THE WOLVES WILL ALL BE DEAD.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐆, 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑. 21+.

[warjournal-arc]

fighting for the people who run the world gets you stabbed in the back. you fight the wars they start and feed. you kill the monsters they create. you die from handling depleted uranium while they get rich on oil.  i’ve had enough of that.  /   independent frank castle.  multi - everything.  #wrzne.  originally established sept 2017,  revived march 2019.  21+.

[penals]

whew tumblr has marked me as explicit yet AGAIN and i was kind of considering it anyway so -- frank can be found over @skingames and i’m currently setting up the pages for him now. 

[doyouevenfilm]

Pulp Fiction (1994) dir. Quentin Tarantino

[clintbartons]

[wardo]

Today I got up and I took a shower. Kaylee woke up on her own, and got herself ready for school. It was just a regular morning. I made french toast for breakfast and we talked about the self-pasting toothbrush she’s making for the science fair. I took her to school and went to work. And then I realized it.

[penals]

that’s about the dumbest thing i ever heard . / + for curtis bitch

@eatdevil  /  taxi driver sentence starters.  /  accepting.

“you think so?”  so maybe harlem’s a little far out there -- away from hell’s kitchen,  and it would’ve taken more of an effort than hey i was just in the neighborhood and i saw these, thought you might like ‘em for him to be here.  but he’s trying.  for curtis,  anyway.  frank holds the bouquet toward him --  peonies,  in various shades of pink and laughably contrasted to his own dark attire.  his face flushes a little warm about it. 

“well,  regardless -- they’re for you.”

[fruitcage]

Adriana La Cerva, Full Leather Jacket.

[movierpmemes]

TAXI DRIVER (1976) feel free to change details and pronouns as you see fit. some nsfw and triggering material.

i can’t sleep nights.

figure if I’m gonna do that, i might as well get paid for it.

i’ll work anytime, anywhere.

thank god for the rain.

someday a real rain will come and wash this scum off the streets.

i don’t care. don’t make no difference to me.

i’d like to know what your name is. what’s your name?

the days go on and on. they don’t end.

all my life needed was a sense of someplace to go.

i don’t believe that one should devote his life to morbid self-attention.

i believe that someone should become a person like other people.

they cannot touch her.

look over there. notice anything?

i love you.

that ___’s been staring at us.

if you had these three fingers missing on this hand and that hand missing on that hand, how would you light a match?

hi. i’d like to volunteer.

i think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.

what exactly do you want?

would you have coffee and pie with me?

i think you’re a lonely person.

i saw in your eyes and in the way you carried yourself that you’re not a happy person.

i think you need something.

you gonna be my friend?

i’m there to protect you.

i gotta get organized.

you have beautiful eyes.

i never would have had the courage to talk to you.

i don’t believe i’ve ever met anyone quite like you.

i’m no pusher. i never have pushed.

damn. i gotta remember stuff like that.

this city is like an open sewer, it’s full of filth and scum.

you’re a good man.

come on, man. get me outta here, all right?

forget about this. it’s nothing.

i don’t follow music too much. but i would really like to.

you’ve got to be kidding.

i have to leave now.

taking me to this place is about as exciting to me as saying, “let’s fuck.”

can’t i talk to you at least? won’t you talk to me?

listen, i’m sorry about the other night.

i didn’t know that was the way you felt about it.

you’re only as healthy as you feel.

you’re in a hell, and you’re gonna die in a hell like the rest of them.

i’m gonna kill her.

there’s nothing else. i’m gonna kill her.

you must think i’m pretty sick or something.

things got you down?

i got some bad ideas in my head.

you do a thing and that’s what you are.

that’s about the dumbest thing i ever heard.

loneliness has followed me my whole life, everywhere.

i’m god’s lonely man.

you make the move.

don’t try it, you fuck.

you talking to me?

who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?

here is someone who stood up.

one day there’ll be a knock on the door, and it’ll be me.

i’m hip.

buddy, you don’t look hip.

i don’t like my real name.

i want to help you. i can help you.

didn’t you ever hear of women’s lib?

god, are you square.

what makes you so high and mighty?

didn’t you ever try looking at your own eyeballs in the mirror?

i don’t know who’s weirder, you or me.

my whole life is pointed in one direction.

we are the people.

i’ll kill you! i’ll kill you!

don’t shoot him!

hello, ___.

so long.

