#or because Ammit turned his mind into... well

[angel-of-the-moons]

Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Nothing really!

A/N: This chapter will mostly be some exposition from Khonshu's point of view, and a few flashbacks of his. Also, because sources vary depending on what universe of Marvel Khonshu is from, I took some liberties to do whatever with his familial ties. After all, mortals don't ever truly know all the relationships with their gods, do they? And they have many forms.

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu @astrosphereblog @themostegotisticalgirl124 @patchesofwork @lialiwasneverseen

Chapter 15:

Old Friends

Khonshu gently laid you down in your bed, stripping your wet jacket and shoes off and covering you with your blankets.

Your face was twisted with distress, your voice leaving you in weak groans. The words "please" and "help me" the most consistent he could make out as your face flushed and you began to sweat, the vein in your temple thumping visibly beneath your skin as tears slipped past your lashes and dripped down to your pillow.

What were you dreaming of? It was growing tiresome; you not telling him what he so readily wanted to know. And even more accurately, that Jezebel, one of his more than trusted followers was not telling him the answers.

But... Jezebel knew him very well. Khonshu knew that she knew he had not had such a puzzle presented to him in... Well. Longer than he'd ever care to admit aloud. A simple challenge, as opposed to hunting Ammit and Harrow, and having Jake Lockley taking the both of them out permanently.

A simple puzzle as opposed to the greatest one he's never been able to solve...

He would enjoy unraveling the mystery that surrounded your being so readily.

He was half tempted to get into your head himself; to pull the information out of you and be done with it. But that was no fun, and it was wrong, in this right.

It was different with Marc, Steven, and Jake. Even Yehya and Jezebel; who had let him into his mind willingly.

Learning of Jezebel's memories had filled him with a brief joy he hadn't felt flutter to life within him in thousands of years. It brought a warmth to his weary existence knowing he at least had someone he once knew returned to him; she was one of the only individuals he felt any scrap of true joy or humor in the world with these days. Even if it was miniscule.

"Hmm." He hummed aloud, crouching by your bedside to stare as you twitched and flailed in your sleep, crying out for aid he could not give.

Joy and humor. A puzzle.

If he could, Khonshu would have smiled.

His eyes traced the stars, drawing the shapes that the mortals had transcribed to make sense of the glowing celestial objects.

"Khonshu?"

"Hm?" He hummed boredly, sighing as he sat up on his elbows to look at her.

Hathor snorted with a smirk, her soft round face creasing as she did; briefly running her hands through his feathers, "You are not paying attention."

"Fah. These festivals are always your source of entertainment. You know I prefer the silence of the night. Not all this... mirth." He said, looking down from where they sat, sweeping his arm in a broad swath; invisible to the mortals below as they danced, sang, drank, and played amongst one another in celebration of the first successful harvest and the fact that the Pharaoh's army had crushed would-be invaders towards Egypt, securing their power yet again.

"Hmph!" She huffed indignantly, her ears clapping in distaste at his remark, the sound of her jewelry tinkling as she turned away from him stubbornly. "Khonshu, you are--I swear it--even less unenthusiastic to be around than your father."

"Amun is only as enthused as he is to be around you is because he wishes to sleep with you." Khonshu laughed, "Which I doubt will ever happen."

Hathor swatted at him, knocking his nemes askew and into his lap. "Oh, hush! Now, make your move. I have been waiting an eternity, you doddering bird."

Khonshu laughed again and sat up straight, fixing the position of his headdress and fixing it back into place, his dark feathers puffing up slightly in offense before smoothing it down as he looked at the game board.

It was a simple game--mehen, the mortals called it--the board carved in the shape of a coiling serpent. This particular set was painted to look like Apep (or Apophis as the mortals also named him). Khonshu's pieces were marbles carved of obsidian, whereas Hathor's were ivory-carved lions.

He plainly moved one of the marbles, skipping ahead of two of her lions, making her groan in defeat as she had to reposition them. "You--youuuu--!" She sputtered.

Khonshu huffed a short laugh, "I like to gamble, you know that, Hathor. And you should know I'm very good at it."

"Well one day that streak of yours will fail, you know." She snorted, resting her chin on her knuckles as the other firmly clasped her knee in her palm, her eyes studying the board.

"But that day is not today, my dear." He says, his tone rather chipper as he carefully sipped his wine.

"Honestly, why don't you walk the streets a little? It will do you some good. Distract you from the dreary task of your Fist performing his duties." She sighed, looking down at the mortals below once again.

"I worry about you."

Khonshu rolled his eyes, "Hathor, I am fine. We all have our duties. Mine lies with justice, yours is all of... this." He opened his hand to gesture to the festivities below.

"You forget how closely our divine powers are linked!" Hathor says, looking at him with a sly expression.

"Am I, now?" He mused.

"Yes," Hathor laughed gleefully, moving her lions piece ahead a few steps, getting ever so close to the head of the snake.

After Khonshu grumbled, staring at the board as he tried to sort out where and how to move next--piecing the puzzle of his next move together carefully--he looked at her as she pointed to the sky, right at his moon.

It was thin, a nice glowing crescent of light.

"You forget what that tends to mean. Your powers flow during this night, and of course link with mine. I bring joy, music, ecstasy and children into the world. Your moon, in its current state, helps their livestock and land become fertile... and as well helps their women conceive children. And this continuously brings joy, mirth," She says the word mockingly and with the same tone he had used before, "And fertility. Yes, you help dispense justice. But you also heal and give life, Khonshu. Enjoy it. Don't wrap yourself in a shroud of stars and leave it at that."

Hathor finished off her goblet of wine and grabbed her harp, beginning to pluck the strings in a wonderful melody that soothed him. He recognized the song well, it was one her priestesses played during prayer sessions, typically when mortal women would pray to her for the gift of a child.

"Embrace the mortals you protect... don't just keep them at an arm's length. Yes, you have your Fists... but you also have your arms. It will not kill you to wrap them around them from time to time."

Khonshu fell silent, turning his gaze to the mortals below as Hathor began to sing, a smile on her plump, plush lips.

Perhaps... she was right. He wouldn't say it out loud, of course. He knew she would simply poke holes in his own ego and toy with him with the facts.

Khonshu then rose to his feet, grabbing his staff.

"Hm? Where are you going?" Hathor asked with a smile, continuing to play her harp.

She formed her statement as a question; yet she already knew the answer to it.

"For a stroll." He merely said, disappearing in a blur.

Hathor grinned to herself, plucking her harp as the ushered prayers of women during moments of intimacy as well as the simple gatherings below whispered in her ears on the wind.

Khonshu walked, standing in the shadows as he watched the mortals dance and sing. There was something rather... infectious about the joys the humans were showing.

He had even entertained a toddler as they hobbled up to him, babbling nonsense and trying to hang from his robes even though his parents could not see him for their own eyes. He rubbed the child on his head as his mother kissed his cheek and carried him back over to where a roast bull was being portioned out with bread and wine.

Men and woman alike danced with one another; the instrumentalists and singers flowing like silk to match the nearly nude women who danced with Hathor's name painted on their bodies, gold hanging from them and glimmering in the firelight.

He continued to walk through the streets, peeking in to watch the more reserved and family-centric gatherings many held in their homes; feeling the warmth and life and innocence they were all so blissfully existing in. One home he had surveyed was hosting a celebration as a young mother gave birth to twins--a rare and dangerous occurrence for certain--a very, very welcome and celebrated occasion.

Khonshu had taken a moment of his time to reach out and soothe the pains the woman and her son and daughter felt, touching each of them imperceptibly and watching them relax as her husband cried, holding the three of them in his arms as though they would vanish in an instant.

After that, he trailed the streets some more; feeling the exuberant life slowly give way to the silence of night as he approached a funerary temple. It seemed, he realized, that even on a night of such joy and life... death was still ever-present.

"Bakenkhonsu." He greeted civilly, watching respectfully as his priest was tending to and beginning to embalm the body of a woman with tender care.

"Father." He greeted, his voice strained and heavy with emotion, his head hanging low and his usually bright eyes downcast and sad.

Upon closer inspection, he recognized this particular mortal. Bakenkhonsu had been the one to prepare her youngest child for burial not too long ago. It seemed her grief, in the end, took her away to be with her son once again.

"She passed away early in the morning." He explained. "Her husband was still grieving the loss of their son, but stayed strong. His daughter... oh, her daughter."

He looked up at Khonshu, his eyes full of tears, "Why is it that someone as young as she have to see so much death in such a short time? She blames herself for her little brother's death. And in that regard, feels responsible for her mother's death..."

Khonshu laid his hand on his priest's shoulder, his gaze softening in sympathy.

"Death is never an easy thing, nor can it be fair. But it is important that we understand that it is a fact of life. And in the end, they will all be together again."

"I... I understand. But..." Bakenkhonsu turned, carefully beginning to wrap her body up in soft linen; a red-dyed shroud nearby. Her coffin was beautiful and ornately painted, the gold leaf mask that awaited her surprised him. She was nobility, high status.

She tended the Queen, and the inscriptions on her coffin told how her husband was close with the Pharaoh.

Ah. That explains it. The Pharaoh being so close to her family undoubtedly felt grief in his heart as well, maybe even the others in his house. So out of the kindness in his heart, he likely paid to have the finest burial items to be laid on her body before being placed in the coffin.

"I know," Khonshu said to him softly, his palm resting on the young man's head. "But she was a good woman. Anubis and the others will welcome her with open arms, her son will greet her as soon as she passes into the Field of Reeds. She will never need to fear him drowning in the Nile, again."

This seemed to lighten the burnden on the poor man, his body straightening up. "Benerib made offerings to most of the gods. She would go to every temple as she could often get to and leave prayers and offerings to you all. I think this is what drove her daughter to seek knowledge."

"Her daughter? She is a scholar?" Khonshu asked, stepping away so Bakenkhonsu could resume his task.

"Of a sorts." He chuckled, his tone tainted with bittersweet fondness. "She wishes to learn the ways of the gods, to teach them to other mortals even long after she passes on."

Khonshu chuckles softly in turn. A very ambitious goal, if not an unattainable one. Very few of his brethren--save Hathor and a short bundle of others--got past arm's length with the mortals, "That may not happen."

"But even so, it is a noble goal." Khonshu sighed, looking up towards the night sky through one of the high skylights above. "Even if she does not learn what she wants to... She will still learn and pass on things to her descendants."

"Yes... That is what I told her." Bakenkhonsu smiled, looking up at him once more, his hands pausing in their delicate wrapping of the body of this once sweet and loving woman. "But she just smiled at me, and accepted the challenge. She apparently likes puzzles."

Khonshu chuckled. "Ah, I see. It would seem--"

Their heads both snapped upwards, towards the door of the room as the sounds of sobbing reached their ears, carried on the wind as it whistled into the temple.

Khonshu looked at his priest, and once again the atmosphere changed as he heard words--both accusatory and pleading--carry his name on a soft voice.

"The daughter--"

"Yes." Bakenkhonsu replied quickly, his jaw tensing. "She has been... I--I left her to her grief back in the temple. It was like nothing I said would bring her comfort... Sometimes, we need to be left alone to pour our feelings out."

Khonshu heaven a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on his staff for a moment as he took a pace of a breath to think.

His hand extended and he weaved a spell over the body; so that nothing could ravage her in the time Bakenkhonsu would be away.

"Don your armor, my Fist." He orders gently.

"Yes, Father."

And without hesitation, Bakenkhonsu pressed his fist to his chest and bowed his head. The Moon Disc on his chest glowed, his eyes glowing as white as the stars as linen and fine armor began to enshroud him; the holy armor of Khonshu's Fist now in place of his ceremonial robes.

"What... Will you do, Father?" He asked quietly.

"I will speak to her." Khonshu said, vanishing in a blur as Bakenkhonsu's body lurched slightly before stiffening back up again.

And now, with his patron God controlling his body, Bakenkhonsu receded into blissful complacency as his feet softly dragged through the streets as he marched his way to his temple, away from the sad aura of preparing the bodies of the dead.

He approached his temple, regarding the other priests with cordial nods as the bowed in respect to him as they went about their business.

The temple was well-lit, given how thin the moon was it could not shine into the large stone house of worship to illuminate pathways. But he knew. He always knew the way to his altars.

And as he approached the main chamber, he saw... her.

She was laid at the feet of one of his statues, her face buried in her arms as her body was racked with sobs. The sight touched him, made him feel the waves of guilt and pain flowing from her body as she muttered things meant only for the gods to hear.

And they did reach his ears, at least.

He approached her, gently resting his hand on her shoulder, and began to speak.

"She did all that? On her own?" Yehya gasped softly, setting his cup of tea on his desk.

"Yes." Khonshu replied. "With my guidance, in the beginning. But, she got caught up in the moment and snapped a man's neck."

Yehya frowned thoughtfully, his brows pinching as he linked his fingers together, his elbows resting on the desktop. "And... Jezebel wouldn't tell you anything more about her?"

"About as much as you have, Yehya." Khonshu admonishes with a sigh.

"I'm sorry, father, but..." The god silenced him with a hand in the air.

"I understand, my son. This is a mystery I must--and will--solve myself. I haven't had such a challenge in a long time." He said to him, "I relish the challenge, even if that little whelp is an annoying pest."

Yehya Badr laughed, the corners of his eyes creasing as he looks up at him, "Is she that frustrating?"

"Like a fly that will not stop buzzing in my eye." Khonshu grunted, stamping his staff on the floor, shaking his head.

"You will figure this out. You always tend to." The mortal man replied, adjusting the cuffs on his suit. "From what I have seen from interacting with this woman... She is rather slow to trust. And... Surprisingly ready to throw the first punch. But, given how she has been the victim of so many crimes..."

He shook his head and sighed, his smile faltering, "But it is... good, that she was so responsive to your guidance."

"She complained even more than Marc does." He groused; his voice dripping with irritation.

"Speaking of..." Yehya said, looking up at him. "Has the Ennead called another meeting to discuss what happened with Ammit and Harrow?"

"Yes, however our Avatars were not present for this one." He snorted dismissively, saving his hand. "Though... I do not believe they have replaced them as of yet anyway."

"It's a pity, what happened with Hathor's Avatar. Yatzil was a good woman." Yehya murmured, "From what little I knew of her from our first meeting, she was a kind and gentle soul."

"It is their fault for ignoring Ammit's imminent release," Khonshu reminded him. "Their Avatars did not need to die, yet through their inaction, the gods they worked for signed their death warrants. As well as the souls Ammit devoured prematurely."

"I only wish I had been present. Had I been, maybe Harrow..."

Khonshu walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder, "I needed you here, Yehya. There is much evil and injustice here. Marc Spector and the others served me well in other avenues. Your value is here."

He nodded, his lips pressed in a thin line as he thought. What would they all do once Khonshu found out about who you may very well be? Will you remember who killed you? Would that bloody chapter of history and unsolved pain come to a close?

More importantly, how would Khonshu feel about the one person he truly loved with all his being being reborn into somebody entirely new?

What would this mean for the future?

