#venimbise

[deathwalksamongarchive]

CURSED  COMPANY  ALWAYS  TO  FEEL     like  claws  scratching  at  flesh ,    like  vile  hands  tugging  at  his  cloak.  there’s  a  stinging  glare  to  seep  through  mask  sockets  ;  menacing  &  sharp.  the  deathless ,  as  delicate  as  always  !   silence  &  silence.  words  lie  on  the  tip  of  his  gritted  tongue.       ❛  i  think  it’s  obvious  a  mission’s  going  to  be  a  failure  with  you  bringing  me  down. ❜   they’d  be  better   left  unspoken.     

@venimbise  /   ❤️

[solavitae-blog1]

      @venimbise

      “   widow   ...   death doesn’t suit you. would be best to try and avoid it.   ”   reaper scowls , pressing a talon over the wound on her left shoulder. a little too close to the heart , he thinks. it takes a moment , but he uses his regenerating cells to suture the cut , watching in mild satisfaction as she stops bleeding. a strange power -- useful nonetheless.   “   don’t need me to hold your hand in battle , do you  ?   ”

[warordained-blog]

" put. The gun. Down. "

( this meme … i think || selectively accepting )

      “Soon as you put down yours.”   That’s a lie. Not gonna happen. They might found themselves at a standstill,guns up and poised at each other, with neither wavering or showing sign ofbacking down. Instead of doing so, 76′s posture straightens, grip tightening some, alert and ready to press the trigger if the situation calls for it, before he clears his throat. 

           “Ladies first.”

[revvolver]

i want the k

Send me ‘I want the K’ in the inbox and I’ll generate a number

Status: NOT  Accepting!

@venimbise

36: Kiss with Explosions in Background

PASSION was a fruit that would ripen even under the most inhospitable of environments.  Whether it was the ice-coated Artics, the barren deserts of Iraq, in this instance the fiery inferno which was once Volskaya Industries. Cable news, which now took the place of medieval bards would sing the songs of the BATTLE that took place between the Overwatch and Talon.  While the protagonists prevailed in their endeavor, the collateral damage which occured as a result would likely cause humanity to view Overwatch and Talon through the same, cynical lens.

However, destruction was not the universal theme of this particular ballad..no…that went to the aforementioned emotion called LOVE.

The rest of Overwatch congregated in the middle of the factory to discuss their victory, but Jesse Mccree, one of the heroes of the battle snuck out of view.  Clinking wine glasses or mourning the dead wasn’t how he wanted to spend the next few hours, rather, it was rummaging through the rubble to see if his lover was still among the LIVING  

The search was frantic and short for his favorite assassin dog-whistled from on top of a courthouse to indicate to Mccree that his hunt was over and she, by the grace of God, made it out relatively UNSCATHED, looking as beautiful and deadly was ever.  The pair forged a tacit agreement that neither would shoot at the other on the battlefield. Reminiscent of Rapunzel, Widowmaker let down her grapple hook and let the cowboy CLIMB his way to her.

The first thing he did upon reuniting Widowmaker was ask in the sweetest, most candor-coated voice he could muster from a blackened heart.

❝Are ya’ all right?❞

Her nod was far from enthusiastic, as she, like him had her body painted blue and purple, but she would survive the night which was all Mccree WISHED for at this moment.  The vigilante had no bandages on him so he surmised that the best way to cure her wounds was with a fairy-tale KISS.  Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his bloodied lips against her frigid pair.

BANG.

In the distance, a cacophony of explosions were heard as several rows of cars finally gave into the carnage, but neither he nor Widow CARED.

[revvolver]

" For you alone , I will be weak " c;

deathless ♚ sentence meme

Status: NOT Accepting!

@venimbise

It shouldn’t SURPRISE him that Talon’s sharpest claw would take an offhand comment meant to scribble levity into their conversation, humorlessly crumple it up and carve her own, more weighty note into the winter air. 

The pair anchored themselves upon a roof, huddling beside each other for warmth like two lovebirds.  Silence persuaded Mccree to heed its advice for the first few seconds after she revealed her hamartia.  How could or should he respond? If only his ability to choose the right words were as PRECISE as his shot.  There was always this tacit understanding that should Widowmaker profess her love for him that her diction would not be so OBVIOUS.  Never would she whisper “I love you”, rather an utterance of a somber, yet cryptic phrase that only his heart would understand.  Was this it?

His rapidly thumping heart made a judgment call and it was YES. This was the signal the cowboy had been searching for since the moment she took a bullet for him.

Mccree only had one hand which would bleed when cut and that appendage braved the elements and Widowmaker’s frigid skin to drape itself her left shoulder and rub it with more TENDERNESS than that patch of periwinkle skin may have deserved.  

❝ I..NEVER thought I’d hear another person say that to me…❞

There were no jokes to be had at that moment, for the cowboy told the TRUTH.  Since becoming an outlaw, Mccree thought love, especially reciprocated love was a prize that his unscrupulous soul could not afford, therefore justifying the resolution of segregating his heart from others.   In the dawn of their tryst, Jesse thought that hate-fucking would forever be their status-quo because the landscape of both their conscience were just barren tundras and that nothing more TENDER would blossom from the cold.  However, with every stolen kiss, every forbidden embrace, he came to the realization that he was horribly wrong when it came to his affections, and apparently wrong on HERS.

❝ For you, I will keep fighting.  Should my revolver run out of bullets, I will fight with my HANDS.  Should my knuckles shatter, along with nearly every bone in my body, I will use my teeth to BITE my way out...all so that I can SEE your face again...❞

[revvolver]

☺ What tends to bring out your muse the most? What inspires you?

the hella sweet munday meme

Status: Accepting!

@venimbise

The obvious one would be playing the game because as long as I’m invested in Overwatch, my muse for Mccree will subsequently stay alive.  There are also ancillary things like fanart or any literature Blizzard puts out there in support of Overwatch will inspire me to write Mccree more.  For example, in the latest comic, that one panel of Mccree and Sombra drinking in a bar gave me a craving for more interactions between the two and the best way to satisfy that hunger is to...write it yourself.

Fanfics....contrary to others don’t really spur my creativity that much.

[revvolver]

🎄 winks now he can get a real kiss

Send 🎄 for our characters under a mistletoe!

Status: Accepting!

@venimbise

’t Was the night before Christmas and all through the house

 Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse

The stockings were hung by the cafeteria with care 

In the hopes that Tracer soon would remember to place the candy she promised there

The cowboy was nestled snugly in his bed

While visions of a certain assassin proactively danced in his head

The tranquility of silence was interrupted by a window closing shut

Mccree’s eyes opened in fright for fear, in his sleep, his throat would be cut

Anxiety turned to relief as he inhaled that familiar No.5 Chanel

Worn by a sniper who likely climbed the walls of Overwatch HQ with her grapnel

His pupils dilated upon seeing Widowmaker donning a revealing uniform

A short-cut Santa Coat which nearly revealed all of her voluptuous form

She quickly jumped on the bed and straddled his hips

Holding a tiny branch of mistletoe with a smirk on her lips

Her sultry purrs, while in French, Mccree would always understand

What the assassin wants when she dipped her hand inside his wasitband

Hands, both human and robotic grabbed onto her backside

Before quickly tossing her so that she was positioned beside

Then he pulled her closer so that her breasts pressed against his chest

And then gave her a kiss which she would not protest

Her skin may have been cold, but her presence warmed him

In the volcanic springs of lust, the pair would swim

’t Was the night before Christmas and all through the house

But two creatures were stirring whose erotic moans would certainly uprouse