[penals]

@favouriteghosts  /  from here.

it doesn’t fucking help matters that he’s eight hours ahead of her and the progress of their humvee has been -- well,  it’s been fucking excruciating, to say the goddamn least.  a hundred dollars out of his own pocket and it’s still working like it ought to be from the junkyard or some shit -- inflated military budget be damned.  marines make do,  had been the response to that.  he feels like he could somehow sink into the sand that’s so hot he thinks he can feel it through his boots -- that,  or it’s the sleep deprivation talking.  frank doesn’t know.  with an MRE cookie and his uniform around his waist,  he sits away from the rest of the guys,  checking through his clunky flip phone that takes even longer to text on. 

upon scanning over the messages,  squinting in the sun,  frank smiles and -- it takes him a second to do the math with the time zones.  the last message is from an hour ago,  meaning it’s -- five there.  he drinks his “cookie” from the pouch before wiping his mouth,  using one hand to type at a painstaking pace.  

    [  SMS:  MARIA CASTLE.  ]   i miss all of you more than anything.  i can’t wait to meet him.     [  SMS:  MARIA CASTLE.  ]   and i can’t wait to have you and lisa in my arms again.     [  SMS:  MARIA CASTLE.  ]   by the way,  monsters inc. puts miss thing right off.

[userboxer]

[penals]

frank’s tattoos include :

lisa barbara and frank junior’s names in yiddish.  the two names are located right above his right shoulder blade  –  frank got his tattoo of lisa’s as soon as he and maria decided on the name, shortly after they married. because he was stationed on tour for most of maria’s second pregnancy,  he wasn’t able to even see junior until he was walking,  let alone get his tattoo of his name on leave,  but it joined right along with junior’s name.

blue forget-me-nots along his left shoulder. maria had a matching tattoo on her thigh. they were her favorite flower,  and frank and maria planted a  bunch in their garden.  year after year,  they watched the forget-me-nots bloom together,  and it became a place of solace for the two of them,  even in the turbulence of their relationship 

a united states marine corps insignia a few inches above his bicep.  this was done when he was eighteen,  right after receiving his bonus for finishing boot camp.  a tattoo parlor near parris island had been the best option for it,  and frank didn’t need to think twice about that form of celebration, though still careful to follow the usmc tattoo standards of the time. 

[penals]

curt.

curtis breathes a laugh , gaze still focused on one of the cuts he was cleaning – the methodical nature of stitching coming easily , too easily . still , he doesn’t indulge frank any further about getting a normal life – this has become the new norm , and as much as frank’s a pain in his ass , curtis wouldn’t change it . maybe he’d offer some insight on not getting his ass kicked up the streets in queens , but baby steps , right ?  ❛  that doesn’t mean you can’t come to me whenever your fool ass is in trouble frank and you know it .  ❜  and curtis hates that frank knows it , but still makes it his personal mission to keep everything bottled up , tucked away like no one else understands the shit he’s trying to do . 

he cares about frank , but that doesn’t mean he won’t kick his ass .

❛  i’ve got limits , yeah , but that doesn’t mean much anymore , does it .  ❜  all he had to do was ask and curtis would have been by his side . the interests don’t always have to line up for them to want to do the right thing . but those limits ? weren’t they irrevocably crossed when billy pulled him into the middle of it all and yet all he got was more bullet scars and a new sense of paranoia .

the gestures appreciated , why wouldn’t it be . for now though , it feels like he’s right back at square one .  ❛  you gonna reset your nose or do you want me to do it ?  ❜  a distraction from the shit fest that’s life .

   the sting of that antiseptic from curt’s kit is as familiar as the snap! sensation of his nose breaking,  now.  he lets out a low hiss at the feel of it and the clean tang of it in the air,  so close to his mouth and swollen nose,  but curt works quick and easy over him as he always has,  too.  can feel the warmth of his breath on his face and the latex of medical gloves on him,  eyes closing with a sigh when he gets in close proximity to the piece of work that is his face.  broken nose,  a pair of nasty black eyes to match,  a y-shaped split lip that he keeps tonguing at reflexively,  cooper in his mouth from the way it keeps reopening and bleeding all over his chin.  an opened scar,  maybe,  ‘cause the sensation is familiar enough to be deja vu.  dark eyes open,  taking curtis in,  so very close to him -- that raised scar over his cheek,  the line of his nose and lips.  his response to all of it is a stammer,  a huff of breath that doesn’t even make sense to frank let alone remotely existing as remotely comprehensible to curt even if he swears the man can read his fucking mind sometimes,  and he shrugs,  loosely.  articulate as fucking ever.  

