EPHESIANS 4:31-32 @prayerdevil - Tumblr Blog

rp blog for mcu's matt murdock. canon-compliant w/ a focus on daredevil, the defenders, and daredevil: born again eras.

hardblock me if you think shit's problematic lol

mains: matthew's 2 goth gfs (frank & elektra)

A strained laugh huffed from his lungs at the comment about his angry breathing.

Frank knew he wasn't exactly good company for anyone, let alone for one of his lawyers who is undoubtedly going to have to deal with the repercussions of his escape, but it was nice that the guy was able to crack a joke.

There was no fight from him as Matt moved him upright, though, he wasn't much help in the endeavor, either.

As much as Frank knew he needed to drink, he couldn't quite bring the mug to his lips. Yet, with an incredible dose of irony and audacity, he claimed as if it were absolute certainty that, "I won't be here in the morning."

How he was getting out and where he was going, he had no idea, but he had his mind made up that somehow it'd happen.

Frank wasn't sure he should answer the actual question. He wasn't sure he even knew where to start. Still he offered a soft, "A lot."

He let out a bitter laugh and looked down at the mug in his hands. "I'm not exactly well liked by people, you know."

prayerdevil

"No," Matt agreed, folding his cane and setting it down between his crossed legs. "I wouldn't say you were charming at all.

"But you are human." Despite what the papers said, despite what the opinions mentioned, despite the discourse on the "Punisher" that was beginning to proliferate the public sphere so soon after Frank's sentencing, in the end the man was just a man. In this moment, Matt listened to his now-slowed heartbeat-- a far cry from the panicked rush it had been before he was inside-- and even with his own misgivings on Frank and his methods, that he was a man meant he was worth helping.

Matt sighed.

"If you don't tell me what happened, I can't really help you. You know that, right?"

His hands rested on either of his thighs, head bowed down a measure but nevertheless with his ear in Frank's direction. Matt couldn't offer him the comfort of eye contact, but the truth that he was listening was there.

"You were never afraid to face your conviction. I imagine you weren't afraid to have to serve your term.

"You sound terrible, Frank. And I smell blood on you."

Matt's brows furrowed. "Whatever they did to you inside to get you out here, I doubt you deserved it."

#matthewsgothgfs #matthewsgothgfs: frank.#thread.

Diana cooed up at Lawrence. The oncologist grimaced as he shifted her into the crook of his arm. She was barely a day old, so small and wrinkled and new -- but she felt like a cinder block at times, pulling on his fresh incisions. Still, he refused to put her down. To call him obsessed would be an understatement.

Lawrence looked up at the sound of Matt coming into the room, accompanied by the rich aroma of bagged lunch that wasn't hospital - made. "Welcome back, darling," Lawrence said softly. "You only missed a bad diaper ; a nurse was kind enough to change it for me." Lawrence's stomach growled, and he smiled tiredly. "You truly are my hero for that. I now have more than enough experience with the cafeteria to pity my own patients here." The flash of his teeth emphasized how his grin deepened at the double - edged humor. // @bloodypuzzle

It was amazing how easily Lawrence and their daughter’s presence seemed to calm Matt down. He could argue that he had a good reason for being frazzled—being a new father would do that to anyone—but when his lover was the one who got sliced open, Matt thought the least he could do was to be a steady pillar for him to rely on.

Cane tapping on the floor, Matt made his way to the side of Lawrence’s bed, and once he felt the side of his table with the back of his hand, the container was set atop it.

“You know I’ll take any excuse to spoil you.” Matt sat at the edge of Lawrence’s bed, feeling briefly for his cheek before leaning over to kiss him gently. It was a careful manoeuvre; he didn’t want to jostle the infant too much.

“And Diana… including changing her diapers.”

Pulling back, Matt's fingers traced the shell of Lawrence's ear. “You two were okay while I was gone?”

#bloodypuzzle #thread.

matthewsgothgfs

Fuck.

