cherisseone

[cherisseone]

Think i never showed this freak

Im the kitty on his pocket 😫‼️‼️

I do love graphite pencils (not really)

[cherisseone]

This but every night before i go to sleep 🤣

every morning without fail, i log into my fuck ass tumblr account and immediately hit frank castle x reader in the search bar

[cherisseone]

The thing is that i really see Frank doing something like this. I mean, let’s put a retired Punisher, just Frank living and letting the grief consume him. You, the pretty girl on the bar, with your sweet smile and the easy chatter, you had become a light for his dense darkness, a firefly he’s gonna trap with his own hands and don’t let go.

I needed this? Yes. Long life to Dark!Frank

nightmare pt. II

dark!Frank Castle x reader: Months of confinement begin to make you question who your captor really is, and who he is to you.

warnings: kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, 18+ only.

PART ONE

He says he would never hurt you.

Somewhere deep down, though, you can sense that Frank understands. He is not stupid, nor does he live in a state of delusion. He is a confrontational person, you can tell, and he readily confronts reality. He knows how much you hate him. It hurts him, but you can tell he was fully prepared for it. He is kind and patient with you because he knows you don’t deserve this. He knows you deserve to be happy, to be free. He knows he is hurting you, in spite of what he says. He also knows he doesn’t have to cause you physical harm in order to leave a mark.

You used to think you were good at reading people. It was a gift of yours, your own little superpower. You were skilled at assessing for intention, at predicting what someone’s next move might be. 

Frank, however, is an exceptionally difficult person to read. 

Concentration can get confusing when you’re afraid. It’s anxiety inducing, it’s debilitating, it’s tiring. But mostly, being around Frank feels unbearable. Whenever he is around, it’s like your mind has forged a new path, nestled securely in a state of purgatory. Both hypervigilant and distracted, frantic yet focused. 

You don’t understand this. You don’t understand him. You don’t understand why you’re here, or what he wants from you. You become so frustrated you could cry, and sometimes you do.

You don’t understand.

Your nerves send your mind spiraling in one hundred different directions, playing out scenarios of what he’s going to do, what he’s going to say, how this is going to end. It’s too hard to focus on any single one. It’s too hard to narrow down what the most likely scenario is. It’s too hard to predict the unpredictable.

The silence between the two of you—even the little silences, the moments where you’re waiting for him to respond to something you’ve said or done—is like pulling teeth. It’s frustrating and complicated, but it’s also relatively simple. 

Whenever he is around, you feel like you’re going to collapse. 

And so you have. You’ve fainted twice now in his presence. Once when you first arrived, when you first found yourself in the dark of the basement. Once more when he came home—“home,” the word makes you feel ill—covered in blood and cuts and bruises. You knew full well why he allowed you to see him like that. It was a warning. An “I’m not hurting you, but I could.” A big, shining example of “look at what I’m capable of.” As if you didn’t already know.

He explained things differently.

“I want to know every part of you, even the parts you’re not proud of,” he had said. “It’s only fair that you know me, too.”

You’re perched up on a pedestal in his mind, and you can’t help but wonder when all will come crashing down. But then again, he’s seen you at your worst, at your most human. He’s seen you scream and cry and beg and barter. He’s seen you get violent—or attempt to, anyway. It wasn’t difficult for him to protect himself from your hits and blows, but he has never hurt you. Not once. 

Not anywhere anyone could see. 

Not like anyone else had seen much of you lately. In fact, no one had seen you for quite some time now, no one but him. You weren’t sure if it was out of sympathy or malice; knowing Frank, he probably thought it was the former. He saw it as doing you a kindness. He let you keep track of time. 

Six months. 

Six whole months, you had been here.

He says that he never does to people that which isn’t deserved. You are still not sure what he means by that, but the injuries he comes home with give you some ideas. 

You know he’s been through something terrible. He has to have been. People don’t become this twisted without having endured some sort of traumatic event. You just don’t know what. You know he’s deathly afraid of losing those he loves. You know you are included in that category, for whatever reason. 

It’s weird in retrospect. To you, Frank was just another guy at the bar. He was one of your regulars, stopping by for a drink or two every few nights for the past two years. You had just barely gotten to know him by the time he made the decision to alter the course of your life entirely. 

He had kept to himself. He gave off the impression that he didn’t want to be bothered, and yet, he made it clear that he liked you. He was a good tipper. He made you feel safe and protected when patrons would get rowdy, when they would get rude with you. He even fixed up your car once when it broke down in the parking lot. 

“I take care of you,” he said. “You see that, don't you?"

