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#marvel micro
quincybf · 4 months
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What are you doing?
I'm just letting you know, it's not gonna be so easy to steal my wife.
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annabelle--cane · 2 months
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tiktok is soooo good if you just ignore and forget about all of the bad stuff
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Revenant!Jazz ideas:
Continuing from this DPxDC prompt of mine, I’ve had some more thoughts about Jasmine Fenton and Revenants, especially where it concerns DC lore and Jason Todd in particular.
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In my original post, @starlightcat04 asked whether or not Jazz’s eyes would glow toxic green too. I propose that, no, they wouldn’t.
While it’s a common head canon that Ectoplasm is heavily influenced by emotions, Jazz’s Ecto-contamination is bone deep and pure, unlike Jason’s. So no, I don’t believe her eyes would glow green.
They turn from the teal she had in life to a smoldering green that reflects light just like a feline, with a heavily damaged sclera that is perceived as black in low lighting, with ash grey veins spreading from her eye sockets down to her jaw like tears.
Her once bright hair turns from a lively orange-ish red to the color of cooling embers.
That which caused her death, a punctured artery is half-way healed by the time Jazz reanimates in the crematorium, so not only is she supposed to be dead still, she also has to be very careful with her movements otherwise she could very well bleed out again before she is fully healed.
What else changes with Revenant!Jazz?
In exchange for a higher mental processing and the high damage absorption of Revenants, Jazz loses most (almost all) of her memories of her life. What she does remember is thankfully not her death, but rather Danny’s, his death scream and ghostly wail overlap in her mind, at times causing severe headaches and nausea.
(According to his wiki page, Jason spent a year in a coma and as an amnesiac vagrant, therefore it’s not entirely without precedent that Jazz wouldn’t keep hers.)
Her Ecto-contamination has to factor in a lot though.
Jason was revived by Superboy-Prime’s Reality Shattering Punch. Jazz was reanimated by her own willpower, aided by Ecto to allow her body to heal and regress the stages of rigor mortis.
———//:///////———-
What does Jazz need to accomplish as a Revenant?
In the original prompt I wrote that Jazz returned to keep Danny safe- broad enough for a prompt, but what exactly does “safe” for a halfa entail?
Let’s list the major threats to Danny’s health, beginning with the obvious: the Ghost Investigation Ward and The Fenton Parents.
The Fentons are capable of tracking Phantom by his Ecto-signature, creating and having created weaponry specifically designed to target the ghost in question, to which they pass that tech on to the GIW.
If Danny remains in Gotham, the ambient Ecto will scramble the tech over enough of a distance, but if Danny were in a line up of three people right next to a GIW agent he’d be clocked almost immediately.
So, the Fentons and the GIW have to go. How does this happen?
The greatest irony I could possibly inflict on these anti-ghosters- becoming ghosts themselves. I won’t go into detail about what my brain jumped to when I thought about that outcome, but let’s just say it was pretty dark.
(And karmically well-deserved.)
#3 on the list depends on where Danny is when Jazz is finished with numbers 1 & 2 on her list.
If Danny is is Gotham and staying there for the long haul, then I believe this girl would take one look at Batman’s rogue gallery and nope them so hard everyone in Gotham gets the sense of their world about to be rocked, but the ones she gunning for the most?
(Joker, Bane, Manbat, Firefly, Madhatter, Riddler…)
They get the sensation that someone just walked over their non-existent graves.
(I got a little gleeful demented imagining Jazz just straight up ripping Manbat’s wings clean off, burning Firefly alive and throwing a detoxed Bane into a crowd of vengeful Gothamites.)
(Jazz learns that Joker killed a young hero with a crowbar and a bomb. She’s fully onboard with turnabout being fair play when it comes to that Pennywise reject.)
(I can’t even begin to list every rogue Jazz cuts down, it she doesn’t kill all of them, just most of their number.)
(Gotham celebrates for weeks.)
(I’m not sure whether or not Jazz kills the four mentioned previously in a couple of nights, one night or over a a few months, but it doesn’t take as long as one might think.)
/://:///////:::/::::///////
What’s next for Revenant!Jazz?
I’m still writing The Regent series, so I doubt I’ll come back to this for a while, but I’ll still be posting ideas and whatnot about Revenant!Jazz. There’s still plenty to explore here, and I have a pretty angst/bittersweet ending for Jazz in mind I want to talk about later.
If you have any ideas to add, please feel free to comment! If anyone does write this, please let me know so I can read it!
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alexiswritingstuff · 10 months
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Saved by the unexpected.
Pairing: Frank Castle x teen! reader (Gender Neutral)
Other appearances: Micro, aka David Lieberman. 
Summary: Your run to the grocery store goes sideways on the way back home that leads you to being at the wrong place at the wrong time, and with a fresh gunshot wound. Upon waking up you find yourself somewhere unknown with people you had never seen... Or so you thought.
Warnings: gun fights, murder, gun shot wound, mentions of other injuries like cuts and bruises, implied parent loss. 
Be aware of possible spelling mistakes or sentences that are worded wrong. I read over my writing before posting but stuff still manages to slip under my radar!
A/n: Bro I really am bad at creating titles for fics. Anyway, I watched The Punisher a few months ago, and previously finished DareDevil, and I wasn’t able to stop thinking about a certain Mr. Castle. That man in general already activated my daddy issues and then I watched season 2, and... Yeah, that was a lot, but this is what my brain created! 
Like I say whenever I write for new characters, because this is my first attempt, the way portray them and the characteristics may not be a 100% accurate, so bear with me while I find my footing.
Either way, I hope you enjoy reading! 
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It was supposed a morning like any other. Started with a bright sky and chirping birds before slowly melding into the warm afternoon. 
You had just done the weekly shop, collecting everyday items, things that would give the most important nutrients, with basically the same amount in snacks and drinks. 
I mean, what else could they mean by a balanced diet. 
The main route you would usually take had been closed off by the time you had finished with the store, the road cracked from something unknown, and that meant that you had to take a detour. 
It was one that you had walked through many times before, leading you almost directly towards where your trailer was stationed without having to wind round block after block of apartments. 
So, the decision to choose it was simple. 
You took of down the pathway, that was slowly becoming overgrown, between two very large buildings which almost looked as if they could reach the sky from your angle.
