#dcvildealt

[pyreshegone]

incorrect quotes ft. @dcvildealt

[bruisedconscience]

I'm not messing, no, I need your blessing  And your promise to live free  Please do it for me  I'm not alone, I sense it, I sense it  All that I said, I meant it, I meant it

me: how do i make matt not look like he’s wearing a binder?  also me: its fine if that’s what it looks like tbh :) 

[enlaw]

                        … 𝙘𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙩 , 𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙩. 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 :     nonverbal  meme  prompts .

@dcvildealt​ : [  𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝  ] 𝚞𝚠𝚞 (𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛  𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜  𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚛  𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚗  𝚘𝚗  𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚛’𝚜  𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍  /  𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚎𝚛)

foggy   grins   ,   knowing   all   too   well   that   PADDED   SOCKS   pitter-pattering   across   the   hardwood   floor   of   his   apartment   MUST   mean   that   matt   is   awake   and   UP   TO   NO   GOOD   .   he   clears   his   voice   ,   rustling   the   files   on   his   desk   [   as   if   the   man   with   super   sonic   hearing   WOULDN’T   ALREADY   be   aware   of   his   WAKEFULNESS   ]   .   it   takes   him   by   surprise   when   matt   doesn’t   go   into   the   kitchen   for   the   FRESH   ROASTED   GROUNDS   foggy   prepared   at   5   A.M.   while   waiting   on   the   masked   VIGILANTE   to   return   in   the   morning   dawn   .

a   stubbled   chin   rubs   against   his   own   ,   MOSTLY   SMOOTH   features   .   the   corner   of   his   lip   pulling   up   as   matt   rests   there   ,   in   the   CROOK   OF   HIS   neck   ,   silent   BUT   SMILING   :   smelling   no   doubt   the   aftershave   and   moisturizer   foggy   most   recently   started   using   [   MARCI   SUGGESTED   IT   &   he   never   turned   down   her   opinions   ]   .     “ₘₘₘ   ,   this   is   ＡＢＳＯＬＵＴＥＬＹ   worth   the   ＴＲＯＵＢＬＥ．”     he   teases.

[tracksdowna]

@dcvildealt:    ❝  what kind of thing must you be?  ❞

the sewers are warm, dark — familiar.    a home shared by none, detested by all, and ruled by one.    the sound of flowing water is like white noise to abandoned creature as it echoes through maze-like tunnels, the stench of god-knows-what masking his scent, the scorpion’s presence almost entirely unnoticeable to any who dare venture into its abode.    no one can find us here — no one can hurt you here.    tail curls carefully, pressing against his spine as they sit in silence, mind a desert of endless, miles of ambient nothingness one of few comforts for him.    it’s almost peaceful.

we are no longer alone.

gentle whisper from her shakes the scorpion back to reality, and something just barely catches on the peripherals his senses.    his breathing stops, and he submerges into the sludge, swimming in the direction of this new curiosity.    be careful, there is something strange about this.    he is always careful, he is always watching, he is always waiting, he is always ready for a fight.

the darkness is their ally in the tunnels, a warm blanket that envelopes them in a sense of safety from prying eyes and hides them from potential prey until it is time to strike.    yet as he nears this presence, dragging himself from the muck and crawling onto the ceiling, there are no visual signs of approaching figures — no swaying flashlights bobbing slightly with each step that normally accompany his untimely victims.    there is only the void, and someone within that void.    rusty claws silently nestle in the concrete, and the scorpion waits for his intruder, form as still as death itself.

and then death itself finally approaches, it seems.    a single man wanders the dark alone, yet where a racing heartbeat should be there is the absence of any pulse, and they can’t hear his breathing either.    familiar scents of flesh and blood — a hint of coffee even, steel of a weapon, remind the scorpion that whatever walks his home is still human.    or should be, at least.    there is only one way to find out, and with little warning — he drops!

the blade’s unsheathing is, unfortunately, noticed only a little too late, and a pained hiss erupts from wounded creature’s lips, left cheek becoming warm and wet as dark blood slowly oozes from the cut.    a rare sensation courses through their veins — fear, and mechanical tail quickly raises above his head, protectively.

❝  what kind of thing must you be?  ❞

there is a curiosity behind their words, the smile on his face reminiscent of one dallas would’ve seen on a snake when he was a kid, coiled in the dirt, waiting for its moment to strike on some poor, unsuspecting prey animal.    crimson streaks run down his neck for the first time in years, and despite the instinct to kill, kill, kill buzzing around his mind like a nest of wasps, muscles are stiff as he crouches close to the ground, dark eyes wide with some unreadable emotion trained on the figure before him.

❝  why are you here?  ❞

[compluras]

       follow, she — and only she — hears. the god, impeccably dressed as always, leads her to the docks that night, canine snout not casting a shadow beside the one pasted to her heels. he halts and points with his staff. there. it’s a moment before she hears blows landing and something splintering. she hopes it’s wood. sneakers carry her, crunching gravel softly to the scene, illuminated by hazy moonlight and a singular, flickering streetlight.

      ❛   hey - –  hey !!   ❜   she calls, one figure lining up a blow, the other curled defensively, with a third what seemed to be lying unconscious — she hoped. there’s no hesitation in her steps as they pick up speed — directly at the @dcvildealt. little horns — was that - ??

[roguedallas]

@dcvildealt because i have to help justify brooke making this blog lol.

❝  y’know it’s dangerous to be out this late — lord knows the type of folks that wander the kitchen at this hour.  ❞    claws quietly dig into reddened brick, marmalade lenses peaking over roof’s edge to stare at the devil himself.    fucker looks like one of those gargoyles with how still he’s sitting.    senses open up, inviting the city’s sounds in,    ❝  anything specific yer’ listenin’ for tonight, red?    or are you just waitin’ for inspiration to hit’cha instead?  ❞

[enlaw]

🤔

Send “🤔” to see how my Muse feels about yours! Catch is, I can only use icons!

[stilinskiderek]

do my two favorite scrunklies for character bingo r warm bodies and matthew murdock :')

would i be afraid of matt yes. would i marry matt also yes. its a complex relationship.