monty

19 ; dont know what im doing but i know i like to write sometimes ^_^

[tenebristism]

requests are open!

i figured I should probably actually say that because I don't have anything to do at the moment... (unemployment...i do have class but its only one for asl <\3) i do write nsfw, but absolutely not for any underage characters, and I don't feel comfortable just aging them up. here's all the fandoms I will (try) to write for (there are obviously characters in each one that I probably won't be able to write for, but it's worth an ask! chances are I'll try anyways):

Overwatch (2? I still just say Overwatch)

Psychopomp

Persona 4+5

Arcane

Regretevator

Dark Souls 1-3, Bloodborne, and Elden Ring

Dead By Daylight

Various slashers (Leatherface, Ghostface, Vincent Sinclair, ones I know)

Trigun ('98+Stampede - mostly for Vash+Wolfwood)

looks a bit short right now, but that's just off the top of my head - will be updated as i remember what I actually like ^_^

[tenebristism]

hiii i don’t know if your still taking request but can you do an x reader story about micolash from bloodborne..

Maybe like micolash and reader are still attending school in mensis, and two low-key become evil together and just stay till the hunter gets them

bender

pairing: micolash (bloodborne) x reader

Micolash swore upon this dream as often as he swore upon bringing you with him, becuse where's the fun in losing your mind alone?

word count: 2434

another request !! 5 months later ,,,,, im rusty but at least i have a new laptop !!! unfortunately a j*b too so less time to write but im determined to do a couple more requests in my free time

Moonlight shone through the pristine windows of the study hall, assisting the oil lamp in illuminating the papers scattered about in front of you.

This is it, you mused to yourself over and over. This will be our ascension, the relinquishing of our cumbersome human qualities in lieu of a higher plane of thinking. 

At least, that’s what Micolash had told you. You believed him, undoubtedly so, and were eager to see the results of what the scholars had planned: Line the brain with eyes, and what would follow in its wake would be something fantastically beyond your comprehension. It sure seemed good to you–though others would beg to differ. 

Shortly after this were you made acutely aware of a troublesome split in the scholars, between those that shared your ideals, and those that believed they were founded in nothing but foolishness, that ascension should be reached via that damned blood. Nothing good would come of it, you were sure. Willem bid them farewell anyways; you supposed there was nothing else he could do. 

“Let them leave,” Micolash said upon your sharing of the petty drama. “Once our eyes are open, those fools will be left with their blindfolds tied, feet bound to the ground like flightless birds!” 

You thought it interesting that Micolash had so much faith in this method of elevation. You’d be lying if you said you’d never had doubts about it. Who wouldn’t? At first the idea seemed ridiculous, impossible, but with the convincing of a certain raven-haired man you’d warmed up to it wholeheartedly. He was always so persuasive, like the time–

“Oh-ho, my favourite scholar is up late again!…per usual.”

Your heart pounds as you whip around, eyes wide. You clasp a hand over your chest, eyes flicking back to your lamp to ensure you hadn’t accidentally knocked it over. 

“Gods, Micolash,” you chide the snickering man, an amused grin plastered across his face. “I’ve told you not to do that.” You turn back to your papers, hunching over once more to inspect the scrawlings of your ideas and thoughts on the matter at hand. The parchment, interestingly, hadn’t had a single musing etched onto it for at least the past hour. 

“And when have Mensis scholars ever listened?”

You hum in gruff agreement. Micolash leans over your shoulders, clasping his hands behind his back, as stringy black hair tickles the skin upon your face. You can’t see it, but you feel his eyes raking over your writings, not judging, but simply absorbing your handiwork. His breath is close upon the nape of your neck. Your arms shiver with the anticipation of conditioned touch that never sets itself upon your skin.

“Soon,” he says, pausing but a moment before straightening up. You’re mildly disappointed. “Aren’t you elated?”

You nod. “I imagine this will be the school’s magnum opus–the recognition and respect they deserve. Not that we aren’t already respected, but you understand what I mean.” 

“Of course.” 

You gather up your papers and take hold of your lamp. The pendulum-adorned clock read precisely 5 past 2 in the morning. 

“Surely you’re not retiring to the dorms so soon?”

“It’s just past 2. Can’t you see?” You nod toward the clock. Micolash flashes you a sly smile as you brush past him with the intention of finally resting, though he follows in your stead anyway. 

“Typically you’re up much later than this.” 

“I am.” 