This part was more commonly known as the run down area. 
The complexes on either side of you were empty. Most had the windows boarded up, due to the lack of ability to get them repaired, and the walls themselves were stained from a plethora of things, parts even looking like they were about to crack and crumble. 
It was a lot harder to get funding for these buildings as the further you walked down the path, the further you got a way from the main street. For the occasional tourist, or people who had a stuffed schedule, they wouldn’t know what was down here. Which usually meant that they wouldn’t even try to find out.
And soon, it took its toll. Most, if not all, had been abandoned unless someone was able to turn something into an apartment of some kind. 
You moved under the overhang section created by a walkway that connected the two opposing buildings, and honestly it sort of felt like a tunnel due to its width. But eventually, you arrived back in the open and by god the area was massive. 
To the left, behind a wall that separated a descending pathway from the  ground levelled with your own feet, was a car park. 
The size of it would give the implication that there was a mass of vehicles coming in and out during the week, easy access for people working in the surrounding buildings. 
But now, it was always empty.
… Or it was supposed to be. 
In the furthest corner of the parking lot was this very specific looking handful of cars. A sight that should have been acknowledge as the first sign. Your first warning. 
It was too late.
All of a sudden, there was this echo that felt like it drilled through your ear. It was violent through the air, one that rung for almost a full minute through the complex to your right. 
It wasn’t something you really questioned off the bat. I mean, the building was old. It could’ve been a loose panel finally deciding to break free from the ceiling, or a cracked wall weighing in on itself. Or even someone trying to fix up the building?
And all of those assumptions weren’t exactly bad... They were just the wrong ones. 
Something you realised the moment the sound appeared once again. 
Whatever it was reverberated from the broken windows in a way that properly allowed the ability to hear in its entirety. It was closer this time, more full. “What the...”
It was a series of bassy pops, collectively almost imitating the blast of fireworks, but within the sounds was this sort of clinking like something had fallen to the floor. 
And though it was a very muffled detail that took a moment for your brain to register, it didn’t stop the cogs from making their final turn. 
“Oh, shit.” 
Within the same moment that you made the decision to practically slide to the side, trying not to completely slam into the wall that you ended up behind, the doors of the building burst open with such force that it echoed around for ages.
There was chorus of yelling, even more shots, and heavy boots that practically skid against the concrete as they moved. It was as if you just stumbled upon a damn army.
You were sat on the ground, one leg stretched out from your hurried movements while the other was still bent at the knee, ready to move if necessary. The backpack was still strapped around your shoulders meaning that the further you tried to press against the brick wall, the more certain items began to stab into your back.
Your heart was hammering, chest heaving, as you continuously looked up and down the path you sat on. It was the only thing you could see. Everything was happening on the other side of the wall, so pretty much all you could do was just sit and listen for people that might decide to come your way.
You fought the urge to cry out when bullets skimmed the top of the wall, causing little clumps of rubble and dust to hit the top of your head. “Why me, why me, why me!” you hissed through a whisper, trying to ruffle the stuff out of your hair. 
Hurried shouts were passing back and forth across the huge car park like a game of tennis, though it seemed that due to the other sounds that followed, and the panicked state of your mind, all of them were unintelligible. 
It sounded like they were coming from everywhere.
The multiple objects in your bag had started to make your spine ache so, at the same time as yet another shot, you leaned forward. Quick enough so that the sound of items unsquashing themselves would ring at the same time as the bullet. 
You reached back, making sure that your bag wasn’t going to hit any surface, and then took it off of yourself one arm at a time. 
Soon the bag was placed in front of you, your fingers immediately unzipping it, before you began to search through. You wanted some kind of weapon, or if not that then at least some form of protection... But you had just gone shopping. 
I doubt a banana would be useful in a gun fight. 
You moved onto the pockets on either side of the bag when the main compartment made too much noise. It wasn’t like it was going to do any justice anyway because it was all just a bunch of food, a carton of juice and other little things for your trailer. 
This wasn’t a planned situation. 
When you woke up this morning and picked up your bag to go grocery shopping, you weren’t exactly imagining that you would need to bring something to fight with.
A huff of air passed through your lips while your fingers began searching through the left pocket. You felt around, following the lining of stitches for at least something, but the most found was a wrapper from some sweet or chewing gum. 
So, it was on to the next. 
This time to do the same routine was a bit more difficult as this pocket was where you kept your water bottle. You were trying to be more careful when you started to comb through the compartment, even if you had to move a bit faster to properly squeeze around the lack of space. 
And then, finally, you felt something.
In that moment it was hard to tell what it was. It felt long enough to at least administer some form of damage, or maybe only be needed to threaten someone from a distance, so your stressed mind just chose it. You began pulling your hand out. 
But, despite what you wanted, it wasn’t going to be that easy. 
Right as the item had been tugged vertically, making it easier to pull it out, the movement had caused the bone of your wrist to hit into the bottle.
Ordinarily, it was something that you wouldn’t think twice about. You were just trying to get an item out of a pocket, surely you could do that without something bad happening... 
Half of whatever you were trying to grab had been stuck under the bottle in a way that already had it tilting. And then the impact landed. Your wrist hit near the top of the bottle and that was all it needed. 
It started to tip out of the pocket. 
A sharp breath sucked into your lungs at the feeling, but with no ability to catch it in time, the metal cylinder simply fell to the floor from a very unfortunate height for you. 
And that apparently wasn’t all. 
In fact, even after the sound echoed in a way that most definitely had already blown your cover, the world seemed to have other plans for you as after yet another bounce and a few more smaller ones, it was starting to roll. 
You leaned to the side as fast as you could, reaching your arm out to its full extent with your hand wide open. But it was like trying to catch a fly, and soon, it just rolled right passed your fingers, moving even faster the more the water sloshed inside of it. 
The only thing you could do was watch in utter horror as the bottle travelled right passed the edge of a wall for the whole world to see. 
Eventually, about halfway through the path, it ran into a rock or a crack in the ground. The bottle bounced about one more time before it finally stalled. Though, at this point I don’t think it really mattered. The damage was still done. 
The shots had placated a bit, the only ones being fired sounding far away, as the confusion dispersed the men on the other side of the wall. Murmurs were passing back and forth.
“What was that?
“Did you hear that?
“Where did that come from?” 