   “well,  all i got to fix it with is one of those uh,  those rusty old fifty cent coins, y’know,”  frank says dryly,  throat even drier when he clears it.  he could tell him what he did tonight -- who most of the blood on his clothes belongs to,  what they sounded like over the sound of bullets ricocheting.  he could tell him about that,  about what he’s enabling with each and every suture that closes up his wounds.  frank castle doesn’t hide from anyone,  especially not curtis hoyle.  not ever.   so,  he’s got a choice here,  for now.

  “so maybe it ought t’be a little less fucked if you do it, curt,”  casually,  frank goes on, speaking as if he were telling a fond anecdote rather than how ominous the statement should be -- at the risk of getting his ass kicked and all that. “you uh,  you  wanna hear what i did to the guy who broke it in the first place?”

[penals]

    upon being ambushed by arthur brown aka the cluemaster’s henchmen,  frank ambles into a seemingly abandoned warehouse, bleeding and nearly dead,  as a way to escape into the sewers to lick his wounds and bide his time until he could find his way home.  instead, however, he stumbles upon a young girl, emaciated and nearly feral, and knows innately that he can’t leave the warehouse without her.  together,  they find their way to his and micro’s current center of operations  --  an abandoned subway station,  closed off and hazardous.  there,  frank learns the girl’s name is STEPHANIE BROWN,  and that her negligent father is indeed the cluemaster who’d ambushed him earlier. all thoughts of leaving her with a social worker gone, frank moves her into his safe house and ensures she thrives under his protection with the help of an old friend, billy russo, whose intentions are far more insidious than he lets on.

au and closed arc that departs several years after the events of daredevil season 2,  in which frank has been the punisher since. if you’d like to be involved, let me know !

[mrchandlerbings]

[penals]

lovedenough.

      she really doesn’t know what she’s doing. not with her life, whether professionally or personally – but she’s more or less talking about frank. she’s not quite sure why she keeps meeting up with him, whether that’s at work or at the docks,or god forbid, her apartment. karen knows that foggy would have a near death experience if he knew, and quite frankly, so would matt. maybe it’s because they share the same darkness, that creeps up from the shadows or perhaps … she just likes having someone who understands her. whatever the reason is, he’s still here and she’s still listening.

      karen watches him, a crease forming on her forehead. she’s … actually not sure why he’s here tonight. he sort of just came in and sat down, and she had just given him some crappy tasting coffee.

‘  doesn’t mean you weren’t going to.  ’ the blonde mutters, leaning back in her chair. she’d rather not talk about matt, not right now. she could just the distraction from all that. a brief look of surprise flickers over her face, and the crease appears again. ‘  … i don’t promise anything, but shoot. what is it?  ’

   frank huffs something like a laugh at that because -- yeah, he would, because he’s prodding and persistent at karen having something in her life -- at karen having a life,  not like him.  having friends,  a job,  whatever family she may have --  he doesn’t know that about her,  not as much as she knows about him now,  but he wants her to have all of the things he doesn’t.  that’s how much he cares,  really,  as much as he understands the parts of her that nelson and that murdock may not,  he wants her to live her life.  associating with him,  being his friend -- that ain’t any kind of life and he knows that too.  and yet,  she’s insistent,  or maybe he keeps coming back despite all the shit that comes outta his mouth about it ‘cause she’s been here since all of this shit started.  frank doesn’t trust many people in this world,  not anymore,  but he trusts karen page with his life.  

his nose wrinkles at the taste of the coffee -- keurig shit,  watered down,  but it doesn’t even hold a candle to MRE coffee.  marines make do,  and all of that.  he dares to reach for a creamer packet,  dumping only one inside,  and settles on that at least.  good enough.  looks back at her,  lets out a long exhale,  and takes out a folder.  it’s thin,  not much inside,  but within it there’s a cutout of one of karen’s own articles -- 5 DEAD, LITTLE ITALY MURDER-SUICIDE,  the headline exclaims.  frank slides the folder toward her when he opens it for her to read,  with some notes about the gnucci printed underneath that he put together on his own accord.

clearing his throat,  frank speaks again,  “i know you wrote this article.  and i know you’re good at digging.  i’d like to know anything i can about ma gnucci, yeah?  and i was wondering if you had some of the research you did for this article,  here.”

[penals]

to anyone now following me -- i deleted my previous blog as tumblr would not let me appeal my expl.icit status.  i’m currently working on getting drafts and stuff together again.  hit me up in the IM’s or whatever if you want to chat !

[penals]

TAG DROP #1.