He could only surmise and place bets on hypotheticals with Jezebel; nothing was certain. Yehya was but a man, and he had to admit, the mysteries of reincarnation were still very much alien to him; despite what Jezebel had drip-fed him from what she had experienced. It wasn't something so simple as to be placed in words. Far from it...

"Is she still asleep?" He finally asked after the room fell into a ringing silence.

"Yes. Though she tosses and turns and cries out," Khonshu muttered. "Crying for saving from what, I do not know. She will not tell me what her dreams are, either."

"She will. I know it." Yehya replied resolutely. "I know that one can only keep such things contained inside for so long, before dying to cut the seal and let them all out."

"Indeed."

Khonshu walked towards the window, looking out onto the city streets. "Yehya, I want you to patrol tonight. There is a sickness on the prowl, and I want it cured before any others are harmed by it."

Yehya stood, pressing his fist to his chest and bowing his head. And for a moment, Khonshu could see Bakenkhonsu right then. He could see many of his previous Fists with that gesture of loyalty.

"On your will, Father." He swears solemnly.

"And... when I am indisposed, I want you to keep an eye on that little pest for me. Let me know if something changes about her."

He nodded again, his eyes shifting to an eerie white glow as his body was wrapped in his own variation of Khonshu's divine armor. The god rested his hand on his head, bowing his own: "Be swift, my Fist. Strike them down."

Hunter's Moon left, his cloak fluttering behind him as he went out to fulfill his mission. Khonshu looked out the window and up at the sky.

It was a crescent moon.

Chapter 16: Lmao NGL I might keep pumping these out over the next couple of days.

[saikokirakira]

All the Wrong Right Reasons (Jake Lockley x Bakunawa!Reader pt.3)

a/n: we are entering spicy territory. nothing explicit unless you want me to? but we got maybe one more for jake's intro series...

next up is a layla fic. can i get a wahoo?

Prev: IV. Jake pt.2 | Next: IV. Jake pt.4 | AU Masterlist

warnings: jake “the simp king” lockley origin story; khonshu is a little shit; one-way intense turned thirsty pining; show’s interpretation of DID; non-hispanic writer using one (1) spanish word (in my not-so defense, im filipino (i remembered we have a celebrity kristine hermosa with that name. imagine having 'beautiful' for a name and looking EXACTLY ETHEREAL) okay i'll stop rambling); non-canon Philippine mythology

Maybe Jake’s reaction was a little unprecedented.

He never had to front unless the system was in mortal danger or if Khonshu needed him for a mission.

All he’s known was being on a constant state of fight or flight with adrenaline in his veins.

So, what happens when the person he’s been incredibly attracted to threatens his life?

He wants to fight back for all the wrong right reasons.

Have you met my friend, Jake Lockley?

As much as Jake was thankful for the moon god intervening, the bird was having the time of his life not allowing him to summon the suit as well.

Let him go. Khonshu’s playing with you.

A dark masked figure materialized behind you. A dark shadowy void with glowing violet eyes.

Probably made new friends the last time you died, Jake thought.

Glaring at Jake with your glowing golden eyes, you let him go and stepped back.

“Khonshu, you lied,” you spat out. “You were supposed to let him go.”

“Marc only meant Steven and himself, hermosa,” Jake finally spoke once he got to catch his breath. “I had no plans of leaving. I’m the real Moon Knight.”

Your golden eyes found him again, and Jake found some sort of satisfaction of you looking down at him… even with disdain.

Or any attention finally directed at him… not at any of his alters.

“What do you want from me?”

Jake resisted the urge to smirk.

There were many, many things he wanted from you.

“I want to finish the job.”

Arthur Harrow, the shadow said.

Then it clicked. “You were in Cairo.” You weren’t asking. You said it as a fact.

You never knew what happened after Ammit was sealed in her Avatar’s body, but you knew for a fact that that psychotic maniac was still breathing somewhere.

Steven didn’t have the stomach to kill anymore, and Marc…

Either his mind would be changed by Steven or not kill Harrow at all to spite Khonshu.

“I suppose you were the one who ran off and went on a killing spree when Marc blacked out?”

Jake nodded; his eyes guarded.

“You were protecting them.”

He nodded again.

“Do they know you exist?”

“No.”

“If you stay with me or with Khonshu, they’ll find out soon enough.”

“That’s why I want to get to Harrow before that, hermosa.”

You raised your brow at the second time he called you that. “Charmer,” you smiled playfully.

Finally relaxing and letting your guard down around the new alter, your eyes glowed again.

“Give me one hour.”

…

You were starting to regret not taking the passenger seat.

Yet you also needed a breather from Jake.

You were trying to tell yourself it was because you missed Steven so much…

… but Jake was waking up something else inside you.

It scared you. Scared that you might give into him.

You couldn’t do that to Steven.

“Why would I ever need anybody else when he has no idea how troubled he truly is?”

You hated to admit it, but you sided with Harrow for a split-second while Khonshu gloated on keeping Marc as his Avatar.

“And you’re okay with that, langga?”

You hissed at the name, but you tried not to get too riled up.

“You don’t want those to be your last words, you piece of shit.”

It’ll all be over soon.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter what I think. Marc and Steven don’t know.”

Arthur’s face twisted in confusion.

“Meet my friend, Jake Lockley.”

You barely flinched when you felt the bullet whiz past you and straight into Harrow’s head after Jake said his final words to the cultist.

Harrow slumped forward and fell to the floor where he slowly bled out.

It was over.

You hoisted yourself through the limousine partition window and sat on the passenger seat, not wanting to spend the rest of the ride with a dead body.

Jake narrowed his eyes when your shoes touched the leather seat.

“Really? You’re complaining over my shoes when Harrow is bleeding on your floor mats?”

Jake ignored you and didn’t waste any time and began driving away from the hospital.

Despite being ignored, your eyes continued to watch him, studying what made him so different from the rest.

Jake seemed to be more comfortable with Khonshu’s idea of vengeance, and it made you wonder if he was created because of Khonshu or because of something else.

Either way, the rush of a thousand innocent lives being avenged felt good.

And you had Jake to thank for that.

Now, you really felt that Egypt was a closed chapter…

“I can hear you thinking loudly over there, hermosa.”

His gloved hand reached out and gave your thigh a comforting squeeze.

“Want me to take your mind off things?”

… well, somewhat closed.

[damn-stark]

Chapter 4 Heart to heart

Chapter 4 of Moon Star

A/N- I hope you guys like this chapter

Warning- Violence, blood and weapons, swearing, angst, FLUFF, Khonshu,

Pairing- Marc Spector x daughter!reader

Episode- 1x06

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

There it was, a strong surge of power that hit your veins. It pumped blood to your heart and made it pound with excitement. Basked every muscle in your body and added more strength. While your mind got louder, felt somehow…occupied, like an added weight.

“Rise!” You hear Khonshu’s voice exclaim.

You feel your head rise, feel a soft fabric wrap around your legs and all the way to your torso. You feel cold metal weigh down both arms, you feel it wrap around your waist and biceps.

And then more power pumps through your muscles.

“Rise! As my fist of vengeance!” Khonshu proclaims whilst something weighs down on your back. “As my Moon Knight!”

Lastly something falls over your head and a shadow casts over your eyes.

You then slowly begin to lower your head to check out the white suit that wrapped around your body; unlike your fathers, your arms are exposed, you carry no sleeves, just gloves. You also carry more gold, like, gold cuff bangles around your wrists, thick gold cuffs around your thighs, and golden boots.

Like your father though, you did carry a cloak and hood that covers your face, as well as a mask, but you don’t feel it cover all your face, just from the bridge of your nose and upwards.

It was…it was amazing.

“Y/N,” Layla calls in disbelief.

You swallow thickly and look back at her with faltering confidence. “I’m doing it for him.” You say before returning your gaze to Khonshu. “This deal only works until he’s alive. I’m done after that.”

Khonshu hums, and then turns to smoke and disappears. Yet he isn’t completely gone because you can still feel his presence in your head.

“I’ll be back,” you assure Layla and stride away from her to walk into the main room once again.

Now albeit, those other avatars that had been standing guard, weren’t standing, their bodies were on the ground, and Harrow and his people were trying to leave. With them, was the crocodile Goddess you couldn’t keep from Harrow's reach, the devourer of the dead, Ammit.

As you make yourself known and walk down the steps of the platform to block the exit, Harrow, his people, and Ammit all stop and look up at you.

“Khonshu,” Ammit says without even acknowledging you, “time has been cruel to you.”

Instead of coming out from smoke Khonshu talks through you. You can feel him taking control, it’s…it’s a weird weight and sensation that’s pretty hard to grasp.

“Indeed,” you move your mouth, but hear his voice. “I cannot allow you to proceed.”

“My path is set,” Ammit responds. “Same as anyones. I'm here to bring balance.” She begins to walk around you, making Khonshu move your head so as to watch her while he snapped back.

“You speak of balance, yet you choose him. Your avatar is a sinner.”

“You’re jealous of his loyalty,” Ammit rebuttals.

“Loyalty at what cost?” Khonshu spats. “An empty world for your disciples to inherit?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Harrow interjects. “They only want to keep you bound.”

“Oh, Khonshu,” Ammit adds. “For a God, you are low on faith.”

“You’ll never learn,” Khonshu counters and seeps back to your mind, letting you take control of your body again to fight Ammit.

However, just before you can form a golden sword from the bangles on your wrists, Ammit turns and whips her long reptile tail and throws you back across the room.

“Catch yourself,” Khonshu yells at you in your mind.

You scoff, and swing your arms around as you use your weight and powers to stop yourself from hitting the wall. Yet the speed of how fast you were swung does make it harder to land swiftly though, so you do lose balance and stumble. Yet before you hit the ground, claws come out of your gloves much to your surprise, so you use that and dig them in the floor to proceed to run on your hands and feet fiercely until you gain your balance and break into a sprint on your feet towards Ammit.

Right away as you get close she swings her arm to catch you by the throat, but you throw your head back and slide on your feet past her. You then spin around on your heels and don’t fret to charge at her again.

Ammit tries to grab you again, but you form your sword from your bangles and swing at her hand as you once again slide down past her. And this time you actually manage to slice her palm.

Ammit growls and swings her tail again and manages to throw you to the stairs. She then proceeds to stomp over to you to pick you off the ground and slam you onto the wall.

“Tell me to spare you and I will,” Ammit says.

Once again Khonshu emerges and makes you feel a tension in your body.

“I choose obliteration over mercy,” he counters and goes back, letting you groan from the pain as Ammit slams you back to the wall.

Albeit, it’s because of her action that you grow angry, and go off that blinding and blood pumping energy to pull the claws out again and scratch her across her neck as she pulls you towards her.

Ammit grunts and her hold on you falters, letting you begin to throw your elbow at her face multiple times before you use your claws to begin stabbing her shoulder over and over again.

“You stupid little girl,” Ammit yells out and tries to throw you away, but since she’s so much bigger than you, you swing your body around her arm, and hop off her arm to get on her back and then snatch your own cape off your back to wrap it around her throat.

“I know this won’t kill you,” you grimace with a mischievous smirk. “But it’s a hell of a trick.” You snicker and throw your hand out to form your sword and then push yourself off her back to swiftly land on your feet.

Ammit turns around quickly and shoots you a furious scowl before she charges at you. Rather than running away, you get in a fighting stance and raise your sword. Just as Ammit was getting close she swing her arm again, and you slide past her once more. Just as you turn around to face her, you snicker and grab one of your gadgets that had been hidden on your belt thanks to Khonshu and his magical suit, so when Ammit turns she thinks you’re going to charge at her or use your sword, but you actually throw an explosive at her face.

When the gadget hits the tip of her mouth it goes off and makes her stumble back towards the stairs behind her. You know you couldn’t kill her or get rid of her this way, but you still charge over to her. And just as you get close you flip your sword around in your hand and jump off your feet to try and puncture your sword in her chest.

Albeit just as the tip of your blade is going to hit her, Ammit suddenly disappears and causes you to crash into the steps.

“Harrow,” you say and push yourself to your feet to turn and look for him around the room. Yet he isn’t here anymore, nor are his people.

“Stop,” you hear Khonshu in your head. “I feel him. I feel your fathers presence again.”

You stiffen, and just before you can say anything, Sand then begins to rapidly spin around your feet and the grains cloud your view. All of a sudden you’re then being lifted off the ground.

“Wh—” you gasp. “What’s going on?!” You question Khonshu.

“We’re going to your father,” Khonshu deadpans, and then you’re being flown in the air and brought out of the chamber, and thrown outside into the night sky.

Layla crosses your mind, her well-being, but you figure now it’s too late to go back for her, and well it doesn’t seem like Khonshu wants to turn back. Moreover, the further you get, the more you’re fascinated by the night sky; the bright white streaks as you fly past stars, the shining moon that took the sun's place, and the sand that seems to glimmer from above as the moonlight hits the grains.

Flying also feels almost freeing. It’s a feeling you like, just like…everything else. It’s true. It may be wrong to admit, but you like the power, you like feeling strong and being so. You like everything that Khonshu provides.

What would make it better is not having him in your mind, but you know that’s not part of the deal for anyone. And, furthermore the great sensation is only a temporary feeling for you. Because as you land on a rock formation just across the cave where you had left Marc, the night sky turns back to day, your suit disappears and that weight is pulled off your body, leaving nothing but silence.

“It was a very short run,” Khonshu adds as he forms himself beside you. “Little wolf, but, I can say that you were a fierce fighter. It would make your father proud.”

You scoff and sit down to drop your head and wait for your father to come out. “Thanks,” you say a bit dryly.

“Perhaps the day will come where you and I will join forces again,” Khonshu adds, causing you to glance over at him with curiosity, and actually finding yourself looking forward to it. You just don’t say it and keep quiet to wait for your father in silence.

You wait and wait until it’s his voice you hear first. “Y/N?”

You pick up your head and see him walking out of the cave in his Moon Knight suit. He takes his mask off and looks in disbelief to see you there sitting at the bottom of the rock formation.

“Pa?” You mumble in relief, and feel your heart skip a beat before you push yourself off the ground and charge at him with tears clouding your eyes. “Pa!”

Before he can ask anything, once you reach him, you throw your arms around him and wrap him in an embrace that takes him by surprise.

“Pa,” you mewl and clutch onto him with all your strength. Marc draws in a short breath as he’s still stunned; it’s just hard to believe the soft tone of your voice as you call out to him, he can’t believe that you’re hugging him by your own will. Most importantly he can’t believe you’re crying.

“I thought…I was never going to see you again,” you murmur and pull back to face him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Marc snaps away from his surprise and cradles your cheeks. “What are you sorry for?”

You sniffle. “For acting the way I did. I…I was mad. I didn’t mean it. I…” before you can finish you’re wrapped in an embrace, and this time it’s him who grabs onto you like if he’s the one who’s afraid you’d disappear…which in his defense he was.

It had happened once already.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?” He says as he caresss the back of your head. “I-I messed up. It was me, not you. I’m sorry,” he whispers in a quivering voice. “I love you. I love you so much baby.”

A wobbly smile tugs on your face before you dig your head in the crook of his neck. “I love you too.”