Your eyes squeezed shut, teeth biting into the skin of your bottom lip as your body just purely froze no matter how much your brain was telling you to make a run for it. 
“Okay, okay, all of you keep moving! Spread out more while I check it out. We’re not alone out here!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Okay, sir!”
However many people were on the other side of the wall scattered within the next beat of your heart. More shots and shouts began to ring out with the same loudness, now joined by the heavy smacking of boots as they moved further away...
But a pair of footsteps still remained. 
Now, your heart was purely thumping in your ears. It was by far the most prominent thing you could hear in that moment, though the sound of those harsh shoes kicking up stones without care was an active competitor. 
Especially when they started getting louder. 
Your eyes flicked to the open backpack in front of you, an ache beginning to pulse through your forehead while you stared at the contents. There was this sort of desperation, and almost disappointment, that built in your system at the thought of losing the freshly bought items. 
Though, what was the point in trying to save the food if you wouldn’t be alive to eat it. 
Within the next second, and after a very deep breath, you propped your hands firmly against the path beneath on either side of your body. You pushed your strength into your unstretched leg until it was folded under you. 
By now you looked like some kind of runner getting ready to do race, and honestly it was pretty much how you felt. The thought was the only thing suppress the panic active in your chest, so you indulged.
There was this internal count down as you moved your other leg to stretch behind you, even if there wasn’t that much space to do so. 
And then the timer went off. 
You were about to push yourself onto your feet. About to ready to get up, adopt a sort of hunched over posture so that no part of your body could peak over the wall, and run like hell.
But again. It wasn’t going to be that easy.
The movement was caught from the corner of your eye. 
You had barely even started carrying out your wanted movements when a man suddenly appeared round the corner of the wall, slow and intense. 
He was pretty decked out from what your panicked mind could comprehend. There were a multitude of weapons that clung to his belt, and he was in fact holding this massive gun. 
Initially, his focus was on your bottle. The barrel of the gun was pointed directly at the object of confusion, as it didn’t really look like the standard water bottle from afar, with his finger hovering over the trigger. Ready to fire at any moment. 
At this point you had resumed this sort of weird crouched position, stuck between wanting to stand up and finally run away or stay frozen to the ground as if you could just meld into it. 
Either way, it was a kind of stance that didn’t provide a sense of balance. And soon, despite how much the dread utterly pooled at the bottom of your stomach like it did on a rollercoaster, you fell. Right on your ass.
The gun, that you had pretty much only seen in movies or on the news, was pointed right in your direction before you could even blink once. 
You attempted to crawl backwards, winding round your backpack, eyes wide and fully open as they trained on the man who in turn had started to follow your movements. And then you stopped, knowing full and well what was coming even if you got to your feet. 
Your breathing was erratic, arms moving stiff and slow as you raised them above your head with your palms open, facing the man who made no implications that he was going to put that gun down. “Listen,” You gulped, “I didn’t see anything, I swear-- Look, there. My bag is there-- Take it. Take anything.” 
“Anything you want.” 
It was no use. No matter what way the words tumbled from your mouth, that finger never tried to move away from that trigger. 
You closed your eyes, feeling the way your body heaved with every breath, the way your hands shook. Your ears listened out for the wind, the wildlife that had most definitely moved on from here already, or just something that wasn’t from guns. 
And then a shot rung out. 
It was an indistinctive reaction when your body jolted at the sound as it echoed through the large area, pinging within the windows of the abandoned buildings. You had almost fallen, your arms springing down even if you thought there was no time to protect...
You could still move?
Your eyes snapped open, the ability to take in full breaths yet to come, and you looked down at yourself. You tried to scan across what you could see on your body, that was somehow still alive, and leant on a hand to further support yourself. 
However, just as your brain attempted to register a lack of a gunshot wound, the sound of something hitting the ground stopped your investigation. 
Your head sort of bobbed for a moment, the want to continue your search fierce in your veins, but then you finally looked away. Your gaze rose.
The man before you had tumbled to his knees. 
His hands moved around for a few seconds, desperately trying to grab apart of his chest as if in disbelief of what just happened. And then another shot fired again. 
Like before, your body had jolted in response, still having no idea which gun it was coming from. 
However, when a particular part of you scrunched, the shock in your system decided to completely drain. Your pain receptors activated in a way that you weren’t ready for. 
It was hard to pin point exactly where the feeling had originated as it spread like a wildfire, but it was intense enough that the arm you were leant against almost buckled. 
Sharp burning. A sensation that made it feel like you had been bitten by hundreds of thousands of fire hands over and over again. 
Or, when you finally managed to get yourself to look down again, it was because you in fact had gotten shot. “Oh...”
He got you.
“Oh, shit.”
There was this hurried voice that bounced through the walls. Your head attempted to snap up like it had previously done, but this time it was just unsteady. Almost like it was moving in points.  
By the next blink, that practically didn’t even feel like one, another man had made his way round the corner. He also had a gun raised... but, it seemed different.
His general stance, the way he carried the weapon, the expression on his face even if you could only see half of it. It was clear that he had a lot more experience than the last guy. 
They weren’t from the same group. 
The man lowered himself onto one knee beside the body, head still raised cautiously to make sure to keep full awareness of his surroundings while he searched over any pockets he could see. 
And then he stilled. 
You didn’t have to move, or even make a sound, for this guy to spot you.
Within about a millisecond the man had the gun back in both of his hands in a way that had you immediately raising your own despite the pins and needles that ached at all of your muscles.
The world around you was starting to spin, making it more difficult to pay attention to the mans movements. “Don’t... Don’t kill.” Your lips were heavy, the ability to even part them becoming some kind of workout. 
And then, like someone just flicked a switch, it was like all the strength and power in your body decided to dissipate. 
For the second time now, you fell. Though, in this instance, it was your back that collided with ground in a way that had your head smacking into the concrete path afterwards. 
Your skin felt hot all over your body, but it also felt cold at the same time. 
You were trying to move, wanting nothing more than to get back up, go home, curl up in bed and forget this ever happened. But the ability to budge any limb had faded from your brain until you couldn’t even feel if your arms were lifted in the air or not.
So, you just laid there, eyes staring blankly up in the sky while your eyelids acted like they had forgotten their main function. “Hey!”
