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HAPPY PRIDE MONTH! 🏳‍🌈

What better way to celebrate Pride Month as to do a redraw of this famous photo?

ID in alt text and under the cut.

[ID:

Two pictures.

The first one is a redraw of the Kiss of Life photo but with Frank and Matt.

Frank is a utility worker, very high up at a utility pole, but unconscious. He is hanging upside-down, his safety harness anchoring him to the pole. His arms are crossed at the wrists over his head, while his tool bag is dangling from his harness. He is wearing gloves, a shirt, and cargo pants.

Matt is in his black Daredevil suit, including the mask. He is anchoring himself to one of the utility poles with the cord that connects his billy clubs. He is holding Frank's head and giving him mouth-to-mouth-resuscitation, saving Frank's life.

The second one is the original photo from the first image.

End ID.]

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@giftober 2024 | Day 18: "Gift" The Punisher Season 1 Episode 02 - Two Dead Men

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Wanted to say hello. I thought I'd try my luck out here, not get my head blown off.

THE PUNISHER (2017-2019) 1.02 Two Dead Men

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FRANK CASTLE IN EVERY EPISODE 💀 THE PUNISHER 1.13 - MEMENTO MORI

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"Shut your mouth, Murdock. Get some rest." Frank had already settled in to keep watch over him, looking like he could sit there all night and it wouldn't trouble him. It wasn't like he really expected Matt to drop dead in the night, or like he believed there was much chance of the mark he'd so heroically stopped the Punisher from killing would catch up with him that quickly. It wasn't even like Matt hadn't had worse ass-kickings before this. But it was possible that it had unnerved him a little to see him come so near death again. He wasn't sure when that outcome had become unacceptable to him, but it was unfortunate that of all the people he could have gone soft for, it was the one who regularly risked his life wearing a devil costume. It was like Frank was just asking for the universe to sucker punch him again.

@1batch2batch sent: [ GUARDED ] sender insists on staying the night to keep watch over receiver who has been in some kind of danger.

"You know you don't HAVE to stay, right? Not my first rodeo. I'll be alright." Sure - he's got a stabwound (or two), a broken rib (or two) and a couple of bruises - but it's really not all that uncommon for him. He can handle himself. But he's also not going to turn the company down. Not if Frank really wants to stay - he just doesn't want him to feel like he has to. It's not like they've always been the best of buds - and he did kinda ruin his kill.

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ouch 🌌

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There was nothing okay about any of it, but as quick as he'd felt himself coming apart, Frank was already pulling himself back together. He'd lived inside his own personal hell for years, inescapable, but it was the glimmer of freedom that undid him. Maria was hope for something better, and he was clinging to it with everything he had. A reluctant chuckle slipped past his lips at the mention of Spider-Man. "Lotta weirdos in masks around here." He wasn't the biggest fan of the Punisher, but Frank tried to stay out of the way of the heroes. That wasn't a fight he ever wanted.

"Light's good," he agreed, getting to his feet. He always felt better when there was something to do, and it was easier to shake off his feelings with the simple task of getting packed. His duffel was already half-packed, always ready for a quick getaway, and it was mostly weapons that needed collecting and proper packing. He had more hidden in caches around the city, but it wouldn't trouble him to leave them behind. Those were worst case scenario measures.

He was already nodding, drifting back to her like a planet in orbit. He knew exactly what she meant. Any place they'd been together was hard without them, and she hadn't had nearly as long to adjust to the absence. Much like her, Frank didn't really care where they went, as long as it was together. He wouldn't be sorry to put his back to New York City. If they were really going to do this, they needed a clean break, a complete change of lifestyle. He took her hands, laying a gentle kiss on the back of each. "Europe sounds great. The further the better. It'll take a little time to get you a decent forged passport."

Frank had heard every version of his own story, from police and reporters, from courts and fellow prisoners, from people who called him a terrorist or a monster to the ones who tried to understand or even agreed with what he did. He'd faced every possible judgement, none of them harsher than the judgements he cast on himself. But he'd never heard it like this, from the one person he might trust to see it clearly because she'd been there in the thick of it with him from beginning to end, from the person whose forgiveness he needed most. That kiss felt like absolution, the tears pouring freely down his face now, shoulders shaking with sobs. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

For as often as he thought of them--every damn day--it was like he'd forgotten how to see it that way, as though he wasn't capable of reaching for the good things without Maria there to show him how. His mind was caught in the trauma of it, reliving their deaths over and over, the regrets heavy on soul, all the things he'd failed to do. Even the good memories were tainted by sadness, a life he'd never have again. She was right, though. Their children deserved better than to be remembered only as tragedies. It didn't do justice to the rest of their lives.