He wears his guilt like a blanket. It’s not hard to see. Shame dictates everything he does, from the careful way he speaks to you to the gentle way he holds you at night. He is soft with you, affectionate. When you’re in the quiet of your home—“home”—all of his hard edges are stripped away. It makes you feel a little special. You wonder who else has seen this side of him.

He says he would never hurt you, and he’s remained true to his word. 

Concentration can get confusing when you’re afraid. It becomes difficult to sustain. You can start to go into shock, a state in which you forget why you are where you are and why. When you’re being told one thing and experiencing another, you naturally begin to question your reality. Your days are filled with “I love you’s” alongside escape attempts, your nights filled with moments of comfort in the arms of someone you despise. 

You dread Frank’s presence, and yet, you jump at every little noise when he’s not around. And sometimes, when you’re in that warm, heady space between sleep and consciousness, you are simply there—just you and the man that loves you.

You are alive. You are awake. You are afraid. You are loved. You are confined, trapped, terrified. You are a lot of things.

“I want to know every part of you,” he had said.

You’re not even sure you know every part of you.

Not now. 

Not anymore.

[cherisseone]

Ballpoint drawing i did on college, no hashtags cuz if you see this you are meant to. Love

[cherisseone]

Leaving this here because i had another Frank delusional afternoon.

Another kiss, i knoooooow, but 🥺🥺 they’re so intimate, and this time it is with Cass, look at her roses tattooos. They’ve so passionate about it, imma cry alone ok??!?!

You can also leave me ideasss, i like to draw a lot, wouldn’t be a problem for me, only if college starts to get tight but don’t worry, there’s always time for my sweet bubbleplush mannnn.

Im living to sit on his lap sideways, so cute.

[cherisseone]

These were so fun 🤣🤣. Kinda feeling like Jessica these few days of the year.

CHOOSE YOUR DEFENDER (&frank)

bonus fratt bcs I can’t help myself I’m sorry:

[cherisseone]

No because this goes hard‼️‼️‼️

doodle because rivals punisher

[cherisseone]

Hello sweetpeas, i have something meaningful to share (really not) Frank doodles YEEEY

Imagine that…

Imagine you are finishing a full shift at the café, out of exhaustion you decide to take the shortest route to your home, which involved passing through the park that was now illuminated by the blinking Christmas lights. That’s the moment you distinguish his characteristic frame already looking at you, with his endearing gaze making you all warm in the cold night.

The thing is, you swore you would never see him again, and your last fight seemed to confirm it, yet that doesn’t care no more, all you wanted to do is kiss his whole face and mumble about how much you missed him.

Kinda got inspired 😰😰😰, lemme be, ex Frank makes me feel romantic and sad and… and 😭😭😭😭 my sheylaaa 😭🤍🤍 who ever liking this ily and happy new year 🤍🤍🤍

[cherisseone]

The kinda thing i need with Frank Castle right now‼️‼️‼️‼️ the banterrrrr⁉️⁉️💥💥

Punisher War Journal #45

Chuck Dixon/John Hebert

[cherisseone]

Have such a problem with this episode, they knew what they were doing 🤭🤭💥

Arrest me. I deserve it.

[cherisseone]

Helloooo how are youu?

Pretty good, thank u very much for your help, without u i couldn’t ever guess if it worked or not 😅😅, here’s a gift for u 😆

A sleepy Frank.

[cherisseone]

you know what that means, right?

[cherisseone]

I really hated Matt in that one 🤣🤣 he couldn’t comprehend himself, neither i did. Like he was so troubled but i get it, your whole life has been a tragedy and the only thing you can rely on (your super senses) are taken away from you.

In other hand, that season made me love Karen more, we get to know more of her past that i was pretty curious about. They make us see that Karen is not perfect, which i kind of thought before. I love a character with a nice back story.

people who insist that karen is an awful person especially in season three make me laugh because you wanna know who’s really a bad person in season 3? your precious little pookie who can do no wrong, matt murdock. matt is AWFUL in season 3 and the sooner you accept that and realize that characters can be good and bad, the sooner i respect your media literacy skills.

just because you think matt murdock is hot doesn’t mean you can excuse his actions and then in the same breath say that karen is a really bad person and you hate her.

[cherisseone]

Can someone help me out? 😓 my inbox has 4 messages and for some strange reason i can open it. I see the 4 things and when i click it says it has nothing, heeelp 😓😓😓💥💥💥

[cherisseone]

Was crying my ass up cuz i thought i was about to lose my account, but noooo HERE I AMMMM 💋💋💋‼️‼️

[cherisseone]

The Yapper

Foggy has some visions about making his own rock band.

Definitely a scene in the upcoming au "its nice to have a friend"

[cherisseone]

Just imagine your tombstone. “Frank Castle lose a ass-kicking contest to a one-legged man.”