Right before you gave into that nagging want to sleep, something blocked whatever view you had left, “Kid? Hey, kid, are you... Oh, no-- Kid, can you hear me?” You could feel hands on your arms, and soon, one had pressed onto the wound in a way that had a sound gurgling out of your mouth. 
“Kid!”
~~~
It took your brain a significant amount of time to realise that you had awoken when the time eventually came. 
The sensations within your body were either mild or piercingly intense. There was no in between. 
Every muscle in your face was rigid, aching in a way that made the want to move diminish within seconds. You were trying to blink, your eyelids remaining heavy and ignorant no matter how many attempts were made. 
It hurt to breathe. Any movement within your torso would stretch the skin closest to your armpit and immediately sent a crackle of fire spreading through it like a shock of electricity. 
Your muscles flinched, almost spasming, as you slowly reached back, trying to grip onto some part of whatever lay beneath you so that you could push yourself up.
There was no attention aimed at any sound that spilt through your lips and it was only when a harsh pain erupted, engulfing your shoulder, that you had realised how loudly a sort of strained yelp had burst from your throat. 
You fell back onto the pillow, the agony in your body burning so hot that it had you light headed.
If it wasn’t for your current state the sudden echo of quick footsteps would’ve registered a lot faster through your ears, and in your mind. 
There was words passing across the air, some may have been aimed at you for a response, but this was the first time you had fully managed to open your eyes since you had actually woken up.
Your head slowly turned as voices continued to echo, muffled no matter how many times it rung in your ears, until your right cheek met with the pillowcase. Your eyes cast through a metal wall, more so the frame of one, which looked as if it previously had some sort of murky glass within.
The place was massive. 
This dim lightly spread throughout most sections as the source above couldn’t reflect on any surface due to the fact that everything around was either a form of black or a gloomy grey. The lights themselves were also the kind of ones that aimed straight down, meaning that it would only cover what was directly beneath. 
“Hey.”
In the centre of the main area was this sort of ring. There was a walkway that cut through the middle so that people could get from one side to the other, and on either side were desks that followed the rim, a plethora of monitors and electronic devices cluttering the surface. 
Some you hadn’t even seen before.
“Hey, uh, kid?”
Your head snapped back into its previous position in a speed that felt like it shook your brain. You squeezes your eyes shut for a good minute before they opened again. 
And after blinking a few times, your vision came back into focus. 
There was this dude stood to your side. He was tall, slim in width with curled mid length hair and a beard that wasn’t connected to the moustache covering his lip.
“Oh, yeah-- Must be pretty disorienting to wake up in a place like this.” The way he sounded matched almost exactly like you had guessed. It was nice. Not harsh and not too soft. 
He held your gaze in such a way that made it seem as if he could see right through you, even taking a slight step back when he noticed how wide and cautious your eyes were set on him, “It might take some time for you to believe us, but I assure you that we don’t want to harm you. You’re all good... Well, I mean, apart-- apart from your injuries.”
“Generally, you’re good-- Or like... Yeah.” 
Your hand lifted from where it had previously flopped and you reached it to your left shoulder, slow and steady. 
Your fingers travelled lower, gliding across the exposed skin before it reached the edge of tank top arm slot. Your movements halted in the space between the end of your shoulder bone and the beginning of your chest. 
Finally, you realised where the source of pain was coming from.
Somehow, the shot taken at you had landed right above your first rib. And from the uncomfortable feeling, constantly there, from what you were guessing was another bandage on your back. It had gone all the way through. 
The dude that had been previously talking cleared his throat after a moment. He was sort of shifting the weight back and forth from one foot to another, unsure of what to do or say which then ended up with him looking away. 
Your attention landed back on him, your arm happily moving back to lay by your side. Though, your eyebrows then furrowed, realising that the guys eyes had settled on something, and it even looked like he was asking a question.
So, after allowing yourself to give into your curiosity, you followed the direction he was looking in. 
You almost jumped out of your skin.
There, leaning against the thing you could barely call a wall, to your right was a guy stood perfectly still with his arms tight across his chest. 
It was that man from earlier. The one that found you. Saved you?
His eyes were already on your own which left the questioning gaze from the other dude unanswered. At first the muscles in his face were visibly tense, crinkled eyebrows, slightly narrowed gaze, jaw clenched tightly. 
And then you looked at him. 
In an instant it was like everything taking over his features eased. He raised his head a single time before it lowered back to where it was usually held. A greeting. 
“I’ll bet your hungry, huh?”
Your attention snapped back to the other dude once again to find that there was this gentle smile pressing into his lips once your eyes met his. 
The question circled round your mind for a good few seconds before it fully processed. It had you thinking, a silence falling within the little room while the hum of electricity barely caught your ears. 
In all honesty hunger had been the last thing on your mind. To solve the sudden mystery was even more difficult since you couldn’t even remember the last thing that passed through your body, other than a bullet. 
Though, right before you could even try to figure out the wanted response was to be, it seemed like your stomach decided to do it for you as it suddenly rumbled through the quiet. 
It may have not exactly sounded like some kind of missile, but considering the building was very echoey and your lack of answer had created a pause within the people stood in the room, it was louder than any other sound at that moment. You were horrified.
The man with his arms crossed dared to huff a quiet laugh through his nose and before you could even send him a look, or give any sort of reaction for that matter, the other guy took a step back with this expression on his face.
He was practically beaming as he clasped his hands together, “Good answer.” 
Your eyebrows furrowed once again, gaze now following the man as he moved round of what you now realised was a cot underneath you and out through the doorway a moment later.
You were going to attempt to continue watching him, wanting to know where he was walking despite the context clues, but after trying to look through the empty frames in the wall, the figure of the quiet dude blocked your view.
And for the first times since your initial meeting, if you could even call it that, your eyes properly took him in. 
Regardless of the position of his spine from the leaned pose, his posture was sharp. Straight like he had to practice it many times. He was tall too, though a little shorter than the other guy. 
The hair on his head looked like it was just growing out from being shaved, the sides a lot shorter than the top. It looked like a marine cut. 
Admittedly, he could’ve done his hair that way cause he simply wanted to. But you saw him earlier. 
He knew the ins and outs, every little detail, of the gun he held strong in his arms. You saw his stance, one that could more commonly only be from having to do it 24/7. 
