crossh4irs

[crossh4irs]

blood that is not his own seeps from between his fingers to his wrist and he can taste it in his mouth, can smell it in the air. dressed in asylum whites, he glances up at @morefearless with both insistence and curiosity.

after all, she'd walked in on the animal she'd personally unleashed, with its victim prone on the ground between them, throat slashed so deep that the meat and sinew and tendons are nearly visible. most don't quite have the stomach for it.

not that it fazes him. because it doesn't.

"--i uh, i think you ought to look away, doctor."

[crossh4irs]

frank had very much intentionally made himself scarce at wally's internment and skipped the reception entirely. instead, he'd ventured back to his apartment because work is an anchoring thing, and he's not quite bereft about the old man as he is rattled. it'll be gone tomorrow, because he can take anything. he can. despite that, he's grateful he hadn't seen diana.

when he arrives home, he barely has time to shower and get dressed before his doorbell is ringing. when he hits the intercom, he feels something electric in him when he hears diana's voice.

the moment he opens the door, @am4zon is embracing him. his arms wrap around her in return once his door swings shut, and he registers she's still dressed in mourning black.

"you alright?" he asks against her hair, lips ghosting by her neck from where his face is tucked into it as a big hand rubs over her back consolingly, instinctively. while frank isn't the sentimental sort, he's been to enough funerals and has lost enough for this shit to be muscle memory.

[crossh4irs]

Save me from my old ways.

[crossh4irs]

frank and harley commit terrorism by existing every single day, worst soulmates ever @morefearless

[crossh4irs]

given the sleek state of her apartment—both that of her parents and her own—he'd never have anticipated how seamlessly she'd fit in his space. fastidious and tidy as he is, it cannot compensate for the decrepit state of the studio apartment that he calls his current headquarters with the firearms that line its barren walls, its half-scorched-out stove, its peeling paint with asbestos underneath.

"no," frank says, a huff escaping that teeters somewhere near amusement. "no—floor's all yours."

he sets the spare bodega coffee on the table, away from her work, along with a foil-wrapped sandwich that she hadn't asked for.

"hope you ain't vegan."

@crossh4irs sent "i see you've made yourself at home."

when he left, there weren't papers spread across the table. madani's laptop wasn't out and she hadn't made herself a pot of coffee. she'd looked presentable when he'd left, and now her dark curls were barely restrained by the claw clip at the top of her head. to say she'd made herself at home was an understatement, but that was just how she was when she got so into her work she barely noticed the hours passing by.

her concentration had been broken by the sound of the lock clicking, but she hadn't fully left that state where the gears in her head were turning faster than she could take notes on the yellow legal pad until he actually spoke. "i suppose i have," she said, observing her mess and then seeing the bag of takeout in his hand. "i can clear some space."

[crossh4irs]

❥      NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE . 

feel free to edit or elaborate as you please .   ( add  ‘ reverse ‘  to your message if you’d like to see how my muse would perform the action ) . otherwise , send in one of these for my muse’s reaction to   …

[ lit ]  your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine . 

[ order ]  your muse ordering for mine at a restaurant or bar .

[ guide ]  your muse putting a hand on mine’s back to lead them .

[ pay ]  your muse paying for mine at a store , bar , restaurant , etc . ( you can specify where or for what . )

[ open ]  your muse opening a door for mine .

[ dry ]  your muse drying mine off with a towel after a shower , bath , swimming , etc . 

[ instruct ]  your muse giving mine instructions / telling them what to do . 

[ groom ]  your muse adjusting mine’s appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc . 

[ direct ]  your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye .

[ disagree ]  your muse sternly telling mine  ‘ no ‘ .

[ rest ]  your muse resting their arm over mine’s shoulder / s .

[ clean ]  your muse cleaning a smudge of something off mine’s cheek , forehead , etc .   feel free to specify what and how . 

[ answer ]  your muse answering a question meant for mine . 

[ coat ]   your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on .

[ pilot ]  your muse taking mine by the arm , hand , shoulder , etc . to lead them . 

