#diaboluse

[emwrcte]

1-5 for the munday meme 💅

♡ Munday Meme ♡

When did you start writing on Tumblr? God that's a tough one. I wanna say my first ever blog was a Vegeta blog waaaay back in the day. It was after my folks on my father's side moved to Germany and I distinctly remember making my first blog in the guest house on my laptop. Ballpark estimate I'd say maybe 2018-2019?

Who was your first muse? Funnily enough, Vegeta LMAO.

Who are your longest rp friends? God that'd tough. Off the top of my head: @kiealer, who's been a solid friend for like half a decade I wanna say. @onceawake I met in like 2020-ish and we've been clowning for ages now. @espelharr I've known for years but I feel like its been a decade, and I'm p. sure @viskozen has been around since Ye Olde Days.

Favourite thing about roleplaying? I like that roleplay isn't about me. For a lot of things like trauma exploration and even smut and intimacy to an extent, I like the separation where I can write about and explore some concepts without having to mentally imagine myself in the events. It's been a hugely helpful way to express myself and work stuff out as well as just flex creativity all around.

Least favourite thing about roleplaying? Forgetting to do replies 🤡

[brokenmagxc]

@diaboluse actually opened the door...

he falls forward the moment the door opens, all heavy limbs and shaking skin. his forehead had been resting on the wood while he knocked erratically, mumbling to himself gentle reassurances that he is not in silence by choice ( he is not, he would have never chosen this ). however, the barrier is quick to fade from his grasp and with it does he stumble. strong hands catch him at the shoulders. his own pale ones reach to grab at sturdy arms, squeezing with unchecked strength, near desperate—yet, as wide brown eyes fall upon the other's face, arthur grins.

there is relief. but beneath it, the rapid pulse and stirring beat of his heart hides tension, and worry, and pain.

he laughs. “ wow—you look better than i even dreamed of. ” he reeks of alcohol and smoke and gunpowder, and maybe blood, but neither can really be sure. there is something else as well, something suffocatingly sterile, but he buries it with the rest of his face as he lays his head on matt's chest and breathes in. smells familiarity and feels a beating heart that steadily calms the shaking of his nerves.

“ oh geez, you should have told me you were this comfortable. i would have hugged you sooner. ” the slur of his voice softens. arms struggle to snake around the man's frame, legs shaking with the effort to stand as arthur pulls matt closer.

“ wow, maybe we should do this more often. this is great. ”

[artisanals]

limp lungs suck in a scraping breath, the kind that leaves her throat raw, the kind she remembered from sprinting too hard. her heart beats slowly and then with increased regularity as she lurches unceremoniously back into the land of the living. darkness behind eyelids is traded for the end of golden glimmers and her fingertips twitch, numbness abating as blood and sensation seep into them.

mismatched eyes squint against the light to see her companion’s face. @diaboluse had not been willing to let her go. ( and you are glad for it — there was still fight left for you here — even if each breath you take sends pain careening unceremoniously through the very marrow of your bones ). second drawn breath produces a cough, one that shifts from dry to a wet crackle, splattering her lips with dark, congealed crimson. she can taste it on her tongue. ❛ gods, ❜ she rasps, making a feeble attempt to turn onto her side. crimson spills past her lips, leaving a watery-red trail down her cheek.

starter call

[arachnidiots-a]

🍓 batting my eyelashes

@ mutuals send me a 🍓 and ill compliment u!

i miss you first and foremost. talking to you is so... calm. it's a fun time, and i've enjoyed it more than i can express. i've loved hearing about than, your portrayal of matt, and all the things that you love and adore. i enjoy talking about tattoos and i don't know how to explain it but it's just something so warm in my chest that grows when i talk to you. one of my most favorite things about you if i had to pick one is just the attention to detail you put into things. its very careful, there's a clear amount of research and understanding that goes into things. it's lovely

[jur1sdr]

@diaboluse​

[ CARRY ]:     the sender pulls an emotionally/physically exhausted receiver into an embrace, then lifts them off their feet and carries them to a sofa/bed to let them lie down and get some rest.