And where was the most known place where you had to stand at attention almost every day?
Any item of clothing that covered his body was full black, including the shoes and his belt, which was a drastic contrast to any skin that was exposed. It also meant that you could spot any cut or bruise he had very easily. 
There was a good few on his face. Some had become scabs already, looking like they had been there for some time, while others almost looked fresh. The most noticeable appeared like it followed his cheekbone. 
Your eyes immediately snapped away upon realised that you had been looking at him for so long that he had in fact noticed it. I mean, there wasn’t really anything else to occupy his mind. 
You tried to shift your body against the cot, a mixture of wanting to distract yourself and a test to see how much you could move without it hurting. 
But either way, it was hard to do anything without being able to properly use a side of your body.
So, ultimately, you were stuck. Trapped under a blanket which forced you to lay flat on your back, against something that you wished had the same feeling as your bed, while sounds started to echo from what you were guessing was the kitchen. 
“Hey, kid.”
The voice that hit your ears was a lot gruffer than expected, gravelly enough that it almost sounded like it was hurting his throat. The way the words passed through his lips were clear, but also hushed as if he was trying not to be loud for an unknown benefit. “What were you doing out there, hmm?” 
With his stance, you half expected that whatever he wanted to say was going to come out harsh. That he was going to yell and tell you off for something. But he didn’t. He was... actually concerned?
“It’s a decent walk from the store you went to.” he then added on, and now that seemed to get your attention. 
Your head rolled to the side, narrowed gaze finding him with a newfound cautiousness. 
The man in turn must’ve realised the suspicion his wording caused, so he simply gestured to the side with his head, “I got your bag.”
Sure enough, as you moved your lower against the pillow, it was in fact there. The first familiar thing you had seen all day was sat on the ground beside the guy. It may have had some slight rips, some of the material had even been scuffed enough that it was visible. 
But it was there. Zipped up and everything.
Your favourite backpack.
Despite your distance, the bag looked plump with some of the contents clearly poking against the sides of it. All of the items were still in it. Hell, even the water bottle was back in the same side pocket you always put it in.
“We couldn’t find your name in the system,” the man spoke again, and honestly you had forgotten that he was there regardless of the fact that he stood next to where you eyes were aimed. “Did your parents know where you were?”
You looked at him within seconds of the question catching your ears and that dread from earlier began to pool at the bottom of your stomach all over again. 
I mean, you should’ve expected the question at some point.
It was common for you to forget that other people could look at you and see a child, ask the whole ‘where are you parents’ when you had to buy stuff that apparently didn’t seem normal for a child to get, even if it was just household items. 
You will never forget the time you tried to buy scissors. 
But the question still stung. It would make all of the memories of countless things flood right back until it was fresh in your mind, creating a wave of nostalgia that you hated at this point. 
Your head slowly rolled back to its previous position, your gaze now cast up at the rotting, grey ceiling while a deep breath seeped through your nose. Your body practically deflated when it went back out. 
Like before, you didn’t need to say anything for the guy to understand the situation.
Obviously, from your position, you couldn’t clearly see him as anything more than a blurred blob from the corner of your eye, but he had sort of loosened his crossed arms. Was the look of loss that clear on you?
How could he even notice it that quick?
Your body almost jolted when he cleared his throat and pain shot through your shoulder that had you biting back a grunt.
“Listen, we’re not-- We’re not going to hurt you... all right?” His tone was different this time. Lighter in a way that reduced the grumble of his voice, even if it didn’t sound unpleasant. “You’ve been here for a few days so that the, uh, big guy could fix up your shoulder.”
“That’s all.”
From the feeling of his gaze aimed in your direction, you could tell that he was doing what you had done, except he was more so trying to analyse your movement no matter how miniscule. 
It made you nervous enough that your mind was trying to zone in on the sounds coming from the kitchen, fiddling with the fabric of the blanket. But that just meant that a silence had started to layer. 
“Can you speak?”
Your body stiffened within a matter of seconds. 
At this point there was no reason for you to remain quiet. It was unclear as to why it had even been done in the first place. Was it to conceal your voice? Hide your identity? 
Even then, they had already ready seen your face and might possibly have looked through your backpack. The things they’ve could’ve known about you were unknown.
Maybe it was that thing you were told as a kid that kept you holding your tongue. You know, the whole stranger danger thing? Do not interact with people that you don’t know unless absolutely necessary. 
People seemed to get stuck on specific moments in the past regardless of it directly links to a moment of stress, or trauma, if you remembered correctly what that article said. Maybe that was your thing?
Your contemplative eyes flickered over the ceiling above for another moment before they finally made the decision to move, and so did your head. Once again, it rolled to the side until your right cheek touched the pillow.
You met his eyes. His gaze anything but harsh no matter how long a silence remained.
This guys wasn’t strange. 
I mean, the concept of waking up in some massive building that you didn’t recognise with two other dudes that you had never met before was in fact a little, sure.
But there was no reason given beyond that as to why you should fear either of them. Be scared of them. 
After all the dude talking to you had in fact saved your life.
You sniffed, that same feeling of nervousness making a comeback the longer the eye contact was held. It had you needing to look away for a few seconds before your eyes went right back. You stiffly nodded your head. 
The man straightened his back against the metal, his spine probably tired of the frame digging into it. His gaze sort of narrowed for a moment. Maybe a few questions sprung into his mind? Maybe he was judging you, or needed to sneeze? Who knows.
“You just won’t.” He nodded his head once, the look in his eyes switching to something unreadable as he got the message despite the lack of words, “That’s... No. No, I get it.”
“Well, I’m Frank. Uh,” he began, dragging out the last sound for a little bit as he tried to locate something through the wall behind you, “Dude in the kitchens name is David. I usually call him Lieberman, that’s... It’s his last name-- He’s the big guy I was talking about. Dude who fixed up your arm.”
“I tried to help too, but, uh... Not exactly my field of expertise.” 
You were about to figure out some kind of gesture to make in response so that you wouldn’t leave him hanging again. And had even started to move your arm. 
But then that name cycled through your head once more. 
Frank... Castle. 
Frank Castle.
It seemed that the cogs had made their final turn once again. His face found their link to certain memories in your mind.
Holy shit. 
He was the guy on the news a while back. The dude had been deemed a vigilante as he had been running around and killing bad people-- Well, it was practically only you and a few other people that thought they were the bad guys.
