Senza titolo

do you stop being a brother if your brother is ———

[soldied]

SOLDIED. frankie scott from the john wick franchise, heavily headcanon influenced. canon divergent and au based. follows back from the main hub, @astringere. character information under the cut.

SUMMARY

i. born in new york, frankie (full name is francis, but he won't introduce himself as such ever) is the eldest son of francis scott and moira calhoun and you guessed it, winston's older brother. while not an oc, his ties to canon are very basic and my portrayal is based entirely on an alternative version of events where he survives his attempt to steal from cormac. he has left the city and its criminal underworld well behind him and has taken to live in the countryside, tending to his animals and a small farm. biromantic homosexual. formerly: street kid, soldier, drug addict, hitman.

ii. frankie is tall (6'3) and broad shouldered. his frame is not massive, especially when it comes to his waist, but he has strong arms and back muscles that suit his current farm work rather well. his skin is almost always golden from working in the sun so often. hair slightly curly and dark, blue eyes. FC: aaron taylor johnson, andrew lincoln.

iii. easy-going and well versed in casual conversations, but reserved about his past. fluent enough in vietnamise. his pronunciation isn't perfect although he can carry a conversation and understand what is being said. he otherwise speaks english with a distinct american accent.

iv. frankie and his brother aren't the closest, while simultaneously not being estranged. they hear from each other, from time to time, but neither worry if months or sometimes years go by.

v. he still owns a few weapons, kept only for defense. he used to be known for his uncanny proficiency with most firearms, when he still worked for cormac o'connor (the continental's previous manager).

notes. (i) most people don't know him and winston are brothers. your muse probably won't know, unless plotted otherwise. (ii) not john's father, either. (iii) my version of frankie and yen's relationship is strictly platonic.

PINTEREST.

INTERACTIONS IDEAS,

chance encounter somewhere in rural america. after leaving new york behind him (sometime around '78 / 79) frankie spent many years working all over the country, helping farmers and living day to day, season to season. he also worked as a mechanic from time to time and generally just ended up being a handy man for the communities he found himself in.

specific kind of help (closer to the movies' timeline). frankie has made it out a long time ago, burying the hitman life for good. he probably can help others do the same, or at least provide whatever assistance he can in the matter.

& more available through plotting!

[sgtjakes]

+ @pscentral event 27: scenery

BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN (2005) dir. Ang Lee

[soldied]

despite the fact that they are not that far in age, frankie was way more critical and resentful of their father growing up. simply because he remembered more. winston had a much blurrier experience of the bad times their family had fallen into. he remembered his father being away for long stretches of time, sure, but it was frankie — a much too young frankie at that — that was left home alone, tasked with looking after his brother. it was frankie who recognized the smell of alcohol clinging to his father when he came back late at night, loud, angry, unpredictable. he never hurt either of them (moira would have had his head in two seconds flat if he even so much as breathed wrong in her boys direction), but frankie was still wary of him, bracing for the worst.

[yllowpages]

John watches him, as if assessing. Though he knows Frankie isn't a threat. Not to him, at least. And not to Winston. ( Anyone else isn't John's concern right now. ) Maybe he can't help but be even more curious. Even for just what it must be like. The children he grew up shoulder-to-shoulder with were posited more as competition than family. ( Blood of the covenant ... )

He huffs at Frankie's soft dig, a quick puff of air through his nose. Accompanied by a slight smirk. ❝ I can see that, ❞ he mutters. An understatement. John's aware, of course, he only knows what Winston wants him to know ( a standard practice ) . But given his view of Winston, personally, it's an amusing thought. Behind all that wisdom and authority, all the helping hands he's offered to John — a younger brother. He almost can't picture it.

His fingers tap the side of the coffee mug. The warmth is seeping through the ceramic and into his palms. His knuckles are red and split, though the blood's been washed away from them. Remaining red stains are clear on his shirt, though other bruises are surely hidden beneath. ❝ What do you do these days, Frankie? ❞ John finally lifts the cup and takes a drink. The warmth feels nice going down. ❝ Or are you ... ❞ He searches for the correct phrasing, given how new of a concept this seems to him. A second or two pass and John settles on, ❝ ... retired? ❞ Dark eyes stay on Frankie, square and even, giving away the genuine interest John has in knowing.

[soldied]

it must be a nice change of pace, the openness john is being met with.  he knows for a fact it is, knows enough about what his brother does for a living to be quite sure easy answers are rarely in the cards, even for those closer than most. it's just how it is. how winston is. take it or leave it.

frankie finishes his coffee in one last swallow, even more bitter than the others, leaving him with a sour taste in his mouth.  he keeps the mug in his hands for a few moments longer, holding on to its warmth, and smiles a little to himself. the question john directed at him is not funny, but his answer might be — unexpected, at the very least. frankie is aware, after all, of the severe turn he took from his past life. farming is not exactly the first thing that would come to mind, especially to someone who — by the looks of it — is still neck deep in the very same world frankie left without remorse.