Frank heard the voice and saw the shadow of the figure on the floor near him, felt the hand on his shoulder, and suddenly regretted every decision he made to get there. At least if he was passed out on the rooftop, Red was bound to stumble onto him at some point. But here he was with the lawyer he knew nothing about- at least, as far as he knew. Frank's head was too foggy to realize that the blind one was able to figure out it was him on the floor without so much as a word from him, but he did manage to recognize that he was not calling the police on Frank or telling him to fuck off.

Rather than using up the last shred of energy he had to confirm that he could move verbally, he used it to drag himself as far as he could, grunting along the way.

A long flow of air fled from his lips as he collapsed against the ground once more, and he prayed silently that it was enough.

Though, despite being utterly drained and fighting the exhaustion from overtaking him, he uttered a soft, "Please don't send me back."

Frank wasn't sure it was even audible, but the thought of going back to being drugged and possibly killed was far from what he needed. If he was going to go out, it wasn't going to be because he was disadvantaged in a fight.

prayerdevil

The scent of him was awful—the city always was, granted, but there was more there, too. Frank reeked of medicine and drugs, and not even the proper amount that came with everyday usage. Ultimately, he smelled like abuse, so much so that Matt was already wondering how they could sue the prison system when Frank made the clearly illegal decision to escape it.

So when his weak request came out, Matt didn’t hesitate to say, “I won’t.”

And then, a little kinder: “I thought I recognised that angry breathing.”

Matt’s cane was set aside momentarily, hands taking Frank’s shoulders and arms before he guided him slowly into a seated position. The floor was a miserable place to be, but there was no other way to get Frank upright; Matt would get questions if he managed to lift him enough to get him in a seat.

“Hold on,” he said, “let me grab you a blanket and some water.”

The blanket came first, grabbed from Karen’s desk. It’d been a gift from one of their client’s abuela in the hopes of off-setting the legal fees they couldn’t afford to pay. Matt returned to Frank with the gentle tap of his cane on the floor and crouched to wrap it around his shoulders. Then, just as carefully, he made his way to the dispenser to fill his mug with water—at this point, he was sure Frank cared little for having to share a mug of all things, and they ran out of paper cups ages ago.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Matt asked, carefully sitting on the floor once the mug was safely in Frank’s custody. The excuse of being his lawyer was powerful enough.

“You don’t have to, of course, but I’m gonna have to tell Karen and Foggy something when they come here in the morning.”

#matthewsgothgfs #matthewsgothgfs: frank.#thread.

@bloodypuzzle, plotted starter.

Once before, when Matt had been missing Lawrence miserably and Foggy had gotten sick of his moping, he’d stated that their arrangement had rules for a good reason. Foggy, of course, had only thrown his hands in the air and said something along the lines of—

“This is why you don’t fuck someone else’s husband!”

—and Matt, because he loved him, had laughed, said “I know, Fog”, and then proceeded to have rough sex with Lawrence that Thursday.

To anyone with a brain, this was obviously a problem. Though Matt was perfectly capable of getting things done without seeing Lawrence for a spell, that didn’t mean he wasn’t constantly thinking about him. The worst thing about being able to hear at such a wide radius was resisting the urge to just find the man whenever he had free time; knowing himself to tend towards clingy, Matt did his best to resist employing that reality.

But, Christ, it’d almost been a month. And the rules of their arrangement certainly included making it clear when one or the other wished to stop.

They’d never made a strict timeline of when to contact each other. Matt, ever the spoiled child, simply got so used to the frequency of their meetings that anything longer than that made him want to crawl out of his own skin. Unfortunately, texting Lawrence again when he’d already sent three messages over the last few weeks was too mortifying to consider. So Matt had to opt for Plan B.

If only Foggy could see me now, Matt mused as he walked to the nearest Starbucks to Lawrence’s hospital. This was breaching some kind of boundary, he knew—they hardly ever saw each other professionally, save for that time Matt convinced the police to drop their accusations of Lawrence being the Jigsaw Killer—but the state of limbo was killing him. That and, in all honesty, Matt just missed him.

