#against his will and he'd deny being like humans at all. separating himself from humanity but hey! someone forgot that mirrors

[featherymainffins]

Trying to remember where I first encountered humanity as a horror to see if this has a root the same way you can trace literally all of my thirst for fictional characters back to WITCH, but ngl I genuinely cannot remember anything like that.

[mooncleaver]

Tender Mornings

you know it's a good day when the first sight you're greeted with is azriel sprawled out so beautifully on your bed.

ღ pairing: azriel x fem!reader 

ღ warnings: very loosely cannonical pls don't ask i live in my dreams, fluff after fluff in your face, they’re MATED AND MARRIED!! 🥰 touchy azriel

"Good morning, handsome."

Your voice murmurs into Azriel's ears early in the morning, waking him out of his peaceful slumber. It's a quiet day, and definitely not the kind of quiet you'd be alerted by, hackles raised and ears perked for signs of danger. No, this was peace. The birds are chirping and the distant sounds of city bustle has just begun its routine, and you can't help but stare at your mate, the absence of fine lines on his forehead creating one of the most endearing pictures in your mind.

Honestly, you don't know how you've managed to slip out of his iron grip a few hours ago. Even his shadows had been relatively calm. But you pieced it to him finally getting his well-deserved sleep after a grueling week of running around as spymaster for Night Court. He'd almost collapsed right on top of you on the couch the moment he got home at the dead of night, practically purring under you into a dreamless sleep while you ran your hands through his hair. You love it when he's just Azriel with you. Not the deadly shadowsinger with eyes that could kill, but the one snoring himself away in your shared bed, wings splayed out without a care in this world.

As he opens his eyes blearily, he can make out your soft fingers on his face, warm and comforting as your thumb strokes his cheek, squatting down on the floor beside his edge of the bed. It's an awfully good morning whenever you're there to wake him up, which isn't often considering how light of a sleeper Azriel is. It's one of the rare times that he had a fully undisturbed 8 hours of sleep, with no nightmares plaguing his visions. 

He smiles, seeing your face first thing. Gods, he would die over and over again if this was the sight he woke up to each time.

Noticing his expression, your grin widens as you lift your other hand from laying on the sheets, cradling his face and brushing your nose against his, closing your eyes as you breathe in your mate, all the while feeling the bond pulsate like a well-known bliss inside your chest. The golden band on your left ring finger glints wonderfully in the morning sun, the rays illuminating it as if it were a halo wrapped around your skin. The ring is a dainty but simple thing, its surface raised with signature Night Court swirls and stars, the pattern a twin to the bargain marks painting your sternum—the one that you made with Azriel the day of your ceremony with promises to love and protect, even beyond death.

It was an unusual thing to have around in Pythian, considering it was a human tradition. 

You and Azriel picked up the custom after learning it from a mission the two of you went to a long time ago in the human lands. Of course, it wasn't like either of you needed conventional items to show your relationship, knowing the Mother had already blessed you with one of magic, something so deeply sacred that transcended both words and worlds. Still, you thought that the piece of gold represented a beautiful message. It told the story of your battles and triumphs, the countless suffering and victories that got you to where you were, being able to hold the hand of your fated mate, rings clinking and echoing the bells that rung in your mating ceremony. No distance could ever separate you. And most of all, it reminded you every waking day of the way Azriel accepted you as his, as someone who loved him through thick and thin, someone who he would kill and die for.

You were always a victim of sentiment, and neither you nor Azriel could deny the pride the two of you felt seeing each other's rings—the way it felt like a claim over each other, physical proof of your love beyond words.

When Feyre met the Inner Circle for the first time, she became an addition to the people who appreciated the symbol. You were confused at first, wondering why the Cursebreaker was staring at you so deeply. Then you saw the way her eyes never wavered from your hand, the one that was brushing against Azriel's scarred ones as he softly reciprocated up and down against your fingers. It had honestly been centuries since the two of you mated that you sometimes forget you were wearing a ring, the weight of it so familiar that it became a part of your body. 

She'd told you one day how in awe and warm she felt seeing the two of you wearing your rings. It indeed was a rare sight, and in her heart she understood what it meant. Even if she hadn't been familiar with mating bonds, Feyre knew what wedding yourself to someone entailed, and for the one of the first times in a while she had smiled so brightly, sharing a nod that only the three of you seemed to understand.

Funnily enough, Rhys told you that even before she noticed the rings and the affection, Feyre had read Azriel up and down as being utterly in love with you. The Azriel whisperer. Guess it wasn't hard to notice the pure adoration pouring out of his eyes at the mere thought of you.

"I thought I'd let you sleep in for a bit before I go, I know it's been a rough week for you baby."

"I love you." That was the first thing he uttered, overwhelmed with the feeling. He could hear, feel and see your thoughts—ones of your ceremony. You never did block him off from your side of the bond, and it had really only been silent if he was out on a critical mission. Azriel loved it. Every side of you. Whenever you got frustrated, sad or jumping with joy, he celebrated in the knowledge that you were his and his only. That you were healthy and alive through all your emotions. 

Now he basked into the memory of your mating ceremony centuries ago, his own heart following yours as it took him through every single thought and emotion that was felt proudly through your perspective. Cauldron, he felt so loved. Awakened and reborn every time he remembered that day.

I love you too, you uttered through the bond, giggling as he brought you up off the floor, setting you on top of him like you were a piece of paper. His hand on your waist comforted you like no other, the warmth so familiar. The shadows slithered all around you in an almost child-like nature, prodding at your cheeks and shoulders. They were always so delightful around you, pretty much accepting you as their own mistress ever since you and Az mated. You stayed there for a while, laying one side of your head on his chest while you closed your eyes and followed his heartbeat, enjoying the melody it followed. 

The burst of shared happiness in you grew until a smile lit up on your face and you looked up from your position to him, climbing up his body and cradling his head in your arms, squeezing gently as you squealed when he began tickling the sides of your waist. You felt Azriel nosing the skin of your neck, breathing in your scent that had been so beautifully intertwined with his over the years. 

You loved moments like this, when the two of you didn't have to speak out loud, all the feelings simply existing.

After a calming while, you begrudgingly had to get up from your comfort, remembering why you were up early in the first place. Though, you had only made one inch of movement before you felt Az's arms locking themselves behind your back, face attaching back to his rightly earned place on the supple skin of your chest. And in times like these, you truly thanked the mother for blessing you with a mate who rivaled you in clinginess. It was dangerous when Azriel got like this. Difficult was an understatement to how it felt trying to get out of his arms, knowing his Illyrian training and position in Rhysand's court fully translated to his strength and state of his (godly) physique. Even your family had commented on how soft Azriel was when it came to you, now used to the image of the male having his arms and wings—or any part of his body really—against yours at all times.

You gently tapped the top of his ruffled hair, resting your right cheek on it as you urged him to let you go, kissing his head in between. Azriel only mumbled in response—the sound too unintelligible for it to be distinct—and closed his eyes again, ready to enter the realm of dreams.

You laughed breathily, craning your neck up and softly pulling his head back while you dragged your hand down the back of his head, holding a loose grip on his hair. "If you let me go right now I'll be back in your arms sooner than you can blink, Az." He smiled, blinking slowly in thought.

"How ‘bout that, huh? You, me, and fresh bed sheets tonight?" You mumbled, bringing your face close to his until your lips just barely brushed each other.

Now that got him up and alert.

Not even a second later you had taken the chance to jump out of the bed, letting your fingers drag onto the skin of his arms and turning around to get dressed. Azriel shook his head, his breathy chuckle being the only indication of his acceptance of defeat. And acceptance of your offer, of course. 

Leisurely, (as if you didn't have a certain purple-eyed highlord waiting for your arrival) you shrugged your night slip off, leaving you bare all the way except for your sapphire colored lacy underwear, the one your mate loved so much. "Rhys asked me to help him sort out his fucking mounds of paperwork again."

"—honestly Az, he's been dragging me into his office ever since I did it that one time he kept dropping down cold out of exhaustion." You sighed out exasperatedly, crossing your arms as you dug through your giant closet to find an appropriate outfit.

"You know he's just trying to find a way to spend time with you right?" Azriel answered, clearly distracted by your undressing. So easy. It was so easy to hook this man right around your fingers. You could clearly feel his piercing gaze travel up and down your body, tracing all your curves, not leaving a single inch yearning for his attention. You loved it, relished it. It made you feel so beautiful and desired, and your prideful Illyrian never failed to mention it out loud.

"Yeah yeah..." You shook your head affectionately. You weren't actually annoyed at Rhysand and honestly thought this was really sweet. With his mind running around the whole bargain with the Cursebreaker and the dizzying problem of recovering Prythian after what happened for the last 50 years, you knew your long-time friend needed a break, and you'd help him in whatever form, even if it meant going through all of his tedious High Lord work. Plus, you wouldn't miss a single chance to goad him on about the shoe-throwing incident.

You most probably would get wine-tipsy by the end of it. He did have one hell of a drink collection.

Once you found the pieces you were looking for, you grabbed each one in a hanger, walking back over to face Azriel as you held both of them up, asking his opinion for which one to wear. 

He had his arms crossed in front of him and scrunched his eyebrows for one second, raising his eyebrows as he silently nodded his head towards the one on your right. Hm. This was his favorite because it displayed your... assets very well. Typical mate. Winking as a thanks, you put the unused set back, putting on your outfit for the day, all the while he watched with twinkling eyes.