“So I suppose you’re granting yourself leisure time?” 

“I am, yes.”

You tread lightly so as to not wake the sleeping women behind the door you stand in front of. Gently, you slide your papers under the door, bound tightly with a piece of twine. 

“What will you do now?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I figured I would watch the lake for a bit.” 

Micolash nods, his head cocked to the side. His eyes smile. 

“And you would care to join me?” 

His mouth follows. “Would I.” 

The lake shimmers with sequins of moonlight cast over gentle waves, lapping up against the supports of the college with quiet creaks. It’s silent otherwise. So silent you can hear the man beside you muttering to himself, occasionally muttering to you, usually followed by a laugh, and you can’t help but ask him what he’s finding so funny. 

“I’m just so ecstatic,” he chuckles, shaking you gently with an arm around your shoulders, “This is it. And I get to witness it with you, of all people!” 

You smile gently and lean into him. “I’m aware. You’ve not stopped talking about it for months.” 

He turns his head so his face is buried in your hair, and inhales deeply. He’s quiet, but the lake talks for him eagerly with the push and pull of the celestial body hanging above you–one that you unknowingly will become oh so familiar with in the coming weeks.

That was the last of him you saw–at least in the waking world. And, as you had feared deep in your gut, the ritual that was supposed to gently draw the scholars into a new beginning had only dragged them into a new nightmare, twisting and churning their corpses into a horrific mass of bodies before your very eyes. 

You weren't particularly fazed, and neither was your partner in crime. Few scholars actually survived the ordeal–mostly because many of them had wanted to take part in the experiments–and stayed sane to tell the tale. You were one of those that were alive, and sane. Micolash was one and a half of those things. Not that you really minded. He wasn't exactly all there before the ritual, and now, it's almost as if he's just let loose. In fact, he seemed happier now than ever before despite the fact that most of his colleagues were technically dead. 

However, in the few days you'd been stuck in this hellish landscape, you'd noticed your mind had been…deteriorating, for lack of better word. 

You couldn't think straight. Maybe it was the fact that there were almost no other living humans here except for you and Micolash. Maybe it was the gory creatures that prowled the school day and night. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact you were stuck here with no real way of getting anywhere outside the school that the ritual had been performed at.

Eventually you'd get used to it. At least you could still study something, even if it was these grotesque creatures. Many nights were spent sitting by the window of a dorm you'd picked to take up residence in and draw the monsters that lurked outside your window on the 5th floor. It was nice to have new material, you figured. 

And, of course, you also had your partner to entertain you. With every passing day did his mind deteriorate as well–just to a more extreme degree than your. 

“This is the exchange we perform,” Micolash had said, “Our minds, in exchange for knowledge.”

This was said just before you'd finally given up on holding back your feelings. Perhaps the other scholars had known you'd fancied him, but if they did, no one ever said anything, and neither did he. However, that night, something stirred within you. That dangerous I have nothing, so I have nothing to lose mentality set in. One minute you were helping him decipher a rune, and the next your arms were around his neck and his hands clawing at your uniform. 

You can still hear his breathing in your ear, feel his cold hands upon the soft, delicate skin of your neck. You had kissed him like your life depended on it, like you were devouring a delicious cake with a sickeningly sweet, syrupy icing adorning it.

When you pulled away, you vividly recall the wild frenzy that shone across his eyes. Hunger, longing, and adoration all contained messily between 2 black pupils began to spill out in the way he slid the heavy robe off your shoulders. Your arms were swimming in the sleeves, unveiled once he decided they needed to come off. 

“If only you'd told me sooner,” he snickered between bouts of nipping at your neck, “I'd have studied and conquered you long before I did the dream…”

“You must have noticed by now you speak plenty for the two of us.” A hand had come up to grip his hair.

“It’s difficult not to,” he began, grinning at the shudder your body betrayed as his hands ghosted over your hips, “when you’re just the perfect listener.” 

You jolted out of your feverish daze with a gentle grunt. The moon still sits as tauntingly as ever outside your window, watching you, judging you for the sinful thoughts that ran through your head. You sheepishly adjust the tie in your hair and cease your incessant staring at Micolash. 

Now he sat beside you, scribbling notes into a journal he'd scavenged from the various rooms around the school. His eyes were pinpointed on his notes, occasionally glancing up out the window in deep thought. It was absolutely fascinating, the way you could tell exactly what he was thinking as he studied solely off his tiny quirks–the occasionally sly smile, the way he’d chew his lip as he stopped writing, the subtle–

“What, am I the specimen now?”

