate and honest for a man like Gojo. Too grounded to be caught in the webbing of his life, unbeknownst to him. You were always caught in his web.

After a beat of silence, Sasaki, Itadori, and Iguchi are desperately searching for answers by glancing at you and Gojo. You dismiss your beloved students with a weak wave. Megumi comes to your rescue by telling his elder off. ‘Stop harassing every poor individual you lay your eyes on Gojo—Sensei.’ He actually listens to the boy, settling into a chair. He’s waiting, watching your every move. He wants a reaction. And he’ll get it.

You clear your throat, opting for a tone and octave softer than your usual speech.

❛ I CAN SEE THAT NOW. IT’S BEEN AWHILE. AND YOU’RE STILL CALLING ME THAT? ❜

Is this what you were doing now? Dancing around the past you two shared years ago? Letting him seep and trickle back into your life like nothing happened? Gojo hard to read, you can’t tell if he’s entertained with the whole situation. Or, if he’s dreading it.

A new day comes.

And Gojo is in your home. Strictly because you need protection. (And he talked his way into being the person who watches over you and the fingers instead of anyone else.)

Satoru was selfish, he knows that. He can have his way, and he will. Because he’s strongest, the rules can bend to his grip regardless of what anyone says. But with you? He doesn’t even need to try. Satoru doesn’t build a home when it comes to you. Instead he tunnels through your chest and makes one. You let him.

Your home was cozy, quaint. It showed bits and pieces of your personality. Who you are as a person. Satoru almost feels guilty for a moment. He never really did see you for you. You were more of a convince. A body he was lucky to have. That's pretty fucked up, right? Lingering thoughts would bounce around his head as he continued to scope the perimeter of your home. From his peripheral vision, he can see the door pry open.

❛ OUUUH, BACK FROM WORK ARE YOU? HOW WAS IT? ❜

You were way too exhausted to deal with Sator during this time of day. Also, how the fuck did he remember where you live? How did he get in? They're all questions you want to voice of course but you end up flopping on the couch instead. Lids would fall close in response. The sounds of Satoru's footsteps drawing near sends an (un) pleasant shiver down your spine.

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amourlyns · 7 months ago

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HELLOOO! ALL GOOD?? I was impressed with your writing. It's just perfect <3 I'd like to request some Wooin dating headcanons! PLS

FIRST OFF, thank you so much for enjoying my writing!! It’s always nice to meet another windbreaker fan !! 💞💞. I’ve written wooin hcs before over here . But if you want a separate page for him I’ll make another one :)

#༄ ✮ ⁽ 𝐕 ⁾ 𝚎𝚗’𝚜 ⸻ requests.#windbreaker #windbreaker webtoon

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amourlyns · 8 months ago

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AHAHWOWBWVAGAHAHAHHAHAHAWKWNSBWHSJWK

I LOVE IT🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 YOU'RE SUCH A GOOD WRITER!!! KEEP IT UP! AND ALSO LIKE THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING MY SILLY LITTLE IDEA INTO A LITTLE ONE SHOT!!! I APPRECIATE IT SO MUCH!!!!🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

YOU ARE THE SWEETEST EVER!!!! IM SOOOOO GLAD U ENJOYED IT ): 💞💞. Feel free to request something in the future bae!!

#𝐼𝐼. ⁽ 𝐕 ⁾ 𝚎𝚗’𝚜 ‹ rambles.

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amourlyns · 8 months ago

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everytime i look at your theme it alters a part of my brain because 🛐🛐🛐

LITERALLY ME WITH YOURS RN!!!:!:!!2. I have to say these 2 themes of ours might be my fav… like this is REALLY an era

#༄ ✮ ⁽ 𝐕 ⁾ 𝚎𝚗’𝚜 ⸻ mutuals.#ngl #im writing this #gojo fic #ts is scandalous #you need 2 see #a lil bit of it

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amourlyns · 8 months ago

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❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

𐙚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which batman visits crime alley, and the reader indulges the bat with sweet notes and baked goods.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: none

𐙚 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: inspired by this post. thought it was the cutest thing ever and i wanted to write it out, something short n sweet !! dedicated to @armin-ocean-eyes

⟡ ⠀ | 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲. Of course, The Bat doesn’t want to jinx his nightly patrol but (…) it’s been nice.