Either way, after that trial thing, the man that was currently stood to the side of you had supposedly died. Killed in an explosion on some kind of boat, if you remembered correctly.
I mean, it could be that you were the one who died and this was just what came after. And honestly if you were still as delirious as you were before it might have been believable, but that pulsing burning in your shoulder said otherwise. 
So, it was true. He really was here in the flesh, and all in one piece. 
Frank Castle was alive. 
Your expression, and maybe how intensely you had been staring at him, must’ve given away your thought pattern as he sort of tilted his head when he noticed the shift in your eyes, “You know me?” This time your gaze remained unfleeting in the line of attention. 
Frank didn’t seem at all worried about the realisation of his identity. In fact the only change in his expression was done to display his curiosity to the new information. 
Sure, worst comes to worst, he has the upper hand at this moment and it would probably be the same at any other. He could do whatever he needs to do to make sure that you wouldn’t blab before you blinked even once. 
But from his worn out state, and the way he interacted with you, it was visible that he wasn’t going to do that. He must’ve been fighting for quite some time before he had stumbled upon you. 
Why the hell was he even there? Out in the open in a place like that?
Who were those other guys?
Regardless of the want to let your mind flow down that rabbit hole, you were fronted with your previous realisation as your eyes actually focused on Frank again.
You were right. Frank  Castle wasn’t the bad guy.
Without paying attention to it, there seemed to be this smile that began to curl at the corners of your mouth. You moved your head began to move back to its your previous position, your eyes wanting to find the discoloured ceiling to zone out on in a way that further made you forget about your pain--
Shoes suddenly scuffed against the hard ground in a way that stilled all over your movements. Your gaze flickered to whatever had joined you in the room as apparently you had missed the approaching footstep.
It was David, the height difference between the two guys now a lot clearer as he had stopped beside the man whose arms were yet to uncross. “Can you hold this for a second?” Until now. 
Frank sort of looked at the man for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again before he complied to the request. And the moment the plate had been taken into his hands, David moved as if on autopilot. “All right,”
He wound round the foot of your cot, taking back the same position he stood in when you woke up, “Gonna need to sit up so you can actually digest this shit.”
He felt a little bad when he saw the look on your face, though he remained still while you prepared yourself, starting to fidget with his hands. He didn’t want to touch you without permission, but it appeared that your eyes were already closed.
You slowly but surely moved the arm of your injured shoulder to sling across your torso, hoping the position would stop it from moving about too much. And then you braced yourself, awaiting whatever sensations were about to come. 
By the time a hand had been placed on your body, your teeth were already gritted. One was placed on your back, a way to properly bring guide you into the needed position, while the other gently cupped the back of your head so that everything would move in unison. 
“Deep breath.”
The pain was immediate. It was such a thing that purely seared up a side of your body. Engulfed everything in its path.
It was impossible to see from your closed eyes, but there was a reaction from the man stood to the side when a slight whine escaped your throat. He had stepped forward, looking as if he was about to reach out if he didn’t have something in one of his hands. 
It was thoughtless. A movement that he had undone the moment he had realised by pressing back against the wall. But it happened nonetheless. 
David was muttering stuff of assurance, many forms of sentences letting lose into the air. You couldn’t hear it. Couldn’t catch onto a singular word. 
All you could think about was the pain. How stupid it was that you made the decision to take that route. How you didn’t run back the way you came after that first shot. Or how you didn’t even end up trying run until it was too late. 
Your legs bent at the knees the more your torso raised, as if trying to protect it of something, which slightly kicked up your blanket and made the heels of your feet dig into the cot below. “There you go, there you go!”
It was like a ripping of a band aid. 
At first, it was the stage of holding onto the edge, trying to hype yourself to get it over and done with. And then it was off. It may give a twinge of pain that lingered more than wanted, but overall the act had been complete.
“Right on, that’s you done.”
And so had yours. 
The biggest breath of relief huffed out of your mouth in a way that had David wanting to lightly pat your back, but it could accidently hurt you. So, instead, he resorted to turning his attention Frank, hurriedly gesturing towards the thing he held.
The man in question seemed to shake his head as if trying stifle his amusement, though he took a step forward to hand over the plate either way.
And then, by the next time you had blinked, it was held out in your direction. You just looked at it for a moment. 
It was a sandwich. One that may have been made with the most simple ingredients, and was probably the exact replica of what you would picture in your head upon hearing the name, but for some reason your whole body yearned for it. 
The plate was in your hands within seconds.
David took a step back, a slight smile reappearing on his lips at the progress. He gestured to the plate you held in the same position and then towards your mouth, seeming like he couldn’t get himself to stand still, “Eat up.”
You were. 
Oh, a thousand percent, you were getting ready to chow down on something, since the last time solid food had been eaten was probably the day you had gotten shot. And even then, you had no clue as to when that was.
However, right as you were about to bring the plate onto your lap, grab onto the sandwich and consume it with the upmost excitement... You paused. Stopped right in your tracks. Eating by yourself felt a little weird.
You looked back at David. 
It took him a moment to realise that your eyes were on him again. But when he did, he sort of rocked on his feet. His eyebrows furrowed as he sent a look towards Frank, “What, um... Is it-- Is it bad, or something?”
There was a mixture of confusion and almost offence tugging at certain features and it had your head shaking immediately.
Within the next minute, it was almost like a game of charades as you attempted to relay the words in your mind. 
The plate remained in the hand it did before. You bent your left arm at the elbow, trying to avoid any movement that would attack the area surrounding your wound, and you gestured. 
The first time you pointed your index finger at him and then at the plate, but he merely blinked. So, you then did it in reverse, directing the line of attention to the plate and then him. 
Frank even seemed confused as he watched with narrowed eyes, apparently unable to deduced the situation himself which still left David with nothing. “Kid, I don’t... I can’t understand what you’re trying to say, are you-- are you allergic to something?” 
“Are you asking me what’s in it? If I made it, what--”
Biting back the biggest sigh of your life, and in the fastest way that you could in that moment, you restored to just holding out the whole plate towards him. Even repeated the previous gesture one final time to make your point. 
“Oh,” David dragged out the sound as he began to nod. Finally, he understood, “Yeah, man, I’m boutta make my own.”