Marc grins and presses a kiss on the top of your head before he pulls back and rolls his eyes back, letting Steven emerge, and changing into his suit.

“Y/N!” Steven exclaims as he keeps his hands on your face. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You giggle and grin at him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Steven. I was scared I lost you. The both of you. Never do that again, I don’t know what I’d do without either of you.”

Steven smiles softly, but he then begins to furrow his eyebrows. “How exactly are you here? Where’s Layla?”

You stiffen and begin to smile nervously. “Yeah, Layla is in the chamber. Or was. I got here by, uh…flying,” you whisper the last word, causing Marc to remerge and counter.

“Excuse me what?”

You pull away and nod. “Yeah. I kinda turned to Moon Knight for a moment.” You continue to whisper

“Hm?” Marc hums in question and begins to look upset. “Khonshu did what?”

You shake your head. “No. Me. I chose it myself. But!” You exclaim. “Only for a bit, only to help him fight Ammit until you came back! And I had fun! That’s gotta count for something, yes?” You bat your lashes and your dad glares at Khonshu past you.

“Khonshu,” he calls and walks past you to reach him on top of the rock formation. You follow him and catch Khonshu deflect Marc’s true intentions.

“I knew you’d miss me.”

“Don’t mess with my daughter again. That was the part of the deal,” Marc rebuttals seriously.

Khonshu turns to face your father and you, and continues to deflect. “Ammit has been freed. Y/N and I tried to stop her but she ran. Marc Spector…” he leans in. “I need your help.”

From one moment to the next Steven emerges to interject. “Ah, just curious about something. How is this whole new arrangement gonna work then?”

“Steven Grant,” Khonshu grumbles. “I was not speaking to you.”

“Yeah, all right,” Steven says. “But we do come as, like, a package deal now, so you are gonna have to deal with me. And,” he lifts his finger. “We did just save your life, so you’re welcome for that.”

Khonshu shakes his head. “Your little wolf saved my life,” he corrects Steven.

You nod proudly. Steven peers back at you, so you rest your foot on a rock and offer him a smirk whilst you click your tongue.

“Anyway,” Steven continues and moves back to sit down on the rock your foot is on. “But I do think that you should answer my question though. How’s this deal gonna work?”

“You would negotiate now, with so much at stake?” Khonshu questions him in annoyance.

Steven chuckles. “Well, we did learn from the best, you silly old bird.”

Khonshu groans. “I will release you both. You have my word,” he assures him.

Steven hums and crosses his leg over his other one and waits. Khonshu seems to gather what it means and sighs before he continues to add more. “And I will leave Layla and Y/N alone.”

You swallow thickly and find…displeasure in that. Kind of.

“I like the sound of that,” Steven says and gets up. “Good. Glad we got that all sorted out. Now, how the heck are we gonna get to Cairo?”

“You forget, little worm,” Khonshu retorts. “I am still the God of the Night Sky!” Sand begins swirl around Stevens feet like it did with you, however, Steven panics.

“All right, you know what? I think you can take this one, Marc.”

“Hurry up, idiots!” Khonshu exclaims before Marc returns.

Once he does he offers you his hand. “Grab my hand,” Your dad says.

It would be way more cool if you could be the one flying too. Yet. You can’t anymore, so you take his hand and he pulls you to him, and then pulls you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist before he suddenly jolts off the ground and begins to fly away in disguise of the night sky.

When you begin to approach the chamber of the gods you can see the purple hue tainted in the sky, you can see Ammit now towering over the pyramid eating the souls they had already killed. And on top of said pyramid was Harrow. Yet your father doesn’t take you with him towards your common enemy, he flies down to the ground by the pyramid instead.

“Find Layla,” he orders, and sets you down on the ground before he flies off again without letting you protest.

That’s probably for the best though.

Nevertheless you rip your gaze away from the sky and turn to head back towards the entrance. Just before you could go into the rubble though, the woman you’re looking for walks out in a cool fighting suit as well.

Layla’s albeit was different, it was like a white dress with gold armor, and gold pants under. She carries gold accessories, and in the middle of her necklace was a scarab. She looked incredible.

“Y/N,” she says in surprise and studies you for the suit you had on before. “What happened? Are you okay?”

You study her and smirk. “What happened to you? Was it Taweret?” You ask as your eyes go wide. “Did you accept her proposal?”

Layla nods stiffly. “Only for now,” she lets you know. “Just to help take down Ammit.”

You begin to grin. “That’s—cool. You look awesome!”

Layla smiles softly. “You did too. What happened?”

You sigh. “Khonshu let me go, he fulfilled his promise, he helped my dad.” You share happily.

Layla lets out a relieved sigh and she nods before she turns around to look up the pyramid. “That’s good. That’s very good. Where is he now?”

You glance back and reveal, “fighting Harrow. I tried to stop Ammit, but she escaped before I could do anything.”

“It’s okay,” Layla assures you and turns to face you again. “Hang on, we have to help the people down in the city.” She then proceeds to throw her arms out and golden wings come out from behind her.

Wings! She had wings! She’s so damn lucky. Now all you’re left with are your boring gadgets. No cool sword, no cool armor, nothing. Damn….

Now all you can do is cling onto her too and have her fly you down to the ground just like Marc did. And just like him she flies off and leaves you alone.

“So awesome,” you grumble to yourself. “Yeah. Leave me, powerless me, defenseless against soul sucking cultists.” You begin to jog to where the people are running away from and continue to complain. “Oh, y/n? Where is she? Who knows, she can’t fly so I left her,” you huff. “Now I’ll take my sweet ole time getting there.”

You proceed to do as you say considering they have powers and you have nothing left but a few gadgets. They can fight Harrow and his men without you for some time.

Not to mention, just before you can turn the last corner left before you can reach the plaza you can already hear the commotion, bullets and breaking glass. No one seems to be concerned. Then again it probably does make your fathers life easier if you’re not in the way, if you’re slowly making your way there and accidently bumping into someone.

“Sorry,” you tell them mindlessly even if they might not understand you, and walk past them without noting that they seem too calm for people running away from all the calamity.

“Wait!” They call; and expecting they need help, you turn. You let them walk towards you and wait for what they needed to say.

Albeit rather than telling you something, they forcefully grab your wrists and a searing pain suddenly slams into your entire body. It almost paralyzes you, but you muster the strength to slam your head on their nose, causing them to yelp out and let go of you to stumble back.

In that moment as you stumble back yourself, you figure out that they were Harrow's people. You can’t see their tattoo but there’s no other explanation. He was trying to read your scales—no he was trying to kill you.

You scoff and look down at your wrists in slight disbelief before you then use your raging anger and charge at them to throw your leg out and kick them back.

The person slams into some tables and groans. Before they have a chance to defend themselves you grab the side of their head and slam it to the table's surface so hard they knock out in that instant.

You might be powerless, but you aren’t fucking defenseless. Fuck those fucking hypocrites.

“Fuck you,” you spat at the body and then shift around to try and continue towards the plaza.

Alas, once again before you can make it far, this time you’re suddenly tackled to the floor from behind.

“You’re the daughter aren't you?” They ask by your ear before they pick themselves off you and flip you around so you can face their scarf covered face.

“What's it to you, bastard?” You scowl and try to kick him back, but he then knees your stomach, making you immediately stop and groan as you feel like you were paralyzed.

“Let’s see how well he can stop Harrow if you’re dead,” he hisses and then gets on his knees at your side to grab your wrists, so three more of his friends can come and hold down each one of your limbs. “Hold her down. She’s a fighter.”

Once you’ve somewhat recuperated from the knee to the stomach, you begin to squirm and try to thrash around. “Let me go!” You bellow. “Let me go!”

The man with the scarf around his mouth and at the top of his head proceeds to read your scales, causing you to hesitate so you could watch what came out.

And much to your misfortunate the scales move rapidly at first before slowing down and reading as unbalanced.

“No,” you whisper in disbelief since you know what follows. “No. No!” You cry and continue trying to fight them off. “Let me go!” You then scream at the top of your lungs, but the man continues to tighten his grip around your wrist, making that searing pain return.

This time albeit that pain leaves you paralyzed. This time you can’t find the strength to fight back.

However, before they can…take your soul, and before you could suddenly die, a tip of a gold dagger gets impaled through the man’s eye and causes him to immediately stop from killing you.

Two of the three people who held you down let you go to get up and run off, leaving only one left who keeps your other wrist down. She tries to continue what the other man was doing, but you swing your other arm and punch her square in the face, making them fall back.

Rather than following after her and knocking her out, you get on your hands and knees and begin to pant as you think about the fact that your scales were…Unbalanced? They were unbalanced. That means….that….

Your breathing begins to get harder to catch, it starts feeling like your heart is going to come out of your chest. You begin to feel hot, and your thoughts begin to race. You try to calm down, but you then feel a hand on your shoulder and end up throwing yourself forward to get the hand off you.

“Let me go! Don’t fucking touch me,” you seethe and push yourself up whilst you pull out your dagger.

“<Y/N, sweetheart, it’s me. It’s just me,>” you recognize your father saying to you in Spanish.

And when you lift your gaze you see him slowly trying to approach you with his mask off.

“Pa?” You whisper and can’t help but let out a soft whimper before you both run to each other to wrap one another in embrace. “They…they tried to…they were about to…I—”

“<It’s okay, you’re okay,” he cuts off your stammering, and caresses your back as he holds onto you just as tight as before. As if it’s the first time seeing you. “I’m here now. I got you.>”

He then pulls back and cups your cheeks to study your face as if it’s the first time he’s seeing you.

“<My girl,> he continues to whisper softly in spanish. He then proceeds to offer you a soft smile and wipes away your tears.

“Let’s go. Where’s Layla?” You ask and break the moment.

Your father nods and pulls away, letting you pass him to face the plaza in hopes you’d catch Layla fighting, but all you hear is the sound of chaos.

“You know I may not have powers anymore,” you mention and don’t touch on what just happened, instead you begin walking ahead. “But I am still useful. I mean I did leave some stuff at home, and some things are untested, but Layla has taught me to fight, and well….I picked…” you trail off when you don’t notice your dad following at your side. When you look back you notice him staring down at the dead bodies he left behind of the people who had wanted to kill you.

“Pa? What’s wrong?” You ask in confusion.

Marc turns around and shakes his head before he runs over to catch up to you

“What were you saying?” He asks.

You glance over at him and narrow your gaze briefly before you just shake your head and just leave it for later. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later.”

Your dad nods, and once you walk out of the street you see Layla helping people out of a turned over van.

“Layla—” you try to call, but then Harrow's voice cuts you off.

“Had Ammit been allowed to rule,” he says and then begins to shoot his power from his cane to your dad, causing him to cross his arms over one another to block the beam of power. “Young Randall’s life would’ve been saved, your family would’ve been happy. She need only remove one weed from the garden.” He grunts, and his power begins to push your dad back. “You.”

Harrow's power falters, letting your dad grab a dagger to try and throw it, however Harrow manages to stop him with his power and begins to hurt Marc, getting you pissed.

“Let him go!” You bellow and pull out your dagger to throw it at him. And this time you actually hit his arm, making him groan and stumble back.

When he catches his footing Harrow then looks over at you and shoots you a piercing glare. “Your scales lack balance!” He snaps at you.

You grab your last paralyzing gadget and prepare to throw it at him, but he then swings his cane and shoots his power at your chest, making Marc yell out as you get thrown back. “No!”

When you hit the ground, you’re a bit dazed by the pain, but you do hear running before there’s an explosion and screaming.

“Fuck,” you grumble and ignore your pain to push yourself up, feeling yourself stumble a bit before you find your footing and blink repeatdly to clear your blurry vision.

However, that’s when you see two people with big guns approaching you. You notice one of Layla's wings trapped under your dad's dagger. And lastly see your own dad on the ground as Harrow stops at his side to slam the end of his cane on his chest.

You instinctively try to run over and help, but the men force you back with their guns, forcing you to watch as Harrow's power shoots at your fathers chest, bringing closer to death.

“Put your hands up!” One of them shouts at you.

You rip your eyes off your dad and do as they man say whilst you force tears to your eyes.

“Please, I just want to go home, I lost my father,” you slowly begin to approach them as they watch you cry. “One of the people said my scales were balanced please—”

“Where are your scales then?” The second man demands to know, making you look down at your blank wrists. Shit. Right.

“Please,” you ignore their comment, and slowly begin to crouch down. “Please let me go. I just want to see my father.”

The men look at one another, letting you look behind them, only to notice that your father was now off the ground and killing off Layla’s attackers.

“Give us your wrists!” The first man yells.

You nod in agreement, and just before they can approach you, and before you can sit on your knees, you swing your leg under the second man’s feet, causing him to fall back. The first man points his gun at where you were and almost hits the trigger, but a gold dagger then goes through his throat and instantly makes him collapse.

When you look over you see your dad. His glowing eyes meet your gaze for a brief second before he then goes to the second guy that was trying to get up, and stomps on bashes his head on the street.

You gasp from shock and snap your eyes to Layla to share the same disbelief before you look back at your father and watch him swiftly fight off Harrow.

Harrow tries to put up a fight but your dad then ends up throwing him to the ground, and points his own weapon on his forehead.

“Dad?” You call breathlessly and slowly walk over to him.

Marc takes his mask off and doesn’t look over at you, he just lets Harrow fall before he could kill him, and then looks at the weapon in his hand as if confused on what it was or something.

You try to approach him to try and figure out what’s going on in his mind, but he proceeds to drop the cane and slowly turns around. You meet his gaze and swallow thickly before you avert your gaze and step aside.

It’s not that you were scared of the gruesome violence he displayed, you were just a bit surprised that’s all.

Regardless, you watch Steven emerge for a brief second Marc returns as he turns around again to take in what just happened.

“Dad?” You call again, and this time he meets your gaze.

“Yeah,” he say between pants.

You look down and then back at him, however before you can say a thing, Layla beats you to it. “What the hell was that?”

As you look over at her you see that she finally manages to get rid of the dagger that had her wing trapped.

“I blacked out,” your dad answers as he continues to look around.

You swallow thickly, and then hear distant rumbling. When you look at where it comes from you see Ammit and Khonshu still fighting. Actually Ammit is beating Khonshu.

“Get Harrow,” Layla says as she begins to stride forward to collect the broken cane off the ground. “I know how to stop Ammit.”

Without hesitation your dad does as he’s told, and you all then proceed to walk back to the Chamber of the Gods, where your dad puts Harrow down on a large piece of rubble.

“The power of this room will help us bind Ammit to Harrow's body,” Layla adds, letting your dad walk back to stand at her side—“Quick, grab my hand so we can start the spell.”

Without asking how this is done, you step back and let them do their thing since you figure that this just requires them.

And of course as expected when they both grab hands, they begin to chant and cause that purple hued power to come out from their hands and circle around, meeting each statue of the gods. And honestly seeing what they were doing was kind of cool, seeing the purple glow, hearing them chant was chilling in a very good way. Part of you wishes you could be a part of it too.

Nevertheless, before long, the power begins to go through Harrow's body until finally it stops and you hear Ammit talk through him.

“You can never contain me, I’ll never stop.”