In all honestly, it finally felt like a break. A time to hunker down and take time to focus on his parents. A stroll through Crime Alley would do. Bruce never forgets about his parents, nor does he forget that night. He comes back to remind himself of what happened. How he couldn’t stop it. How he failed to protect them. It’s a constant reminder, a punishment.

Tension never leaves Bruce’s body. He’s always so high strung, constantly prepared for fight or flight. Shoulders are tense, brows are furries and teeth are gritted. This was his very being now.

Late nights, cold and oh, so lonely. The heavy bass of boots sloshing through rain water across the concrete street. Vengeance has filled the role of Gotham’s protector for long enough to know everything about the city he tirelessly protects. He knows this city better than anyone else.

But he still can’t stomach the alleyway.

Today, Bruce doesn’t bring flowers, but he brings himself. And hopefully, that’s enough for them.

From above the street, unbeknownst to the Bat. He has an angel, a watcher if you will. The city has swallowed him whole and spat him right back at out tonight. Senses are diminished, hazy from the beatings of tonight. Usually, he’s more attentive than this.

Funnily enough, you just moved into the city of Gotham three weeks ago. It’s a dreary, dull city. But at least it’s away from home. Right? Sure, the apartment you were currently living in definitely seemed haunted and it literally oversaw the alleyway the Waynes died in. Why did no one tell you they got mugged? (…) But what could you do? It’s shitty but the only thing you could afford in this damned economy.

And dude, it was definitely haunted.

You actually thought you were hallucinating the first time you laid your eyes on it. The fucking Bat, Vengeance. Gotham Cities actuals protector? It was odd and horrifying. You expected to see him raging through the alley in his moody glory. Big, defiant, and spooky!

But he actually seemed defeated? In a way? His strides were slow. Then, he knelt down onto the pavement and stayed there. It’s weird, this habitual routine of the Bat coming by and kneeling happened constantly. Well, to be fair he did patrol your building after that. Scouring the rooftops for any signs of peril within the area.

When he was done, he would come back to your building and linger on the fire escape. Sometimes you could hear his heavy footsteps on the rooftops or the iron steps.

Now, no one ever said you were the brightest in the bunch. You moved to Gotham for goodness sake. Anyways, you decided to actually make contact with the Bat. Which in theory, sounds like a good idea because who wouldn’t want a hero in their pocket? Well, a vigilante. But you digress (…) If coming near the alley brings him down, maybe he needs a lift?

The general idea was, leave a note or a gift for Vengeance and leave him be. So, that’s how it begun.

It was the third time Bruce visited the crime alley. This time, he had the intention to make his trip revolve only around his parents.

But then he saw you.

Granted, you were definitely not expecting to see anyone or someone like the Batman at this time of night. So you scrambled off of your balcony and dropped some sort of post-it note on the way out. There were three things on Bruce’s mind. How many times have you seen him and did you know his habits or who he was? Paranoia gnaws away at his guts and creates a nasty hole in his stomach.

He was a master of overthinking.

The Bat was quick to snatch up the post-it note you dropped, taking the time to read and analyze your penmanship. Was it lined with some sort of poison? Was it a tracking device? He waits for a moment. Grunting at the words etched into the paper.

〞I don't know what you're going through but I know you'll get through it. Xoxo. 〞

Huh.

Alfred would tease him for this.

An admirer? He was stumped.

It’s been about a week since you’ve seen Vengeance, your gifts of food and ever abundant notes never stopped though. You were starting to think he changed his route ever since that night he caught you on the railing.

First off, he was terrifying up close (the man was ten feet away) and second off, how was he able to catch you. Some part of you expected the man to interrogate you or something.

He didn’t, thank goodness. But you kind of missed seeing the cryptic Bat.

On the other hand, Bruce decided to do some research on you. A through background check would never hurt and who knows if you wanted to kill him? It could all be a facade. Each baked good and beverage you left out for the Bat was analyzed and tested. It could’ve been poisoned, laced, or worst, set to detonate. He was taking precautions. But Alfred insisted it was a good gesture.