[ stare ]  your muse staring mine down . 

[ placement ]  your muse telling mine to sit down .

[ teach ]  your muse taking control of mine’s hand , arm , hips , etc . to make sure they do something correctly .  

[ patience ]  your muse telling mine to be patient .

[ tears ]  your muse wiping away mine’s tears .

[ swat ]  your muse swatting mine’s hand away from something they’re not supposed to touch .  

[ jewelry  ]  your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings . 

[ enough ]  your muse commanding mine to stop talking . 

[ retrieve ]  your muse requesting or ordering mine to retrieve them something .

[ invite ]  your muse inviting mine to sit on their lap .

[ lean ]  your muse inviting mine to lean into their side while they’re sitting or laying together . 

[ calm ]   your muse telling mine to  ‘ just breathe ‘ .

[ scold ]  your muse scolding mine for something .

[ comfort ]  your muse pulling mine into a reassuring hug .

[ approval ]  your muse complimenting mine on a choice they’ve made .

[ beckon ]  your muse beckoning mine to them without speaking . 

[ laces ]  your muse lacing , tying , or zipping something for mine , such as shoes , a dress , or a jacket , etc .

[ stay ]  your muse telling mine to stay in the car . 

[ defend ]  your muse defending mine’s reputation , dignity , or safety for them . 

[ feed ]  your muse feeding mine something , feel free to specify what .

[ volume ]  your muse demanding mine speak louder .

[ read ]  your muse reading something to mine .

[ refill ]  your muse refilling mine’s glass for them . 

[ possessive ]  your muse resting their hand on mine’s leg or the small of their back while they’re sitting beside each other . 

[crossh4irs]

The Punisher Season 1 Epiosode 08 - Cold Steel

[crossh4irs]

" -- ma'am," frank says, grateful to get it out before harley begins to gyrate in his lap. he stays remarkably still--as a fucking statue, really--and keeps his gaze on her face, his hands to himself, as she moves. he could shove her off him, get out of here, and that's what he thinks to do. call the whole thing off considering his cover is more than fucking blown and, if anything, this is calling more attention to him and potentially ruining it--

but he finds himself looking up at her, under the brim of his hat, with his dark gaze that he finds reflected in her own. her fingers are soft on his face, and he exhales against the feel of her warm mouth on his jaw.

big hands settle on her hips as he pulls back, away, to lock eyes with her. but not before his gaze flicks to her lips, just for a moment, before looking back up at her.

" -- dangerous game you're playing."

as a fellow frequent feature of grocery store tabloids and true crime podcasts, frank had been skeptical whether or not the whispers of the clown queen of crime's presence at the club were true or just her reputation preceding her. the moment he spots her platinum blonde head in the yellow light of the place, however, is when he knows the truth. her bejeweled dress leaves little to the imagination, is so unlike the modest blouses and lab coats and pencil skirts that he associates with her, the way her oversized glasses served as an intentional barrier between locking their gaze.

he's never been great at incognito work like this, between the constant swell of his nose, the black bruises that splotch his eyes, and the breadth of his shoulders, he's easy to spot. even in gotham. it is something to marvel, though, that the woman who'd ( allegedly ) helped kill the bat's second-in-command is here. not even an open fucking secret. it's almost flippant, how blatant her display is. arrogance oozes almost tangibly off her.

he smells her perfume before he sees her, gaze intentionally avoiding hers for a moment under his yankees cap. on instinct, frank tenses, fingers reaching for the firearm he keeps tucked away in his inner pants pocket on instinct.

that's when he looks up at her, brow quirked, hands very intentionally laid at his sides.

articulate and eloquent as ever, frank grunts, " -- doctor."

[crossh4irs]

their weekly sessions have bled into each other, uneventful as they've been. garden-variety questions met with garden-variety answers to fill the hour block he's kept in here. her gaze has always been sharp, piercing, but frank's never paid any mind to it. this is a transitory place, fleeting, and he's nothing if not patient. the only thing he's felt toward the doctor is a vague sense of pity for being stuck with him in the belly of the beast here at arkham because no one else would take him.

now, something between them has been activated. a brow raises.