"I mean, couldn't he ask me to go training or something?" Still, you continued your tangent, feeling playful in this happy morning.

"Rhys knows not to train with you because you're lazy." His words hadn't registered in your mind yet because Gods did you love this version of your mate so much. The crumpled bed sheets did absolutely no help covering him up, falling right below his hip while his muscles flexed. His chestnut hair spiked in all kinds of directions, remnants of your own hands playing with the soft strands. The constant darkness that surrounded him only drew your attention to his half-lidded eyes, so sultry without a try. The smug bastard was leaning his head back, both his hands behind them and he knew how much you loved it when he did that—bulging biceps and all. You could just claw at him right now. You were so thankful for his Illyrian DNA.. it was like they were born with divine statures.  

"What. Did you just say to me, Azriel?" You gasped in mock offense, a hand on your chest and all.

He had the audacity to show you his sorry smile, as if it would get him out of every sticky situation (It did. Every time. You were just too prideful to say it) "No, no, don't you smile at me like that."

You held your finger up, trying your best to ignore him. You scoffed. Lazy. Okay well in your defense, Rhysand just fucking loved to rile you up whenever the two of you were in the ring. It almost always made you annoyed to the point that you couldn't look at his face without feeling the urge to punch it. It wasn't like you couldn't take a friendly banter, but he did it for way too long and way too often. That's why you preferred to fight with Azriel or Cassian for that matter.

Seeing you hold your stance, he got up in all his glory, boxers being the only unfortunate thing covering him up. It was purely instinct to look him up and down, savoring the image while you bit your lip. Pride. That’s all he felt whenever you did that.

Azriel walked towards you with open arms, enveloping you in his large frame when he got close enough, one hand going right down its snug place on your ass while the other went behind your head.

He whispered in your ear lovingly, satiating your unserious upset. "I'm very sorry, my beautiful, intelligent, kind and sexy mate."

You could only melt right into his embrace, bringing your arms to coil around his neck as you smiled against it, pressing your lips onto his skin a couple times. His throaty voice right to your ears made you shiver in delight, goosebumps rising in its wake. You really couldn't get enough of this man, his voice, his smile, his scent and his everything. Feeling your love, Azriel responded by holding you tighter against his body, feeling every inch pressing against him.

"So sexy." He murmured, squeezing your ass.

A laugh bubbled deep from your chest and you leant back from your cozy spot, resting your palm against his chest as you smiled up at him, sighing and nodding in delight. "Knew we were mates for a reason."

He joined you a moment later, his laugh vibrating deep within his chest. This on its own could make any fae in Prythian drop down to their knees. Azriel didn't hesitate to kiss you, feeling a type of content that could only be fulfilled by your lips. 

You giggled as you felt his lips trek your jaw, down to your collarbone and trailing your shoulders, all the while letting his enormous wings cocoon the two of you. You were pleased to stay inside the little world you two built, letting the joy simmer between you and your mate until he released the hold he had on you with his wings. Without a single word being spoken, you let him trail you as you made your way towards the generous vanity on the corner of the bedroom, picking out the everyday items that were displayed. And of course, you had to use the perfume that Az got for your 100th anniversary, the bottle no longer the original as you had gone through so much with constant use. 

The male loved whenever you’d wear it,—which was almost everyday—the smell mixed with your own natural one driving him mad, further and further falling for you. And that was exactly his reaction after you gave your wrist a small spritz. Azriel melted deeper into you, if that was even possible with the lack of space between your bodies. 

“Think I’m gonna fly out to the city later. Cass is back from Windhaven.” He murmured into the nape of your neck once you were done, fully wrapping his arms around you and not missing the chance to slip them under your top to cup your breasts at it. You hummed in response, laying your head back and tilting to the side to look at your mate and giving him sweet kisses. 

“Mm, sounds fun. Tell him I said hi—Ooh, can you please bring back those chocolate chip cookies we had last week? They were soo good.” You closed your eyes in the memory, proceeding to pout at the Illyrian while reaching behind to lay one of your hands on the back of his neck.

Azriel hummed knowingly in response. Obviously he’d get them for you. You didn't even have to ask and he would’ve brought them back anyway. “Okay baby, anything you want.”

This man. Everything out of his mouth made you feel so madly in love.

While he swayed your bodies leisurely, you couldn’t help but grin up at him, teasing his behavior as you scratched his scalp to emphasize. “You’re so in love with me, Az.”

“‘Course I am, look at you. Beautiful. So beautiful.” He raised your left hand towards his face, emphasizing the word with a delicate kiss on your knuckles, lips lingering on the finger that adorned your ring. 

He’d do anything and everything for you. Fly to the edge of Prythian and back, steal the moon, burn the world, collect the stars and hang them up again to paint the sky. If you asked he would do it.

What else could you do in response than to lean up and kiss him in return, letting him twist your body to face him while his hands pull at your waistband, caressing in calming motions. “My mate is so sweet.”

“I love you too.”

“Okay okay, I should go now. Rhys will start nagging me about being glued to you and our bed as he always does.” You reluctantly separated yourself from his embrace, rubbing your hands down his arms in consolation for the loss of warmth.

“Been over 400 years now, sweetheart. I don’t think he’s going to stop anytime soon.” And Azriel meant this in an entirely endearing way. What happened under the mountain with that insane bitch Amarantha had truly changed Rhysand. He returned home different, haunted. The first time you heard him playfully tease yours and Azriel’s inseparable nature you had both been stunned, finally seeing the old friend—no, brother—that you knew so well show through the cracks. 

You shook your head in agreement, grinning as you took the chance to bump your noses together. “I’ll see you when I see you, hot stuff. Tell me everything tonight.”

“On our fresh bed sheets?” He smirked playfully, echoing your previous promise as a way to remind you.

“Mhm, exactly on our fresh bed sheets.” You laughed and winked at him, finally turning around and grabbing your trusty dagger by the drawer and sheathing it on your thigh. The weapon never went anywhere without you, even if you were only venturing to the Town House. It was something small to reign Azriel’s constant need of making sure you were safe and armed at all times. 

Your mate followed you out the door of your room, beelining towards the kitchen, no doubt to make himself a nice cup of coffee. 

As your passed him by the isle, you gave him one last goodbye kiss, throwing your head back in laughter at the (soft) slap on your ass on your way.

The minute you opened the door to his large office, Rhysand had paused, nose up and muttered with a teasing smile, “Gods, you reek of Illyrian.”

“Shut the fuck up, Rhys.”

AAAH! guys im insanely back from writing hiatus after like a year. This is fucking surreal and also im so sorry to my friends that i abandoned.. yall… ily and my messages are open 

On another note, i am glad to start it all up again with an azriel piece. Despite loving his character since 2021, ive never written for him but i got inspired after reading a terribly sweet soldier boy fic lol.

I really hope that this story, in all aspects, is okay! I feel very rusty

masterlist

dividers credit @rookthornesartistry @chachachannah @dollywons

(also if you see this thank you GWEN for convincing me to post again)

[aobabes]

I've noticed that Clear gets beat up a lot in his route. Aside from the Clearao slapstick comedy and the android/human love story + angst, the rest of it was Toue indirectly abusing Clear; he allowed his associates to beat up Clear and to pour sulfuric acid on his face and programed the alphas to beat up Clear multiple times and each time it's just uncomfortably long? And he's incapable of fighting back every time unless Aoba is in immediate danger. And it's only when he destroys his key lock, which directly leads to his death, that he's able to defend himself. I love Clear's route, but I have to always skip those parts because it just gives me the ick. Speaking of things that give me the ick, I don't think anyone has talked about this throughout my time being in the dmmd fandom. In his bad end, Clear is enforcing the trauma Toue gave him onto Aoba as a means to make them more alike.

When you put into perspective the way Clear is talking about how Toue makes him feel and how he can't fight back against him, you start to realize that Clear is basically treating Aoba like how Toue impliedly treats him and his brothers. You can tell because the way Aoba feels about Clear's treatment of him is exactly how Clear feels about Toue.

Clear wants to make Aoba like him, like how he sees himself, like how Toue's abuse has made him perceive himself. He takes Aoba's sight to remove his window to the outside world and to deny him of any unnecessary knowledge because all Aoba needs to know is Clear. He removes Aoba's limbs to take away his sense of freedom, his free will, and to make it impossible for him to escape. He removes Aoba's vocal cords because, to Clear, he doesn't need something that allows him to make any choices and he's quite literally silencing him. Since being reprogrammed, for two months all Clear knew was Toue and the inner walls of Oval Tower before he finally granted him permission to see Aoba. Clear, being a machine created by Toue, has no freedom, no free will, and cannot escape considering he's physically incapable of defying Toue. Clear was never allowed a choice, given a say in anything, nor allowed to voice what he wanted, unless Toue approved of it first. Clear is taking Toue's place whilst Aoba has taken Clear's place.

Clear wants to make Aoba share the same pain he's endured, and more than anything he wants Aoba to be a "living doll" like he is. He wants to turn Aoba into a mirrored image of his trauma so that he doesn't feel completely alone.

Even Clear begging Aoba to say his name and wanting to hear his voice in the r-word scene mirrors Toue being so obsessed with Clear denying him as his master and wanting to know why. Clear knew that if he applied enough force/pain onto Aoba that he'd eventually give him what he wanted in that scene. That always stood out to me because Clear is an android and androids are learning ais given human-looking models. Clear's grandpa and Aoba taught him how to be human and what it means to have emotions, to be alive. Toue reprogramming him, taking all of that away from him, what does he have left to learn anything from other than Toue's abuse? How else would he know that denying Aoba the hope of ever escaping, the freedom of choice, and the free will to fight back would eventually make him give up and submit to him after being reunited with him after two whole months of being separated? Who else would teach him that, if not his master, Toue?