The purple hue then proceeds to go off as Harrows body lays flat on the rubble, and the chanting stops.

“Is it over?” You ask and cautiously begin to approach the pair, hearing your dad grunt as he drops his head.

“Not yet,” you recognize Khonshu say, causing you to stop in your tracks.

When you snap your head to the side you see him walking over from behind Layla.

“Finish it, Marc,” he addresses your dad now. “And leave neither of them alive.”

Your dad approaches Harrow's body, and pulls out a dagger as he takes Harrow's body off the rubble to hold the blade over him, and hesitates.

“While he lives, so too does she,” Khonshu continues to say.

“I have to finish this,” your dad mutters. “If not, I’ll never be free.”

You take one step towards your father and just watch him. You don’t try to stop him, and why would you? If this is what he has to do to get rid of Ammit, then you’d just watch him do it without any protests. She’s evil, why let her live and risk her doing more harm?

Yet Layla does protest. “Marc!”

Said man glances over before he could stab Harrow.

“You have a choice,” Layla continues to say. “You are free.”

You continue to watch him in silence and just hear Khonshu argue. “The choice is vengeance. We cannot take the chance that Ammit finds a way out. She will kill again.”

Right.

Your dad looks over at him and retorts, “now you sound just like her.”

You drop your gaze and stiffen at his comment as you begin to think to your unbalanced scales.

Is this why? Because given the chance you would kill the both of them?

“You want them dead,” your dad continues to say. And now when you return your gaze to him, you see he let Harrow go to throw his dagger to the side. “Do it yourself.”

There's a brief silence before Marc breaks it, “now, release us.”

Khonshu hesitates and glances over at Layla, and then looks at you for a longer second before finally looking back at your dad and giving in. “As you wish,” he says, and then turns to sand and disappears.

Not long after your dad's suit begins to disappear too, giving off a white glow before all there is is his mundane clothes.

“Pa?” You call and walk over to him. “Is it done?”

Your father looks over at you and nods. “He’s gone,” he assures you as well as himself.

You smile at him. “Good,” you say and sigh. “Now…can we go? It’s been a long fucking day.”

Your dad chuckles and nods as he hops off the rubble and joins your side to grab your shoulder and Layla’s. “Let’s go,” he says to the both of you.

“Maybe we can stop and get some food?” You suggest excitedly.

Marc nods. “Sure. Whatever you want, kid.”

——

*SOMETIME LATER. NEW YORK*

Loud music blasts in your ears, sparks fly everywhere, lights from your computer flash, making you add one last touch on what you’re working on before you pull away and pull off your safety goggles.

“Run diagnostics,” you instruct your friend sitting across from you as you move back on your chair, and then spin around to drag yourself to your own laptop on your bed.

“On it,” Marvin mumbles and spins around in his chair to work on his laptop placed on your desk.

You pull your headphones down and click on the email you just got whilst you throw some chips into your mouth. When you open the email you see that the email address is sketchier than usual, it’s not from your usual contact.

“Okay,” you sigh and click on some things so you can try and find an IP address.

“Who is it?” Marvin asks. “A job?”

You shrug, and while you’re waiting for your results you scroll down, seeing that it is information for a job.

“Yeah,” you let your friend know. “But….” You pause and click your teeth while you read what's contained inside. “…It’s not from my usual contact.” You hum, and then feel your eyes instantly widen as you see that the payment is high, more than you’ve gotten paid for before. “Damn. It pays fucking well.”

Marvin rolls over to you and moves your screen so he can read for himself. “It pays…” he pauses and swears under his breath. “Three figures.” He snaps his head to you and queries. “Are you going to take it? Take it!””

Your computer flashes again, so you turn your screen towards you and check the results for an IP address. Yet you get nothing, it’s blocked, adding to the mystery.

“I don’t know who the buyer is,” you inform him as you continue to read the job details with your eyes narrowed. “It just says that the item is an old relic stolen from an East African region, and,” you click your tongue and slowly put a chip in your mouth. “It will be auctioned on Sunday next week. That’s a weird day.” You mumble and begin to munch slowly.

“They’re rich people,” Marvin comments as he grabs chips from your bag. “Who knows why they do what they do.”

You laugh softly and keep scrolling. “It says,” you continue. “That the goal is to take it before it gets sold because that’s the only time they’ll have it on display.”

“Name of contractor?” Marvin asks and leans closer to you.

You shake your head, “No name, or contact info whatsoever, it just says to click accept or deny.” You huff out and sit back to think of what you can do.

The obvious answer would be to leave it. You’re just starting off, it would be a risk to take it—but fuck…you did get the email for a reason…

“I don’t know,” you grumble and slam your head on your hands. “I shouldn’t take it.”

Marvin stays quiet for a moment before you hear him huff out and add on the matter. “And if this nano-tech works out, the job would be so easy.”

You lift your head to peek at him. “Do you know how long I’ve been working on that? It’s not gonna work any time soon.”

Marvin rolls his eyes. “It’s just been a year, don't be dramatic. And! You’re close I can feel it…” he pauses and points at his gut. “Here.”

You quirk your brow and groan before you cover your face again.

“And if it doesn’t work?” You question in a muffled voice. “If I get caught—”

“We,” he interjects. “If we get caught.”

You sigh and correct yourself. “If we get caught, I lose my internship, you lose your scholarship, we go to jail, my dad bails me out and then him and Layla bind me to an ushabti as punishment.”

Marvin hums and shrugs. “Is it really the end?” He probes.

Without waiting for the rest of his comment you nod. “Yes. Being stuck in an ushabti is, I imagine, like, being stuck in stone. Or like I don’t maybe a genie—”

Marvin cuts you off, “I mean you probably will still keep working off jobs. You’ll get money. And you’ll actually get more—”

“No,” you cut him off and pick your head off your hands. “I won’t lose my internship. I’ve come too far. You can’t lose your scholarship. I won’t do it. I'll pass.” You nod stiffly and close out of the email to then spin around and face the nano-tech housing unit. “I’ll work on this, finish this.”

Marvin’s computer gets a notification so he rapidly rolls over to his side of the table to read it, whilst you put your goggles back on and grab your utensils.

“Oh, oh, my…fuck!” Marvin exclaims and jumps out of his chair. “Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Yes!” He turns around and slams his hands on the table. “You did it! It works! It fucking works!”

You stumble out of your chair and look at him in disbelief. “Shut up,” you mouth breathlessly. “Shut up. Marvin.” You begin to walk over to him, and he quickly picks his laptop off the table to show you his screen that reads “trail run 102, 99% successful.”

It works. It fucking works.

You begin to laugh before you both begin to jump up and down from excitement.

“Fuck yeah,” you yell and hop over to him to embrace him. “Yes!”

Marvin wraps one arm around you, but quickly pulls back to face you. “You’re smart, you know that?”

You smirk and get all cocky. “I know I am.” You shoot him a wink.

Marvin lets out a sigh and begins to show off a mischievous smirk. “You know what that means right?” He doesn’t wait and answers himself. “You’re doing that job. You’re doing it.”

You pull back and begin gnawing the inside of your cheek as you once again begin to think about the offer. It would be good on one hand; to finally separate yourself from Layla and do this somewhat solo.

Then again it is a risk because it will be your first solo mission, and also because there's just so many more factors to worry about. And what if your scales are unbalanced because of this job, of what you do?

Then again…the job can be used to prove to your father that you aren’t a little girl anymore, that you are more than capable of doing this stuff. Because you are…

You are.

You begin to smile and without saying anything you run over to your computer and click accept without overthinking it.

Marvin gasps and puts his laptop down to then walk over to you.

“You accepted it,” he mumbles.

You nod slowly and glance over at him to slowly begin smiling. “I accepted,” you repeat.

From one moment to the next your phone begins to ring, making your shoulders jump, and causing Marvin to react for you.

“It’s them, answer it,” he whispers as if whoever was calling could hear.

You share a nervous look before you slide your phone off the table and check; noticing that it’s only Marc.

“It’s just my dad,” you sigh with relief and answer. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he immediately answers back. “Hey, Wolf.”

You sit down and sigh. “Hey, pa, what’s up?” You ask slowly and a bit uncomfortably.

It’s just awkward that’s all. Sure that day that he got rid of Ammit and was freed was a good day, he came back to life, everyone was living a bliss weekend, but after it passed, when you were back in London that went away. Everyone was reminded of what happened, how he has been ignoring Layla and you, and things just got awkward.

You are trying to work things out, he is back in your life again, but it doesn’t take away the tension just yet.

“I just,” he mutters. “Wanted to check on you. I hope you weren’t busy.”

You shake your head and slowly begin to spin around in your chair. “Nope…just finishing some work at my room. What are you up to?”

“I’m here too!” You recognize Stevens' British accent suddenly coming through your phone. “I’m here y/n. Hello.”

You giggle. “Hi Steven. What’s up? Why are you guys calling? It’s…” you pause and spin around to check the time on your laptop. “It’s early over there.”

“Well,” you hear Marc say now. “We need to tell you something.”

You stay quiet and catch your computer flash as you wait.

“We’re going to visit you in New York next week.” Your dad reveals, causing you to choke on your own saliva since you gasp.

“Someone didn’t want to make it a surprise,” Steven complains. “Is it okay though? We know it’s so sudden, but it was meant to be a surprise visit.”

You clear your throat. “Yeah,” you lie. “That’s totally fine. I’ll be here. No plans.” You click on the response from your new contact and scoff softly. “Whatsoever.”

“Good,” Marc says. “I just want to catch up, you know? Check out this very famous tech company you work at. See how you’re doing. I…owe it to you, I’ve been an ass.”

You drop your gaze and feel your frown form. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Maybe you’re right.”

Marc chuckles softly. “I am.”

You look up and in your head read the one sentence on the email. “We’ll contact you when the job is done.”

That’s super informative. Not suspicious whatsoever.

“How long will you stay?” You ask your dad as you nervously gnaw on the inside of your cheek.

“Just Wednesday to Monday,” he shares.

Great. That means he’ll be here by then. That’s fucking great!

.

.

.

.

Tagged: @broadwaytraaaaash @jasminemohmed

[deafblindshorty]

Watched Moon Knight for the 60th time

I noticed some similarities the Moon Knight system has with both Poe and Rey from Star Wars.

Let's start with Marc and Poe:

-Both Poe and Marc ran away from home at 16/17 (Marc was WAY more justified, but still)

-Both joined shady groups (Poe, the Spice Runners of Kijimi, Marc, Bushman's mercenary gang)

-Both were left for dead in a desert

-Both have a high kill count (but so do a lot of fictional characters, actually...)

-Both went on "fetch quests" and ended up losing the thing they were questing for (The map to Skywalker in TFA and the Wayfinder in TROS/the scarab leading to Ammit's tomb)

-Both have similar witty banter ("So who talks first?"/"What are dancin'? We fightin'? What are we doin'?")

-Both are badass drivers (Well, pilot in Poe's case)

-Both kept secrets from their friends because they were ashamed of it.

-Both have issues with jealousy (Poe with Zorii in Free Fall, BB-8 and Leia in the ST [Rey "stole" his droid and his mentor]/Marc with Layla)

-A little dark, but... both were indirectly responsible for the death of a family member (Poe ran away from home, his father, Kes tracked him down and he ended up bitten by a poisonous alien creature. We still don't know if he's alive, but still... And Marc brought his brother into a rainy cave where he drowned)

-Both tried to rescue prisoners of their respective gangs, but were sliced up/shot (Poe in Free Fall, Marc in his backstory)

-Both tried and failed to convince their respective higher powers of threats (Poe tried to convince the New Republic that the First Order is a threat, Marc tried to convince the Egyptian Ennead that Harrow is trying to release Ammit)

-Their love interests (Past love interest in Poe's case) have a family friend who is a bit on the criminal side (Layla has Lagardo who is a forger, Zorii has Babu Frik who is a black market droidsmith)

Poe and Steven:

-Both dealt with a bad boss (Holdo/Donna)

-Both kept messing up their comrade's respective missions because they weren't told everything

-Both...ah...were "mind raped" by their respective villains (Well, Poe was. Steven's scales were read by Harrow)

-Then Steven was kidnapped and questioned about the MacGuffin by the same villain like Poe was

I don't know enough about Jake to make any similarities.

Poe even has a few things in common with Layla:

-They both want to follow in their late parents' footsteps (Rebel pilot/archeologist)

-Both were calm and helpful when their friends couldn't figure out an escape plan (Steven in Summon the Suit when they barracaded themselves in a room in Harrow's cult lair/Rey in the short story Through the Turbulence in Stories of Jedi and Sith)

-Both made badass rescues of their friends from the bad guys (Layla in Summon the Suit, Poe in TROS)

-Both made friends with (Well, I assume Marc and Layla were friends before they got married) people who have ties with people responsible for their parents' death (Marc worked for Bushman who killed Layla's father. Rey (who hadn't even been born yet, but still) was Palpatine's granddaughter. Poe's mom fought the Empire as a pilot. She eventually developed bloodburn and died of it)

-Both went to their old shady friends for help against the big bad which ended badly (Layla reached out to Mogart, an artifact thief which lead to an all-out battle. Poe reached out to Zorii, which lead to her wanting to turn Rey in to the First Order for a bounty, then her planet was destroyed.)

Rey and Marc:

-Both wear white hoods (Marc's Moon Knight suit, Rey's outfit in TROS)

-Really minor, but, both caught red pieces of fabrics and had shocked looks on their faces (Rey caught a marker ribbon and was suddenly struck by a vision, the teen cultist Marc was holding over a ledge cut his scarf that Marc was holding and threw himself off).

-Both had connections with people they hate, but they eventually helped them. (Rey had a dyad connection with Kylo/Marc was Khonshu's avatar)

-Both have secrets they're ashamed of (Marc blames himself for his brother's death and his mother abused him, Rey is Palpatine's granddaughter)

-Both ran out on their friends because of their shameful past and because their mother-figure died (Marc ran out on Layla and Frenchie because of Khonshu after his mother died, Rey left her friends because she's a Palpatine after Leia her mother figure dies)

-They were killed by evil cult leaders (Harrow shoots Marc dead and Rey defends herself against Palpatine and is killed)

-Both returned to life and healed with help from people they hated and had connections to (Khonshu healed Marc when he returned to life, Ben gave up his life force for Rey)

-Both engage in a beam-of-war with evil cult leaders (Rey deflected Palpatine's lightning with by crossing two lightsabers, Marc deflected Harrow's...uh...beam with his arms crossed.)

-While engaged in battle, their friends rush to help, but they both push their friends back (Finn rushes to help Rey while she's fighting with Kylo but Rey force-pushes him back/Layla rushes to help Marc with his beam-of-war with Harrow, but Marc pins her to an overturned car with one of his crescent darts)

-Both have golden weapons (Marc's crescent darts, Rey's golden yellow lightsaber, which she didn't get until the end of TROS, but still)

-Palpatine drained most of Rey's life force which was painful for her, Harrow starts to disintegrate Marc, which was painful for him.