"i don't know," frank says, clears his throat, "the guards ain't on my payroll. but they're sick fucks eager for a show. you know that."

he leans forward, chains rattling against the table.

"what, uh--what do you think i'll do?"

the higher ups of arkham asylum will say dr. harleen quinzel is getting nowhere with her most notorious patient, murderer frank castle. they will say they are wasting good money on her little experiment for no results. harleen doesn't give a single fuck what they think, though. because she will say she has castle right where she wants him. in the silence, in the dark. she allows him to say nothing. she flashes her smile, which has a warmth she had to practice for. it didn't come natural. she could be content to let another session go by without saying a word, except she doesn't.

suddenly, she speaks.

❛ you think they'd let you take me? ❜ her eyebrow rises, and she feigns innocence, all wide eyed and a trembling lip. it's a fascinating choice of words: not will you kill me, but will you take me. it's deliberate as it is fascinating. and soon, that feigned innocence is drowned out by a huge smile, and a fire in her eyes. ❛ you think if we took these pretty little chains off you, and you lunged at me, the guards would just let it happen? ❜

she wonders, honestly not for the first time, if frank would kill her too, if he knew of the rot in her heart and how it was spreading, spreading, spreading.

[crossh4irs]

Punisher #60 (2008)

Garth Ennis

Goran Parlov

Lee Loughridge

Cory Petit

[crossh4irs]

i just think a lot about how dedicated and loyal frank is not quite to his country as much as his fellow service members and (initially) law enforcement and almost all authority like an obedient dog because he made oaths as a 18-year-old who enlisted in the marine corps pre-9/11 under a facade of "patriotism" that was just an excuse to commit violence, but he viewed it as an ~honorable outlet

frank doesn't want to reckon with the atrocities he's committed because it'd mean that his sense and code of honor had been broken, and it'd also mean that the oaths he'd made had meant nothing and were founded on a lie. war isn't black and white, and is entwined with american imperialism and the military industrial complex and abuse of power. frank's loyalty to people like billy russo comes (despite what is clearly his better judgment) comes from an expectation of reciprocity of the honor he exhibits, and as he's been betrayed by former service members and the authority/establishment he'd worked his entire life to uphold, his sense of honor erodes.

while i do maintain frank has always been a bad person (and he knows it too, that losing his family had only been a catalyst for what was always lying under his skin), he isn't stagnant as a character and my exploration of him is about that slow corruption that he spreads onto everyone he comes in contact with.

simultaneously my characterization is also about him transitioning from bootlicking to a complete distrust and disdain for all authority and the establishment as a whole so. yeah

[crossh4irs]

as a fellow frequent feature of grocery store tabloids and true crime podcasts, frank had been skeptical whether or not the whispers of the clown queen of crime's presence at the club were true or just her reputation preceding her. the moment he spots her platinum blonde head in the yellow light of the place, however, is when he knows the truth. her bejeweled dress leaves little to the imagination, is so unlike the modest blouses and lab coats and pencil skirts that he associates with her, the way her oversized glasses served as an intentional barrier between locking their gaze.

he's never been great at incognito work like this, between the constant swell of his nose, the black bruises that splotch his eyes, and the breadth of his shoulders, he's easy to spot. even in gotham. it is something to marvel, though, that the woman who'd ( allegedly ) helped kill the bat's second-in-command is here. not even an open fucking secret. it's almost flippant, how blatant her display is. arrogance oozes almost tangibly off her.

he smells her perfume before he sees her, gaze intentionally avoiding hers for a moment under his yankees cap. on instinct, frank tenses, fingers reaching for the firearm he keeps tucked away in his inner pants pocket on instinct.

that's when he looks up at her, brow quirked, hands very intentionally laid at his sides.

articulate and eloquent as ever, frank grunts, " -- doctor."

this club is joker's territory, and the tattoos on harley's skin are like brands, attaching her to the clown of crime. if people weren't scared so shitless of meeting the barrel of his gun, all eyes would be on the prettier attraction: harley. her curves are poured into a gold dress that fits her like skin, and like a snake, she's eager to shed it. remarkable, isn't it, how she can be so seen yet to invisible at the same time?

she spots the guy in the cap nearly the moment he slips into the club, but it's funnier letting him think he has the advantage. she plays pretend until she can slink away from anyone's gaze and introduce herself to the mystery man.