I know this isn't my usual dmmd rambling post, but I can't only talk about the positives of dmmd without bringing up the bad ends sometimes. Because they're unfortunately just as beautifully written as the good ends. Taking a character like Clear, who's entire character arc was about claiming free will, the freedom of choice, and what it means to live only to witness all of that taken away from him in the form of watching him victimize his lover the same way he was victimized really portrays abusive power dynamics, Stockholm syndrome, unhealthy coping mechanisms, and trauma responses so perfectly.

[babyloncurse]

ABOUT CARSYN | All that shimmers in this word is sure to fade.

CHARACTER BASICS

NAME: Carsyn Rothschild

AGE: Twenty-Six

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cismale, He/Him

FACE CLAIM: Tom Holland

EYE COLOR: Brown

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′8″

DATE OF BIRTH: September 7th, 1978

AGE: Twenty-Six

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

LEVEL OF EDUCATION: Bachelor's in Communications with a Minor in Advertisement & English from Columbia University

HOMETOWN: Brooklyn, New York

RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION: Jewish

OCCUPATION: Assistant at Kiss 89.5, secret show host on Kiss 89.5 at 3 AM

CHARACTER HISTORY [TW: MENTION OF ABDUCTION/DISAPPEARANCE]

Before his disappearance from the face of the world a year ago, Carsyn was, in fact, just another golden boy— at least that's what everyone thought. But not all that glitters is gold, and Carsyn finally learned that when he was accepted into an elite academic society at Columbia University. He'd been an anomaly as he spoke the part, held the curl of lip just right, but he hardly looked it. Carsyn's saving grace was how he somehow demanded attention without ever being seen in the back of the classroom. His voice called out from the farthest row, a squint away, seemingly the only one with reason.

He'd been taken under the wing of his peers under the impression that they'd be his guardians. Known to be quiet, he found somewhere to stand and be heard. They made Carsyn feel as though he was heaven sent and angel willed, but it would be a hard fall from grace after that. No matter how hard they tried to dress him up, there were parts of Carsyn that they couldn't deny could never be reassembled to fit in with him. Towards the end of his college days, he had scraped himself of every gold flake they pressed against him like it was grime. Many say it was maturity that got to him and why he abandoned the comfort of his so-called brothers, while others believe to this day that maybe they realized Carsyn wasn't as special as they anticipated. As for Carsyn, he believes it was just a matter of time before he'd be another fool to false fortune.

Feeling out of place his third year, Carsyn's sister had agreed to meet with him and venture out into the city together. They made plans to have lunch, he'd finally show her around after making a point of coming home and never going farther than Franklin street again. His life at the university and at home were separate. They would have to reschedule for the next day, and then maybe the day after, as she never made it to campus and no one had been able to trace her down since.

Her disappearance took a toll on Carsyn that those around him found difficult to handle, and they took a step back. His grades began to slip, and every promise he had fumbled around him. The position he was promised at one of the most sought after news station was compromised. However, he was able to prevail and graduated but he'd once again start at the bottom of a ladder. While he had a degree that most didn't, he lost the drive to try harder early on and for the last four years he's stayed as an assistant.

PRESENT DAY

At a Christmas Party at the station a year ago, a drunken Carsyn climbed up to the broadcast wing of the building to recover. Panic had settled in, and once more, that feeling of being out of place and stuck struck again. He had signed on to the broadcast after hours and sent a message to his sister if she was out there about how he felt and ultimately talked himself down. The message had resonated with many listeners to the point that a few had asked the next day while calling in if they had ever resolved the caller's request believing that Carsyn had just been someone who dialed in. He'd get on every night and talk into the void of listeners out there hoping that it was his sister.

He ended up building a reputation for himself as Dorian Thomas, a radio show host after hours that spoke about his own worries and life and many related to it. He found resolve, and sometimes he didn't, and it was the most human anyone felt listening to anyone on air.

The station has yet to know who is on, as Carsyn has burned all of his recordings and even changed his voice on air. No one has linked him to the persona, and the radio station's efforts vary as they get more listeners than they'd care to admit.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

Co-workers

Roommate

Someone who knows he's Dorian Thomas

Childhood friends such as friends from secondary school in Brooklyn or people he took the subway to go see across town in secret

People he went to school with at Columbia University, including those in the Brotherhood

[izzysarchivedblogs]

-Chinhands- Izzzzzzzzyyyy tell me about the time Clint realized he had caught the DEEP feelings for Peter.

mel has unlocked my secret superpower; i love writing /things/ for the besties, for the ship partners. love when im given permission to just write.

HE FELL IN LOVE AND NEVER GOT OUT.

If there was one thing that he had the capacity for, that he always had, was LOVE. From the dawn of time, he would fall and than fall. HEART NEVER RECOVERING. That his heart is scarred, battered, holding onto the first loves, the old loves, the feelings that never could be stamped out than killed.

SOME TIMES, HE WOULD THINK THAT HIS HEART SHOULD BURST. That it would fill to capacity and than leave him there with nothing else; having less than a heart to live by, to live with because all the love has taken up the space and drained out.

It was love that first led him astray, his heart pulling him aside and he almost did anything for her. WOULD STILL DO ANYTHING FOR HER. Even though he know he'd be poisoned, knew he'd be burned.

CAN'T LET A LOVE GO.

Clint could fall in love in nine days and see eternity in that, live in that love; when he was IN LOVE it became the air that he breathed; and than separation, and divorce. THAT LOVE LEFT ITS MARKS, still got sore on Valentine's Day, on October 12th. His calendar may as well less days in the for HOW MUCH LOVE, HOW MUCH HIS HEART held onto, that it would CONSUME DAYS with meaning to him.

Every time that he said he would give it up; give up on love and admit to his mistakes. HIS LUCK WAS BAD, ALL GOOD THINGS COME TO AN END. When would he ever learn that, yet it took only a little for him to give, for feeling to slip away from his grasp, through his fingers and became too big to contain, fill his heart up again and became the air.

Kiss Peter Parker started with desire; started with the quips and flirting; man to match his own tongue. IT WAS EASY. Running into each other in Avengers spaces, on the streets when the webbed hero strayed into Brooklyn or Clint's own work (the stuff he shouldn't be doing), or his work with the Thunderbolts took him all over the five boroughs. A FRIEND, LONG TIME AND DEAR.

That's a friendship that he should feed; did feed, and than there is that fact that he's attractive, admirable, and a dork. WITTY, BRAVE, AND CARING. His type to the T.

How things went on there; it was easy, made sense for Clint to fall, to pull the man aside (divorced now too, and a dad ⸺ KNEW THAT PAIN, AND HAD SOMETHING TO ENVY). It was easy, to grab Peter, push him against the door frame and kiss him.

FALL INTO BED. That was easy; and than it kept happening, and Clint knew what a mistake that'd take on his heart, and there's dates and Clint's already too far gone. BOYFRIEND.

What a fool he had been to think avoiding commitment was a problem; what a fool he had been with Jessica Drew when he knew what he felt, knew what she wanted but knew how he got, thought that he wouldn't be hurt again and than . . .

HE'S GOT A BOYFRIEND NOW, AND HE THINKS HE'S NEAT.

Clint likes him, adores him, and finds himself thinking about him; heart filling with Peter Parker, Spiderman, and making room for little Miss Mayday too. KNOWS THAT'S PETER'S NUMBER ONE, and how he understands that, knows that and that's what only gives him cause to adore him more, admire him more.

he can't say it first, because to say it first would absolutely admit to consuming him.

YET HE CAN'T DENY IT; not when Clint's laid out in a hospital bed. Doesn't even remember when he went down, almost vaguely doesn't remember why. ALL TOO HUMAN, FLUNG ACROSS A STREET, BUILDING FALLING. Thinks perhaps he tried to stand, get up, and ignore the mortal human part of him, he was a hero but there was nothing super about him; nothing that couldn't be achieved by others if they worked hard enough.

Awake, and there is he; the look in his eyes says it all, and than he remembers being awake. FOR A MOMENT. The other says it first, i love you, knows why he would have (look at where they were), and he was feeling it too. DOESN'T SAY IT. Takes his hand, kisses his hand, IT'S OKAY, and into surgery.

WEEKS AGO NOW. He may have said it back; because he can't let Peter dangle on the thread, alone in saying that feeling. It's not to say that he didn't mean it, each time that he had said it, it was meant; but perhaps, there is truth in saying, that it was said for the other first; to not be alone and know, let the other be happy in that love feeling.

The apartment is empty; he wakes up naked, with a bite mark seen in the mirror. A smile to his lips as he remembers the morning, Peter's whining because he had to get up, appointments and than he'd picking up Mayday for the weekend. It's not his Bed-Stuy apartment, to which that in and of itself, should tell how deeply he was already in.

Clint didn't stay at others' places, make homes there, unless he was serious, always to leave early or bring them back to his home (so that only they took up space there). WHEN HE STARTS TO WANT TO TAKE UP SPACE ELSEWHERE. Bed-Stuy, the apartment building, that was his home and it had space there for Peter, for Mayday too, and to share his home, to make adjustments that asked for Peter to be more permanent.

Deep. Deep. DOOMED.