-Both were forced to face their pasts by their enemies (Marc by Dr. Harrow and Rey by Kylo)

-Both looked helplessly up at the losing battle (Marc looked helplessly at Ammit defeating Khonshu and Layla under fire. Rey looked helpless at Palptatine shooting lightning at the Resistance fleet)

-Both have a surprising twist at the end having to do with a new name ("Meet my friend, Jake Lockley." (Marc's third alter), "Rey Skywalker.")

Rey and Steven:

-We see their daily routines when we first meet them.

-They have friendless backgrounds

-They have bad bosses

-Their lives were upended and they were dragged into the main conflict

-They stole a vehicle and were chased by the bad guys (and the owners of said vehicles run after them yelling "That's mine!")

-Companions of one of their co-leads find them (BB-8/Layla)

-They have connections with someone they hate (Kylo Ren/Marc)

-They cope by pretending (Steven pretends his mother is alive and they have a good relationship/Rey pretends that her parents are still alive and are coming back to her)

-They are both frozen at one point (Rey was frozen in place by Kylo, Steven was frozen in sand)

-They are both kidnapped and interrogated about the MacGuffin (Rey and the map to Skywalker and Steven and the scarab)

-They are both encouraged to use their respective powers, but can't (Poe encourages Rey to use the force when she had trouble accessing it in Through the Turbulence, Steven... well, Layla think's he's Marc, still, but she encourages him to summon the suit.

-They both use their friends' advice to channel their skills to help said friend who's in danger. (Rey takes Poe's advice to channel the force to save him from giant aliens in Through the Turbulence, and Steven channels Marc's skills in order to save him from the dead in the Duat)

-They both figure out how to get to the MacGuffin by studying ancient text (Rey with the ancient Jedi text and Steven with his Egyptology books)

-Both have arguments with their co-leads (Steven and Marc and Rey and Poe)

-"Huh. I like this." (Said by Steven in Summon the Suit)/"Whoo! I like this!" (Said by Rey in The Last Jedi)

-They were both killed by an evil cult leader (Rey by Palpatine [sort of] and Steven by Harrow)

-Their co-leads get mad at them for "Stealing" their companions (Poe is mad Rey stole BB-8 [in Through the Turbulence], Marc is mad at Steven for kissing his wife)

-They are both forced to face the truth about their pasts (Rey by Kylo and Steven by Harrow)

-They learn horrible truths about their families (Rey is Palpatine's granddaughter and Steven's mother was abusive to Marc)

-They both accept their connection with the person they hate and fight side-by-side with them. (Rey accepts her dyad connection with Ben and force-transfers a lightsaber to Ben and Steven accepts he's an alter and fights alongside Marc switching out occasionally)

-They are both "very British" (They have British accents and all)

-Both their journeys came full circle (Rey slides down a sand hill on a desert planet, Steven wakes up to "A Man Without Love" playing.)

-There's a twist that has to do with their name ("Rey Skywalker"/"Jake Lockley" (Steven's third alter))

Finn and Marc:

-Both rescued prisoners from their respective evil gangs (Poe from the First Order, the archeologists from Bushman) and they ended up dead (Poe was thought to be dead)

Finn and Steven:

-Both dealt with mean girl bosses (Phasma and Donna)

-Both tried to get away from their co-leads' mission (Steven tried to run from the Scarab mission and Finn tried to run from the Resistance)

-Both developed a strong attachment to their female leads (Finn and Rey/Steven and Layla)

-Both lose their trust in their companion because he kept a dark secret from him about their criminal past. (Steven doesn't trust Marc because of his mercenary past and he slightly mocks him about the room full of dead people being Marc's room. Finn mocks Poe about his spice runner past)

Finn and Layla:

-They both rushed after their friend to help them in battle but were forced away by them (Finn goes after Rey who was fighting Kylo, but Rey force-pushes him away. Layla rushes to help Marc when he was fighting Harrow, but Marc pins her against an overturned car with his crescent darts)

-They're both extremely protective of their friends (husband in Layla's case)

-They channel the same power their love interest/friend has and it helps them win the day. (Layla accepts being Taweret's avatar, Finn uses the Force)

Whoo! That was long and took half the day!

There was also a C-3PO vibe from Steven ("Oh. Sorry." Said when he fronted as Mr. Knight during the battle at Mogart's in ep3) and a K-2SO vibe from Marc ("Doesn't sound bad to me.")

[alexanderforhire]

Slavegod || Alexander || Self Para

Things had changed once the Conclave left the area. The followers of Ammit had gotten to Alexander again and removed all doubt from his mind once again, using powers to wipe him devoid of his past and of his identity. It had already been such a hard process to convince and break through this before and Deacon was sure in himself this time it would hold the vampire for his beloved god.

Now a slave to the god who would weigh and consume souls, Alexander had been enduring torture and abuse if it meant satisfying this god. It was his purpose now, after all, not remembering anything that came before or the efforts made to have him remember the previous time this had happened.

But the following days in the infirmary stirred up blocked off visions. While he wasn't sure of what was happening or knowing exactly where he was, his mind was busy dreaming- many times this feeling like a fever dream.

Moments on his life would play out, from being human and trying to outrun the Conclave, killing his sire, stealing his daylight ring, various assassinations, tricking Lacy to make ends meet...

Dazed and confused, his eyes partially opened but his eyes felt heavy. He couldn't see well enough, being in and out of the dreamlike state. But he could hear voices. These voices merged into his dreams as he would again fall back into it, the voices saying something about the vampire was demonic, abyssal spells were used, and the constant use of the name 'Alexander'. None of this made any sense to him but were vivid enough that they felt real.

Again, he tried to open his eyes, seeing figures around him. Different voices having a discussion. One figure appeared to be holding papers, speaking about medical things that seemed foreign. He tried to open his eyes wider to investigate his surroundings, even trying to move but the energy quickly turned to lethargy as the vampire was being dosed heavily with tranquilizing meds through IV tubes. None of this was known to him, of course, but the failsafe of keeping the deadly assassin sedated was working. If Alexander had not befallen such weakness prior to getting here, he would have been able to be more alert.

"You think it could be Ammit?" a voice remarked, "he has the sigil."

"Possible, especially the way he was said to be acting. I'm not sure if we can reverse whatever this is."

"Do we even want to try? He's not exactly the most upstanding guy, in fact, he's a weapon."

"---and anyone else here can be used as a weapon. That's not a good enough reason to not help."

"Okay, how about this? He's a deadly assassin. One of the oldest vampires, all someone has to do is give their price and whomever is targeted is as good as dead. Not to mention--- he's not even a resident of the asylum. He's an outsider. He's been told several times not to breach the gates but he refuses to stop."

A brief pause, Alexander thinking he fell asleep again.

"Then you need to beef up security measures if we have this much trouble. Get better cameras, motion detection-- you should have more people on patrol to call these things out and act on them."

"With what money!? We lost 75% of security the past few years because of the risk! And the risk of dying!"

"That's not my problem to figure out right now. My problem is, do we find a fix, if there even is one, or do we just give a diagnosis and dump him somewhere?"

"If we dump him, who's to say there isn't any more of these Ammit people?"

"Ammit people?"

"Confused, memory-wiped people. Or if they're won't be more?"

"I'm going to tell you something I've noticed. The fires, right? A lot of shit stopped shortly after all of that. Those big ones, the... what were they called... Con....?"

"Conclave."

"Yes, those. We were getting reports just before they left. The reports all but stopped once they left. I'm not saying they're back, but what I'm proposing here is that this is an old problem that's just now being brought back to our attention. Alexander probably has been like this for the better part of a couple years. And I'll tell you another thing: I go past that mansion at least once a week or so. It's been abandoned. No scent of vampires. That's how I know. Wolves have moved in closer into the town since the vampires- especially him- have been away. Alexander has been on the grounds, probably hidden somewhere for some time now."

The vampire began to fade back into sleep again, voices getting farther and farther away. He wasn't quite sure if they had been talking about him or someone else, but it was strange they had been speaking so close and about Ammit.

Who were these people and why were his dreams so vivid?

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

For the whole history of LAYLA ABDALLAH EL-FAOULY, please click here.

← ONCE THERE WAS AN IDEA TO BRING TOGETHER →

Just because Ammit and Harrow are gone doesn’t mean everything is magically better. Layla and Marc still have a lot to figure out personally and about the world at large -- like if Khonshu still has a hold on Marc. Her husband is taking up a lot of her time, but Layla’s really glad that he’s not dead. She’s glad that they’re working it out. There’s still time for her to work on herself as well. Briefly being the Scarlet Scarab while fighting Ammit put a taste in her mouth that she thinks she wants more of. Layla’s been a lot of things from a scholar to a thief. She never imagined that she would add super hero to that list, but it may not be a bad idea. The look on the little girl’s face who asked her if she was an Egyptian superhero hangs in her mind. There’s a hole that needs to be filled and Layla may be the one to help do so.

←  A GROUP OF REMARKABLE PEOPLE TO SEE IF THEY →

✗ MARC SPECTOR (MCU) has always been complicated, but Layla loved him all the same. She stood by him despite his demons while he worked as Moon Knight, and when he vanished after serving her divorce papers she was more than a little pissed off. It all makes more sense now. The two have reconciled and are working together following their takedown of Ammit and Harrow. The fact that he lied about being present when her father died hasn’t escaped Layla’s mind, but she’s not seeking separation. She loves Marc and wants to be his wife no matter how complicated it is. They make a damn good team.

✗ STEVEN GRANT (MCU) is technically Marc due to his being a manifestation of the latter’s dissociative identity disorder, but the two are separate individuals. Steven is different than Marc: he’s sweet and painfully earnest. He’s also very clearly infatuated with Layla and she can’t help but feel affectionate as well. That makes things complicated. He’s her husband, but he’s not. Is being with him cheating on Marc -- who happens to be territorial? They haven’t figured that out yet.

✗ TAWERET (MCU) possessed Layla when she became her Avatar, which wasn’t something Layla ever wanted. It was more of a necessity than anything else, and having the goddess in her head was a little disconcerting. That being said, Layla liked helping to save the day. She liked being a hero. It’s because of that fact that Layla hasn’t ruled out one day working with Taweret again.

← COULD BECOME SOMETHING MORE  →

✗ PARTNER TO MOON KNIGHT → Marc and Layla have worked together a lot over the years, but this is different. She was never involved in his Moon Knight world to this extent before. Traveling the world trying to figure out what’s going on with Marc and Khonshu has become her main priority, but Layla doesn’t mind. She’s also figuring out what her life looks out now and having Marc by her side helps.

✗ OTHER AFFILIATIONS -- n/a.

← & IF WE CAN’T SAVE THE WORLD, WE’LL AVENGE IT →

✗ AGE → 30′s ( 31 ) ✗ MULTIVERSE ORIGIN → mcu ✗ SPECIES → human turned avatar ✗ ETHNICITY → egyptian / palestinian  ✗ SECRET IDENTITY → public ✗ RELATIONSHIP STATUS → married to marc spector ✗ FACECLAIM → may calamawy ✗ AVAILABILITY → taken

← FUN FACTS →

born october 28, 1994

multiverse counterpart is marlene alraune

understand ancient egyptian unilaterals

survived the blip

[veinereastath]

Eᴛʜᴀɴ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇ ᴀs Aʀᴛʜᴜʀ Hᴀʀʀᴏᴡ ɪɴ Mᴏᴏɴ Kɴɪɢʜᴛ [53/?]

[dragon-kazansky]

When the moon met his star

Part of the Murder Bird series

Gender neutral reader

I just really want Khonshu back. Here's the backstory chapter 💕

♡♡♡

"Kill them. Kill them all!"

Someone was coming to kill you? As if you're not in enough danger already. At least now you knew for sure what lay ahead for you. This is where you died. In the hands of corrupt people who were using you as leverage. Well, it didn't work. Now everyone dies.

You have no where to hide or go. Trapped. Waiting to die.

The door opens and someone stands there. You're afraid. There is no one else. Just you. You could out up a fight, but it wouldn't last. Giving in would be the easy option. It would be over much faster.

The comes over. You try to move away. You have nowhere to go.

"I'm not here to hurt you."

You don't believe that for a second. You want to run. You want to get out of here.

The man holds his hand out to you. Open for you to take. You stop. You stare. His face is revealed to you and you can see his eyes. His smile.

"My name is Arthur. Arthur Harrow. I'm here to save you."

You relax. You take a deep breath. You look at his hand. He keeps it suspended out to you. You find yourself reaching for it. Nearly there. Fingers almost touching.

"What are you doing? We don't have time. Get after them!"

You scream. Arthur frowns and stands up quickly. He turns to the god that peers over his shoulder. You reach out to Arthur and grab his hand. He looks down at you, kneeling down to your level and holding your hand.

"What is that?" You ask, looking up at the bird man.

"You can see him?"

"Of course I can see him! He's a huge ass bird!"

Something clicks in two minds. Arthur is shocked you were able to see Khonshu. Khonshu is taken back by your words. You could see him.

Impossible.

"This human can see me. Curious."

You look to Arthur for help. He just holds you as he guides you to safety. You're left alone when he goes back to deal with your captors , leaving you under the watchful eye of Khonshu.

You're afraid.

"You have nothing to fear."

"No? Because I'm pretty sure I'm going mad. I seeing a huge bird talking to me. That's not normal."

"My name is Khonshu. I am the Egyptian god of the moon. I seek to fight justice and punish those who do wrong. I being you no harm. I offer only protection."

"Protection?"

"It is rare for people to see us these days. It shouldn't be possible. You appear to have the sight which allows us to be known to you. You are a rare star indeed."

You have nothing to say to that. You don't even understand what he is talking about. When Arthur returns, you seek comfort in him.

"Harrow. I have a new term for you. Protect this human at all costs. Protect my star from all harm. Look after them for as long as you serve me. There are no choices in this matter."

"Don't I get a say?" You ask.

You don't get an answer. Arthur and Khonshu stare at one another. A silent conversation seems to take place. Arthur reaches for your hand again and looks at you.

"Let me look after you. You will spend your days cared for. Never alone. I will look after you."

You have no one. No where. But the god... This is not what you imagined your life to become. You expected to die.

"I will always be there, no matter what you decide. You will not be left without my protection, no matter if you want it or not." Khonshu declares.

You have no choice. This is your life. He will always be there. In the corner of your eye. At the end of the road. On the roof tops watching you.

Khonshu is your guardian now. Forever.

This is the day you take Arthur's hand and follow him across the globe. He takes you everywhere, giving you a life of comfort and care. He looks after you. He becomes your friend.

And Khonshu. Well, he grows on you. He talks to you. Teases you. Sometimes he's mean and demanding, but he does it because he cares about you. He calls you his star. The star to his moon. You're special. Precious. Must be protected.

So when Arthur betrays him to seek justice under Ammit, and tries to take you with him. Khonshu makes a choice. A painful choice.

He thinks about the way you call his name. The way you smile at him. The way you'll reach for his large hand and hold it. How you look up at the night sky and smile. How you call upon him when you have questions or want to show him something.

He brought you into this for his benefit. Not Harrow's. Harrow cannot have you. He will put you in danger. He will take you away.

You have to forget. You have to be safe.

"When I find my next avatar, I will find you again. I must do what I need to keep you safe. My precious star. My darling human. My little troublemaker."

