#frank Castle

[xxdrixx]

The Punisher Season 1 Episode 01 - 3AM

[endortbc]

- Hey. Take care, Red.

- ...Alright. You too.

Some scenes wouldn't exist: a peaceful goodbye.

Can't wait to see Daredevil: born again ^^

[matt-murdock-fan-girl]

I know he's a mass murderer, I know he's a menace to society, I know he's unstable but to me he's just a little baby and I love him

Also he's criminally hot

[chaos-and-ink]

The last name argument but for Frank and Matt. Based off a crack dream I had last night.

Matt: Matthew Castle sounds like a christian musician from the midwest, we are not doing that. Frank: Well Frank Murdock sounds like a murderer. Matt: YOU ARE A MURDERER

Matt: Fine, how about we hyphenate. Matt Murdock-Castle. Frank: Now hold one, why do you assume your name comes first? it should be Castle-Murdock. Matt: Well now it sounds like we live in a castle named Murdock. Frank: Murdock-Castle does the same thing!! Matt: The only pattern I'm seeing here is that you are the issue.

Frank: What if we combine them like... like... Matt: Like what, Frank? Murtle? You really want your last name to be Murtle?

[fastboatsmojito]

I’m actually so obsessed with the way you write Frank you should totally write for him more. I just know he’s the biggest sweetheart in the world

thank u omg </3 id love to !! He IS the biggest sweetheart in the world — it’s been confirmed

Your ribs ache from laughing and you’re not the only one. The movie wasn’t even that funny to him — as he’d mentioned earlier, teasing you for being so easily entertained. The sound had wrapped itself around him, fogging the noise from the tv and causing him to lean his own head back. Tightening the arm wrapped around you to bring you closer to him, and just as easily as you had him wrapped around your finger, he had you wrapped up in his arms.

“I told you it was funny.” Maybe if the smile on your face wasn’t worth a hell of a lot more than his ego he’d disagree with you. He couldn’t possibly laugh anymore, but the grin on his face is unmoving.

“You’re right, guess I should listen to you more, huh?” The stubble on his face that was leaning against the side of your own was only adding to the butterflies in your stomach, scratching the hair behind his ears and watching him lean into it like a cat. You had him right where you wanted him. Right where he wanted to be.

[melamoon]

Frank Castle to Sarah Lieberman in episode 6, season 1.

“One thing I know is that the only way out is to find something that you care about… They’re the reason you’re gonna get through this.”

Sarah: “Have you found something to do that for you?”

Frank: “I… Maybe. Yeah, maybe.”

Such an underrated and one of my favorite kastle moments because who else was he referring to, if not karen? The only person who constantly showed understanding and support for him, and one of the few people he would be willing to protect with his life.

For Frank to consider Karen as the person who helps him overcome his inner struggles and instability is both so heartbreaking and happy at the same time.

Plus, the look in his eyes when she asks him that is so 🥺🥺, he’s def thinking abt karen.

[nihtscada]

who r ur fav marvel and dc characters?

GOOD QUESTION! I've been waiting for this one

In terms of DC: John Constantine, Jason Todd, Sgt Rock, Dick Grayson, Kon-El, Koriand'r, Dyxl (Komandi is an honorable mention)

Marvel: Rogue, Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Frank Castle, Wade Wilson, Kendall Logan (SHES BADASS WITH BADASS PARENTS, LOOK HER UP)

[geekcavepodcast]

New Marvel Crime Novel "Enemy of My Enemy: A Daredevil Marvel Crime Novel" Announced

Hyperion Avenue's Marvel Crime fiction series for adult readers has announced it's next title. Enemy of My Enemy: A Daredevil Marvel Crime Novel hails from Alex Segura.

Kingpin and a police officer are dead and Frank Castle / The Punisher has turned himself in for the crime. Matt Murdock can't help but see the holes in the stories being told.

"Both criminals have been Matt’s nemeses when he dons the cowl of the Daredevil, and there’s no denying that New York is better off without its Kingpin and with the Punisher behind bars. And yet... while the Punisher is a murderous vigilante, he doesn’t kill cops. And he doesn’t turn himself in.

Castle certainly deserves prison for all of the other crimes he has committed in the past. However, Matt’s indominable sense of justice insists that nobody should be locked away for crimes they didn’t actually commit. Representing the vigilante in court, Matt enters a contest of wills and guile with Castle to try and uncover the game beneath the game." (Marvel Comics)

Things get even more complicated when Matt's girlfriend takes the stand. There is also the matter of a Kingpin's sudden absence creating a power vacuum in Hell's Kitchen.