His gear was donned, not the usual uniform that would put on to please the mayor's office, with which he did, at least, have his badge. Loved the way that others took insult to him calling the thunderbolts badge A BROOCH. He cared about this Thunderbolts, but there will always be some insult that this is what this team name had become.

He'd have to fit in his four hour work out regime later, or count going on patrol (sorry that he was late and hadn't checked in) as the work out. Skipping that because he let himself sleep in, mumbled on Peter's lips to turn off the alarm please. SPOILED. DOOMED. Slept in, and decides to leave a made sandwich in the fridge with a note for Peter that he'd catch him later, and give Mayday his love too.

It's on a call, checking where he was and America's pulling him through a portal, to join her in dealing with a problem all that way out in Staten Island, off of the Lower Bay. Clint's certain that he was going to be taking a swim in the Hudson, one way or another.

It's while pulling his bow string back, heels digging into the concrete, sending a shock arrow that his mind does wander to a though, to a feeling. THE FEELING. He had been in Peter Parker's apartment, naked because he had had a good night, and left his boyfriend (as they were using labels) food because he wants to make sure he's fed, a note along too which he thinks they were singlehandedly keeping the Post-It note company alive as everything went digital, and thinking about what Peter was probably doing now, out with little Miss Mayday strapped to his chest.

HE'S NOT DISTRACTED ON THE JOB, BY THE WAY. Although, his thoughts do get interrupted when he does up in the Hudson, and America is laughing at him like the twenty-something brat that she is, NOT HELPING HIM OUT, making him swim to a boat. SORRY, OFFICIAL THUNDERBOLTS BUISNESS, YOUR SHIP IS MINE NOW.

It's at that thought that he's imaging Peter and Mayday, out on a walk or at a park, the little girl tagging along with his boyfriend (tingle in his goddamn toes at the thought) on an errands run. Even if they did grab lunch, his sandwich will not go to waste, because Clint doesn't think he has witnessed the man not inhale any food placed in front of him. His sandwich not gone to waste.

Peter said it first, and he may have said it back; meant it back, but than HOW DID THE HEART SPEAK? In this moment, upon which, he was twisting his body around, taking a punch than giving back twice as hard; he knows that he hasn't really SAID IT. Not to the extent that his heart has been filled, hasn't spoken to the depth of love that he was feeling, knowing he was DOOMED (love always hurt; luck always ran out; good things always end ⸺⸻ nature of the bartont curse), that he was in. COMMITTED.

It's that moment that as he takes a breath, hears his name shouted, and feels the space that Peter takes up. He should say it, as much as he could about what was felt; realizing in this moment that he was deep in his feelings for Peter. Spiderdork shaped space in his chest, filled his lungs with air ⸻ DOOMED. ANOTHER LOVE TO HOLD. Never to fall out; even when this ends, but Clint believed in love, chances, and now he would be in this as long as he possibly could. Nothing lasts forever; but forbid him from ever wanting this relationship he had now to end.

No hope for him; no mercy ever on his heart. HE WAS IN LOVE.

❝ YOU COULD HAVE CAUGHT ME! ❞ He bitches at America when she's punching a portal back to Manhattan to the TBolts office, and he will complain to Helen if she has any extra work for him that will stray lateinto evening because he had to cook his boyfriend dinner.

HELEN, YOU GOTTA UNDERSTAND, HE'S BECOME CO-DEPENDENT. HE'LL STARVE WITHOUT ME.

Yeah, okay, Clint; SURE. That's what it was, is. Peter will starve, and not you even if you saw him last night.

[manufactoredxbyxdesign]

"..There's nothing funny about any of this, Albert." So rarely he uses his given name that it gives him pause, yet it seemed fitting all things considered to utter it now. Maybe it would speak to the seriousness of the moment. He could see from his reaction alone that he wasn't denying Billy's words anymore and yet he was still fighting against them. Ironically, the younger man understood, seeing what stood in front of you and denying it with every fiber of your being. This wasn't his first forbidden love. Wesker wasn't the first man whom he had fallen for slowly over time, the physical and the emotion tangling inside his heart and mind, until he's too far on the other side of it to see sense or reason. Love was a trap and he's been once again hopelessly caught off guard, left bloody and wounded. "I have." He slowly moves a few inches closer, invading his personal space as he's want to do. He doesn't want him spiraling, to be consumed with this. "..Don't believe me, that's okay, but know it changes nothing. I love you."

God how he still hates the betrayal of those three words.

The longer he stands there, the tighter the coil inside of him seems to wind. Although he would like to turn heel and leave - fabricate some sort of an excuse that would allow him to create physicals distance between Billy immediately thwarts the consideration. When he steps closer, he emits a low but noticeable hiss. Defensive somehow, as if it were an argument exchanging between them. And not...well, this.

He has not felt this discomfort in a long time. The years of tunneled focus - and of keeping himself as separated from any semblance he can of human-like sentiment makes the sensation more unnerving.

How does he even answer?

"I-" The answer hangs like a tightly wound violin string. He watches Billy cautiously, wondering if the phrasing alone has thrown him off this time. Nobody before ever said this would demanding a return of the same affection in their next breath. Does it truly change nothing? Maybe. Maybe not. He was fond of Billy. But it didn't feel the way he'd heard others describe strong affection.

"You know that I cannot return that sentiment, right?" He presses. steadying his voice as he finally finds equilibrium. "Casting aside my humanity has allowed me to shed all of the vices that go with it - as well as the sentimental thoughts." He scowls, unsure if that made much sense. "If your expectation is that I will feel the same some day - you should know that is not likely."

[xxerxesx]

valamirx​:

-

“Don’t worry, I remember,” Valamir pointed out, “back then the whole camp could hear you squealing into Romulus’ taint.” Xerxes sudden transformation made the lycan think that the man had had enough, that he was done with their little conversation after Valamir had done nothing but disappoint him. To his surprise, and interest, the triumvir reformed behind him further into the alleyway. Slippery prick. Xerxes went further in, but Valamir just followed him, closing in, grin wolfish and wide. “Since when do vampires and lycans need a reason - ? I disgust you, don’t I?” He laughed, crudely and harshly - more bark than humour. “I’m out here alone for probably the same reason you are: you and I aren’t like the others.” Valamir pointed out, Xerxes’ mind had to be chaotic at best, torn between what he wanted to do and what Romulus would want him to do - ego separated entirely.  “For wolves, it’s better to be in than out, my best chance is with this pack - most of them were born into this, or they’d been turned from human into what they are now. I’m not like them: I’ll never be like them, and I don’t want to be.” If the former druid had it his way then he’d have returned to his former status, immortality and reincarnation: a keeper. Instead he’d been ripped from his life on the apparent cusp of the druid’s resurgence. Valamir couldn’t help but find the whole thing grating, it made the beast under his skin itch like at any moment he might tear right through. Valamir stood over the other again as he backed him against the nearest dumpster, with his tits if need be. “You and I are the same.” Xerxes was gonna love that. “I just know who I am.”

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Xerxes could neither confirm nor deny Romulus was the vampire in question. After all, the magister had a reputation to uphold so it wasn’t like Xerxes could just be open about whose taint was always on his breath. “Oh my god, you’re so jealous! You wish it was your taint I was into, don’t you? You want to be so far down my throat that—” It was a lot easier to talk big to Valamir when there was space between them, but with the beast was actively stalking toward him Xerxes found it difficult to keep his thoughts straight. He was trapped between a rock-hard body and ... whatever he'd gotten walked back against. Xerxes wasn’t aware of much beyond Valamir’s muscles again. “I-I mean yeah, you reek. You have no idea how bad wolves smell, but I’m not scared of you or your teeth or your veiny biceps or your huge rack or...” He was rambling and stammering, sensing the danger but not doing anything to avoid it. It was just his complex feelings about being trapped against a dumpster, something in Valamir’s words struck a surprising chord with Xerxes. He understood. Wanting the benefits of inclusion but still feeling apart from everyone else was exactly how he felt in the Pluto Palace. He spent too long functioning as Romulus’ Speaker that Xerxes was afraid the only way to feel like one of them was to change himself entirely, and he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted. “I know who I am,” he counters regardless, refusing to give Valamir the satisfaction of confirming his statements. “Why would you say that? I am Xerxes, I work for Romulus. I owe him much and I will be loyal to him no matter what.” Though even saying this felt more like muscle memory than expressing a genuine thought.

[hexpea]

Ch. 13 - Mine

AN: Back to the present with this chapter!

"I do remember," Chisaki answered you, "he had killed your father. And you loved him."

"Well, I wasn't in love with him," you blushed and looked away, "but we grew up together, so being close was warranted."

Chisaki stared at you as if he didn't believe your answer one bit. "So you saw him last night," he started, "what happened?" His tone allowed you to read him like an open book. It was obvious he was worried you might still be in love with Shigaraki. Deep down he didn't want to admit it, but he had figured you'd see him and he hoped that it would quell any remaining feelings so the two of you could grow close without obstacles.

You gave him a warm smile before answering. "Not much happened, he was asking about you. So I told him that you were genuine with your goals. The only thing was that he was worried that I was your guinea pig which I quickly denied. And he knows about us...he guessed it himself."

"Was that everything?" He looked a bit relieved as his hand came up to pull down his mask. "Does he...have any lingering feelings? Did he try to pull something?" You slightly stiffened at this question as he anxiously awaited your answer.

