iâm finally getting around to poking in my drafts and iâm cackling cause i finally read the starter where @punishsr calls thor MALIBU BARBIE. iâm dying.Â

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iâm finally getting around to poking in my drafts and iâm cackling cause i finally read the starter where @punishsr calls thor MALIBU BARBIE. iâm dying.Â

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[ ⎠]  ââ  WITH A SHARP CLICK, THE FINAL PIECE IS PUT IN PLACE.  sniper rifle at the ready, he positions himself at the end of the rooftop.  body crouched and still, masking easily within the darkness of night. it had taken him a week to locate this target. this man was certainly skilled, but he couldnât hide forever. slowly, he leans forward. metallic fingers adjusting upon the grip of the gun. glacier blues looking through the all too familiar scope. mentally, he took note of the otherâs location before setting up the shot. but as he searches, he was  gone. frowning beneath the mask, icy blues raise from the scope as his brows furrow. gaze flickering across the street below, attempting to relocate the target. where the hell did he go.  // @punishsrâ  liked for a starter  !
pennyâs instagram feat. hubby @punishsr just âcause <3
please do not reblog
&Â Â @punishsr
                   âtis  the  prettiest  little  parlour  that  ever  you  did  spy;
 đđđđđđđđđđ  đđđđđđ  [...]  dulcet  delirium  diffusing  through  venomous  breath,  a  smile  so  sharp  it  cuts  !!     &     she,  madame  macabre,  lady  demise,  an  amalgam  of  atoms  shaped  into  something  vaguely  resembling  personhood,  as  if  the  shadows  themselves  donât  wrap  around  transposing  chassis,  a  shroud,  iron  link  to  THE  THRONE  OF  HADES.  heartbeat  echoes  in  twos,  loud  as  a  gunshot,  both  carcasses  doused  in  gunpowder  :  no  stranger  to  death     (   ᴥĘá´ Â ÉŞęą Â á´Ęá´ Â á´ĘÉŞĘá´ Â á´Ęá´á´  ᴥá´Ęá´ęą  Ęá´ęąÉŞá´ á´ Â Ęá´á´  ??  )     and  death  no  stranger,  rivulets  of  blood  or  rivulets  of  magma  make  no  difference  anymore.  both  burn  the  same.
 musing  of  a  spectre.  widow  bites  buzzing  into  blue  light  but  lowered  ââ  a  threat.  around  them,  the  city  churns,  metal  beast  pumping  black  blood,  sat  on  its  hind  legs,  tongue  lolled  out,  awaiting  its  rightful  lot  of  flesh.  widowâs  mien  deceptively  neutral,  mouth  twitching  at  the  corners,  though  whether  into  a  smile  or  a  grimace  remains  to  be  seen.     â  whoever  you  think  that  man  is,  heâs  not  it.  someoneâs  been  feeding  me  bad  intel,  and  it  seems  it  got  to  you  as  well.  â
@punishsrâ asked:Â Â â call me when you get home. â idk i lost the meme
đđđ  đđđđđ  đđđđđđđđđđ  đđđđđ  đđđđ.   yeah,   work  is  work,   but  it's  not  the  same  anymore.   before,   penny  was  able  to  go  on  missions  without  worrying  about  who  gets  in  the  way  or  what  might  happen  to  her.   now?   with  frank  in  the  picture?   she's  got  something  to  lose,   and  that  thought  alone  scares  the  hell  out  of  her.   the  only  thing  that  brings  her  some  form  of  comfort  is  his  voice  crackling  in  and  out  on  the  other  line.   the  reception  here  is  bad,   but  at  least  she  knows  for  now  that  he's  safe.
â  frank,   i  gotta  go,  â   she  speaks  into  the  payphone,   worry  thick  in  her  voice.   she's  seen  him  at  work---   and  if  he  lets  himself  get  hurt?   she  doesn't  know  what  she'll  do.   â  the  line  ain't  encrypted.   just---   be  careful,   okay?  â   a  sickness  churns  in  the  pit  of  her  stomach,   and  she  tries  her  best  to  swallow  it  down  as  his  voice  comes  through  once  again.   call  me  when  you  get  home.   she  sighs,   nodding  in  response  as  if  he  could  see  her.   â  i  promise.   and  i  mean  it---   be  fuckin'  careful,   okay?!  â
she  doesn't  allow  him  to  respond  before  disconnecting  the  line.   with  so  many  agencies  at  play,   god  knows  who  could  be  listening.   all  she  can  do  now  is  hope  that  by  the  time  she  gets  home,   he  might  meet  her  there.