It's just like falling asleep. Only, when you wake, you have no memory of Arthur Harrow. No memory of your adventures. No memory of the god who watches over you.

Not even when he brings Marc Spector into your life. It's like a reset. That day all over again. Only you can't see him anymore. Marc swears he'll look after you on Khonshu's behalf, but he doesn'ttell you that part.

Khonshu swears to guide you and keep you safe under Marc's care.

Though there is some strain. He keeps himself in line. The pain of what he had to do, the pain of remembering everything: it weighs him down.

You tease him. He teases you. It's almost the same as it was. The only difference being Khonshu is suffering. If only you could see him again. Talk to him without the need of Marc or Steven.

He suffers even more when Harrow steps into the picture again. He could lose you all over again. To help Marc and Steven keep you safe, he takes a risk. By changing the sky under the warning of the gods, he risks it all. For you.

He reaches for you. Speaks your name.

You see him. It's too late. He's gone. Imprisoned to stone in the Pyramid.

You saw him. He knows that you saw him.

Marc better break him out. Khonshu needs to see you again. He needs to hear you. He needs to hold you again.

The moon needs his star. Only then is he at peace.

♡♡♡

@pickle-rick-y @endless-starzz @popcorn36274 @the-chaotic-cow @zafiro-draco @sunnypop02 @galaxypox @starkiller-queen @amp-le @manque-damour @lo0nylexi @jossambird @isa-grant @that-one-short-human

[snippychicke]

~☽ Moonstone ☾~ (Five)

Fandom: Moon Knight(TV)

Rating: Mature/Explicit (This chapter, Teen for graphic violence)

Pairing: Khonshu/Reader (unnamed cis!female character)

Summary: Before Marc and Steven, before Arthur Harrow, Khonshu had another avatar. Well, hundreds of thousand of others, but this is the story of one in particular that Khonshu was fond of.

First Part: Action! Adventure! Blood! Pain! Maybe some foreshadowing???

Second Part: So, @musingsofanauthor had posted the following:

The first time that Y/N realizes that they killed someone because of what they did sends them into a catatonic state for like a whole day, and Khonshu is just like......not sure how to help them? He's never had an avatar react this way before and he doesn't know what to do. He just sort of pokes them with his staff.

Khonshu: *pokes Y/N with his staff* "Hello? Earth to mortal?"

Y/N: *sits there*

And then they randomly come out of it.

Y/N: "Poke me with your staff again and I'll break it and shove it up your godly ass."

And well, it resonated with this story a little too much. So I used it as inspiration (With consent, of course.)

On Ao3| Masterpost for Moonstone

Tagging List: (OH MY FUCKING HELL. You guys have really blown up. I am sorry to those I missed last time! )

@lots-of-love-anon | @stuckys-lilwhore | @jamiethenerdymonster | @madameasbjorn | @beautifulbows924 | @nikitawolfxo | @Huitzilinthebudgie3 | @mahaloapollo | @isa-grant | @7athens7 | @mona-has-friends | @hayley-the-comet

If you want added to the list; please put your screenname here!

Now, finally, the story!

Purple fire flared out from where Harrow tapped Ammit’s staff against the stone floor. The man’s eyes were closed as he chanted—Steven could barely catch the words, his mind trying to work out what language and what exactly he was saying. 

And then Layla and you each had a fistful of his jacket and were dragging him up the stairs. 

Ah. Right. Running for their lives. Which seemed reasonable, considering the violet flames, while not burning, caused the stone pillars to crumble to something less than dust, the steel rebar rusting and drifting away as well.

Ammit’s followers blocked their escape, but both women seemed unbothered. Layla was steady, precise and strong as she dodged, blocked, and quickly incapacitated whomever stood in her path. While you swept through your opponents like the gale winds that surrounded them with a snarl on your lips, your stolen knife quickly bloodied with vicious strikes. 

Steven knew little about what was going on, but he was uncomfortably aware of how terrified yet aroused he was by both you and Layla as you fought through.

But the mystic flames following them kept him thankfully on track with being just terrified. “Uh, guys? Er, ladies?” 

The two turned from their fights, fear flickering over their own expressions as they saw the approaching fire. 

You cursed as you slashed a man’s throat, not even watching as he fell before grabbing Steven with the same hand covered in blood and shoving him up the steps. “Run! Get! Now!” 

You had barely shoved Layla up, who seemed just as intent on making sure you got up the stairs first leading to a minor squabble, when the flames reached you.

 Steven could only watch in horror as you gasped sharply in pain, or so he presumed. He had seen the flames destroy everything it touched. Except you didn’t melt or fall apart like everything else. He saw a flicker of something in your eyes before silver light flared from your chest, pushing back the flames. 

You stumbled to your knees, and Steven could barely move before Layla was already helping you back to your feet and then hobble up the stairs. 

“Go!” Layla yelled, and that’s all Steven needed.

---

You could feel it. Khonshu’s blessing was warmer, far brighter than it had ever been. You could almost believe the mantle of avatar had returned to you, but at the same time, this was different. You focused on the power, seeing if that link to the moon god had been restored and allowed Steven and the other woman, Layla, to guide your body wherever they were going.

But there was nothing but a faint, wispy link, leading seemingly no where. If Khonshu was on the other end, he was silent. 

It hurt more than you wanted to admit. Was Harrow right? Had Khonshu left you for another reason? 

But if so, why? You had been as powerful as ever, not broken, whatever that meant. Yes, you had been struggling in your life at the time, but that was nothing new. It was the price you had to pay as his avatar, one you had been willing to pay. You had endured it for so many years at that point, figured it had been another low, and soon you would either get used to it, or it would get better. 

You had Khonshu, and had your purpose in life. You had been willing to give anything of your mundane life up for him. You still were willing to do whatever for him, so foolishly head over heels and devoted to him.

But had he felt the same? You tried to recall everything from back then. You had known something had shifted in those last few weeks, that he had been drawing away from you, but had thought in retrospect, he was preparing himself to leave. 

What if there had been another reason? What if you had done something that caused his feelings to change? To make him no longer feel you were worthy of being his Moon Knight?

What if he had lied, and you really had failed him? 

The thought was too painful for you to dwell on. You forced it out of your head and focused on what was going on around.

Which, seeing Layla knelt next to Steven, trying to calmly convince him into donning the suit, just confirming your fear that something was dreadfully wrong. Especially since the gift shopist was crouched in a fetal position, hands covering his head on the verge of a breakdown. 

Before you could even think how to help, something banged on the doors. The metal doors rattled, the lock obviously not going to hold for much longer. 

Okay. If they couldn’t rely on the moon’s knight, then you’ll make do. You scanned the room and grabbed a metal rod that must have been left over from the scaffolding. It was awkward in your hands, not like your old staff. 

But it would work. 

The doors suddenly burst open, but it wasn’t Harrow’s goons as you expected. Just an empty doorway.  

You couldn’t see anything, but apparently Steven could as he shouted: “Jackal!” frantically. 

Ah. Great. Harrow somehow had control over the infamous Death Dog of the underworld. And you had no way to see it, just a foreboding sense of its presence. But you also had no time to think of how to approach the problem when the jackal apparently launched itself at Steven, shoving him through the window. 

“Shit,” Laya cursed, which you seconded as you met the other woman at the window, trying to see where Steven landed. Instead, you could see a car dent as the jackal landed, stalking towards a figure in white. 

He changed Khonshu’s garb. Not the dark white wrappings of his ceremonial garb, but a pure white suit and ski-like mask. And… he fought as well as you had suspected when you had first thought that he could be Khonshu’s new avatar. “He’s going to get himself killed,” you growled, looking back into the storage room. 

You needed to see that damned dog.

“That’s not Marc’s suit,” Layla commented, sounding as confused as you felt. “What the hell is going on?” 

“My sentiments exactly,” you agreed, seeing a can of paint and grabbing it, a bad idea forming in your mind. But it was better than no plan. “Also, who the fuck is Marc?” 

“He’s Marc. I think. They are similar not to be, but…” she trailed off as she watched you climb onto the fire escape, the wind suddenly whipping up. “What are you doing?”

“Something incredibly stupid,” you admitted as you tossed the paint into the wind, and watched as it splatter both on Steven and the jackal, dying them a bright canary yellow. 

“What? Really?” Steven shouted, sounding outraged. Until he saw you climb on the ledge of the guardrail, aiming your make-shift staff. “Oh no. Oh god. What are you doing?!” 

---

If you didn’t kill yourself, Khonshu swore he was going to kill you for causing him this much terror. 

But heavens, you looked so magnificent, so much like your former self. That ache in his chest deepened as he remembered when you were his avenging knight, that familiar expression of determination on your face moments before his mask covered it and you lept. 

He used all his power, as weak as it with the worm already calling upon it, to guide your descent and help your aim remain true as you landed. 

The jackal moved, preventing you from impaling it between the shoulders as you intended, but the steel rod still sliced through its flesh before clanging against the cement. Followed closely by your knees, your muffled cry of pain barely audible. But to him, it might as well had been a scream, cutting him to his core. So did the hiss as you forced yourself to stand, your teeth gritting together as you turned, facing the jackal covered in paint.

 He could see the pain on your face, even if he couldn’t sense it as he once could. But you refused to let that stop you as you threw yourself at the jackal with a roar of rage.

The fight only worsened from there, you and the worm tag-teamed against the jackal, and still obviously failing. The worm didn’t know how to fight, and you were just a silly powerless mortal against a supernatural being that chased and dragged souls back to the underworld.

Or maybe not completely powerless. Khonshu clenched his staff, fear similarly clenching his spirit as he watched as the jackal bite down on your arm, only for its teeth to be blocked by a barrier of silver light. He wondered if you even noticed as you turned and jabbed the being with your staff without hesitating. 

But he did. Because that wasn’t his power. At least, not fully. Did his blessing years ago leave you protected in such a way? Or was this the consequences Hathor mentioned when trying to dissuade him from bonding with you all those years ago? 

Thankfully Marc finally took control over the body, transforming into his true knight and quickly get the jackal away from innocents. But Khonshu lingered, watching the two women.

 Layla approached his beloved, offering a hand before helping the other woman limp away to safety as the rush of the battle faded and you could feel every injury. Both missing the scarab that laid on the pavement, covered by broken glass.

Yet, he could hardly blame the two. Instead, he ached to heal his previous avatar as he followed the two to assure you were safe. He could see the blood seeping from the various wounds you had gained, worried about the ones he couldn’t see or even sense. Mortals were so fragile, a little internal bleeding and…

No. His beloved moonstone was stronger than that. He had to have faith in you, just as he hoped you had faith in him and knew what Harrow implied was nothing but lies.  

~☽ O ☾~

Dead. The people you had… killed… were dead. On the news. 

Human trafficking ring leaders killed under mysterious circumstances. Witnesses claim a white ghost freed those held captive.

You remembered those faces. Remembered them laughing as they lit up their cigarettes. Remembered jumping from the roof of the building, staff aimed true to piece one man’s skull as you landed, quickly twirling to kick the next. After that, it was a flurry of guns, blood, and everything else that just blurred together. 

You thought your violent hallucinations were just that: stuff your mind was coming up with as it tried to deal with stress, unlocking some serious issues you had been unaware of. 

But what if Khonshu was right? What if he wasn’t a figment of your demented imagination, but a truly a deity whom you made a pact with? To enact his vengeance in return for saving you from death. 

Because you killed those men. And there was no way you could have done it otherwise. Not when they were several hundred miles away. 

You were vaguely aware of Khonshu appearing, of him talking about another job, but you were too wrapped up in your mind to really process it. You barely processed him tapping your on the head with the tip of his staff, calling your name instead of ‘small one’ when he loved to annoy you, or ‘ingrate’ as he was fond of doing when irritated.

Heck, you barely saw him when he knelt down in front of you, long limbs folding so he could be on near eye level as you sat in your chair. Your mind was a thousand miles away, remembering every single fight. Every single person you may have actually killed.

You only snapped when he moved to tap you a second time with his staff. Your hand shot out and grasped his staff as you snarled: “I swear that if you poke me with your staff one more time, I’ll snap it in half and shove it up your godly ass.”

You met Khonshu’s empty sockets, trying to win an unwinnable glaring contest. Because surely he was glaring at you for such a reaction. He got irritated at you for much less insolence. He tilted his head slightly, regarding you carefully. “I’d almost like to see you try, small one.”

Ah, so no, he wasn’t angry. He was amused by your threat. Because of course he was.

“I murdered those men,” you snarled, gesturing to the television. “Let’s see if I can murder a god.” 

Your throat choked up as your words hit you. You murdered them. There was actual blood on your hands. You had taken their lives and snuffed them out without a second thought. 

“Oh god,” you wheezed, dropping your cereal onto the floor and curling into a ball. “I-I killed them; I killed all of them. I’m-I’m a murderer. A mass murderer. A serial killer. Holy fuck.” 

“You ended their presence in this world, but they signed their death when they dirtied their hands with the blood of innocents,” Khonshu tried to reassure, or at least that’s what you presumed he was doing. Or maybe he was just stating what he thought was obvious. “You are my fist, my weapon to dole out justice and vengeance on behalf of those who cannot. So do not blame yourself for their deaths, for you are only carrying out my will.” 

He held out his hand to you, a silent offering, but you were reluctant to take it, knowing what it meant this time. “But am I really okay just following your blind orders?” you asked instead, staring at the dusty bandages that wrapped around the long fingers of his hand. “I mean, we had this whole debate in class about guilt and blame in the chain of command. It’s complicated and messy, and…” 

“That is your human military,” he interjected, softly and surprisingly patient. “I am Khonshu and you are my avatar. I swear to you I will never lead you wrong and your hand shall never fall upon anyone who doesn’t deserve it.” 

You were nuts. Certifiably insane. Because you looked into those vacant sockets and felt his truth resonate in your chest. You trusted him. You trusted in him. “Pinky swear?” You held out your pinky instead of accepting his hand, and despite the lack of expression on his face, could tell he was confused. 

But he mimicked your gesture and allowed you to wrap your much smaller finger around his.

[satoru-is-the-way]

Marc Spector x Avatar! Reader x Steven Grant

𝓜𝓻 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓶𝓪𝓷

ᵖᵃʳᵗ 2

Part 1:

𝑨/𝒏: UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY. Most likely a 7 part series.

......... Hello everyone! I am here bringing you Part 2 of my story 𝓜𝓻 𝓢𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓶𝓪𝓷. I still am not certain exactly how many parts, most like 6 if things continue going well! I thank everyone for the likes and reblogs 😩😩. Most importantly they will be weekly updates on this series. Once a week on Friday. Gives me time to write and incorporate that week's episode in some way! Ahhh. 