"No, it doesn't seem like it," you shook your head, putting on your best face to hide any sort of tone that indicated you were lying. All the while, intense images of the kiss flashed through your mind and the guilt of lying began pressing on your shoulders.

"In that case, should we have our talk," he reached out and pushed hair behind your ears, his feathery light touch building goosebumps against your sensitive skin.

You swallowed hard, "about us?"

"Yes," he gave a warm smile that you could see now, "about us." He closed the gap so you were forced to look up at him as he lovingly looked down. The palm that had brushed hair back now fell warmly upon your cheek, the latex the only thing separating your flesh.

"What about us?" Your little smile began to grow as your cheeks flushed. You had been waiting for this moment and you wanted him to be the one to bring it up.

"I want to make things more official," his expression was so loving. Only you had seen this side of Chisaki. "You've known I've had feelings for you for some time and we've been meeting with each other every night for the past month. It's about time I ask you to be mine. So...will you be mine?"

"As long as you get to be mine," you smirked and leaned on one leg, arms now crossed, "Kai."

He smirked back and slowly came down, pressing his smooth lips against your own. It was an incredible change of pace from the rough, chapped lips you had kissed the night prior. You tried to swallow that memory as the kiss continued, Chisaki's arms pulling your waist close and spinning you so that you were now facing the desk he had been working at.

In one motion, he lifted you by your bum and placed you on the desk, forcing his way between your legs as you tried to keep your torso up from the pressure of his kiss. You whimpered as his tongue forced its way past your lips, a flame beginning to burn brightly within you fueled by your blood pressure.  His hands were firmly planted beside your thighs as his dominating figure continued to take over you, your own hands tightly gripping his black button-up.

The two of you had been so in the moment, neither had realized the door had creaked open and Irinaka's tiny figure waddled in. He made sure to keep his distance from Hiru, knowing if he got too near he'd wind up in his human state which meant tearing his uniform and standing there naked.

"Overhaul," he piped up in his nasal voice. He seemed completely unfazed by what he walked in on.

"What, Mimic?!" Chisaki shouted, slamming his fist on the wooden desk and glaring back at him.

"There's a call for you," he continued, again thinking nothing of the sight of his disheveled boss. "It's Shigaraki Tomura from the League of Villains. He said he'd give you his answer from the other day."

"Tell him to come here," Chisaki growled, fists tightening with irritation. You could still feel his erection, steady against his pelvis. He was pissed that he was interrupted...like some kind of feral animal. You blushed and covered your mouth with a hand to keep from chuckling at this realization. "Tell him to come here tomorrow evening. We can discuss it then, give him an escort."

"He's insistent that you speak with him..." Irinaka's voice finally wavered for a moment. "I think you should answer...you killed one of his members and took another's arm so I'm afraid if you don't answer we would have blown our last shot."

"Fine," he hissed and angrily pulled himself away from you, having no shame in adjusting himself in front of Irinaka as he stormed out of the room.

Irinaka took a second to look at you and then back at the empty door that Chisaki had left through, connecting the dots of what you had been doing and rushing out and making an embarrassed wheeze when he finally did so.  With their absence, you were able to let out a bit of laughter. You loved how frustrated Chisaki would get when he was interrupted with you.

You unfortunately weren't able to continue your "meeting" with Chisaki as he had gotten too busy, but it felt good to finally have something solid going on between you. You couldn't keep him off your mind the entire day...and night as you slipped your hand under the covers.

You were expected at the meeting with Shigaraki, something you didn't look forward to. You couldn't deny the emotional conflict you had felt when seeing him that other night. You just had to keep reminding yourself that you had put your past behind you and that Shigaraki was a murderer...something you wanted no part in.

Unfortunately, you found out your presence was needed a bit too late, entering a few moments after the pair had begun their meeting. You appeared in the doorway behind Shigaraki who hadn't noticed your presence. Kurono stood behind him while Irinaka sat on the armrest of the sofa beside Chisaki. You made your way around the room until you stood behind Chisaki in your uniform as protocol called for.

"I was made to walk in circles underground for thirty minutes," Shigaraki complained before he acknowledged your presence, his voice muffled by his father's hand. "I'm not an ant... Are all yakuza strongholds like this?" You noticed that even after all these years he still had a childlike demeanor about him. It caused you to lightly smile from behind your mask.

"We don't know who's watching or from where, nor do we know what our guests are thinking," Chisaki answered, leaning on his knees and looking forward with a sinister gaze. "A number of underground routes lead here. This reception room is also one of our hidden underground rooms." Shigaraki gave a quick look at you through the fingers on his face as you stood behind the sofa. His body was completely stiff and uncomfortable as he tried to focus on Chisaki's words.

"We've been able to survive until now because of small details like this," Irinaka proudly spoke up. "Anyway! What you said the other day over the phone...you meant it, right? That you'd join us as long as certain conditions were met?"

"Don't interpret it in your favor," Shigaraki mumbled as his body relaxed to your presence. You could just barely make it out through the goggles on your face, but you saw a single red eye staring directly at you. He looked away again and tossed his foot on the glass table with confidence. "You guys want the name of our League of Villains, we want to increase our strength. Our needs coincide."

Chisaki sighed with his head now leaned against his palm in exasperation, "put your foot down, the table'll get dirty."

"Will you put your foot down, please? That's what you should be saying, young head. You should really be bowing to me." Shigaraki taunted. If it weren't for the palm in front of his lips, you knew he'd be giving a cocky smile.

"Tomura," you spoke, your voice also muffled by the mask, "be kind." You hoped that with whatever feelings were left between you that he'd listen. It was clear that you would be the arbiter here.

He glared up at you for a moment, contemplating if he wanted to listen. He eventually did, dragging his foot from the table but continuing his rant. "First, we won't put ourselves under you. We'll move however we want. Half--in other words, a joint partnership. If that's what this is, then we'll help."

"So those are the conditions?"

"One more thing. That plan you said you had," he pointed toward Chisaki who seemed to be growing more impatient by the second. "Tell me what it is. That's a reasonable condition. I want to consider whether or not there's merit in lending you our name. For that matter," he began reaching into his trench coat pocket for something to which Kurono quickly reacted with a pistol against his temple and Mimic with a freed arm to defend their boss.

In the same blink of an eye, you tore off your mask in preparation to stop either of them - just barely being able to make out Kurono's eyes through his goggles.

"Hari...did you not check the contents of his pockets before bringing him down here?" You asked seriously, eyes wide with fury as they pierced Kurono's through the foggy glass. "What do you have to be worried about?" Kurono looked as if he were about to throw a tantrum as you used his given name.

"He's doing too much of what he wants," Kurono gave no fear as he stared back, pistol unmoving. "And who do you think you are, princess? Just because you're sleeping with our boss doesn't mean you get any special permissions."

Chisaki was about to speak in your defense, but Shigaraki was the first to speak. "Who do you think you are? You took our our Hikiishi without any losses to your side. Plus the added value of Mr. Compress' arm. We're still uneven. If we don't get some concessions from you, then it won't be worth it to us."

"Stay back, Chrono, Mimic," Chisaki calmly instructed. Kurono quickly put away his gun without any hesitation. "He came all this way with his offer. Let's hear him out until the end."

"I have some idea of what plan you have," Shigaraki pulled out the small, red bullet from his pocket. Its needle glistened under the light. "It has something to do with this, right? The removal of quirks...at least from what Y/N told me the other night." His eyes flickered to yours again, how direct contact without your mask.

"You spoke with him?!" Kurono nearly shouted, thinking the Hassaikai had been betrayed. "Did you know about this, Overhaul?!" He was clearly trying to throw you under the bus, but, as always, he was unsuccessful.

"Of course," Chisaki answered calmly, "Wraith is allowed to come and go as she pleases. It only makes sense for her to visit an old friend." You couldn't see it but you knew Kurono was raging from behind his mask. It was especially clear thanks to his now straightened and stiff posture. He didn't want to question Chisaki, but it was becoming more and more certain that you'd become his anesan whether he'd be okay with it or not.   "It's true we're developing a solution against what you label quirks."

"Wraith?" Shigaraki ignored Chisaki's comments and used a mocking tone as he looked up at you. "Did you come up with that?" He looked at you but you only gave a small frown and let Chisaki answer.

"It suits her quirk," Chisaki mumbled, lowering his brow in frustration, "and protects her identity."

"I'm not calling her that," Shigaraki argued like a child.

"You don't have to," you grumbled and rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as Chisaki pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Going back to business," Chisaki interrupted before you two could go further, "give us Kurogiri or Togo, and maybe Bubaiwagara. If we let you move freely, it might be troubling for us."

"They're all useful guys," Shigaraki contemplated while scratching slowly at his neck, "trying to reduce our movements, huh? They're cornerstones to our operation. Like I'd give you so many..."

"Let's build our trust," Chisaki mumbled, "right now there's still ill will between us. You've learned everything about my plan. Next, it's your turn. Your members are important to you, right?"

Shigaraki sat in silence, again scratching at his neck and making a gurgling sound of distaste as he did so. He looked up at you again as you kept a straight face. Working with Chisaki meant one thing for him: getting close to you again.

"Fine," he finally conceded. "I'll have them start with you next week."

"Great," Chisaki came to a steady stand and walked around the sofa to your side, "then it's settled." You kept your eyes steadily on Shigaraki as you had been but your focus wavered as Chisaki left a warm, lingering peck on your exposed cheek - the flesh reddening with heat. "Come Chrono, Mimic. Escort him out, Wraith."