Enemy of My Enemy: A Daredevil Marvel Crime Novel goes on sale on July 29, 2025.

(Image via Marvel Comics - Cover of Enemy of My Enemy: A Daredevil Marvel Crime Novel)

[greasydumbfuck]

[bonesofapoet]

Heyy could u maybe do a frank castle x cook!reader who's like a female (or not what u want) carmen berzatto from The Bear

bittersweet author's note: god this was actually really fun to do?! i loved this request?!?!? the one where you wonder why you came home to save a dying pipe dream, but frank is your anchor when all you want to do is torch the place and be a menace to society. word count: 1600

On Tuesday evening, Frank Castle found you trying not to scream.

The alley was quiet, as night began to cloak the city in adamantine bands. Glittering light swept across the sky in familiar arcs of glowing stardust and heartfelt stories. A breeze, cool and gentle, flew across your skin in waves, a most welcome contrast to the warmth of the kitchen you’d been cooped up in since early afternoon.

The sudden stillness wanted to make you fucking cry. But you couldn’t cry, sure as all holy hell not here, not now. Screaming would be a better route to take - you’d get less shit from that - and you were positive most of the sound would be covered anyway, or, unfortunately, ignored - yet it felt like you’d been louder than usual all afternoon, which, funny enough, did nothing to ease the ebb and flow of a building storm just waiting for an excuse to break free from this fucking shit show called a restaurant -

“Hey,” says a voice. The crunch of footsteps catches you on your fall back down to Earth. They guide you back to a body so fraught with tension that you are, quite honestly, curious how the hell you’re still alive and kicking. “This a bad time?”

The laugh spilling through the alleyway is more than a little aggressive. More than a little sarcastic. It tumbles through your lips without thought, but then again, most things do when you're around Frank Castle. He's someone you can let go around, even on the days you'd rather burn down your inheritance than drag it kicking and screaming from the burial shroud it's been swathed in since you came back home.

The word home almost gets stuck in your throat.

“Well,” you say, a tired sigh hissing through your teeth, threatening to catch on the bones like barbed wire. The palms that flutter up dig into your eyes for a moment. Then two. They fall back to your sides, though your gaze stays locked on the few constellations unhidden by the godawful pollution filling the city. You supposed you would be a little more grateful for that,  seeing the cosmos in any capacity, had you taken a. . .more gracious path of life. A more selfish one. One that didn't involve feeling guilt tripped into coming home to save a dead relative’s pipe dream from its own invariably slow and horrifically painful death. “That depends. You up for hire?”

Frank Castle steps under a stray glimmer of moonlight, starlight - it all looks the same, these days - and laughs, soundless, at your barb. At least, he thinks, he’s pretty sure you're joking. The closer he watches you - sees how your eyes aren't gleaming in their teasing tell, how your lips don't tilt at their corners when you're trying to hide the sin.

He watches you inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Watches your eyes fall down from the velvet sky to rest on him, hardly a worthy companion in comparison to the natural beauty surrounding you, even here, among this corner of your life that seems to be literally anything other than shiny.

You, on the other hand, would beg to differ.

“I really hope you don't mean that,” Frank starts, “because I would really hate to hike up your overhead. You know. Make your life worse, instead of doing you a favor.”

“Oh please,” you say, a smile clawing its way from the shadows after all. “That would be a favor, believe it or not.”

Frank chances a few steps closer, toes a loose pile of gravel by his boots. Looks up at you with brows drawn together just a little. It's cute, you think. More so than the full on scowl that intimidates a few of your nightmare colleagues inside. Your smile grows wider, feels genuine at the recollections.

“That bad, huh?”

The back door flies open, as if your own words would be an inadequate injustice to his question. He'd just have to settle for a little example then, something to really hammer home the reality of your headache personified. The hinges screamed at the quickness, the roughness, and any sense of peace you had begun to gather was about to evaporate into a flurry of nothing. You meet Frank’s eyes, and your expression conveys the very haughtiness of someone about to give him the proof of a lifetime.

He simply steps into a shadow, and watches.

Your name is falling through the doorway loud enough for the whole godforsaken block to hear, twisting and catching gracelessly around the latest woe that literally any entry level Sioux chef could solve in their sleep.

(Moments like this one made you question why, exactly, it was that you left - willingly left - the first, and only job that did not have you scrambling for sanity. Not counting, y'know, the constant anxiety of never being good enough to cook at a Michelin restaurant in New York fucking City. That was neither here nor there, these days.)