If Maria could forgive him for putting their babies in the line of fire, maybe, just maybe, Frank could start to forgive himself for it. Not completely, maybe he could never do that, but enough to let this burden of vengeance fall off his shoulders so they could start over together. And she deserved that, even if he didn't entirely believe that he did. His feelings about that hadn't so much as wavered. She deserved the best life he could give her, and for that, he'd have to do better.

His sobs had quieted, arms wrapped around her, the sound of her laugh like music. It had him cracking a smile in spite of everything, a feeling almost like giddiness welling up in him. It was absolutely surreal to be here with her having this conversation right now. His hand slid into her hair, face tipped up to hers, just as in love with her as he'd always been. "Oh honey… Been without you long enough. Never again." Apparently even death couldn't keep them apart. If that couldn't separate them, he didn't think there was a force on Earth that could.

"Probably the safest part of the city," he admitted grudgingly. For all its crime, Hell's Kitchen also had Daredevil keeping watch. The Punisher didn't limit himself to one borough, and he'd been known to show up and clean house there as well. "Shouldn't stay long at either place. We'll get your stuff and get out of the city. Where ya wanna go, gorgeous? Anywhere in the world." SHIELD would still be looking for both of them, to say nothing of the other enemies he'd made. The fact that they hadn't yet descended on the place meant Maria must have been covering her tracks though.

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Kastle Appreciation Week Day 3: Favourite Scene ↳ Daredevil 02x11

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FRANK CASTLE IN EVERY EPISODE 💀 THE PUNISHER 2.01 - ROADHOUSE BLUES

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He remembered how it was the first time he'd been around bodies that had been reduced to so much meat, and he didn't judge her. It smelled like a slaughterhouse, thick on the back of his tongue. He'd long been desensitized to it, first overseas and then at home, but it felt utterly at odds with his wife standing there looking like she was trying not to gag. Though that wasn't something he'd ever wanted Maria to have to experience, he'd known logically that it was a matter of time before the two sides of his life collided.

He didn't breathe until she disappeared into the bedroom, and then he moved quickly to move all the bodies into the bathroom where she wouldn't have to see them. He didn't have time for a proper shower--and it was full of dead guys anyway--but he cleaned off the blood as best he could, stripping out of his shirt and tossing it in the trash. He knocked quietly before he entered the bedroom, not wanting to startle her. "You okay? You need anything?"

you have to take it away before i gag.

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It was inevitable that they'd be discovered eventually, and it was inevitable that Frank would do what he did best when that happened. He was relieved it was some low-level goons who'd stumbled on their safehouse almost by accident rather than, say, the Avengers. It wasn't in a pleasant part of town, and he was recognizable in some very particular circles.

He was only grateful Maria had been out at the time, though he hadn't made a lot of progress in cleaning up the mess before she returned. Nobody was calling the police about gunshots in this neighborhood, nor was he planning to stay now that their location had been compromised, but he couldn't just leave the bodies lying around for anyone to find.

"Wait in the bedroom, sweetheart. I'll take care of this." He'd started toward her, realized he was splattered in blood, and halted, intentionally blocking her view of the body leaking brains on the floor. It was gruesome, even if he'd done worse many times before. He was a little grateful she'd never seen him at the beginning of his Punisher days.

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People think that torture is pain. It’s not pain. It’s time. It’s time to slowly realize that your life, it’s over.

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Jon Bernthal as Frank Castle THE PUNISHER | 2.01

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It was a weird old weird, weirder than Frank had ever known. He'd seen some shit, during the war, during his personal war on the people who had taken his family, but none of it prepared him for watching half the world turn into ash before his eyes. That was a whole new level of fuckery. He didn't care much about the mechanics of it, and he sure as fuck didn't have anyone left to lose at that point.

As always, his attention had turned to the practicalities of it. The absence of heroes in New York City left a power vacuum, and every surviving scumbag clamored to fill it. One would think he'd have less to clean up with half the world gone, but nah. There was corruption everywhere, no matter how many people there were. Put two people on a deserted island, and they were as likely to kill each other as work together. Maybe more.

Then everyone was snapped back again, and it was a whole new set of problems. There were times Frank wondered how long vengeance could sustain him. It should have run out long ago, his personal vendetta long since settled, his family avenged and dust in their graves by now. The truth was that he was tired, but he didn't know any other way of existing anymore. The fight was all there was.

It was a rare night when he wanted company and it wasn't the bloody kind. He was more likely to stay in nights reading than go out for a drink. Anymore these days, it was too hard to pretend to be a normal person. He was out of practice, but the idea of staring at the same concrete walls was intolerable tonight. He wanted people around, even if he wasn't actively conversing with any of them.