You stayed behind as the three of them exited the room, leaving you completely alone with Shigaraki.

"Just friends, huh?" Shigaraki leaned back on the sofa and crossed his arms, putting his feet back on the coffee table. He also removed the hand on his face so you could properly see his expression which was a proud smirk.

"Come on," you sighed, removing the hood of your cloak and began walking toward the door.

[multiverseforger]

Chris Powell was the teenage son of Mike Powell, a cop, and Grace Powell, a District Attorney. Following his younger twin brothers, Jon and Jason, to the abandoned amusement park across from his home, Chris discovered his father taking a bribe from mob boss Phillipe Bazin.[5][6]

While trying to escape with his brothers from Bazin's henchmen, Chris discovered an amulet that transposed him into the Darkhawk armor. When his father disappeared after Chris saw him, he swore to use the Darkhawk armor as an "edge against crime". Darkhawk's powers included a force blast which emanated from the amulet on his chest, a force shield from the same amulet, a claw cable which could serve as both a Wolverine-like claw, and a grapple cable, glider wings and later flight capability, enhanced vision and strength, and an image underneath the Darkhawk helmet which served to frighten and distract his enemies.[citation needed]

He often teamed up with Spider-Man. As a sometime member of the New Warriors, he befriended Speedball, Nova, and later, Turbo.[citation needed] During his tenure as a crime fighter, he was often trying to rescue his father, mother, or other family members.[citation needed]

He developed quite a roster of enemies: he would fight villains such as Hobgoblin and Tombstone, who were seeking to take his amulet, with the latter succeeding. He was extremely weakened and even dying from having the amulet removed, but still able to use all of his powers except for turning back into human form to heal. Once he retrieved the amulet he was able to put it back in his chest and fully heal. Darkhawk had 2 separate encounters with Venom, who felt that Chris was good natured and held back whereas Darkhawk was greatly opposed to Venom's ideals and way of handling crime, and swore to bring him to justice, despite Venom offering to be his ally. Lodestone: a magnetically-powered villain developed by Bazin, was often pitted against Darkhawk. He also fought against some who would later ally with him, such as Portal, a teleporting mutant who killed another Darkhawk and stole parts of his armor, Savage Steel, which had been created by the secret police cabal that Chris' dad had been a member of, and Damek, a mercenary sent from the future to kill Darkhawk.[citation needed]

Chris learned that his armor was actually an autonomously existing android armor, one of five commissioned by an alien mob lord named Dargin Bokk, being held in a sentient spaceship, Ocsh, in Null Space. When Chris grasped the amulet, it actually caused his body to switch places with that of the Darkhawk body, although his mind remained in control of the 'replacement' body.[citation needed]

After helping them several times, Darkhawk was brought aboard the Avengers West Coast as a reserve member, but saw little action with them after becoming a member, because they were dissolved shortly thereafter. Nonetheless, he did at least start a lasting friendship with Spider-Woman.[citation needed]

Darkhawk 2.0

Later, Chris and Darkhawk actually split into two separate entities, with the armor being updated into the "2.0" form, as it was informally known. This advanced form of armor gave Darkhawk new powers, such as the ability to form a force shield encasing his body, an actual "Hawk" construct (a gigantic force-field shaped like a hawk), and the ability to summon weapons from Osch. Darkhawk 2.0 and Chris re-merged, with the prospect of no longer needing to use the amulet in order to switch bodies.[citation needed]

Loners

Chris joined a self-help group of ex-teenage-super-heroes, the Loners, who admitted to being addicted to their powers. Members included: Turbo, Green Goblin IV (Phil Urich), Ricochet, Lightspeed and later Spider-Woman III (Mattie Franklin). The group was hired by a mysterious benefactor, later revealed to be Rick Jones, to track down the Runaways in Los Angeles.

Powell displayed trouble controlling his anger in his Darkhawk persona, leading to a short skirmish with Turbo. Dismayed with himself, Powell admitted to his teammates that he suffered a nervous breakdown.[7] Powell decided to never turn into Darkhawk again, but this decision did not last long, as shortly thereafter the group battled the notorious Avengers villain, Ultron. Darkhawk delivered the final blow, using a darkforce blast at point blank range to blow Ultron to pieces.[8]

The Loners continued their meetings and Chris was drawn back into heroics by Spider-Woman and made an enemy of MGH manufacturers who had abused Mattie Franklin and the woman running them as well as Nekra, a woman who was getting rich by selling her bodily fluids to them. Chris then got his Darkhawk amulet stolen from him temporarily by an unbalanced Phil Urich but was able to regain it with help from the group.[9]

Secret Invasion

Having registered with the government, Darkhawk was assigned to the position of security chief at Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S.. During the Skrull invasion, he worked alongside his old teammate Nova against the Deviant Skrulls.[10]

Fraternity of Raptors

The being known as Talon came to Earth, and offered to teach Chris how to control his amulet. They went to the Negative Zone to fight Annihilus. There, Chris bonded fully with his amulet. This allowed him to learn that the Fraternity of Raptors that Talon represented was evil and that the Fraternity had created the amulets. Evilhawk had been a hallucination caused by his mind, which had been unable to process all the information the Amulet gave him. The Raptor, known as Razor, took over Chris' body and assassinated Lilandra.[citation needed]

Later he fought Gyre another member of the Fraternity of Raptors that had been recruited as a pawn of the Sphinx. Darkhawk, Nova, Black Bolt, Mr. Fantastic and Namorita defeated the Sphinx and his pawns. Darkhawk was able to separate Gyre from his Kree host by using the same technique Talon used to separate Chris from Darkhawk and bring back Razor.[citation needed]

Avengers Arena

Arcade kidnapped Chris and fifteen teenage heroes and brought them to Murderworld, a secluded island where no one could find them, and forced them to fight each other to the death, and only the last man standing within thirty days would be allowed to leave.[11] One night, he was attacked and had his amulet removed, leaving his fate unknown.[12] His amulet would get passed around by others locked in Murderworld.[13]

Chris was later shown in a coma-like state in a strange tank along with the deceased heroes, where Arcade appeared to be healing him. Waking up, he located Arcade and knocked him out. He later reclaimed his amulet and was among the survivors of the battle.[14]

Marvel Legacy

Powell eventually resurfaced back in New York, set to marry a new fiancée by the name of Miranda Cruz. With whom he'd shared all of his exploits while piloting the sentient automaton known Darkhawk. Nowadays his Amulet has become inert, not so much as even changing when he focuses his thoughts on becoming his alter ego again; but lately has been suffering from nightmares of the Tree of Shadows every time he slept. Following in his father's footsteps, he eventually became an officer of the law at the NYPD. Taking to the same beat Micheal Powell used to back when he was one of the police, he reminisced about how his father would listen to people and remember their names while trying to keep the peace on the streets.

Trying to be the every bit as big a man and a better cop than he was by holding the values he once thought Mike stood for before, Chris found out his father was a corrupt cop. All the while ruminating on whether the world needed him as Christopher Powell, police officer or as the cybernetic hero he once was. While on patrol, dispatch sent out notice of a disturbance at Wonderland Amusement Park, where he first found the Raptor Amulet.

While investigating the derelict establishment, Powell was approached by two shady cops right near the area where he first became Darkhawk. Officer Hal Fingeroth and Sergeant Harold Conrad came to Powell offering certain opportunities while on the force which Chris quickly denied, when the latter opted to be a bit more forceful in his persuasion; Conrad was quickly eviscerated by members of the Fraternity of Raptors who were after the young officer's depowered amulet. Canorus and Aceptar created the odd circumstances which led to Christopher retracing his origin as a superhero in order to kill him and take what they believed was theirs by right, but the former raptor didn't go without a fight; discovering that these new raptors were in actuality just armored Shi'ar thugs given how easily Aceptar was stunned by a shock baton.

Though Christopher was eventually subdued by Canorus and his gem taken from him. Canorus was able to activate it again with a damaged Razor taking his place, whom nearly beat Powell's other would be assassin to death until Chris got his attention. The badly broken android grabbed hold of Powell and ported him to a portion of the Datasong he called the "Perch," where memories of previous host pilots were stored within a Raptor's own motherboard.

Razor, now calling itself Darkhawk after the recombinant persona imprinted on itself due to their shared escapades as a hero. Chris learned from his other half that a whole new Fraternity has sprung up in the wake of Novas' decimation, eager to bring the universe to heel under their thrall and had been searching for a means of acquiring the Raptor androids from the Null Space void to cement their dominance. Horrified by this development the now empathetic Razor sought to defy this mandate by said cabal of zealot pretenders by escaping his pod and severing his link to the Tree of Shadows, which was the reason why Powell couldn't become Darkhawk anymore. Severing his brethren's connection to their amulets earned Raptor their ire, however. They nearly hunted it down and executed until he was summoned to Earth by Canorus. Seeing the opportunity to heal itself, and hoping to enlist aid in stopping the renegade Raptor sect, Darkhawk sought union with Chris Powell once again in order to recover and grow in power.

