look at frank's face

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You guys, Frank said so

8

Requested by anonymous

Leo broke out into a fit of laughter as he pointed at a picture in he scrap book you had just given him.
“I remember this one. Frank look at your face! You look ridiculous!”.

“I think he looks cute” Hazel said pinching Frank’s bright red cheek “[Y/N] these are amazing. Making scrap books was such a sweet and good idea. Thank you so much”.

“She’s right” Jason smiled as Piper looked down at a picture of them together.

You were so happy they liked them. You had been nervous that the seven would think scrap books were a bit stupid but judging by their reaction they were grateful to you for making these for them.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Come Home to Me

Characters: Frank Castle (Punisher) x Reader 

 A/N: i see one gifset of fucking jon bernthal and i have to write a fucking fic about him. goddamn it. i love my murder husband…

 Summary: Frank comes home to you a little more beat up than usual and you get emotional. 

 Warnings: angst? injuries (bruising, cuts), mostly just feeeeeelings 

 Words: i honestly have no idea. i wrote this on my phone at work… 

 Tags: none? lol this is a new character 

Originally posted by calif0rnia-lovers

A thundering knock jolts you from sleep. You groan and push the fuzzy blanket off your bare legs to stumble off of the couch where you’d been waiting for your boyfriend to get home. You must have fallen asleep waiting. 

Another knock comes from your front door and you groan, pulling your cardigan tighter around you at the sudden chill in the air. “Coming, coming,” you mutter. You blink the sleep out of your eyes and swing the door open as quickly as possible just to stop the awful knocking. 

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theatergeekpercyjackson  asked:

For the 5 ficlet, how about percabeth and the five times one of them tries getting a pet?

I.

Percy was six years old when his mother took him to the aquarium for the first time. Sally and Gabe had gotten married a few months ago and things at home hadn’t gone the way she planned, but she finally managed to save enough money to take Percy out to a nice place.

Percy was more than happy to visit the aquarium, even though he wasn’t sure why he was hearing voices calling him “Lord”. When he told Sally, she just laughed and told him to find his favorite exhibit, Percy didn’t see the worry on his mother’s face.

Percy loved the aquarium, he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this happy—well, a time when his mother’s cooking wasn’t involved. They stayed there from opening time until closing, enjoying each other’s company and feeling happy to be together, away from Gabe.

“Can we buy a fish?” Percy said when they were walking back home.

“I don’t think right now is the best time to get a pet,” Sally said, holding his hand a little bit tighter.

“I can take care of it, mom!” Percy replied. “Please! I can buy the food with my allowance!”

“Gabe won’t allow it sweetie, but I promise you, one day I’ll get you a pet,” Sally said.

“But mom!”

“I’m really sorry baby, I truly am.” Sally couldn’t look  Percy in the eyes; she didn’t want to see the sadness in them. “But maybe I can bake you some cookies?”

“Can I help?”  

Sally laughed. “Of course you can! You’re my little assistant after all!”

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Any drag kings/cosplayers wondering how to contour masculine features

Look at Frank Grillo’s face.

This man is the perfect contouring reference for me.

His masculine-as-fuck pointy face hits all the points.

Look at where he has shadows. Look at where he has light. Paint that on your damn face.

Frank fucking Grillo

Hold On Tight

CH1

It’s not the best night for it. The rain his coming down in heavy sheets, and the wind occasionally whips it right back in his face. But he finds the cold bracing, the downpour a much needed shock to his system. His head had been cloudy lately, too much warmth, too much softness, too much rest and god damned relaxation. And it had made him fuck up, monumentally. He curses and the angry sound is swept away into the night. Letting his guard down has always had unthinkable consequences, and he’d rather be out tracking down some sex-trafficking monster in the pouring rain than facing the fear collecting in his lungs, gathering around his heart.

He raises the scope of his gun for what feels like the tenth time, scanning the row of windows along the adjacent warehouse’s southern wall. The inside of the building is dimly lit, but the bastard running the operation has gotten too cocky to tarp the windows and Frank has clear view of what’s going on inside the building. It isn’t a pleasant sight.

A group of girls stumble out of a nondescript van, their hands tied with plastic zips. They huddle together blindly out of fear and a need for warmth, filthy blindfolds covering their eyes. They’re so young, their silent cooperation borne of terror. Frank doesn’t have to imagine the source of their fear, he can see it on the predatory smile of their ‘owner.’

Frank’s jaw tenses as he mentally calculates exactly how many shots it will take to put down the six men standing around the group of captives. They’re low level operators, and won’t be missed by many. Frank relishes the looks of surprised shock that flit across their faces when he shoots the man in charge, the back of his skull exploding outward in a pink mist as the bullet exits. The men barely have time to process their horror before each meet their own painful demise, not managing to scatter even ten feet before they hit the dirty warehouse floor.

The girls don’t even know what’s happening. The initial shattering of glass makes them cower, trembling quietly as the harsh sound is followed by six muffled thuds. Frank immediately drops the scope of the gun, focusing on putting his equipment away. He’ll call in a tip once he’s a couple blocks away, give the cops of this city a chance to help someone for a change. The rain’s letting up. It’ll be a nice walk back home… The thought causes a slight twinge, just under his rib cage. The safe house isn’t home, and neither is the place he’s gone so many nights before. He reminds himself that home is a pile of ash, nothing more.

He hears it just as he’s zipping his ammo bag, the familIar light footed running along the top of the next building over. Murdock and his superhero costume, knee high boots and all, special no-skid tread catching the edge of the roof before catapulting over perilously close to Frank.

Frank just shakes his head, “Too late, Red. It’s done.”

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