Silence follows, punctuated by the white noise of banter and the familiar, oh-so-beloved chaos spilling into the night from the threshold beyond. A lot of the unsavory arguing is carried off by the wind, yet you heard the gist, all the same.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

“I'll be back in a minute.” You say, not even turning to the door, to your chef.

“Are you -”

The voice cuts off, dead in the breeze as Frank Castle is finally noticed lurking in the shadows. You turn around then, fully facing the silhouette, illuminated ominously against a backdrop of aggressive industrial lighting.

“Did you hear what I just said, or do you need to be pulled from the line and re-enrolled in fucking preschool?”

“I - sorry. I'll - I'll go relay the message.” The silhouette moves backwards into the light, hand pulling the door so it follows. Almost closed - it stops, along with your chef, slinking around the edge to tack on what was forgotten in the hasty, unpolished departure. “- Chef. I'll relay the message, Chef.”

At least an attempt was made. That was progress. And maybe, one day in the far, far, far, far future - you wouldn't have to hide in an alley trying not to think about arson. Frank Castle wouldn't carve out time to hide with you - even if it is of his own accord - playing bodyguard in case anyone felt bold enough to try backing you into a corner.

“Same shit, different day.” your hands find their way to closed eyes once more, a groan spilling into the alley to dance in the breeze.

Frank stepped out of the darkness, tendrils of velvety smoke clinging to him like a long lost lover, the remnants of a dream fraying at the edges. He stops a mere step away, hands buried deep in  pockets instead of reaching for you, instead of pulling you all safe and sound to his chest. God, he thought, what he would give to hold you in his arms. Especially on a beautiful night like this one, when you were too frazzled to see it.

“Coulda been worse. No one said anything offensive this time.”

“That's because you scare them, Frank.” hands flutter back down. Frank is close when eyes blink open, slow and involuntary and grateful, even, maybe a little - if only so you can have him close enough to touch. You even smile a bit, something real this time, even if it is a little sardonic. Even if it is a little saccharine sweet.

Something flares in his eyes as he looks at you, burns hot and bright and fast before fizzling down to an ember, a spark, then nothing out of the ordinary at all. He doesn't kill the way his lips slope upward though, mirroring the infection your smile imbues into his own. Your fingers twitch, longing to close the distance, to reach over and feather a soft touch along his jaw.

“Maybe that's why I check in. Make sure they're treatin’ ya right.”

You huff a laugh, head tipping up and up and up to revel one last glimpse of the moon before heading back in to deal with the latest crisis you could, no doubt, avoid in your fucking sleep -

Then, a hand, slow and warm and steady slips to the small of your back, an anchor to your swaying body while you savor one last moment of blissful fucking silence. You feel Frank's hand countering you - acutely aware of every flex and point of pressure while you sway ever so slightly. It's - well. It's the first time your brain has, quite literally, shut the fuck up in days. Weeks, maybe. Months, possibly.

Your eyes drift shut, trusting him to catch you if you fall.

“And would you? Treat me right?”

A horn blares on the next block. Sirens scream in the distance. Voices shout from just inside the door. The laugh Frank adds to the muffled symphony of your world is just as quiet, yet it's the only thing that's crystal clear. The only thing that's sweet and honest, something you'd like to bottle up and craft a dish inspired by the thrill it invokes as it washes over your skin.

“You really askin’ me if I’d do right by you? Shit, sugar - I think we both know the answer to that.”

You sway a little, at his words.

His grip on you tightens, another hand resting on your waist. Your smile grows, glowing in the moonlight, starlight, all of the above. The voices inside fade into nothing as your hands rise to find his shoulders, another anchor to keep you from drowning.

[otpbutmakeitspicy]

i suffer from 'men are hotter banged up' disease. unfortunately there is no cure.

Bloody and bruised >

[starsm00n]

Is he a scary man covered in blood? Or is he my baby girl? Spot the difference

[dlivee]

Jon Bernthal:

• One of the biggest zionists in Hollywood and a massive supporter of the IDF

• Supports domestic abuser Shia LaBeouf and had him on his podcast to start his redemption tour

• Friends with sexual abuser Marilyn Manson

• Supports police fascism

• Worked with Roman Polanski post conviction

[kanerallels]

"Not everything is about your blorbos" to you maybe. To me every other song and probably that car commercial is about them

[winchesterswhore]

do you ever look at a man and think i need you in the most disgusting, vile, pathetic, animalistic, disturbing, vulgar and morally questionable way possible