You had unconsciously resumed your staring. Now he was the admirer, gazing at you in a strangely affectionate way you hadn’t seen from his eyes before. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t be. Perfection is hard to ignore,” Micolash taunts, setting his fountain pen aside to turn to you slightly. You roll your eyes, but graciously move to push his bedraggled hair aside anyways. In the time you’d been here, he’d been preening himself noticeably less. His hair was matted in some areas, some days dry and brittle, others terribly greasy, and most of all, his eyes were so sunken in it had become concerning. He clearly hadn’t slept more than a night or two since you’d taken up residence in this dream.

“You need to take care of yourself,” you finally say, glowering at him with the stern face of a mother.

“The dream needs more care than I do,” he huffs, smile unwavering, “Don’t you understand?”

“The dream can’t be hosted if you’re only barely surviving. When was the last time you ate?” 

“Human necessities are a thing of the past, dear.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I see you’ve gone mad.” 

“So what if I have?” Micolash doesn’t face you head on, shooting you a smug, almost challenging side eye. You sigh. He’s won, and he knows it, with the way his hand snakes up your head to scratch at your head. You lean in like a pathetic dog.

Suddenly footsteps sound down the hallway. Your head shoots up, eyes darting to the door–were you dreaming? Your partner notices it too, though he’s less disturbed about it  with his usual cheeky smile, and pauses alongside you. Your eyes widen. His grin only stretches further. 

“Have we finally found ourselves some better company?” You don’t stop him as he rises from his seat eagerly, departing through the door left ajar into the main corridors.

You followed Micolash down the empty hallways, heart pounding. Sure, there were other scholars in this nightmare, but they weren’t typically…of the conversational sort. You would be lying if you said you weren’t just the least bit enthusiastic about meeting this newcomer, be it friend or foe.

“Oh-ho! It couldn’t be!” You hear from somewhere in the school. Micolash rushes down the stairs excitedly, and you just barely catch a glimpse of his coat fluttering around the corner. You call after him, a sharp slow down in irritation. 

You can hear him muttering to himself, then speaking to whoever it was he had stumbled upon. Eventually, your eyes set themselves upon–

“A hunter is a hunter, even in a dream!”

A man, clad in a traditional Yharnam garb, spins and whirls around in an effort to find Micolash, who, as quick as you had found him, was already gone. The strange man barrels down hallways, chasing Micolash this way and that, and you can only watch from your spot upon the ledge you’d found to be a good vantage point for breath-catching. An anticipatory, nervous smile grows on your face–you’re more concerned for the hunter than you are for Micolash.

You follow them down corridors upon corridors until Micolash is cornered. His face flashes with a brief moment of panic, but quickly turns into determined spite. The hunter certainly has a will to live, because even with literal stars of energy upon him, he’s unrelenting, twisting around them with an arduous yet fruitful struggle. Micolash seems to be enjoying this, despite the strenuous moves he’s pulling against the foe. However, you eventually decide enough is enough. The man is getting much too close to Micolash for your comfort, and just as he leans back to deal a groundbreaking blow with that  goddamned, stupid, oversized hammer of his, you unleash the trick up your sleeve, literally. 

Summoning the power of Ebrietas herself, poor thing, I’m sorry, you knock him down with an irritated huff. 

“That’s quite enough, bothersome hunter,” you grunt, watching as he helplessly churns into nothing but a faint memory, “Run along back to your dream, and leave us to ours.” 

You pant with the effort, the realization of what you’ve just done setting into your reality. Micolash glances up at you. His face is unreadable, considering the man has the lightest eyebrows you've seen yet. A hand holds the arm that had just unleashed the power of a great one upon an innocent man.

An ‘innocent’ man that had just tried to kill your partner. How foolish can one be, to waltz into another’s domain and expect to escape unscathed? Had that hunter had his brains replaced with cold porridge? That meddlesome, mouse-brained excuse for a hunter?

Suddenly you scoff out a laugh. The situation now seems more absurd than tragic. Micolash stares, dumbfounded, then mirrors you gleefully. Your hoots and hollers echo down the hallways bouncing back with such reverb it’s almost like you’re at a bustling gathering, complete with chattering, guffawing women.

“That’s the spirit. No one can catch us, remember that,” He bellows, still cackling, as if this whole situation was just a terrible joke, and you do the same, “No one can stop us now!” He holds his stomach, grinning all the time. 