Whatever it was, you never stopped. Bruce changed his route of course, there was no reason to let his guard down. But, he did appreciate the notes. To an extent. He just couldn’t help but think of the uncertainty.

The latest one he was holding onto was nothing short of thoughtful.

〞I hope you're having a good day :) (Btw, I haven’t seen you around!〞

So for the most part you were attentive. So he could commend you for that.

Despite all of the alarms in his brain telling him to stick to the new route, he returns to the old route for your sake. The very least he could do was thank you for the messages and treats. At least, that’s what Alfred said. For once, he didn’t feel like being stubborn and listened. The first thing he saw was your silhouette against the glass of your sliding door. Then, your emergence.

Bruce is frozen in place. But you’re waving frantically and running down the steps to greet him. Should he turn away? Just leave and never show up again? What if ⸻

❛ OHMYGOSH, OH MY GOSH. YOU’RE REAL! YOU’RE HERE! I WAS STARTING TO THINK I WAS BEING DELUSIONAL AND SEEING THINGS. WHOA, YOU’RE TALLER IN PERSON. AND LIKE SCARY. SORRY, SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN THAT. WOW. ❜

You’re realizing how that sounded; Bruce notices how you cower in fear. Despite his own anxiety driving him up a wall. The least he could do was say thank you, or show his appreciation. It takes him a few moments to say anything. He can hardly hold eye contact, but it eventually comes out.

❛ I (…) I APPRECIATE IT. ❜

Well. You definitely didn’t expect him to sound like that. His response was so soft you couldn’t even tell if he was directing that towards you. It was so quiet he might as well been talking to himself⸻ and before you could even ask him another question, he’s gone by the time you look up.

Introvert much?

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amourlyns · 8 months ago

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This is extremely romantic.. should we have our own ship name…. 🫦

ven. you never. fail to. impress me. with. your. themes. BECAUSE WOW THIS ONE REALLY HAD MY JAW DROPPING

So what are you gonna do when I make out passionately with you .. then what???

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amourlyns · 8 months ago

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who else blushed @ this !

What do your moots remind you of?

wait wait this gonna be a long ass list. all under the cut. interesting question tho anon 😵‍💫

@tojiluv ⌇ ory

the smell of office documents and coffee. you radiate a comforting vibe but at the same time you have like 7261616377271 works for complete so you escape to cafés.

@amourlyns ⌇ ven

sports cars speeding through the night. maybe it's the previous batman theme, but you really remind me of those soothing late night drives through cities.

@itonashi ⌇ shina

bone china mug and any type of tea. i can picture you sitting and drinking tea from the bone china mug and humming to yourself saying "mm yes yes... tea."

@syomi ⌇ syo

wine red stilettos and a jazz bar. you remind me of an elegant woman in an old jazz bar just fancying her night through with a drooling group of men who tries to get your attention.

@anqelically ⌇ angel

japanese cherry blossoms and spring mostly. you're like a pretty sakura. you LOOK like a pretty sakura. you are a pretty sakura. so cute right. ily angel ur really an angel 🩷

@yuquinzel / @luvmequmi ⌇ hana

flowers! definitely a white tulip or a camellia. you're so sweet and you treasure + honour your friends more than yourself. so, you deserve a flower or two occasionally as achievement.

@noomon ⌇ noo

raincoats and gumboots. noo you're like a soul that always goes out after the rain stops just to jump in puddles. or or, you'd go out in the rain just to dance in it.

@caelivir ⌇ kory

a stoic apothecary. idk you remind me of someone who'd be so obsessed with testing poisons and finding a cure/medicine to everything. all done in pure stoicism.

@saewako ⌇ winter

snowy trails and misty fogs. you highly remind me of a tired village girl escaping from home and now she walks through the snow and mist with sore, red feet. heha.

@milyz ⌇ mila

clouds and a farm. you're not working on the farm though. you're a visitor of the farm and you'd sit by the balcony of the inn just to stare into the clouds. bonus if you're drawing.