Seeing as the whole of the universe was at stake, including his own homeworld in the long run. Chris knew in spite of his misgivings about space travel and the new life he has on Earth, that since his android had grown a conscience since the War of Kings. That he could not just sit by and pretend what effects the galaxy has no consequences for everybody involved, himself included. Donning the name Darkhawk once more, he took to the skies after blasting the other raptor back to his enclave in space before taking off, wondering how Miranda will react to the change of pace.[15]

Infinity Countdown

After learning from Richard Rider that the Fraternity of Raptors were after the Infinity Stones, Chris wanted to find a way to stop them, but he was stuck on Earth. He was later attacked by the bounty hunter Death's Head who was hired by the Raptors to capture Chris and bring him back to them alive. After learning that Death's Head had a spaceship, Chris was able to convince Death's Head to take him to the Raptors. After saying goodbye to Miranda, Chris and Death's Head traveled to where Death's Head was to meet the Raptors, the planet Arcturus IV; however, the Raptors betrayed Death's Head and destroyed his ship. Chris survived the ship's destruction and confronted the Raptors, but he was quickly overwhelmed by their numbers.

Chris' Darkhawk Amulet was removed from his body by the Raptors' leader Gyre and used in a ceremony to transform Richard Rider's brother Robbie Rider into the being called Dark Darkhawk by fusing him with Ratha'kon, a being supposedly more powerful than the Phoenix Force. The Raptors then left a dying Chris where he was set off to destroy Earth. As Chris dragged himself across the ground, he encountered his other half Razor who revealed to him the origins of the Tree of Shadows and of the first Raptor. After some coaxing from Razor, Chris tapped into his hidden strength and emerged with a new Darkhawk body after fully fusing his mind with the armor. Chris then flew after the Raptors to stop them.[16]

Chris battled the Raptors with help from Death's Head and Nova Prime. Nova made it difficult to fight Dark Darkhawk as he preferred to reason with his brother Robbie than fight him. Dark Darkhawk then shockingly turned on Gyre and destroyed him while stating that he would bring order to the universe, not Gyre. The Raptors were eventually stopped when Death's Head rigged the power core of the Kree ship the Raptors stole to explode. Only Dark Starhawk survived the explosion, though stunned, allowing Chris to reclaim his Darkhawk Amulet. Dark Starhawk then disappeared in a flash of light after striking his Nega-Bands together. Grieving over the loss of Robbie, Nova angrily told Chris to stay on Earth or he would have him locked up. After Chris returned to Earth, he decided stay out of space for a while. Later that night, he was met by Sleepwalker while he dreamed, telling him that the influence of the Infinity Stones threatened the Mindscape and that the only way he could protect it was to become a Sleepwalker.[17]

Young Again

Darkhawk attended Thanos' funeral along with prominent cosmic figures where it was revealed that Thanos had transferred his mind into a new body. However, the Black Order came and stole Thanos' corpse, while opening a rip in space in order to trap them.[18] While trapped there, Darkhawk's atoms began to break apart, affecting his link to the suit. After being captured by the Universal Church of Truth from a possible future, Chris found out that his body was merged with the armor and that he had become younger than when he first found the amulet.[19] Under the control of the Church, Darkhawk and the other prisoners attacked the Guardians of the Galaxy, but Rocket Raccoon was able to free them from the Church's control and sent the church back to their timeline.[20]

After the Void was leading the forces of the Cancerverse into invading the Negative Zone, Darkhawk was among the heroes summoned by Mister Fantastic using his Dimensional Anchor in order to defeat the Scourge. Once the Silver Surfer managed to merge Bob Reynolds with Void back, Nova sacrificed himself in order to defeat the Scourge, ending the threat.[21]

Powers and Abilities

Power Grid [24]Intelligence 2Strength4 Speed*5  3Durability4 Energy Projection*6  3Fighting Skills 2* Armor Transformations

Abilities

Skilled Combatant: Chris is skilled in Kendo and an unidentified branch of Karate.[citation needed]

Strength level

25+ Tons.[15]

Paraphernalia

Equipment

Darkhawk Amulet:

Consciousness Transfer: Chris can transfer his consciousness into the Darkhawk's alien android while at the same time, switch the robotic body's place with that of his own body wherever he is at any time.[citation needed]

Darkhawk Android: The Darkhawk Armor is advanced Shi'ar technology meshed with magic, allowing the host numerous superhuman capabilities:

Superhuman Strength: The Armor allows Chris to lift in the excess of 25+ tons. Able to knock out Venom.[citation needed]

Superhuman Speed

Superhuman Durability: Darkhawk is superhumanly durable; he is capable of shrugging off physical impacts, energy blasts, and most artillery fire.

Superhuman Agility

Superhuman Reflexes

Armament Conjuration: The Android can summon weapons from the extra-dimensional expanse from whence they came, or manifest desired munitions from its own body at will.[citation needed]

Flight: The retractable glider wings under his arms allow him to glide on air currents. Darkhawk can also fly at speeds that let him fly from New York to California in only a matter of hours. After the Darkhawk armor attained a new form, Chris is able to fly interstellar distances.[22]

Self Repair: Even major injuries to his Darkhawk body can be repaired by switching back to his human form.[citation needed]

Superhuman Vision: Darkhawk has telescopic and infra-red vision. He can see through most camouflage.[citation needed]

Force Field: Chris can utilize a circular wafer-thin force field.[citation needed]

Concussion Blasts: He can fire blasts of destructive dark energy from the amulet on his chest.[citation needed]

Mode Shifting: Talons can morph their bodies into a host of augmentative forms. Becoming transparent, doubling body armor, projecting greater weaponry, etc.[citation needed]

Formerly *Avengers Identicard

Transportation

Formerly Avengers Quinjet

Trivia

Darkhawk's armor and appearance has been a continued source of debate amongst Marvel "True-Believers." After his series was canceled, his new appearances often reverted back to the original Darkhawk armor. As of his Loners appearances, he is in "DH 1.0" form, although he had appeared a few times as DH 2.0 prior to this.[citation needed]

It has been a misunderstanding amongst many readers and fans of Darkhawk that he was aware of his status as a hero within the Marvel 2099 universe, in which he is known as "The Powell," one of the "most powerful, and feared, heroes in the universe." This wasn't Earth-928 (or Marvel 2099), it was a similar cyberpunk dystopia world within Chronopolis. This was resolved by DeFalco himself within the letter columns in one of the final issues of the ongoing series.[citation needed]

Links and References

185 Appearances of Christopher Powell (Earth-616)

15 Minor Appearances of Christopher Powell (Earth-616)

Media Christopher Powell (Earth-616) was Mentioned in

123 Images featuring Christopher Powell (Earth-616)

13 Quotations by or about Christopher Powell (Earth-616)

Character Gallery: Christopher Powell (Earth-616) 

Christopher Powell (Earth-616) on Wikipedia.org 

Darkhawk Zone: The Ultimate Darkhawk Fansite

Darkhawk @ New Warriors Continuity Conundrum

New Warriors Message Board

Recommended Readings

Darkhawk #1-50 (March 1991, April 1995)

Darkhawk Annual #1-3 (1992, 1994)

New Warriors #14, 22-25, 47-51

New Warriors Annual #3

Avengers West Coast #93-95

Runaways Vol 2 #1-6

Marvel Team-Up #15-18, 25 (2005)

Loners #1-6 (2007)

Nova (vol. 4) #17-#19 (November 2008, January 2009)

War of Kings: Darkhawk #1 and #2 (February 2009 and March 2009)

War of Kings: Ascension #1-4 (April 2009, July 2009)

Discover and Discuss

Search this site for: Christopher Powell (Earth-616)

Footnotes

↑ Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe A-Z #3

↑ 2.02.1 The Loners #1

↑ Avengers Vol 3 #2

↑ Darkhawk Annual #3

↑ Darkhawk #1

↑ Amazing Spider-Man #353

↑ Runaways Vol 2 #1-3

↑ Runaways Vol 2 #6

↑ The Loners Vol 1-6

↑ Nova #17-18

↑ Avengers Arena #1

↑ Avengers Arena #3

↑ Avengers Arena #4

↑ Avengers Arena #18

↑ 15.015.1 Darkhawk #51

↑ Infinity Countdown: Darkhawk #1-3

↑ Infinity Countdown: Darkhawk #4

↑ Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 5 #1

↑ Guardians of the Galaxy Annual Vol 3 #1

↑ Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 5 #11-12

↑ Annihilation - Scourge Omega #1

↑ Infinity Countdown: Darkhawk #3

↑ Official Handbook of the Marvel Universe A-Z #3

↑ Darkhawk #51, Trading Card Variant

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[loveyou-x3000]

You got me hook, line, and sinker, so here's a little ficlet. 🥰

"The elders," Toga said, by which he meant her father, and made no show of hiding his bitterness about it, "are insistent."

On her throne, Toga's first and only wife simply smiled, leaning her cheek against immaculately manicured nails. She was the daughter of the moon. A goddess among demons, in her way. Married off to the rising warlord in the west, content in her marriage, and otherwise unbothered by the problems of others. She didn't know why he bothered with pleasing his betters—he was never one for submission, anyway.

But then again, he did take great pleasure in pleasing her.

"Are they?" she asked, playing curious. Maybe she was. Maybe she wasn't.

Standing infront of her dais, her lord husband crossed his armored arms and frowned, perhaps bothered by her nonchalance. But it didn't matter.

"They are," he answered, and the frustration on his face grew to a simmering boil. "We have been unable to conceive. It is a concern, apparently."

The slightest hint of a frown came to her lips. It was a somewhat sore subject to mention—her failure, raw and bleeding like a wound. Toga had never once faulted her for it, but others did. They worried and whispered over matters that were not their own.

She did not speak, so he continued.

"They wish for me to take another wife."

A test, then, Tsukiko surmised. To see which of them was at fault. Lovely.