❛ you're cute, ❜ is how she announces herself to @crossh4irs. her smile is all pearly teeth and her eyes are better described as mischievous than blue. her bejeweled fingers dance along his broad shoulder before she takes a seat in his lap. with her, it's always like a queen declaring her throne. ❛ wanna play with me? ❜

[crossh4irs]

the shackles that bind frank’s ankles scrape against the concrete floor while the ones on his wrists drag on the steel table that separates himself and @morefearless. it’s comical, really, but justified—despite the fact that frank has barely spoken a word since his sentencing and has been downright docile if not borderline catatonic, the staff know better. he’s less a bear in hibernation and more so just a predator lying in wait, and with each passing day, unbeknownst to them, he inches closer and closer to his target.

it isn’t his first or second or third session with the pretty blonde doctor, and this isn’t the first time frank thinks of the fact that she’s been practically thrown to the wolves in this place, nonplussed as she seems about it all.

he clears his throat. when she greets him, he responds with a curt, “ma’am,” as he peers at his blurred reflection in the metal of the table.

[crossh4irs]

the millennium series by stieg larsson death, violence, suicide mention.  

“i’m a survivor. i do what i have to do to survive.”  

“you’ll have my support if you need it.”

“i’m just a freak, that’s all.”

“you don’t believe in god?”

“thanks for being my friend.”

“sorry. i wasn’t listening.”

“you’re going to have some serious bruises for a while.”

“that was brave but awfully stupid.”

“you look like you just woke up.”

“everyone has secrets. it’s just a matter of finding out what they are.”

“up until then, i had thought about killing myself.” 

“this is… not healthy.”

“what would you do if it was me?”

“i think you’re awake.”  

“would you like company?”

“i’m not a child any more.”

“if your questions piss me off, i won’t answer.” 

“everyone has to have something to believe in.”

“fuck you too. need help?”

“i’m going to kill you!”

“a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do, and all that crap.”

“you have to concentrate on getting well.”

“usually it’s other people who don’t give a shit about me.”

“you look like a car crash.”  

“why don’t you want to talk to the police?”

“i can keep a secret, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“you’ve been hurt and had surgery.”

“i need somebody to tell me if i’m doing anything stupid.”

“they’ll twist what i say and use it against me.”

“what kind of weapon is it?”

“what i’m thinking of asking you is unethical and it might be illegal. but morally, it’s the right thing to do.”

“no bones broken?”  

“i wasn’t going to let that motherfucker kill you.”

“go home and get some sleep.”

“if you’re nice to me, i’ll be nice to you.”

“that was a serious mistake.”

“don’t ever do anything for nothing.”    

“that’s not a detail, it’s a whole novel.”

“you’ve had an operation and you’re in the intensive care unit.”

“am i being arrested?”

“you don’t give a shit about other people.”

“i thought you’d died.”

[crossh4irs]

DIALOGUE PROMPTS FROM THINGS HAVE GOTTEN WORSE SINCE WE LAST SPOKE BY ERIC LAROCCA — feel free to change pronouns / tenses as needed! cw for mentions of graphic violence and cannibalism.

i really can’t thank you enough.

you really did change my life.

i feel more myself when i talk to you.

what have you done today to deserve your eyes?

we don’t covet our hands until we lose a finger.

how does the snake feel in her new skin?

we’re all capable of things. sometimes it hurts.

i feel like a new constellation, scabbed in glittering black.

whatever you’re thinking, i probably want it.