@hyoismbbg ⌇ vy

konapun toys. especially the popin' cookin' ones. or a japanese drugstore. you're definitely someone who likes to buy bags of stuff from cheap drugstores.

@httpshujii ⌇ ray

red lipstick and leather jackets. add in some knee-length boots and you'll rock the look. to put simply, you remind me of a sweet, kind, and cool rockstar girlfriend.

@okkalo ⌇ kalo

bubblegum and cotton candies! you actually remind me of very sugary treats that either melts in your mouth or will have an enjoyable time chewing.

@saelestia ⌇ rain

vivienne westwood's gunmetal orb heart lighter. fancy and classy, that's the vibe that you give off. i chose a lighter because there's also a fierce and fiery side of you.

@kyoghurts ⌇ kenji

i've said this before, and it's the smell of a bakery. like the scent of a very sweet dessert. red velvet cakes, soufflé, grape-flavoured cheese tarts.

@rninies ⌇ kylin

yves saint laurent's opyum sandles. no because honestly my first thought after like checking your blog out, it reminded me of those ysl heels. and honestly? you'd look good in it.

@iluvies ⌇ luvie

white butterfly koi fishes. they're so majestic and beautiful and they honestly remind me of you, someone's who's so kind and beautiful like a butterfly koi. you're very gentle too!

@todorokies ⌇ knives

would it be funny if i said actual knives? okay maybe not... but daggers or swords. the ones which are freshly forged and ready for battle. you're like a honourable warrior. so kewl.

@steleir ⌇ vegas

penthouse night parties. along with some cool fruit punches, party music, a pool, disco lights, vice versa. all the cool fun stuff during the night because you're a cool and fun person!!

@omitea ⌇ sinnie

green tea and zen gardens. you remind me of a japanese girl who sits by the engawa (wood corridor) of an old japanese-style house's garden, relaxing with nature.

@wishmemel ⌇ safi

pearls. simply... pearls. because you're a really elegant person and all you remind me of is fancy and naturally expensive pearls. you're like a gem, an unobtainable one.

@noirflms ⌇ zen

laces and ruffle skirts. cute, coquette, soft. those are the elements that heavily reminds me of you. maybe even some strawberry shortcake and strawberry milk.

@saturvue ⌇ nyyra

gold jewelry. very specifically gold bangles. those really detailed ones worn by southern asian princesses. your name kind of sounds like a goddess' name too.

@kaiser1ns ⌇ kiki

love letters. those sweet, corny, and super romantic ones. oh and one of the letters which is from a secret admirer definitely talks about being crazy in love with you...

ok that's all. i think i missed a few people but these are all i got LOLOLOL i love all my moots and friends and sennies and senation

#senny ily #my pookie wookie

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amourlyns · 8 months ago

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this website was made by actual palestinians. it debunks myths, answers faqs and it also explains the history of palestine in detail for those who want to learn more. spread this instead of spreading carrds!!!!

decolonizepalestine.com

#save palestine #free palestine #palestine #resources #raise awareness

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amourlyns · 9 months ago

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❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: you and ellie end up stuck in a snow storm. you take those few days to analyze and tear her apart.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of character death, depression.

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: listen to fiona apple & king princess’ 〞 i’ll know 〞 for immersion . this is one year after the events of tlou2, i imagine ellie living in solitude after j.j and dina left. ellie still lives in the house because she can’t find it in herself to leave. this is part one of three.

⟡ ⠀ | What was supposed to be a quick stop at a cabin became an absolute nightmare, one day turned into six days holed up in a cabin. Your schedule with Ellie was completely out of wack now. And being left alone with her was nerving.

You were never close to Ellie, in fact she was like a stranger to you. A ghost, even. There was really nothing that connected you two together, she was just Ellie.. and you were you. Simple as that.

The only thing you did know about her, was how close she was to Jackson at some point in time. But now? Not so much, Tommy was surprised that she even took this up. Ellie spent most of her days in isolation, apparently some unnamed event made her like this.

You didn’t really want to know what.

Not now, not here. In fact, not ever. Because what it was left her scarred, physically and mentally. You could see the jagged design of flesh mending itself, still pink and fresh, as opposed to freckled, tanned skin.