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    associating herself with people like frank castle was not what sheâd seen for her future, not in the slightest. how could she? frank castle was a criminal, a vigilante, someone to be feared. and yes, she still considered all of that when his name was uttered, but he was also someone with a code, someone who was resilient and wouldnât give up. something in that deserved respect. and now? well, not that sheâd call him a FRIEND, but he was definitely an ALLY, someone she found herself looking to, reaching out to, talking to. opening up to frank castle? easier than sheâd ever imagined.Â
   as the door opened, her attention quickly turned, noting immediately the state of the man dragging himself into her apartment. her heart quickly sank, stomach turning for just a moment before she went into action.  â JESUS FRANK. â  two words that had been uttered more than sheâd like to admit. in rapid succession, she quickly grabbed a box filled with some small medical supplies. something sheâd come to keep close at hand. walking over, she took his arm and led him over to a chair, giving him a look that said âyou better sit down right nowâ.  â let me guess, i should see the other guy? â  opening up the box, she pulled out a few things before grabbing a damp cloth. bringing it up to the side of his face to wipe away some of the blood, she let out a heavy sigh, taking in the extent of the damage.  â you know iâve never stitched a person before, right? â   ------------------- @punishsrâ ââ ⎠frank. âŻ
@punishsrâ said:Â âhow long have you been having these nightmares?â
   a carousel. horses. lights. music. him. it always repeated itself. him, his face. the nightmares had become normal, something she could almost set her watch to as soon as she closed her eyes and laid her head on her pillow. had they become a burden? at first she hadnât been sure, but the more tormented the nightmares became, the less sleep she got each night. it wasnât something sheâd taken to discussing, especially not with anyone in work, or anyone outside of it. but frank? somehow the words just slipped from her lips before she could stop herself.   â after the... ---- â  pausing, she took a breath in, her gaze to the floor, away from his prying eye.   â ---- ....after the shot to the head. it ALL started then. âÂ
   another deep breath was taken in before she moved to sit down, still choosing not to look up at him. instead she rested her arms on her legs as her attention was drawn to her hands, clasped together.   â it starts off with.... the carousel. thereâs music, and thereâs lights. those damn painted horses. â  her eyes closed for a moment as she took another breath, steadying herself, the image of those horses clear in her mind, enough to make her open her eyes once more.  â and then heâs there. itâs like he just.... stares right into my eyes with that gun raised. and he smirks. this.... EVIL GRIN.... ----- and then he pulls the trigger. and i canât move, iâm stuck. and i know itâs coming for me, and i know itâs going to happen. and then.... â  her gaze remained focused on the floor as she continued, her throat closing a little as the corners of her eyes prick with hot tears.   â ....then i see SAM. heâs standing there, staring at me, watching it happen. as if he knows thatâs what i deserve, for what happened to him. and i wake up. â
@punishsrâ said: You think youâre good people. Youâre not good people.
it was almost comical, really. standing in front of frank castle, looking at a man heâd once considered his best friend, it felt like this could all be some horrible reality that heâd conjured up in his mind. except this was his reality  --------   this was the reality that heâd made for himself the minute heâd put himself first in his mind. frank was a monster, now more than heâd ever been. this standoff, whether it was the last one or one of many, was inevitable.  â oh, and you are? â billy asked, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice.  â tell that to all the people iâve helped save, frank. i spent my life building something for people. and you just spent your entire life with blood on your hands. â billy knew that his hands were red, as well. he had skeletons in his closet. but nothing like frank.     never like frank.
waving his gun slightly at the man in front of him, he moved to point it at him more fully, gaze focused completely on him.  â i donât give a shit about what kind of person you think i am. at least i know iâm not a monster like you are. â words cut like ice, though he knew that for frank, his words were probably like childâs play. would he even bat an eye? â you think you know me, frankie boy. you can pretend to think you know anything about why i ever did all of the shit i did in my life. but you donât know me. and guess what? iâm not the same guy that i was all those years ago. â a beat.  â and you sure as hell arenât either. â