"I know where I stand and the war's not over." Independent RP blog for Frank Castle from the Punisher Netflix series. Tracked Tag: punirearce Reloaded by Adi
Punirearce is a semi-selective low activity, mutual only, MCU canon divergent iteration of Frank Castle, with comic influences & personal lore interwoven. Crossover, OC, & duplicate friendly. Darker and potentially triggering themes will apply. General RP etiquette in place & details below the cut. Reloaded by Adi (35+).
Stats Pending
Code of Conduct
Content Disclaimer: This blog will have USFW themes including, but not limited to: torture, brainwashing, mentions of sexual assault, drug / alcohol use, murder, psychological / body horror, maiming, gore, sex, and violence. By following this blog you are agreeing to that you understand the nature of such themes that will occur.
Universes
This blog is mainly MCU based with some 616 & personal influences. The main canon divergences involve timeline disparities while I catch up with MCU canon. Main jumping point resides around S1 of the Punisher Netflix adaptation.
Multiple verses will develop with time, writing partners, and other inspirations.
Formatting / Writing
I use single small text and may or may not use icons. I don’t expect you to have fancy formatting. Formatting will drop off for reading purposes for writing partners when requested. I will often try to match my partner’s writing length. I am good with single line responses to multiple paragraphs. Memes are a great way to start interactions. I am far faster with inbox content than at drafts. Crack threads and content will be tagged accordingly.
Asks / Anon
Anon is for fun, for the ease of sideblog users, and generally a good time. It will be turned of if it’s used to harass, demean, or stir up drama. Feel free to make any asks that are answered into new threads if you so wish, just please make a new post. Memes are a fantastic way to break the ice in general, and I am open to conversing plots via IM or Discord. Asks can easily evolve into threads, I simply ask that they be cultivated in a new post please.
Speed
Please do not expect speedy and or timely responses. This is not my only blog, and I reserve the right to step away when and if necessary. I have a full time job with a wack ass schedule and I am gone for days at a time on a consistent basis. I also do not expect rapid fire responses in return.
Shipping
I ship Frank with extreme patience & chemistry. If your muse wants to try and get through Frank's emotional wall Maria's death built, then heck yeah. We are multiship friendly here. If you want to possibly develop something please come talk to me about it. Currently I don’t have any sort of NOTP or OTP. Chemistry > Canon. If you have questions, please feel free to ask!
Blog Roll
Steve Rogers @battlesthatmatter
Tony Stark @industrialspark
Bucky Barnes @coldleads
Sarah Rogers @gctbackup
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❝ judging by that darkening stain on your shirt , i doubt it is from greasy fried chicken . ❞ he pointed at the growing darker blotch on the fabric of the man's shirt . ❝ whoever patched that wound made a poor job and if left untreated , the odds of surviving the night become uncertain . ❞
Frank didn't need to look down to know exactly where the guy was talking about. He grit his teeth and shut his eyes for a second while he took a breath. It wasn't a surprise to hear that it was gonna need more work, it did make an eyebrow raise about hearing he might gonna make it.
He huffed a pained breath and shook his head.
"Didn't exactly have a field dressing on hand," he muttered, as he gesticulated with his left hand, the side that wasn't going to hurt as much as the wound was on the other.
"Still got time, ain't got a fever."
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WHAT FOLKLORE MONSTER ARE YOU DESCENDED FROM?
Your Result: Werewolf
There is a fire in your lineage that refuses to dim, no matter how tightly you try to cage it. The wolf in your blood is not chaos for its own sake — it is fierce devotion, the kind that scars. Your emotions arrive like a hunt: fast, merciless, and impossible to ignore. Anger is your warning signal, passion your battle cry, and beneath it all lies a bone-deep instinct to protect what is yours, even at the cost of yourself. But this heritage carries a shadow. You fear the moment your strength becomes too much — when your voice becomes a snarl, when your courage turns reckless, when your love becomes something sharp. Loyalty, for you, is a brutal thing: a pact forged through fire, blood, and survival, not soft sentiment. You were never meant to be lukewarm. You were meant to burn, to guard, to challenge, to ache. Your greatest danger and your greatest power are the same — the wild, ungovernable heart beating in your chest.
“Would you still like me if I were a worm?” Don’t let her down with the answer, Frank. To be fair, though, she doesn’t even know if he likes her now as a person. How could one deny the bambi eyes, though?
The clanks of the ratchet wrench continued for a few moment as his brows dipped. He frowned while working under the truck and gave a huff. Was she high?
"A worm?" he repeated, while pausing his work.