**        he was tired, like bone weary, skin tinglingly tired. they had told him he would be; every doctor and nurse, each pamphlet, every other patient he sat in a circle with as they pumped the chemo into his body. it was better than being sick though, he had tried to reason with himself, and even then, being sick was better then being that sick. 

it had just been a some joint pain, feeling it in his hip was new but he had played ice hockey hard for a long time, and yeah he was a heavier dude; foggy just figured he needed a day curled in his bed with a terrible book to try and stop stressing, try to combat getting older. he hadn’t expected to hear ‘ewing’s sarcoma’. after that it was all kind of fast to try and remember, but now there was a port in his arm and some poor motel an hour away hosting any of the nelson clan who wouldn’t fit into his sister’s apartment above nelson’s hardware, and all foggy wanted to do was stick his head in the sand and wait it out. 

it was testament to the exhaustion and grogginess tugging at his brain that he didn’t question the embrace. him and matt were home, and safe from doctor’s and needles and the tone deaf ability of any of his younger relatives to run around hospital halls shrieking as if it was okay that he usually loved, and he fell into his partner’s neck with a small noise of pain. foggy ached from standing and moving and matt was the only one who could know because he was the only one who was probably worried at a hundred percent whether or not foggy pretended he was feeling fine. 

then foggy felt the pain leave his legs just a little, and the pressure in his head slide away for a moment, and he frowned before gasping and looking down. his arms wrapped around matt’s neck and he squeezed his eyes shut tight, soft laugh burning his throat as tears threatened to overwhelm his eyelids, ‘ matt if you drop me I will marry you just to divorce you again. ’

[pyreshe]

matt in 9 for the lil art meme…? 🥺

babygirl,

[nightmdic-a]

     It had been a rather long night for her, an exhaustion deep in her muscles as she slowly finishes tidying up her recent work on him; just a few stitches, but nothing luckily too major or life-threatening. If anything for now, they seemed to be having between each other a rather peaceful moment, finding herself curious about this patient of her’s more and more with each visit. 

     Daredevil. Someone she’s had to bandage and stitch up a few times now, after so many finally getting Matt Murdock as his name; in comparison to a few of her other patients, he wasn’t quite as clever at hiding his identity.

     The calm moments bring bonding, hearing his curious comment about hands that once she’s finished putting everything away, steals the small rolling chair nearby and uses it to sit before him where he rest atop the medical bed, hands reaching out to lightly ghost near his own, a simple request given without words.

     “Well then, if you can tell so much about someone by their hands - what do mine say?”

@diaboluse​

[brokenmagxc]

@diaboluse called: i don't care whether i live or die .

there is a moment of silence that is drawn out by his disbelief. the mask turns, hearing his pulse drone as his heart pummels against his chest. face flushed, arthur struggles for breath, spluttering between an exasperated sigh and a grunt. an unprecedented anger fills him, heats his bones until his legs and fingers shake. he rolls the thought in his head, of pent up frustration that balls his hands into fists. simmers and simmers in the quiet. ‘ always selfish, ’ he thinks, ‘ always selfish. and a liar. and so horribly, horribly broken. ’ it lingers, the taste of himself in the misery of the air, and the smell of blood that filters between them. though, by the time his lips part to speak ( or shout, rather ), there is nothing but disappointment and anguish that touches the heaviness of his tongue.

“ but i care matthew—i fucking care !! ” his voice is shrill, gravel combing through each word as he chokes it out between the dew staining his eyes and the redness of his face. “ does that not mean anything to you, that i want you to live ?? that i want you to be happy ?? that i want you to see that you deserve a life outside of being beaten to a pulp every goddamn day ?? ” he throws a hand out in frantic gesture, an amber gloss sweeping against his wet browns. something in the room shakes. “ i want you to care about your life. i want you to care about yourself. but for fuck's sake, if i have to do it for you, then let me. let it mean something. because if it doesn't, i— ” his voice cracks. a warm tear falls down his cheek and he motions quickly to wipe at it. the fluster labors his breath, drawing a harsh pant from red lips, the skin torn off the bottom from where he's weathered it down with teeth.

“ i can listen to you lie to me every fucking day. i can handle you being gone every night. i'll wash their blood off of your skin and tell you it'll be okay. but please—i can't let you go out there and get yourself killed. and the more and more you do this the more it feels like—like you're never going to come back to me. and i—you deserve more than a life like that. and there are people here who care for you, and who will wait for you to come back just to make sure you're okay. who will work day and night to show you that you have something worth living for here, with us. can't you see that ?? ”