There was an unshakable grief in her eyes, accompanied by mile long stares and unexpected pauses. Eventually, the night terrors would come, then cold sweats followed with an erratic heart rate.

She thought she was discreet about it, and she was for the most part. But being pent up alone didn’t really allow her the privacy she deserved of course. The privacy and solitude she craved. Instead, the days slowly reveal the layers of Ellie Willams.

On the first day, you realized Ellie had a habit of tapping her fingers on any near by surface. It sounded like a distance tune she once knew. It felt slow and somber. Sometimes her fingers would ache and come to a stop, you never knew if it was the muscles cramping due to strain or, if the memory was too painful to bare.

(So she was better off letting it die and fade).

You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when you realized this, but it was either on a Sunday or Friday morning. The snowfall was particularly severe on this day, settling on the fauna below. Trees are iced over and the worlds is covered in frost.

The perfect weather for a hot beverage.

There’s still some items held up in the cabinets, a teapot and a few scattered pans. You’re not too keen on the thought of making Ellie a cup, who knows if she even likes tea—

But you could try ?

This was your first attempt of getting closer to her. And it certainly wouldn’t be your last.

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amourlyns · 9 months ago

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❛ HEY VENGEANCE. ❜ ➜ ⁽ masterlist ⁾

✧ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕: in which john price and simon riley discuss the past, present and future over a late night smoke.

✧ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: mentions of war, death, body horror, mental illness, child death.

✧ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: inspired by this post. enjoy some angsty, but soft john and si. added my own personal touches, so i like to think john went through something similar and that’s why he’s so greatly effected. + he has 2 kids, mac n rosie with his ex—wife clara. dedicated to @whittywhitty and @mawvax ‘s comic.

⟡ ⠀ | Words are never exchanged during these kinds of nights. Instead, smoke fills the space where words would lay.

There’s a bitter chill in the air that settles into John’s bones. Making a home in his marrow. Tonight, he’s accompanied by Ghost. Of course, Simon Riley would always be more than a phantom. John actively told him that— yet.

Yet it doesn’t click.

Because phantoms do not desire eulogies from their Captain, and phantoms do not seek absolution. They simply be. Somehow, Simon Riley does this all at once. Despite the façade, he’s still a man. A man who feels, a man of flesh and blood. There’s a twinge of guilt that spikes through John’s veins, he already knows that it’s too late to speak on such matters— too late for apologies on events he could not stop.

But he speaks anyways.

Some part of John really believes that Simon, not (Ghost) could read him like a book. Or at least try to. Before John can utter an apology, Simon’s gaze already settles on his superior. He’s expecting something, either words or actions. John realizes this, and speaks at once.

❛❛ I’M SORRY.. ❜❜

John shifts his weight, leaning into one leg. Simon glances towards John for a total of three grand seconds. He notices these three things. One, John Price’s brows furrow inwards when he’s contemplating something. Two, he gnaws on his beloved Clara Villa cigar when he’s stretched too far. Three, John Price loves too much.

It’s still profound to Riley, having someone apologize to him. Some nasty, ugly part of his mind tells him to be apathetic. To play dumb. John does not mean it, nor does Simon deserve such a thing. An apology, empathy, or some kind of grand understanding.

He cracks anyways.

❛❛ (…) WHAT FOR ? ❜❜

John is obviously at a loss, his cigar burns out. Ash settles on the tray, glinting in the moonlight. He lights another, gnaws, and smokes. Notes of leather and light maple stains John’s lungs. A bitter char wafts in the air. The stars seem to illuminate the hazy night.

They sit in silence for a few moments. John eventually starts up again, and Simon listens closely.

❛❛ I WASN’T THERE, SI. I WASN’T THERE WHEN YOU LOST (…) YOU. WHEN YOU DIED. WHEN YOU LOST EVERYTHING. ❜❜

Price’s words echo into the endless night, accompanied by cicadas and their hymns, the chirp of crickets follow moments after. Then, there’s silence. Is it really silence? There’s so many unspoken words that burn like an uproarious flame between the pair.