Tags:

@/pteridopsidaissues

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: EPISODE 1 and 2 SPOILERS! Curing (a lot lol), (some)Violence, (some) Blood, , Alcoholism, Mentions of Cheating, STEAMY MAKE OUT. Marc and Steven with only boxers.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: You are the avatar for Anubis the Egyptian God of death. Both your god and Konshu, God of the Moon, have a similar goal in mind. Find Ammit's tomb before Arthur Harrow. You journey to London searching for Marc Spector (Moon Knight). Not only do you find Marc but discover there is more than one side to him.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3,053

London was busy even during a non-rush hour, typical. (Y/n) and Marc still managed to snag a trolly. He explained their situation including that Steven had been left in the dark for many years. She merely listened to Marc talk, storing everything he said as gospel. (Y/n) is known as a judgmental person, not about this. Her empathy not only fell on Marc but poor Steven who is on the verge of mentally breaking. Marc said Steven knew nothing about his agreement with Konshu. Plus Marc convinced Konshu not to harm Steven. (Y/n) felt identical annoying examples where Anubis told her how it would go and by now, she knew not to question her master.

  “After all these years Steven has fought me. A wall built up despite everything he-...Never fought back THIS hard. I don’t understand why.” Marc’s tone sounds more vulnerable and just as confused when Steven would ramble. “He sorta knows I am here then continues to deny it, us. Konshu is not a big help either.” He grumbles, dark brown eyes rolling over (Y/n)’s features. 

The female stayed quiet most of their ride letting him vent. After all, this woman vexed him, stubborn, hot-headed, independent, and bossy as fuck. It reminded Marc too much of himself. He never met anyone who flat out did not listen to orders he gave. (Y/n) is smart, funny, and could match anyone's attitude. From day one he denied feelings for her. Marc's mind fought against him as he craved this woman in so many imaginative ways. Just one feel of her lump red lips would be enough. A light cocky smirk crossed his face, “I must ask, if you recall, not long ago mentioned me being handsome, correct?” He asked, (Y/n) groaned regretting such a comment about the arrogant male. No reason to withhold, (Y/n) nods in agreement. “Ah perfect, on a scale of 1 to 10 how handsome am I? Do not be shy, love, I know how good I look.” Marc adds, licking his lips. 

(Y/n) glared in his direction he cornered the woman in a question she rather not answer. Day and night she thought of Marc even if they fight like an ‘old married couple’ Anubis said. He may have looks…oh God this man is hot. Funny enough her thoughts for once matched Marc, he was too much like her, which is not a good thing when (Y/) hates herself.  “Hmph, I only said that because I knew your arrogant ass would respond. If you want me to answer I can. You will not like my honesty, baby.” The female turned, getting a better look at Marc, pretending to carefully study him.

“Darling I might have to charge you if you look any longer.” He whispers moving closer brushing a few (h/c) locks back. A husky Chicago accent purred into (Y/n)'s ear. She pouts and slightly turned pink around her cheeks.

“I might buy depending on your prices…I would rate you a 3.6 out of 10. Steven is a 10 out of 10 easily.” She looked innocently. Marc knew she was far, VERY, very far from innocent. He gave an offended look over her rating. “I can explain. It’s just Steven is hot, you are only handsome.” 

“I-I will pretend not to be hurt, love. I am surprised by your rating being low. How is Steven a 10?! Maybe a 2 and that’s being nice we share the same body woman!”

“Perhaps your body is identical… you know, personality matters. Steven is a pleasure to be around. You are just annoying, and that's being nice~" The woman chuckled until Marc grew stiff. Head tilting back and eyes rolled violently, "Steven?" 

Steven looked frantic, panicking, and glanced around, unable to focus on anything a mess inside his head. Chattering incoherent words eyes surveying the entire trolley. Everything was sudden, loud, and unfamiliar. (Y/n) quickly intervened cupping his face bringing Steven back to reality, to her. “Hey Steven, honey, shh look at me.” Her voice soothed the male baby brown eyes down, brows knitting together. “It’s alright I am here for you. Once we get to the storage locker we can sort all this out sounds ok?” A moment passed Steven said nothing simply mesmerized by the Goddess in front of him.

“W-what? Storage locker: how did…you know about the key I found. Never mind- at least you know where to go.” He sounded relieved. (Y/N) stared blankly at him.

“Shit.” She groaned.

It took hours going from company to company looking for the matching emblem, his key was a square, red, with what looked to be a J in white that extended to the edges. During this long mission (Y/n) and Steven spoke about personal things. Marc never was open just simply facts because they were ‘professional partners’ he did not see the use in meaningless conversation. She rarely felt comfortable talking about her background. 

Alone for 5 years does a lot to someone, especially with an annoying God inside.  Steven asked her to be honest even played a little question game. It felt like she poured her entire life story onto Steven Grant unable to quit. His brown eyes peered at her so lovingly and offered a few words or statements periodically brushing his fingers against her. Subtle and respectful.

 (Y/n) was the oldest child with one younger (brother/sister, they shared a 2-year difference, and their bond was rocky. Her mother and father were both middle-class workers and held strict traditional views. She constantly worked for their approval. Devoting her hours to ridiculous obligations in faith they would love her, either equal or more than (sibling/name). As mature adults, she reprehended her relationship with (s/n). During their youth, she blamed them for why her parents despised her. (Y/n) also had a small friend group. People who were trustworthy and loyal had been met during her college years. In all her parents never truly gave her love or attention. The only comfort she had were friends.

Her romantic relationships were nothing but toxic: a woman desperate for love, compassion, affection, just a man to be there, and right now Steven is that man she yearned for.

 Before Anubis or Thanos she worked in New York for a law firm as their legal secretary. Emily spent her time rambling a summary yet meaningful conversation with Steven. Time felt like it went by slowly. Caught up in his eyes, British accent, adorable blushes, and apologizes. (Y/n) never met a man like Steven and she planned on keeping him. He also returned the favor by talking about his life. Steven had trouble expressing his emotions. What if she thought he was a creep? Weirdo or even worse?! He never wanted to kiss someone, pull her close, and simply lose himself in the (e/c) eyes.

“Sometimes I feel this is a dream.”

“Why do you say that?” She asked pulling him closer.

“Because a perfect woman cannot be real…you are something from a dream.”

“Can you fucking stop being the sweetest man in the whole world?” She chuckled as Steven stumbled over many apologies. “I wish Marc could be a sweet darling like you, Steven. Too nice for your good. I don’t see how a woman hasn’t snatched you up."

Steven shrugged, “Maybe I just haven’t found the one. I spent years trying but…I always ruined it because no one understands me…I thought perhaps I will never get love…Until today that is.” He whispered a smooth hint.

6 units later they finally reached their destination. (Y/N) intertwines her feminine fingers with Steven, who currently is flushed. No woman ever gave this needy man attention, a man seeking desperately for true love. She may enjoy Marc, but Steven won her heart. “Come on, let's find out what Marc's hiding.” She pulled Steven along. Across the street, into the building, and greeting the clerk. Steven cleared his throat.

“Hello, mate, uh this been like our 6th stop, yeah, my locker maybe under Steven Grant, or Marc I don’t a surname-“

“Spector. Marc Spector.” (Y/n) adds flashing Steven a smile.

“Ah, Yes I remember you. Number 043. I never forget a face. This way please.” Once at Steven’s (more like Marc’s) locker, they once again thank the employee. Steven breathes in deeply, a nervous look written over his handsome face.

“Want me to go in or wait out here?” (Y/n) held Steven close, an urge to protect him from everything. He needed someone and she desired to be needed. A perfect match.

“I-I need to find out for myself. Thank you (Y/n) for listening to me. My dumb rambling. I just met you but- I feel we've known each other for eternity...I'll be quick." 

She nods walking off a bit to let Steven have room. Anubis appeared behind her. However, she could hear Konshu's faint voice

'Why is she entertaining this worm?' 

"You are to work with Marc, he needs to be in control. Steven holds us back." Anubis said. 

"No, Konshu is taking advantage of them. Haunting Steven that also makes Marc's life harder. Besides I am ready to be done with this mission to get you out of my damn head. Do you gods ever care? You enslave humans to be your fucking Avatars...my past cannot be erased. Hell, I am wanted in almost every country by a different name! You Gods act as if you are good. Helping humanity but you sacrifice others." She argued walking off from Anubis. "I am done listening to you! I am fucking over it. Like this or not Steven is also my priority. Marc and Steven share the same body but hell...they are different." 

'Steven is an annoying worm. I only agreed to allow him to live because Marc made this deal. Great, now they are fighting.' Konshu said.  She continued walking, very frustrated. 

"Where exactly do you think you are going?' Anubis inquired, appearing in front of her. 

"To get some air. Away from you. Fuck this place it's a maze!" She groaned going down a long hall. (Y/n) may conserve supernatural but...the woman's sense of direction is her weakness. 

"You should have stayed with Marc." Anubis sighed hearing his screams. "Konshu is not happy with you or Steven. Little one."

"Well tell Konshu he can shove the scarab up his big bird-looking ass." She yelled at Anubis. "Now he is scaring the shit out of him! STEVEN! Hey- Great just great now I am lost the screams are bouncing off all the fucking doors." Eventually finding her way back out into the streets with no Steven Grant insight. "Fuck you Konshu!" (Y/n) yelled. "Now I have to walk back to his flat, just amazing." 

She trotted back to Mark's apartment about 20 minutes later. (Y/n) is pissed at not only Anubis but Konshu as well. "Having to walk 20 minutes..." The female grumbled to herself and in some regards Anubis. Without even knocking she kicked the door open. A blank stare glancing at a woman and flustered Steven. "What...the fuck…?" 

"Who the hell is this Marc? Are you serious? I thought you said you lived alone " 

He looked awkward standing there with glasses on and papers in one hand. "Err- I uh. This is (Y/n). I do live alone. This is my mum's flat."

(Y/n) glanced at the mystery woman. "Who are you?!" She demands very confused. 

" Layla his wife. Soon to be ex when you sign the papers Marc lose the accent. It's really annoying. First, you disappear now...under the name Steven Grant and seeing this woman?"

(Y/n) felt her eyes sting as tears threatened to fall. "Fuck this. I don't care. You are good Marc. Manipulation is your fucking specialty!" She yelled storming out, Steven called her name desperately but she only ran faster. Down the stairs and out the door. Anubis appeared about to speak. 

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" She screams walking past the God onlookers seemed puzzled by this outburst. Back at her apartment, she sat down regaining her breath. All the flirting from Marc or even Steven they...he...was married to…Layla  Whoever the fuck that was. (Y/n) felt played. It was embarrassing having intentions with a married man. 

"Are you done pouting?" Anubis asked, sitting beside her on the bed. 

"Tch. Im fucking done have my body forever. I never want to see Marc or Steven again." 

"Because you love him-them is why you are upset?

"What does it matter? You have what you want. My body to be your stupid avatar...yeah love, see love is always the issue. It's not real. Just made up. Besides, aren't you married? The books I read spoke about your wife." 

Anubis frowns, "Anput and I have a rather long history, yes. I haven't seen her for a while." The God like Konshu had been banished, cast aside. "Love is not easy...not even for the gods, my dear. You simple humans are blind sometimes. Since being your God I have not seen you so open before. Perhaps second chances are needed...besides this is not just about personal goals. If Harrow resurrects Ammit. This universe will be endangered. Including the few you care for."

(Y/n) looked over to Anubis, "I hate when you are right. Fine where to? Egypt?" Anubis nods. She took a moment. "I need rest. Will you take control?" (Y/n) asked. 

"Of course my dear." Despite their arguments, hate, and God knows what else, literally.  A silent bond grew between the human and deity. (Y/n) closed her eyes saying goodbye to her London apartment. 

A gasp left her lips coming back looking at her surroundings. In some Egyptian hotel, in front of a door. She knocks on the door and it flung open, the female is ready to scream at Marc or Steven whoever had the spot. That idea stops noticing he is partially wearing nothing. She didn't say a word looking over his body. The way his necklace fell perfect between a tan chest. Maybe not a 6 pack but God did she want to rub his body. His dark skin was fucking gorgeous. 

"How long are you going to drool over me? Get the hell in here." Marc's harsh voice came. (Y/n) narrowed her eyes walking into the room...what happened? A mess, a complete mess, glass is broken, and Marc had already sat down his bottle. After she left Marc and Steven were thrown into a heated battle. Marc's decision not to sign those papers 3 months ago now affected the relationship he wanted, they wanted, with (Y/n). He cared for Layla but...he chose (Y/n). Marc being an idiot believed he doesn't deserve love. Which Steven hatefully agreed. Plus (Y/n) didn't even get to see Steven in his suit!

"Where is the fucking scarab Marc? Tch you also failed to mention you and Steven had a wife! What a fucking shock you-" 

"Had. I signed the damn papers if that makes you less butt hurt. Steven had no idea. This is between us...I lost the Scarab. Harrow has it right now. Tomorrow we will have to search for-" 

"YOU LOST IT?! Fuck Marc….I- You- Put some close on despite how much I fucking hate you this-" (Y/n) paused frantically waving her hands gesturing to his body," Is not helping anything. Anubis sorta- convince me to be here. If Harrow manages to find Ammit- God I should have stayed... you are useless sometimes Marc!"

"In my defense, if Steven had not gone psycho Colonel Sanders maybe we wouldn't be in this mess!" He yelled half at (Y/n) the rest directly at the broken mirror 

"Marc. Let me speak to Steve. Now." (Y/n) walked closer. "Please," Marc growled looking down at her. The woman unsettled him. "Fine. But he must give the body back." For any other person, even Konshu, Marc would have never listened. Instantly his poster slumped, eyes tearing up, Steven really didn't know. "I-I'm sorry. I would never hurt you! I am not a cheater. Marc is he never told me. NO, YOU SHUT UP." He yelled over to the mirror. 

"You can see him?... Steven, I should have not gotten so angry about it- fuck. It just - I like you, Steven…Anubis told me love was complicated even for the Gods. Love has been an overly dramatic aspect in- In the short time I known you...I can't stop thinking about you. Wanting to give this, us, a shot." 

Steven blushed innocently looking down before his doe eyes met hers"Are you asking on a date?"

"Fuck yeah stop being so cute please it's going to kill me." (Y/n) chuckled, moving her eyes back down to his chest, "Hmm." She touched his bare peck's tracing around the Star of David Steven shudders. "Can I kiss you, Steven Grant?" 

Steven opened his mouth shocked, "Y-yes. Marc is getting mad. He wants the light back." He whispered. 

"Tell him to fuck off." (Y/n) kissed Steven deeply falling with him into the bed. "You are so hot." The female snarled, pining an embarrassed Steven under her. "You seem inexperienced." 

"I am." He admits faster than ever. 

(Y/n) kisses him roughly, hands roaming his body and bits his lip earning a loud whimper. They continued their make out Steven's hands went everywhere but her body, moaning helplessly submitting to (Y/n), Steven gripped the sheets unsure of what is ok or not. He pants their mouths colliding again with such need. Her hands moved down about to reach his boxers before God intervened. 

"Enough I rather not have this image stuck in my head for eternity..." Anubis comments and this time...something off happened. She saw Konshu. How? Maybe...it was- (Y/n) was not sure exactly. 

"He kinda looks like a pigeon." (Y/n) whispers and Steven begins to laugh. "I suppose Marc does need the body back." She frowns. Steven looked away. 

"Just to let you know he isn't happy, good luck." And with that Steven is gone. 

~ To Be Continued.