You can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears, the beating of your heart, and the bone-chilling, delirious chortles that’ve erupted from your throat.

[kipsa-hoy]

What's hiding under those gloves

[tenebristism]

feel like im back in 2016 with the way im spending 20 mins looking at emre fanart neeed 2 write smth for him <\3 10 year old me would be proud cause she was going feral for genji

[velinxi]

Some questionable dvattra art I'm so sorry. i have no excuses

[tenebristism]

i didnt know i shipped this but i guess i do now

[anthewitch]

Jetpack Cat and Ana are such besties🥰 She gives Ana some mobility lol

[ifeelsosheri]

[colorful-horses]

boutique

[tenebristism]

Could you write anything for vendetta from ow2? Pls

i really don't understand the hate for vendetta :( her character is awesome its just her design needs a little..pizzazz especially as a fighter

Dating Vendetta would include…

Constant fear for her safety. Considering she’s a colloseo fighter (turned Talon leader), every day is a battle, literally. Marzia comes home every day covered in scratches, bruises, and gashes, yet shows no discomfort in the face of them. Sometimes your doting annoys her - deep down she’s more guilted that you worry so much about her well being. But at the end of the day, coming home to someone to care for her is the highlight of her day

LOVES to spoil you–with a catch. She doesn’t believe in indulging, or gluttony, so as long as it’s something you’ll use, something reasonable, she’s more than willing to splurge. A new $1000 winter coat? She’s seen the raggedy one you wear now. An expensive laptop? Your work is important, she knows that. Those designer shoes you saw? Okay, maybe not a necessary purchase, but God, you lit up like a damn beacon when you pointed them out on that shelf. Being the daughter of the (former) big wig of a terrorist organization, financial burdens are something of a myth to her, and now to you, something of the past

You don’t often go to watch her colloseo matches, but the one time she convinces you to, she puts on more of a show than usual–unnessecary spins, the occasional glance at you, and of course, a spectacular finisher

After she becomes head of Talon, you immediately gain status alongside her–the remaining members are to treat you with the utmost respect, and you’re always by her side

By her side is an understatement anyone who comes into her office finds you both cuddled up on a sofa

On that note, she isn’t very open to PDA, mostly because she’s invested in keeping her reputation after building up to it, but that doesn’t mean she’s ashamed of you. Quite the opposite–in lieu of PDA is her gloating about you, making sure everyone is aware that yes, you are taken, and yes, you are the boss’ significant other

She is the queen of her rightful empire, and you’re just in for the ride as the pretty little thing she can share it with

[shannybunn]

Little glass Rainbow Dash, this was the only drawing I managed to draw like this and struggles with others

[tenebristism]

Margit/Morgott, Mohg, and Messmer each reacting to accidentally smacking his crush with his tail/wing/snake when he turns? (his crush is disoriented but ultimately okay and finds the ordeal more amusing than painful—even if it's not something they want to have happen again if it can be helped)

Pardon my amateur-ishness for this one, i have never taken a request nor done scenarios like this in this format, but i find it really fun !! and apologies for the long wait im aware its been like 2 months LOL i totally forgot… AND if anyone is horribly ooc i apologize again - elden ring lore i am not the best versed in, but this is all for fun anyways

Morgott (Margit), Mohg, and Messemer accidentally wack you with their tail…

Morgott

Having initially disliked you, he didn't want to immediately check on you

You've been through worse, he knows that

And  you have quite a bit of armor

But goodness he is big and of course it would be rude not to check on you even if you are just an acquaintance he tolerates moderately

So with such brute strength (and how tiny you are compared to him) he doesn't say anything before he yanks you to your feet

Only for you to immediately stumble and fall back

“Foul tarnished, must you be so dramatic?”

When you don't say anything he notices a dazed look in your eyes

Brief concern

Until you start chuckling softly

“Gods - you should watch that thing more carefully,” you tease, and he helps you to your feet once more

Morgott stammers, clears his throat, and lets you grasp him for just a moment longer to steady yourself

“Your comfort is not my responsibility. You need to be more vigilant, less…frail” 

(your comfort is, in fact, his #1 priority)

(he even cleared the guards from the front of stormveil castle just so you could linger about collecting materials for various crafts)

“I am not frail” 

And of course, he lets you get the last word

Mogh

Mogh was pleasantly surprised when, even after discovering the…plan with Miquella, you stuck around

Even trying to help him

And even going so far as to dote on him

Sure, Miquella was his consort 

But who was stopping him from sharing his attention with another? 