people like to eat other people. i spent so many years forgetting i had teeth, too.

you won’t eat me. no matter how much you enjoy the way i taste.

i never thought i would ever do something as monstrous, as wicked as this.

what else will i do to make you happy?

i don’t think i’m better off without you.

neither of us are monsters.

that’s what makes people do horrible things - they think whatever they’re doing isn’t nearly as bad as what someone else will do

i could never stay away from you.

do you ever worry you’ll hurt me?

i once dreamt about killing you.

i’m bracing myself for the worst.

change always hurts.

i’ll love you no matter what.

i’ll always have a part of you inside of me.

fuck your second thoughts. fuck your honesty.

i think i once did love you. i think i once could have loved you. but not like this.

you’ll never leave me.

i feel like taking a pair of shears and slicing myself open.

i thought of you last night.

this is what you wanted.

[crossh4irs]

RED DEAD REDEMPTION (2010) DIALOGUE PROMPTS

you always did think i was an idiot.

you never tried to save me before.

i implore you to think about this.

i think you're deliberately enigmatic as a substitute for having an actual personality.

you do so love to talk in riddles.

i've never met a man in a tie i can trust.

nobody made my path but me.

you keep jumping from one side of the fence to the other, you might just get impaled on it.

it seems we've reached an impasse.

i'm many things, most of them bad.

people don't forget. nothing gets forgiven.

do you want me to take out a gun and blow a fucking hole in your head?

you'll be the first to know when i kill you, i promise.

it's wanting that gets so many people in trouble.

my side ain't chosen. my side was given.

some trees flourish, others die. some cattle grow strong, others are taken by wolves.

i've always loved you.

you left me to die to save your own skin, and you expect me to care about you?

the life you lived, you don't just walk away from that.

moral degeneracy waits for no man.

some men are born rich enough and dumb enough to enjoy their lives. ain't nothing fair. you know that.

you can't change who you are.

you have no idea what you're killing for.

you never could see what i could see.

my whole life, all i ever did was fight.

i can't fight my own nature.

when i'm gone, they'll just find another monster.

[crossh4irs]

frank had once existed in a world of black and white, but as time progressed, it'd become more and more evident that black is white and white is black. the truths that'd once been set in concrete--or seemed as if they were--were an aberration all along. and the realization, whenever it'd come, had meant nothing, had made him feel nothing. somewhere along the way, he'd become willingly damned.

only thing that hasn't changed is killing. simple, easy.

"that's it, then," he sets her wrist back in place immediately after the statement once it's offered, allowing him a moment to mull over the suggestion that sits heavy in her tone. he's been surviving for a long, long time--only time he doesn't is when he's turning men into meat.

when he finishes tending to her wrist, he begins to clean her face off until the gauze in his hand becomes too dirtied to do much more.

which is when a big hand cups her face, smears more of that red lipstick or blood that may be hers or someone else's across her plump lips. his dark gaze flicks to her mouth, head cocking.

"you felt like you were living when you killed him, yeah?"

❛ i feel like that fucker won't be able to put hands on me or any other girl ever again. ❜

she speaks through her teeth. she's proud. which isn't to say she feels good or bad or shitty or sad. killing stan was another example of what selina kyle has done her whole entire fucking life: survived.

selina whipes a hand across her face, smearing makeup and blood and snot across her skin. it's like she morphs into another person. gone away is the deer in the headlights, the baby vamp who just had her first taste of blood. in its place is a monster, maybe, with how she grins, with how she laughs.

he has misunderstood her: she's not so wrapped in regret that she doesn't want to be tended to. she doesn't want to be tended to because, she likes the pain.

the laughing stops. her green-eyed gaze fixes on him again, and she shows her teeth. they're smeared with red, lipstick maybe. or maybe blood. ❛ i want... ❜ she considers. wanting is dangerous. wanting isn't survival. wanting is a fantasyland. and girls like selina don't get to indulge in fantasies.

❛ i want to stop surviving. i want to start living. think you can help with that? ❜

she offers him her wrist again.