He caught Lawrence’s voice before he even entered the establishment, head turned ever so slightly to have his ear face the front door. Matt heard him state his order and raised both brows at the concept of Lawrence Gordon drinking a Frappuccino. When he entered, and the scent of coffee and city and people and food and goods and everything washed over him, a light twitch of the nose had him zeroing in on Lawrence alone. He heard that familiar walk, heard the movement of his clothes as he sat, heard the cushion sinking…

And, walking up to Lawrence’s table, the bottom of Matt’s cane pressed firmly in the floor as he stood by it.

“Hey,” he said, like Lawrence’s presence wasn’t electric. The hairs on his arms stood on end, even, getting to hear his heartbeat again. Getting to scent him again (and though his head tilted slightly in wonder at a noted difference in Lawrence’s profile, Matt didn’t dwell on that too long).

“Is this seat taken?”

#bloodypuzzle #thread.#[ every move you make every step you take i'll be watching you ]

matthewsgothgfs

@prayerdevil

As if getting out of prison hadn't been hard enough, doing it while pumped full of suppressants only made it that much more tedious to Frank. He'd never taken them in his life- he'd found it was easier to just not do it, especially during his military career- and fuck does this reinforce that choice. He's been beaten, slammed against walls from the residuals of a grenade going off, shot at, you name it- nothing has made it more difficult to function or made him more useless than these fucking things.

Frank knew he only had so much more in him before collapsed, and as much as he wanted to look for Daredevil since he'd likely be the only person in this damned city that would actually try to help him, he knew he wouldn't make it.

And that's why he's found himself face-down on the floor of Nelson and Murdock.

It's a crap-shoot, he knows this, but maybe, just maybe one of them would help him. Karen's proven she's not going to rat on him. Nelson might not like him- and rightfully so- but he actively seemed to care enough about people.

Murdock, though, he's the most unsure of. There haven't been many opportunities for them to get to know one another, and there's something about him that puts Frank off. Like the man Matt lets the world see is far from the one he actually is. And yet, despite this, he's got a gut feeling he's still a good person.

So, while he knows the outcome is a toss-up, he also knows that his lawyers and their assistant are the only ones he's willing to take the chance on.

prayerdevil

Foggy wasn't speaking to him any more. Karen, too. Matt didn't blame them in the least, but it did make the moving out process more tedious than it had to be. (Arguably he could speak to them regardless, but the thought of it churned his stomach-- better to avoid his guilt than face it, as was usually the case.)

Alone at night, he placed everything he held dear into two boxes. Nelson, Murdock, and Page never did become bigger than the disenfranchised clients of New York City, but in this case Matt felt it was a blessing. The packing process was simple, methodical, and everything fit, and he was supposed to be done in no time at all.

But then the sound of stumbling and heavy breathing in his building had him turning his head, frowning. At this hour, that couldn't mean anything good.

In silence, Matt moved away from his desk, heading to the front door of the office. The footsteps continued to lumber, clearly laboured. Matt's nostrils flared when he took the scent of the intruder in, and when the familiarity clicked in his head, a soft "oh" left his lips.

Frank Castle.

Then: Shit. Wasn't he in prison?

He opened the door before Frank could knock on it, stepping back a measure to avoid the man collapsing on his shoes. Matt's ears prickled-- Frank's heart had been beating like a war drum, but as he fell in it was starting to slow.

"Frank." Matt crouched, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. "I can't shut the door if you're lying here."

If worse came to worst, Matt could carry him in, but the show of strength didn't feel like a good idea. He moved to the side, offering Frank some space to move.

"Can you crawl?"

#matthewsgothgfs #matthewsgothgfs: frank.#thread.

"What the fuck is up with the mask? I mean, we had a lot of weird shit in Baltimore, sure, but never a dude with horns on his helmet." // @whatthefuckdidido