He remained for only a moment more, watching as your plate slowly lowered to your lap so that it wouldn’t drop. And then he started walking again, moving back around the edge of the cot before making his way through the doorway.
Franks eyes were already on your own by the time your head turned in his direction, as if he expected it to happen. 
This time without accompanying the movement with gestures, you simply held out the plated food towards him. Franks head shook instantly, he even waved a hand, “It’s for you, kid. Need to get that strength back.” 
His eyes directed towards the kitchen almost immediately after. He was either counting on David possibly making him one or waiting for him to leave the kitchen so that he could do it himself.
Thing is though, he only gave you a reason as to why you should keep the sandwich held for yourself.
He didn’t say no. 
The plate was brought back to your legs, flat against your thighs, and then you began looking around. Your eyes scanned across any close surface for something that could be used as a cloth, something to wipe your hands with, but there was no luck. 
You resorted to just scrubbing your palms, and more importantly your finger tips, against the cleanest clothing you had under the blanket. And then you grabbed the sandwich. 
Despite what Frank thought was going to happen by the time his attention was once again redirected towards you, when the sandwich was held horizontally in your grasp, instead of bring it to your mouth and taking a bite. You began... pulling at it each side? 
It started to rip.
“What are you doing?” he questioned pretty much immediately, his face and voice both riddle with confusion. And maybe even a little disturbance. But that didn’t stop your movements at all. 
In fact the only time you had stopped was when the entire thing had been torn through the middle, completely halved. However, even after that, you reached for one of the parts. You took it from the plate, stuffing it into the hand of your unmoving arm.
And then you held out the plate all over again to the man with very furrowed eyebrows. 
He just looked at the poorly halved sandwich for a moment, a part of it being more of the contents that the bread, and then his eyes found yours. There was an unreadable expression within them.
When he still didn’t take it, and due to the fact that your arm was starting to get tired, you redid your act of holding it out towards him. 
And this time he couldn’t withhold a response. 
Frank scoffed, shaking his head in the same amusement from earlier while he stared at the plate calling his name, “You’re very persistent, aren’t ya.” 
Despite his point still standing, the consistent want for you to get the nutrients needed to fully recover, it was like he couldn’t say no to you. At least to your face. So. Frank took the plate.
The next few minutes were spent by the two of you choosing the perfect side of the sandwich and then going to town, chowing down on it like it was the first one either of you had ever had. 
And man, that David could sure make a meal, even if it was just slapping ingredients between slices of bread.
“Damn!”
Seemed like someone else agreed with you.
“So, this is what you’ve been doing all this time, huh, Lieberman? Cookin’” Franks words were incredibly muffled despite his constant chewing, but either way the sound still echoed. A laugh soon followed while something poured, “What else would I do, man? Wasn’t just gonna do nothing.”
“Well, you can add cooking to your... I don’t know, list of talents or something.” Every time that man spoke, his head lowered right back down so that he could see the plate, taking another massive bite that you were just waiting for him to start choke on.
“Why did you... Why did you say it like that?” David's voice was more monotonous than usual, either playing fake offence or he was too preoccupied with arranging the order of his sandwich ingredients. 
You took another bite, a piece of lettuce almost falling onto the blanket without you knowing. Frank turned towards the kitchen again, speaking midway through putting a part of the sandwich in his mouth, “Like what?” A plethora of crumbs fell onto the plate in a way that made your nose crinkle.
“Like... Are you lying to me? Lying isn’t very nice, Frank.” 
“Nah, come on, man, I wouldn’t-- I wouldn’t say that If I didn’t mean it, you know that-- You could put these in a-- a--  a sandwich shop--”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, okay,” David practically grumbled at this point, placing down what sounded like a butter knife on the counter before he sniffed, “That at least mean that our little friend likes it too?”
Frank turned to you, placing the little chunk of sandwich he had left onto his plate before he rubbed the fingers that touched it together. 
You swallowed down your bites, the act proving to be a little harder to from the lack of eating solid food, and noted the fact that he was awaiting some form of answer to relay to David. 
Your sandwich was finished by now. It wasn’t a contest but it was almost wild how fast it had been consumed. And now you sat there, wiping your hand against your trousers while attempting to get any food stuck between your teeth. 
And then you cleared your throat, your nose scrunching for a second when the action ended up shaking your chest a little too much, “Y/n.”
Frank had turned his towards the kitchen moments prior. He had parted his lips, even slightly leaned back against the wall to get a proper view of the man awaiting an answer through the empty frames. 
Now his head snapped in your direction, eyebrows raising more than you had even seen, “What was that?”
You may have made the ultimate decision to use your voice in the first place, however, having that gaze of his on you once again caused this overwhelming feeling to surge through your body. 
Your spine had straightened, this time managing to ignore the shock of pain that hit your system, while your eyes widened just a smidge.
“Is that a yes or a no?”
The echo of David's voice had caused you to turn to where he stood in the kitchen, still busied with making another one of his masterpieces. It was something done half out of anxiousness and just wanting to distract yourself.
And then it made you think.
Surrounding you was this big, more empty than full, abandoned building. The only other people there was Frank, a man who was supposed to be dead, and David... who you presumed was also most likely to be the same due to their team up. 
If they were going to kill you, or hurt you, they would have done so already. 
But even then, when you woke up this morning you hadn’t been restrained or anything. There was nothing keeping you there other than the fact that they wanted to treat your wounds. 
A deep breath filtered through your nose as your eyes slowly met with Franks again. 
His expression was practically the same as it was before you had looked away, giving you a patience no one ever had. The gaze he held was warm. Encouraging. 
Thus, you swallowed once again.
“My... name.” Your voice was hoarse from waking up not that long ago, but also from it’s lack of use. There was always this feeling in your throat as if something was stuck in it, and you coughed, the urge to squeeze your eyes shut presenting itself yet again when it shifted your shoulder.
But you composed yourself, sucking in another breath and rubbing your hands against your legs while David was still left with no answer, “It’s Y/n.”
Franks head had already been nodding before you had finished saying your set of words. He pursed his lips, finally swallowing down the bite he had previously taken.
Frank sniffed, turning his head towards the kitchen yet again. Though this time it seemed like he did so to conceal the change of his facial expression more than to get David's attention. “You hear that, Lieberman?”
