Warrior Frankie — 11. oz Mug
Frankie doesn’t just wait on your shelf — she storms into your morning armed and dangerous. The Warrior Frankie 11oz Ceramic Mug transforms ordinary coffee into a cult weapon of choice, fusing dark humor drinkware, saga-fueled collectibles, and alt lifestyle kitchen gear. Glossy ceramic, razor-sharp artwork, and the blood-red Die Jimmy Die signature turn this mug into more than a cup — it’s a shotgun blast with a handle, built for caffeine warfare and late-night plotting.
Why you’ll drink from it: because mugs shouldn’t just hold coffee — they should hold combat energy. This one carries the saga — fueling your espressos, teas, or midnight war-council brews with pure Team Frankie firepower. Every sip feels like loading up for another round in the immortal battle against Jimmy.
- 11 oz. glossy white ceramic
- High-detail print (crisp, no fading)
- Microwave and dishwasher safe
- Artwork: “Frankie with the .45” — official DJD saga piece
- Colorway: White ceramic / Black line art / Red script
What Fellow Fans Are Saying
“The Warrior Frankie mug doesn’t just serve coffee — it serves ultimatums. Glossy ceramic, flawless print, and the blood-red saga mark make every sip feel like gearing up for battle. It’s not drinkware, it’s cult ammo for Die Jimmy Die collectors.”
“Brought my Frankie coffee cup to work and now my coworkers whisper like I walked in with an arsenal. Microwave-safe, dishwasher-proof, and bold enough to double as dark humor desk decor. Honestly, Frankie makes caffeine taste like revenge.”
“Every latte in the Warrior Frankie 11oz ceramic mug hits like an espresso grenade. The artwork is sharp, the ceramic feels bombproof, and it turned my kitchen shelf into an alt streetwear saga shrine. Drinking out of this thing is basically joining Team Frankie.”
“Complete the
WARRIOR FRANKIE set — shop the full warrior collection.”
Frankie’s Diary — Chapter: The Arsenal of Love’s End
Day 17.
Tonight I strap on the whole funeral orchestra — a blade or two that hushes his grin, an Uzi that giggles in bursts, grenades that open like bitter confessions, and a shotgun that answers every lie with thunder.
No ribbons. No promises. Just iron, smoke, and a red-smudge plan. War suits me better than perfume.
If he tries to charm me, I’ll remind him how loud silence can be. If he tries to hide, I’ll dig him out with echo and brass. If he runs, I’ll wait where the road forgets to continue.
I’m not a frightened girl — I’m the noise that follows the last bell. Call it love, call it plague; either way, I’ll be the ending he never saw coming.