Her father was a vain, cruel being, so detached from their world that his thoughts and commands never quite fit right in the lives of his lessers. It would not matter if a second wife produced a child; it would not be an heir. Only evidence of her own shortcomings.

But despite the turmoil and bitterness of her thoughts, the Lady of the West merely shrugged.

"Will you?"

At this, he smiled, and she felt her eyebrows rise in skepticism. Such amusement from him didn't bode well.

"I will."

--

A human.

When he'd told her his plans, she'd laughed out loud. It had been weeks since their first discussion on the topic, and he'd decided to reveal this to her when they lay in her bed after his return from some unknown place, his desires spent within her. Their efforts at conceiving had doubled as of late—a task she never denied him—and it was in those after-moments that he divulged this great secret.

Pulling up from the cradle of his warm arms, Tsukiko stared down at her husband's wicked smirk and smiled herself, amused with him. She did not love him. But she did love how he meddled with the plans of those who tried to control him.

"A human?" she repeated. Silver tendrils of her loose hair spilled down her shoulders, pooling on his chest. He reached up to tuck some of it behind her ear. "You mean to start a war."

"Not at all," he insisted. "I mean to spite them."

And that he did.

--

For the better part of the year, Tsukiko separated herself from her husband's ridiculous plans. She preferred being the neutral party in all things, happy to watch the world on its outskirts, and took great pleasure in watching Toga's betters lose their minds over his rebellion.

But not even the moon, the sun, or the stars could rule her husband. He was one to spit in the face of destiny. To bleed armies dry over the smallest of slights. Why her father thought he could control him, she would never understand.

It was tiny Myoga who kept her abreast of the issue. Though her servants tittered and gossiped over the news, it was his messages alone that she took for truth.

"She is the youngest daughter of a noble house," he'd told her. "They have fallen on rough times, it seems, and are happy to receive the dowry—but I think they fear invoking his wrath over anything else. You know how he can be."

Brash, reckless, charming, and full of himself? Yes, she knew.

"And they wish for his protection, I presume?"

Rough times called for rough measures, and humans were desperate little creatures.

"Perhaps. It is... unclear," he confessed. "It seems their coffers are near spent and they survive on reputation and connections alone. There are few samurai to their name, but they fight well and win the right battles. It is their daughter who bears the weight of the household, overall."

"Oh?"

"Her beauty is renown, my Lady."

Ah. A lovely girl meant to make a lovely match, lest her family fall to ruin. What a fate.

"And her dowry?"

"Four carts of gold, a cart of silk and fineries, some livestock and, well..."

"Their lives?" she guessed.

Myoga bowed his head in embarrassment for his Lord.

"Indeed."

--

She cared very little for the marriage celebration, just as she'd cared very little for her own, and had dismissed herself from the crowd at her first opportunity. Out of respect for the bride she'd not attended the ceremony itself, so as she saw it, there was little reason to stay and celebrate it. Despite her amusement over the whole matter, there was still a looming dread that came with her husband's decision.

Human women did not last long in the world of demons. And if they did, it was their husbands who suffered the consequences.

But that was a matter for another time.

Having dismissed her servants for the time being—assuring them that no, she didn't need to eat, and they needed to stop fussing over her—Tsukiko made her way to her husband's chambers, prepared to meet the young bride.

The young, frightened, hysterically sobbing bride.

Perhaps hysterical was a bit of a cruel assertion, Tsukiko considered, but from her view between the shoji panels, the young woman was downright distressed. She could not imagine why. Toga had been nothing but polite and charming so far as she'd witnessed, and the house this young girl had entered was far from poverty or misfortune. Her status was elevated. Her future clear.

But then again, her humanity may have muddled the whole situation.

"Why are you crying?"

The bride—Izayoi, if she remembered correctly—startled like a deer in the wilds. Her teary eyes went wide and owlish with shock, caught her in this private moment of grief, and Tsukiko could see the panic play out on her face. Before the poor girl nearly knocked her forehead on the floor, that was.

Poor thing.

Keeping her thoughts to herself, Toga's first wife entered the room and clacked the doors shut behind her, bending down to her knees to reach out and bring Izayoi's face up from the floorboards. Myoga had been right; she was a stunning creature. Pale and round-faced, soft and demure in appearance, with dark hair that exceeded even Toga's length. That her eyes were puffy and red from crying was besides the point.

"Why are you crying?" she asked again. The young woman hesitated only a moment before forcing herself to answer.

"Because my husband will devour me when he returns."

"Toga?" Tsukiko asked, amused. What a thought. "He is a beast on the battlefield, my dear, but a swooning puppy in bed."

The distraught woman dabbed at her eyes with the sleeves of her kimono, trying to regain her composure.

"You mean he won't want to...?"

Mercifully, she did not laugh at her. Instead, she trailed her claw down her perfect face, shaking her head.

"Oh, he will. All men think with their cocks. And besides," she smiled, "I doubt he would deny himself this." Pausing a moment to let her gather her thoughts, the demoness pried a bit further. "Will it be your first time with a man?"

"Yes," she answered meekly.

"Do not be afraid. You'll come to like it, I think."

"Really?"

My, my, Tsukiko thinks, but she keeps those thoughts to herself. They express themselves only with the slightest turn of her head, but are rather quickly distracted when she can hear familiar boots pacing down the hall.

"There. He's coming this way now."

Izayoi swallowed hard as Tsukiko stood, moving around her to kneel behind her. Without any sense of ceremony, she loosed her hair from its two ties, letting it fall silver and resplendent down her shoulders as she slipped her arm around Izayoi's waist.

"Do not be afraid," she coached. "I will be here. You will not face him alone."

"I—" The surprise in her voice was genuinely adorable. "What?"

Toga's steps paused outside the door. Tsukiko smiled wickedly, eyes flicking up to the door as she spoke.

"Not to worry," she whispered, knowing full well she could be heard. "I'll make it good for you, even if he doesn't."

2♣️

♣️ - Touga x Izayoi x Inukimi

2 – Favorite trope?

ARRANGED MARRIAGE!!!!! Fanon basically agrees that Touga and Inukimi have an arranged marriage, but WHAT IF THE THREE OF THEM WERE ALL IN AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE?? 😩 Inukimi and Touga marry for political reasons, obviously. Him, for rising up into the noble classes, and her for his military might. But say we go along with my headcanon that dogdemons are notoriously infertile, and Touga's family pressures him to take on another wife to increase chances of him getting an heir as soon as it is possible.

He doesn't want to. Inukimi and he may not be in romantic love, but they get along fine and he likes her well enough. But the elders insist, and Inukimi only shrugged when he asked for her opinion. So out of spite, he picks a human.

(lol this was meant to be a short response but I wrote some kind of a fic of sorts without even realising it so the rest is under the cut.)

Izayoi did not want to marry Touga. She hears stories of human ladies being married to demon lords, only to die a gruesome death and never be seen again. However, her family insists. They're terrified of the dogdemons, and is fully willing to sacrifice her if it means their household will be protected. So she does. She had no choice.

She was terrified on her wedding night. Her new husband would want to consummate the marriage for sure. Her heart boils with frustration. All these years of preparing, training, and studying to become a proper wife for a samurai lord, only to be married to some demon brute? How dare her family do this to her? How dare they throw away to the demons like this?

But such is the fate of a younger daughter born to noble families. She can do nothing but accept.

She cries, alone after the wedding rituals and festivities, waiting in the chamber where her husband would visit sometime in the night.

But she wasn't alone for long.

Inukimi had long dismissed herself from the suffocating wedding dinner hours ago; the guests were obnoxiously unruly, and besides, her appetite had not been the best of late for some reason. So she wandered the palace, dismissing her servants so that she could be by herself when she heard her.

Touga's new wife.

She had laughed out loud when he gave her the news of his choice of a bride. It was just like him to choose a human just to fuck with the immaculate plans the elders have thought to pick out for him. She had seen, albeit from afar, the woman that he had picked out; scented her the moment she was brought in to the palace by her entourage.

But now...

She found herself curious.

She nudged open the doors of the bedchamber just a hair, and peeked.

The human was bathed in perfumed oils. It masked her natural scent. The human was crying. Her sobs were choked, muffled as if by a cloth to her lips as she evidently tried her best to be quiet.

The human was...

Inukimi blinked.

...beautiful.

"Why are you crying?"

Touga's new wife looked up, shock and fear written all over her face in the wide stricken eyes and face that paled further even under the makeup on her cheeks. She pressed her forehead to the floor in less than a heartbeat.

Inukimi was confused. She reached out, lifting Izayoi's face so that their eyes met. She smiles at her, reassuring her that she meant no harm, and Izayoi calms. Inukimi settles herself next to her on the futon, and asks again.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because my husband will devour me when he returns."

And Inukimi cannot help but laugh. "Touga? That man is a beast on the battlefield but a swooning puppy in bed."

Izayoi blinked, dabbing at her eyes gently so as not to smudge her makeup. "You mean he won't want to--"

"Oh, he will. All men think with their cocks." She cooed, letting a finger trail along the human's cheek. "And I hardly think he would deny himself this. Will this be your first time?"

"I.. yes."

"Do not be afraid. You'll come to like it, I think."

"Really?"

At that moment Inukimi cocks her head, then smirks. "There. He's coming this way now." She slips her arm around the human woman's waist as she heard her heartbeat speed up in anxiety. "Don't worry. I'll be here. You won't face him alone."

"I-- What?"

"I'll make it good for you, even if he fails to."

From the Ship Card Ask Game!