'' are you calling me old, son? ''   far from serious, frankie attempts to bring some levity to the night, before readily dismissing his own joke for an actual answer.   '' i have a farm up in wisconsin. the days are long and hard, but there's a lot of peace in it. in being away from cities. and bullets, too. ''

he props his chin up with his hand, elbow on the table.  frankie is watching john closely now and when he speaks next it's not farm work the man has in mind:   '' think you'd like that one day? ''

[yllowpages]

It was a question one would think he would have asked earlier. Before now, before bruises and bullets, fights fought side-by-side, perhaps when they were first put face-to-face. But John's mind had been elsewhere. He didn't have much left in this world. No parents to speak of, no blood family ( little in the way of family by covenant ) , names taken away, names given ... Then Winston was there. Not with an outstretched hand, but a knowing glance to hint John toward the next step forward. And when Charon contacted him, there had been one thought, one goal in his mind and one only : find Winston.

He never asked beyond that. Never pried or pushed. It wasn't his place. He's been alive long enough to know it never is. Someone might make an offer, but to ask could be presumptuous. With no questions asked, maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Maybe he should have realized it sooner, not just had his private suspicions there was more to this man than previously let on. In hindsight ... he sees it now ( the similarities between them, and the distinct differences ) . But nothing ever struck John to come to this conclusion ( after all, he's here too, isn't he? And John shares no blood ) . The revelation and vague questioning registers visually on the younger man's face.

He's taking it in still, considering this news, as he offers his own name in return — ❝ John ❞ — purely out of good manners. But he's clearly distracted, even as he takes the mug filled for him. ( In the back of his mind, he runs those words over for himself again : ' Not in the business anymore. ' But his disbelief of that falls further back behind everything else at the moment. ) ❝ Winston never mentioned a brother. ❞ But why would he? Has John ever expected Winston to divulge any personal details? No. But he can't help himself. This is his way of prying now.

[soldied]

he sees it land on john's face, the fresh shock of new information ricocheting like the kick of a rifle, hard and sudden.  frankie has enough grace to give john time to recover, shifting his attention away from him briefly;  he tries to fold into one of the chairs, long legs a little awkward under a table that's not quite big enough for him, ill suited to a man of his height. but at least he doesn't take as much space as he did earlier, the small kitchen already feeling crowded with only two people in it.

the coffee isn't very good, slightly bitter and far from fresh, but at least it's strong.  and that's exactly what frankie needs to keep him going for a few more hours. they should all get some sleep, probably, but frankie doubts he will be able to. there's something still twisting his stomach up in knots, a sick feeling in his throat that he remembers from childhood. fingers on bloodied knees. his brother's smaller arms around his neck as he'd lift him up onto his back. funny how these things never change, not even after several decades  (and most of that time spent apart, too).

'' don't take it personal, john. ''   another sip of coffee, before he draws his eyes up to look at john.  frankie rolls his shoulders, trying to crack the stiffness out of them with little to no result, but he still smiles at him, a bit sheepish, unguarded.   '' it's been years since i've been in town. or anywhere near the state of new york, even. besides, ''   amusement slips into his tone like an old friend entering the door, giving his next words a vague cospiratorial ring to them.   '' you'd have better luck trying to pry personal information out of a rock. ''

[soldied]

[mancandykings]

Heath Ledger as Ennis Del Mar Brokeback Mountain (2005) dir. Ang Lee

[soldied]

do i know you?

the question finds him in the kitchen, the safe house having long since gone quiet all around them.  the smell of coffee on the stove is almost enough to drown out the lingering scents of antiseptic and blood. almost, but not quite. frankie had expected the questioning to fall on his head, sooner or later, but he has been a little too distracted in the last couple of hours to pay @yllowpages much mind. they had worked well together, not needing many words between them. muscle memory had done the trick, or maybe it had been their common goal driving them forward with no hiccups to speak of.

something must have given him away;  maybe the tension in his hands, or maybe the aching familiarity he has been moving around with since they arrived.  the relief, too, has been clear on his face since he left his unconscious little brother in the main bedroom — pale and bruised, but whole. just resting.

'' no, but it's one hell of a way to meet someone, huh? ''   he snorts, halfway to a muffled laugh, shoulders shaking with it.  he can feel a dull ache spreading from there, a different sort than the one he's gotten used to during all the years spent doing anything but shooting down people. he has probably pulled something in his right shoulder, a nerve or a muscle. he fills two mugs, wincing slightly as he settles one on the counter for john to take. at this point it's either very late at night or very early in the morning, but it doesn't matter much with the day they just had.   '' i'm not in the business anymore. that was a long time ago. ''

he could leave it at that, but he's not winston.  there's no need to have this conversation feel like pulling teeth from him. besides, there is no point in leaving john in the dark, not when they already have two acquaintances in common.

'' frankie. ''   he extends the hand that's not holding a mug full of steaming coffee, blue eyes tired but lively, crinkled at the corners by a genuine smile.   '' you already know my brother. ''

[ipromisetostaywild]

[lentilsdotcom]

sibling relationships are so strange... like i love you. you will never understand me in a way that matters. we are the same person in drastically different ways. we are sewn together. we don't talk. we are attached at the hip. you wish i was never born. can i call you. let's eat together. i forgive you. etc

[beingharsh]

Bones and All (2022), dir. Luca Guadagnino