So many apologies John could say, so many stories he could say and tell. John wants to tell Simon that no one should ever experience such a thing, and how he’s a good kid. John wants to tell Simon that it’s not his fault.

And if John could, he’d explain how the soil of your own grave never leaves the ridges of your fingertips. And how you can never scrub the grime off, no matter how hard you try. How silence is the most jarring thing to a man, yet, the most peaceful. How being a living, walking, deadman changes you.

To be a living, breathing body. Rotting away like a real corpse. John thinks, and he wonders. What kind of man has the stomach to rip a jaw, and dig his way out?

Simon has his own thoughts. He ponders on his next words, and what to say to get his Captain out of this whump. It’s uncharacteristic, to see a man of John’s status and stature oh, so defeated. His shoulders are slumped, eyes are set on the view below. Obscured by the dark night, but undoubtedly somber and solemn.

Simon knows that Price’s life revolves around humans. He knows the Captain has seen terrors no man should lay his eyes upon. Simon has heard the stories and he’s seen John’s scars. Small glimpses into the window of his life. Simon knows John is lucky enough to have a family, two kids. Mac and Rosie. A loving, supportive woman in his life— his ex—wife Clara.

And yet, despite this. Simon could sense that John Price could never be a gentle man, because he never had a gentle man in his life. He only knows how to chew on marrow and sink his canines into everything and everyone.

Simon only knew this because they were two of a kind. They aren’t unfamiliar with the sight of blood spilling from orifices of a cadaver, decomposing and becoming one with the earth. Or, the gore of a body festering in puss. The corroding of flesh, and necrosis of the limbs due to an untreated infection on the field. Simon and Price have laid their eyes on parts that are meant to be hidden away by flesh and muscles.

These parts, the innermost parts, are always shocking when displayed in such raw, open spaces, like the battlefields and deserts, where bodies are picked apart by vultures and crows, but Price and Simon no longer flinches at twisted body parts and decaying flesh. They have seen far too much of it to be upset by it anymore.

But, Simon does not know how the rawness of all it washes over John, despite the disfigurement of each of these bodies (was) a living, breathing, person. Whether or not they were civilians, enemies or enemies.

John’s sense of mortality is never numbed, or dismissed. Instead, he weighs on it much, much, more. Death within his field of work is something he knows will happen. There’s no point of price diminishing these feelings.

John Price has children, he has a family. He’s ready for his own death, but are they?

Of course he’s no saint, he knows this and refuses to be called such. He has the blood of mothers, fathers, and children in his hands. He suffers each day for it. Flashing visions of gaunt faces and vacant eyes staring back at him each night. Spindly fingers that wrap around him in the night.

John is a man of war. A man who chooses the lesser evil.

The sensation of Simon’s arm on his shoulder brings him back to earth, a sense of reassurance. A silent apology.

❛❛ PRICE. YOU PUT TOO MUCH ON YOUR SHOULDERS. YOU WERE THERE WHEN I CAME BACK. YOU NEVER LEFT (…) WHEN EVERYONE THOUGHT OF ME AS A LOST CAUSE, TOO ANGRY, TOO INSANE. YOU GAVE ME A SECOND CHANCE IN THE ONE FOUR ONE. ❜❜

❛❛ YOU COULD EVEN SAY— IT WAS A (PRICE)LESS GIFT ❜❜

Simon faces John now. Stubbing out his cigarette, to grace John with a timid smile. John blinks once, then twice, then thrice. A smile, a smile from Simon Riley. John could cry, really. Granted, his eyes are already watering up from Simon’s speech. He fights the urge to laugh at that horrible pun. Maintaining a brave face for Simon.

❛❛ THAT (…) THAT WAS SO BAD. ❜❜

John chokes out, the feeling of Simon’s hand on his shoulder remains. He’s rooted now, feeling as bit lighter than before.

❛❛ AH, NOT MY BEST. ❜❜

Simon chortles, a retort dies on his tongue. For once, Simon feels lighter too. He’s ran out of smokes now. The only thing they could do was watch the sun rise back up in the horizon for tonight. And exchange a few stories, or accept the silence.

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