The gaze that flicked to her was appreciative, a little smile forming. She was lovely and had the attention of half the men here, but she'd chosen to sit next to him, and that deserved a smile at least. "I think I know the feeling. Long week?" Long life. Though he couldn't know what she was really referring to, he remembered the way it felt when he'd been reborn as the Punisher, everything bright and hard and new. It wasn't exactly a fond memory, but he did understand.

How characteristic of a Loki to manipulate a relationship in the hopes of getting what they wanted. All his life he had played and tested, desperate for attention, for a confirmation of his worth that he would believe, for declarations of bonds he could trust. In the end, he had known it wasn't other people who were broken, but he himself. Forever seeking answers beyond the ones he had been given. Those he had come to love since leaving the timeline were only in his orbit because he himself and his circumstances had made it so. His grasping need not to be alone had ended with him becoming the loneliest creature in existence.

Until he learned to walk the timelines. 

For centuries it was only as an incorporeal duplicate, practically a ghost, seeing, watching, stealing conversations. His old tricks had never left him. Many a time he planted whispers to see what would happen. Some good, some bad. He toyed with the multiverse, a bored but caring God. When at last he felt a change in the Tree, felt it root and self-sustain, he started to venture out. Short bursts, building up until he could become an occasional tender. 

There were people he cared for, some he checked in on, others he had not yet dared to see, but now he wanted to make a connection, however fleeting. Amid the many recurring characters he had pored over, one in particular of late had fascinated him. Another somewhat tragic figure, different from him in many ways, perhaps even incompatible, and yet curiosity got the better of Loki. A human who had survived time and time again things he should not, who had chosen violence over peace, who did not know how to rest or be anything but a warrior.

Loki slid into the barstool alongside Frank Castle, shapeshifted into one of her female guises, long black hair down to her waist, thigh-high boots, clad in a dark green sweetheart dress. "Bourbon, please," she asked the bartender. "Neat." Kohl-lined eyes flicked idly to the man beside her, ignoring how many other men's eyes ogled her from the tables. "Have you ever had a drink that feels like the first in a million years?"

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"Half the cops in the city. Homeland, FBI. Bribery, blackmail, threats. Got his hands in everything." That was what made it all so hard to untangle. There was a gray area in taking out corrupt agents, at least for Frank. Not all of them were bad people, even if they happened to be under Fisk's thumb. Some of them had families they were trying to protect. It didn't make it okay, but it made him hesitate to go after them directly. Shit, Frank hadn't always been on the right side of the line when he was in the service either. It was part of the reason he was here.

He hadn't been looking for an ally, but he wasn't going to turn one down either. Jane--yeah, because that was a real name--didn't seem to have any inclination to turn him in or any misgivings about shooting goons down in the street, which made them pretty perfect for working together. He hadn't pressed her for details, partly because he could tell he wouldn't get anywhere with it, but mostly because he didn't care. Her past was her business. He didn't bring up his history, though much of it was public knowledge now thanks to a certain excellent reporter, and he wouldn't ask for hers.

"Yeah? I'm listenin'." He'd guessed she had a reason for sticking around, and he'd guessed the reason wasn't loneliness. They both had a sort of lone wolf vibe. Fewer people around to get caught in the collateral damage. He could admit she had his curiosity piqued though. She'd clearly been involved in something before she was here. He'd guess military first and then something a little more black book, much like himself, but even his wildest imaginings hadn't come anywhere close to the real truth. Sticking around because their methods were similar and he made a useful ally just made sense. It sure as shit wasn't his sparkling personality.

"What do you mean, you don't know?"

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Frank could track a lot of the corruption of New York City back to Wilson Fisk. No matter what poison you picked--drugs, guns, human trafficking--he had his hands in all of them. It wouldn't have mattered whether Frank had a personal debt to settle for Fisk's attempt on his life in prison. He would have been a target of the Punisher regardless. The personal score was just a bonus.

Unfortunately, Daredevil had sent Fisk to a high security prison where he continued to spin his little webs, but where not even the Punisher could reach him. Frank was good, but he wasn't that good, unless he wanted to end up back behind bars himself and on his way to an electric chair. He sometimes thought it wouldn't be such a bad trade if it would guarantee Fisk's death as well, but of course it wouldn't. Those bastards were like cockroaches.

It was harder to explain to someone who hadn't been in the city for it, but he'd done his best, including the part where he didn't have even the vaguest idea of a plan for getting at Fisk while he was on the inside. He'd pretty much set it aside to turn his attention to damage control within the city itself, taking out Fisk's lackeys and anyone else who made themselves a target.

He huffed, sat cleaning out a handgun from just such a mission earlier in the night. "What do you think it means? I don't know means I don't know. If I knew, he'd be dead and we wouldn't be having this conversation."

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Daredevil S02E08 “Guilty as Sin”