He rather enjoyed the treatment he received from you anyways - affection he hadn’t bore witness to since…

A rather long time, he hated to admit

He hated even more to admit that he enjoyed you even when you weren’t completely at his beck and call

So when he turns to address you, standing just a bit too close, he doesn’t notice the way you’re standing directly in the path of his tail

Instantly are his hands hoisting you up to sit on his tail

He inspects every inch of you, even as you swat him away, softly laughing, insisting that you’re okay - just a bit stunned

Yet he insists that you must be in the best health

Only to continue to worship him (and Miquella), of course

You are his, and his alone - which also means you are his responsibility, for the time being 

A sentiment that you are, in a world such as this, tremendously grateful for

Messmer

With his tails being literal serpents, it happened quite often that one would accidentally poke you, prick you, or simply crack against your nose 

The first time it happened, you'd seen an expression you hadn't seen on his face before

Concern?

A strange emotion to be coming from someone such as himself, for someone so...puny, such as you

Yet every single time Messmer would apologize and assume the nurse role 

The couple times the snakes have bitten you he takes responsibility and cleans you up

He’d swore himself to be more vigilant, to be aware of how close you are to him, where you’re standing at all times

You think it’s rather amusing how paranoid he is now 

If he doesn’t see you in his direct line of sight, he’ll instantly go on a swivel 

Only for you to be in another room completely, laughing as you witness his antics

“What a mongrel, you are, tarnished,” he growls softly, glaring all the while

“You’d be rather bored without me, I suppose”

He can’t deny that statement…

[flow33didontsmoke]

when y/n does something so bad/embarrassing you have to facepalm and close your eyes for a minute

[girlvasectomy]

[scrunklybathypocrite]

[tenebristism]

'machine that lets me read people's minds'? i can't even read yours

pairing: venus (psychopomp) x reader

Real world tip: Your coworkers are not real. Your boss put them there to keep you company while you lose your mind!

word count: 1229

venus as requested!! i dont think i captured her pre-awakening self all that great but it was fun to write :P

“Hey, are you, like, okay?” 

Vena’s attention snaps over to you. She had been taking drag after drag of her cigarette, right down to the butt, and now the ember was burning dangerously close to her fingers. You were already on your third, with her only on her first. 

“Fine!” She says, but her wide, hollow stare tells a different story. “Just fine.” Her jaw is clenched so hard it’s a miracle her teeth haven’t been expelled from her mouth.

“You out of cigs? Want another?”

“Uh - no, I-I have some.” 

You absentmindedly reach out to fix her collar. Work had just been let out, which meant you and your peers could finally, after a grueling 8 hours, abandon the squeaky office chairs and buzzing lights overhead in favor of some fresh air. Ironic, considering your daily after hours smoke break you took with Vena. You heard that only 10% of smokers actually get cancer from smoking. You mentioned this to Vena. At the time, she thought it was funny. Recently she had found the thought rather frightening. Uncharacteristically so. 

“What’s up with you today?” 

Vena brings the lighter to the stick between her lips, but doesn’t light it. 

“Um,” she starts, as if to begin a sentence. 

“Um?” 

“Don’t know.” Her cigarette is swiftly returned to its spot in the carton. It’s almost full. She runs her hands through her blond hair. It certainly did not look brushed today. 

“I just, er…There’s…” Vena’s hands wring themselves together. Your eyebrow raises with a slight head shake, a silent, well? 

“I have to get home. Gotta. Do stuff.” 

“It’s only 5:10.” You frown. “Stay a bit longer. Stuff can wait, right?” 

Vena frantically shakes her head. “I have to go.” 

Your mouth falls open, and your hand raises in protest. Vena is already scurrying back to her car, which, as of late, had been parked as far away from the building as possible. 

“Are you going to that - that meetup at the bar later?!” You cup your hands around your mouth after abandoning your cigarette. Vena barely spares you a glance - no answer. “Well, okay…” 

Your coworker was always a bit strange - dark sense of humor, weird routines, that much everyone knew. But in the past 2 weeks it’s almost like she had seen or heard something that had been plastered in the front of her mind indefinitely. An eldritch horror? Did someone die? Surely not. Shifty eyes, riddled with paranoia, excessive nail biting, too many coffees? Nobody knew. In fact, you weren’t sure anyone had actually noticed how off Vena was acting. You thought to bring it up, but then your evident affinity for the strange blonde would only be affirmed, much to your chagrin - and to the delight of your coworkers. 