He slowly wheeled himself back out from under the vehicle and looked up at her, eyes narrowed in confusion, trying to get a good read on Maya's face
"What kind of question is that? If you were a worm..."
He wiped some of the grease from his hands onto his work jeans and shook his head, pondering the question itself, as how the hell she came up with one. First frog dresses, now worm universes... Did she have a screw loose? Was she troubled?
"Do you want to be a worm?"
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you're a nervous ghost. the people in your home are unfamiliar and dangerous, and you've never wanted to hurt anybody but you have to keep your home safe.
you can't move on to the afterlife because someone has to look after the house. it was there for you through all your life, heartbreak after heartbreak. it held all the people you loved most, and though they're gone now, your home isn't. it's all you have left. you're loyal and caring and you worry too much. i hope someone comes along that loves the house the way you do. i hope you learn to let go.
How do you feel about people who talk on speakerphone in the library?
Feelings with Frank
"Annoying, rude. Hope somebody in the public would tell 'em off. Libraries are too much like churches to be pulling that kind of fuckin stunt. Be a real shame if somebody shoulder checked em and their phone broke."
Movement on the fire escape caught Jane’s eye, and she got her first look at the killer -- a man, tall and solid, dressed in a black, utilitarian outfit and sensible boots. Jane could see at a glance that these were the clothes of a professional. It was unlikely he worked for HYDRA, considering he’d just killed one of HYDRA’s agents, but it was possible he worked for someone else – the CIA, the GRU, or any of the dozens of other covert operations agencies that were out there. Or he might just be a hit man, whether for hire or part a specific criminal organization.
Not enough information. Jane needed more. She checked that her knives were in place, marked the direction that the mystery killer seemed to be heading in, and decided to risk taking a shortcut, because odds were that he was headed for a vehicle. If he made it there, he had a good chance of getting away, because she hadn’t gotten a close enough look at the man’s face that she could reliably spot him in a crowd. And she couldn't let him get away, not when he was killing the people she wanted to get her intel from. She needed that information.
Two alleyways to the west, she spotted an unfamiliar truck, one that she hadn't seen in the area even once during her preceding week of stakeouts. Call it making a bet, or call it instincts honed by seventy years as an assassin, but Jane had a feeling that the behemoth on wheels in front of her was the killer's ride.
By the time the man clambered into the driver's seat and began adjusting his mirrors, she was concealed in the back, hunkered down with the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up to hide the pal moon of her face. Dressed all in black, she blended into the shadows and matching black upholstery perfectly. Her new target never even realized she was there -- until she pressed the blade of her knife against his throat.
"Who are you?" she growled. "Who are you working for?"
The motor to the side view mirror paused as soon as he felt metal against his own flesh. One hand was still gripping the steering wheel. Frank took a slow breath through his nose, jaw clenching tight enough that he could feel the pressure near his ears. He blinked, eyes flicked to the rear view to try and get a look at who had the upper hand at the moment.
He kept his eyes on the glass, trying to get any intel that he could, but it was difficult in the dark, he couldn't make out their face but their voice was interesting. He slowly raised the hand from the button and rested it on the wheel. He wasn't about to make any sudden moves, not with that against his throat.
"Hmm" he let out as he continued to search for their face, but that hood wasn't helping him either. "Wanna ask you the same thing," he mused aloud as he sat fairly still.
"Seems a bit early in the game for you to be his old lady deliverin payback," his tone was almost nonchalant, despite the circumstances. He was acutely aware that one wrong move, or word, and that would be the end of it. Too many important pipes rested against that metal.
"So unless you two were plannin on playin bridge tomorrow, does it really matter, who I am?"
Usually he tried to let stupid shit slide. He'd rather save his energy for something else. It was easier to handle the verbal kinds of bullshit people would throw.
But the kid crossed a line.
Once physicality started, all bets were off. It didn't help that his little stunt happened to soak the book he had been reading. The saturated pages slapped shut, the item closed before being tossed aside. He got to his feet, feeling the chill slide down his skin and cling to him through the fabric.
Without a second thought he lunged, one arm grappling with Stiles' left arm as he tackled the village idiot to the ground.
"You wanna play games!? That it?!"
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"They're pretty great,"
His boots shuffled against the floor as he readjusted his leg to get comfortable. He gave a small shrug as he mulled over the question. What wasn't there to say about man's best friend, that hadn't been said before?
"The little ones tho, the toy breeds? Yeah, nah. Folks need dogs that they can actually pet. Otherwise just get a cat. Yeah?"