Regardless of his attempts to hide his reaction, the smile was clear on his lips. Such a one that it had even reached the skin around his eyes as they started to crinkle.
He looked back at you. There was this emotion on his face that remained unchanging. It seemed like a fondness, but at the same time he almost looked... proud?
“Y/n likes it.”
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antiheroapologist · 1 year
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Chaotic dead men who become best friends trope
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mpreghotties · 4 months
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So Spiderman stole Scott’s pym discs (Shrink ray disks), shrank Scott and Cap, and threw them inside Hawkeye’s stomach. Hawkeye then develops a taste for being a pred and now teams up with Spiderman to Vore all of the evil mafias in New York
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comicsiswild · 1 month
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Punisher War Journal (2006) #6
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houseforwhores · 2 years
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i just started watching the punisher, WHY ARE THERE NO DAVID LIEBERMAN STORIES. YALL TELLING ME YALL DONT LOVE A NERDY SHY GUY THATS HUNG LIKE A MOOSE, WHAT??
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for the love of god 😩
if i wrote for him would anyone read it-
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*Matt and Frank are at each other’s throats*
Foggy: I’m back! How are… things… going…?
Micro, eating chips: Interesting but scary.
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samasmith23 · 5 months
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Kamala states the truth here:
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Speaking as a white person myself, I can’t even begin to imagine how exhausting it must be to have to constantly deal with micro-aggressions like Kamala & Nakia do here!
From Ms. Marvel (2015) #23 by G. Willow Wilson & Diego Olortegui.
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muensterfucker · 6 months
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( wip ) 9 layers deep in david & frank (the punisher s1) heaven
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daredevilexchange · 2 months
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Have you always craved more Punisher/Cap, Daredevil/She Hulk, Elektra/Echo, Mike Murdock/Loki? Are you dreaming of Karen Page/Pepper Potts or Foggy Nelson/Frank Castle? You’ve come to the right place!
Sign up here for DDE’s Rarepair Minibang!
All iterations of Our Faves are welcome - comics, TV, and even film versions!
Signing up means that you can submit art and/or fic, and that you will have access to claims. Not signing up means no access to claims. You can both submit and claim, and you do not have to submit something in order to claim something else!
AO3 collection - Tumblr
Here are the options: - This is both a regular and a reverse bang, meaning you can submit art and/or fic for claims. - You can go the traditional route: submit your work and let people claim! - You can already have a partner in mind, in which case both of you must fill the sign-up form and let me know who your partner is.
What are the criteria? - Fanfic: 1.500 words minimum, must be beta-ed. 500 words only needed for submissions! - Art: one piece minimum. A sketch is fine for submissions! What type of art? Traditional: drawing, painting… or non-conventional: pottery, felt art, gifsets (6 gifs min), fanmixes (6 pieces of music + cover), embroidery, dollhouses, podfic, bookbinding… All visual art must be accompanied with a description.
What is a rarepair? If there are over 1,000 English-language works on AO3 as otp:true (aka, they’re the main ship), then it’s not a rarepair. Excluded as of the time of this FAQ (might be updated): Matt/Foggy, Matt/Frank, Matt/Reader, Frank/Karen. Let me know if you find others, or ask me to check! Your rarepair (or OT+) must include at least one of the characters from the Daredevil, Defenders, Luke Cage, Iron Fist, Jessica Jones, Punisher comics, TV shows, or movies… the rest is up to you :D
The schedule: Signups & submissions open until March 17 Claims: right after. Posting: depending on the number of teams, starting mid-May.
More details in the FAQ (open in a browser page, not the app) below or on DW. Any further questions not answered in the FAQ / on DW? Just send an ask!
Spread the word!
Bangin’ banner by MissMoochy ! ID under the cut
Fanart of Danny Rand, Frank Castle, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones and Matt Murdock from the Netflix Marvel TV shows. All five characters are standing behind a table. Danny is wearing a green shirt, smiling gently with his eyes closed. He is holding voodoo dolls of Stick and Alexandra. There are pins in the dolls’ hearts. Frank is wearing his Punisher skull t-shirt but the skull has hearts for eyes. Frank is ripping the head off a Fisk voodoo doll and smirking. There is a doll of Bullseye on the table in front of him. Both dolls have pins stuck in them all over. Luke wearing a black and yellow hoody over a black t-shirt and a yellow beanie hat. He is looking with concern at Frank and holding voodoo dolls of Elektra Natchios and Malcolm Ducasse. Jessica is wearing a black jacket over a purple top. She is frowning and sticking a pin into a voodoo doll of Misty Knight and has a doll of Trisha Walker in her jacket pocket. Matt is wearing a red shirt and red sunglasses. He looks worried and is cuddling voodoo dolls of Karen Page and Foggy Nelson. There are doll hearts and pins on the table in front of him. The table is black and the background is pink.
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hjbirthdaywishes · 28 days
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March 19, 2024
Happy 47 Birthday to Ebon Moss-Bachrach.
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smbhax · 11 months
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From “The Micro-World of Doctor Doom!” in Fantastic Four #16, July 1963. Stan Lee script, Jack Kirby pencils, Dick Ayers inks, Stan Goldberg colors, Artie Simek letters.
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quincybf · 2 years
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the punisher episode 12: home
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Não estou tentando ser perfeito. Eu me esforço para ser real. Sinceramente, ser eu mesmo sem me importar com as opiniões dos outros. E muitos podem não me amar, mas uma vai me amar. E isso é mais importante porque valorizo ​​a qualidade, não a quantidade, quantas mulheres e homens já disseram isso ao perceber que ser você mesmo não pode ser um peso que os outros tem que carregar, nem tão pouco querer te mudar, porquê acordamos tão tarde e perdemos tanto tempo querendo prender alguém que não compartilha os mesmos sentimentos com a gente, melhor deixar ir, pra logo poder seguir em frente,a fila anda pra eles e porque não pra nós, não precisamos ser apenas o que as pessoas querem,quando entrarmos em uma relação trazemos todos as nossas virtudes,e não tem motivo pra não vir os defeitos também,e dessa mistura que somos formados, isso é nossa peculiaridade na vida,assim nos tornamos um ser único,mesmo que parecendo igual a qualquer um, temos uma coisa que nos define,o nosso nome.
Jonas R Cezar
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