You didn’t suspect she harbored anything towards you in particular. Being the oddball she is, it was apparent she acted the same way towards everyone else as she did you, though your peers would beg to differ.

You sighed. What a stupid thought! 

That night you passed up the bar on your way to Vena’s house. You hadn’t told her you were going over. You supposed it was a bit rude to just show up to someone’s house uninvited, especially one you hadn’t known for the better part of a year, but who could turn away a guest with gifts? 

The clock read 7:30. More than enough time for her to do whatever it was she did when she was home. Come to think of it you’ve never quite seen any hobby-ish items around the couple of times you’ve been there. Her bedroom was quite plain, personal bathroom a bit messy. Nothing that had really screamed, ‘this is my personality and I’m going to plaster it all over my apartment’. Perhaps she didn’t find pleasure in personal hobbies, but more so in external interactions.

You pondered this thought as you slammed your car door shut. So much for a surprise. 

The curtains inside briefly swish open, then are quickly shut. 

“Bad timing…?” You mutter, trudging up the steps to her door. 

Before you can knock, the door swings open, a hand darts out, latches onto your arm, and drags you inside. You almost drop the bag of food. 

You squint, trying to adjust to the interior. There are no lights on except for the ones in her bedroom, and every window has been shut off from the outside world.

Vena is but a faint figure in front of you. You can’t see the way she’s grinning, or the object that’s on her head. 

“Look.” Her silhouette becomes clearer as she directs you to the overwhelming washed out light. Her vice grip hasn’t once let go of your arm.

“What’s going on? Why’s it so dark, and…what the hell are you wearing?” 

Vena presents herself with a flourish, once you can see her. She dons a helmet, almost like the ones you’ve seen in war movies, yet this one is…decorated. A radio dish and antennas stick out from the top, while the lower ends are adorned with strange flags. 

“Uh…” 

“This is it,” she beams. Vena trembles with what you presume to be excitement. “It’s done.”

“What is ‘it’?” You back away, but Vena’s arm shoots out to keep you in place. 

“I call it,” she pauses for dramatic effect, “‘Machine that lets me read people’s minds when I want to’”. 

“Sorry?” 

“Psychopomp for short.” 

“No, I mean…” You gesture vaguely. “What’s it? For?”

“Well,” Vena begins, pushing past you to retrieve something from the kitchen, and you watch with great concern and mild interest, “I’ve discovered that everyone has been keeping one big secret from me, so I made this helmet to read their minds.” 

You raise your brows. “Oh? How did that work out for you.” 

“It didn’t let me read their minds,” Vena drawls, “But I do know there are catacombs under every government building now, and I’m going to make sure I explore every last inch of them.” 

“Yeah?” You can’t quite tell if she’s joking or not. Who would let a joke like this go on for so long? “Um…like an escape room, or?”

She turns, now wielding a hammer. 

“I don’t understand.” Vena advances towards you, but you’re confident she’s not going to use the hammer on you. Rather, her hand extends to touch your hair, and her eyes turn just the slightest bit thoughtful. Maybe she’s thinking thoughts. You, strangely enough, don’t find her action unusual or even repulsive. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t understand,” she pants, a nervous smile growing on her face. “But I do. I understand everything!” 

Vena presses her cheek - or rather, the side of her helmet, against your face. The metal is cold. You shiver, but not from the steel. She pulls back, gaze raking over you once, twice, thrice. Inspecting you, like an athlete would a trophy.

“Catacombs full of creatures, secrets, everything that I didn’t know about. From now on–” Vena releases you and prances towards the door, failing to address your very awkward presence in her home,  “–I will not allow any more secrets to be kept from me, or you.”

The door swings open. You aren’t fast enough to stop her from bouncing through the threshold and into the night.

“I’m going to fix this. Don’t you worry!”

[tenebristism]

id hate to put you on the spot so im just asking ! do you take requests ? found you via your mercury x reader and i am so desperately scrounging around for anything of venus lol

hi !!!! i havent said i am but i might as well be LOL ive never written for venus so bear with me but ill give it my best shot !! ^_^

[minozavod]

Idk what's wrong with me

It's just the light it's just the light it's just the light it's just the light it's just the light it's just the light