[saikokirakira]

Breaking the Curse (pt. 2 of 3)

word count: 6.1k (this one's a big boi)

a/n: okay, anyone still here? *echoes* no one? that's cool. i turned back on my word again and not only updated really late but still haven't finished this part of the story. i know all of you are just eager to see jake at this point.

i tried. really. had an outline and everything to get on track, but still managed to pull out 6k words. there isn't even a lot of moon bois here, but on the final part (FINAL I SWEAR), more moon bois. enough of my bullshit. lmao.

still, i managed to really love writing this massive boi. very heavy on philippine mythology here, and i definitely mixed each region deities on purpose. don't come at me for that.

Prev: Breaking the Curse (pt. 1) | AU Masterlist

warnings: ANGST; betrayal/stabbing people in the back (and front); violence/death; steven hate crime; marc needs a hug; non-canon Philippine mythology; non-canon depiction of babaylans (Filipino shamans); messed-up narcissistic gods; exposition in Bakunawa's mind palace; lost memories, memory loss

“Oh, God, there’s another one,” Marc groaned, while you pointed out, “There’s two of you?”

“Love!” Steven exclaimed and pulled you into his arms, completely ignoring the golden-eyed look standing right in front of him. Then he gripped your shoulder and pulled you at arms’ length. “Wait, if you’re on board the Duat, that means…”

“She died too, Steven,” Marc said, still eyeing Bakunawa cautiously. “You were supposed to keep the ushabti and Layla safe. Now, she’s likely to be going on a suicide mission.”

“Why are you blaming me?” you snapped back. “You’re the one who tried to fight off Harrow without the suit.”

“Uh, guys?”

“Not now, puppy,” you said off-handedly then turned back to Marc. “Besides, I healed your dead body, so once I break the curse, I can send you back.”

“Uh, guys…?”

“Steven, the adults are talking,” Marc once again shushed Steven without sparing him a glance. “That’s what Steven and I are doing,” he pointed at the scales that were swinging from end to end. “Besides, what can that snake do anyway?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed. “Bakunawa is a deity of the underworld,” you paused, glancing at the boat and the endless sea of sand off board. “Well, one of them anyway. I can get you back to the living, release him to his true form, and defeat Ammit if I break the curse.”

“Oh, because that’s definitely a piece of cake for you.”

“GUYS!”

“What?!” you and Marc chorused.

“Is that right?” Steven asked, pointing at the unnatural purple and golden sky. Somewhere far off, the golden patches started to glow brighter, sending off a rumbling noise. Well, shit.

“We’re running out of time. That’s not good,” you said, keeping the panic at bay.

“You know what that is?” Marc asked.

“First-generation gods,” Bakunawa sneered. “They know we’re here. We have to go now.”

“You think it’s them that did this?”

“No, but I know they’re not happy you’re trying to bring someone back to the living plane, including me,” Bakunawa cattily replied.

“We should all try to get back as quickly as possible then,” you said. You turned to Marc, tilting your head to the corner of the boat. “A word?”

Marc nodded and followed your lead while Steven gingerly stepped close to Bakunawa and tried to make small talk. “So… why do you have my face?” Unfortunately, his starter wasn’t strong and only made Bakunawa annoyed.

“I won’t be going back.”

It was definitely not what Marc expected because the shock was written all over his face. “But you just sa—”

“I know what I said,” you interrupted. “Summoning fallen deities are tricky. With Khonshu, he has the moon, but for beings like Ammit or Bakunawa… they need life, souls to be taken”

“You’re going to give him your body so he can reach his full form.”

“My body back there will be ripped apart by the transformation,” you said, “but… it’s the only way we have a shot defeating Harrow and Ammit. Bakunawa, you and Layla.”

“Do you think Steven should be the one to hear this?” Marc said.

You chuckled dryly. “He’s never going to let me do this. Besides, it’ll make goodbyes harder.”

“You’re not really giving him a chance to say it.”

“I know,” you said. “I’ve always been unfair to him, lied to him. I failed to protect him… and you. He deserves more than that.” Your eyes began stinging at the unshed tears pooling. “It’s too late anyway. I’m dead either way.” You quickly looked down to keep them out of Marc’s sight.

For the first time, Marc showed you comfort by cupping your face, lifting your head up. “Hey, hey,” he said. “We both failed. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for that.” His thumbs gently stroked away a couple of rogue tears that traitorously fell. “I’ve been hard on you. I’ve been unfair to you, and for what it’s worth, I see you.”

Behind tear-filled eyes, you stared up at Marc. Those last three words, you didn’t expect. It was true that he was hard on you, but you understood it as him being overly protective of Steven. You never blamed him for it. There was a tremendous amount of pain he was trying to hide from Steven – and even Layla – and you understood that, also lived by that.

It was those last three words that you truly understood Marc’s feelings for you. He wasn’t cross with you because he thought you were a danger to Steven — well, for the most part. Marc saw parts of himself in you. You both saw Steven as a reminder of your innocence, of what left was good in you, as someone you wanted to fiercely protect. While he couldn’t redeem himself what he done in his past, he wanted you to be at peace with yourself.

Anguish, love, regret, sadness – you saw it all and more in Marc’s eyes. This time, you held Marc’s face, finally seeing him beyond his rough-edged exterior, and he immediately leaned into your palms. You may not know what demons he has been facing, but the pain was all too familiar.

“I wish it was different,” you said, pulling him down to press a gentle kiss on his forehead. Then on the crease between his furrowed brows, on the tip of his nose, before finally on his lips. Just a brief one but enough to make Marc sigh into your mouth, grab at your waist.

“Take care of Steven for me. Be happy. Patch things up with Layla, okay?” Reluctantly and almost painfully, you broke free from Marc’s hold and ran to the doors back inside the Duat.

“Love!”

You halted in your steps and looked back at Steven, looking scared and lost. You did that. Your bottom lip quivered at the thought of having to break his heart again. “Bye, Steven,” you said with a heart-wrenching smile before stepping through the doors.

The doors shut behind you and sent you in the middle of the woods again, only this time it was in the middle of the night with the full moon as your only source of light. You carefully treaded through towering balete trees and thick shrubbery trying to make sense of where you were going. Somehow, the trail was familiar, but the greenery was also different, much healthier, much more alive.

“Bakunawa!” you called out. You turned around to see the door you came from was now gone, and the deity didn’t seem to have followed you on your impulsive walk-out. “Shit, I don’t know where I’m going.”

As soon as you grumbled, your foot sank in a little stream. There was water nearby. Since you didn’t have much of a choice, you followed the water to wherever it may take you rather than walking around in circles in the woods.

At the edge of the tree line, you found yourself at the edge of a large body of water of two distinct shades – an estuary. A man was standing in the middle of the water basking himself in the moonlight. It was an ethereal sight.

The man didn’t look human. His long black hair was half submerged in the water, tinting it black as it flowed along the stream. The golden-lined teal robes he wore almost felt one with the water, yet the moonlight reflected off the material like iridescent scales. Finally, when he opened his eyes to follow a rustling sound from the other edge of the tree line, you almost gasped at the glowing serpentine eyes, golden as the threads on his robe.

It was Bakunawa, and you were in his memories.

Suddenly, a sharp whipping noise tore through the quiet wind, and an arrow struck Bakunawa through the shoulder. A loud monstrous scream broke out of his lips as he dove back into the water. A hooded archer from where you heard the noise ran to the shoreline, loading their bow again and aiming for the rippling of the water.

But the ripples calmed, and the water stilled.

Just like the calm before a storm, a loud splash burst out from the deep water and out emerged Bakunawa in his true dragon form. He was pissed. Definitely pissed. The archer wasn’t helping either as they continued to shoot at their deity, who now was soaring through the night sky and evading each arrow.

Bakunawa peaked from the sky, halted, before diving straight down, aiming for the archer. The offender decided to make a run for it but only made a few yards away from the tree-line. Bakunawa landed on the archer, pinning them to the ground with a giant claw.

“Foolish mortal,” Bakunawa spat out. “Why on earth do you try to take down a deity with no magic to defend yourself?” With his other claw, he crushed the bow that fell a few feet away from the archer during their attempted escape. “And you had to ruin my robes. Just when the night was so splendid.”

Realising that you weren’t going to be noticed, you stepped forward and out of hiding to get a closer look at Bakunawa and his attempted murderer. During their struggle, their cloak had come loose, and the hood fell away from their face. Gone was their ill-mannered attempt and was replaced with the panic of angering a deity. A man-eating one at that.

“Please,” a woman’s voice said. “I only wish to prove to my village that I am worthy despite being born without magic.”

Bakunawa scoffed, licking at his wounded shoulder before snarling at the woman. “And you thought a deity’s head would be a good idea instead of gaining a god’s blessing?”

“My prayers fall on deaf ears,” she said, almost spitefully. “They are left unanswered for years, while my younger sisters are abundantly blessed with magic.” Then she closed her eyes and laid back against the rocks, finally struggling no more. “You have already taken what has given me worth in my village,” she continued, referring to her now-crushed bow. “If you wish to devour me, I only ask you do it swiftly.”

Bakunawa opened his jaws, exposing rows of sharp teeth. He had seemed to show a sick enjoyment of the woman’s scared whimpers before he huffed and stepped away. “If you think your worth only lies on a measly little bow, you are a far pathetic hunter than I thought. Leave.”

The woman sat up, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She watched as Bakunawa curled his body in itself and continued to bask in the moonlight a few feet away from her but now rather uncomfortably. After a few seconds of collecting herself, the woman got to her feet and began picking up the broken pieces of her bow.

“Didn’t I just tell you to leave?!” Bakunawa snapped with an annoyed roar. “Leave it, and get out of my sight before I change my mind.”

The woman jumped and dropped the pieces from being startled. She pulled the hood over her head and began to run back into the woods. However, she stopped behind a tree and lingered for a moment, her eyes watching the snoozing dragon carefully.

“That’s when I first met her.”

You jumped when a voice spoke from behind you. “Jesus, Bakunawa,” you cursed, seeing him now in his human form instead of being a Steven impostor. “Where have you been?”

“Same as you, watching.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about her?” you asked.

Bakunawa was silent before he began walking away.

“Hey! Wait!” you called out, almost tripping over a fallen branch. You were more impressed how he managed to walk gracefully along the forest without stepping over his flowy robes. You kept a light jog trying to catch up with his pace, and when you returned back to the shoreline, you only wished you could throttle him for dragging you along in a circle. “We’re back to the estuary,” you panted. “Why?”

“The forest trails work differently in my mind. Just like one cavern in yours lead to somewhere unexpected,” Bakunawa explained, carefully watching the sky. It was still a full-moon, but the stars have changed. It was a different time, another memory.

“I… can’t seem to remember what happened before I was bound to you,” he said.

“But you knew her.”

“Yes,” he replied. “Everything I see, I know it happened,” he said, touching his shoulder, the same spot where the archer hit him, “yet I can’t recall it ever happening as if knowing and happening are now two different things.”

“Who is she to you?”

A growl rumbled in his chest, and scales began to emerge from underneath the back of his hands, a similar sight as you did whenever you were about to transform. Then he calmed, soothing his own breathing. He let out a defeated breath when his memories failed to help him.

“Mayari.”

You and Bakunawa turned back to the memory unfolding at the shoreline. The familiar hooded figure emerged from the tree-line, but instead of ill-intent, she approached the human-formed Bakunawa with a girlish demeanor. “You know who I am,” she said, smiling impishly.

“You have been coming to my resting place for days now.”

Mayari shrugged. “It’s close to my traps, and you gave me the good suggestion that I should gain the favour of a deity instead of resorting to murder,” she continued, “but I guess you can only come out during the full-moon.”

Bakunawa’s annoyed mask fell and an amused smirk graced his serpentine features. “A fellow god helps with the tides and opens the door for me to slip into this realm,” he explained briefly. “The full-moon gives him more power during this time.”

“Do you have powers?” Mayari asked, then smiling sheepishly when Bakunawa flashed her an offended look. “Other than turning into a beast, of course.”

Bakunawa hummed in thought. “If you sing for me, I’ll show you a trick.”

“Sing? A song?”

“Music and any beautiful sounds are my joy,” Bakunawa stated proudly. While waiting for her to sing, Bakunawa waded in the water and basked himself under the moonlight again. It was as if he bathed in the moonlight rather than the water itself.

Mayari followed him but stopped at where the sand met the water. She carefully removed her footwear before submerging her feet in the wet sand. She cleared her throat before humming what you recognized as a lullaby. It had no words, but the melody you knew by heart.

It was the lullaby your mothers sang to you.

The same lullaby Yatzil sang to calm Bakunawa back in Cairo.

At the end of Mayari’s song, a soft calmed smile was present on Bakunawa’s lips. He had other mortals sing songs to him over the centuries to gain favours from him. Yet, he appreciated the sincerity of this particular mortal, even though she was also trying to earn some kind of blessing. Also, it wasn’t that often that mortals placed aside their fear and had the audacity to shoot at him with a tiny arrow.

“Follow me.”

Mayari looked apprehensive at the deity’s offer. There was no light, and even at a low tide, the water was still deep and terribly cold. Even if she took his hand, he could pull her down to drown and be devoured.

As if sensing all her worries, the water that only reached her ankles receded, and soon the rest of the water parted to form a path. The brisk night wind slowed to a gentle breeze and brought in a light posse of fireflies. Further along the water where the bugs couldn’t reach, the dark menacing water sparkled from a group of bioluminescent algae.

It was truly a sight to behold, and you thought it was something you heard in fairytales. You turned to the Bakunawa standing beside you and was surprised at the look on his face. Never before had you seen so much longing on the deity’s face before. Gone were his pride and bloodthirsty nature. All you saw was adoration and longing.

“You loved her,” you stated as a matter-of-fact, watching Mayari tentatively accept her Bakunawa’s hand and walk down the parted path he laid for her.

“That he did. What a fool…”

Both you and Bakunawa swiftly turned to the source of the voice. You were met with nothing but the balete trees. You could sense a presence there, but it was powerful enough to hide from you. Time was running out. You needed to find the god who did this and quick.

“Who was the god who let you slip through the realms?” you asked Bakunawa with urgency.

“Stupid girl, he already said who it was.”

You groaned in annoyance and whipped your head towards the trees again. “Who are you? Show yourself!” Your eyes focused on any slight movement on the trees, on every leaf, searching for anyone who was spying on you this entire time.

Snap.

Without hesitation, you burst into a sprint to the direction where you heard a twig snap. All you could see was bushes shaking and low branches swinging violently from the person avoiding you, but you have yet to see even a distinct shape to try and recognize who that was. A menacing laugh echoed through the wood as you felt the ground fall beneath you. You barely had time to catch yourself before you went tumbling down a steep hill.

You rolled down a few feet before your hand managed to grip a sapling to stop your fall. You grunted as you hoisted yourself back on your feet, panting from the wind knocked out of you. Damn it. You lost Bakunawa again, and you were most likely inside another memory.

“Are you okay being this far from the water?”

With the lack of choices on your hand, you followed Mayari’s voice instead and see what happens now. She had her hunting cloak on and was walking side by side with Bakunawa, still dressed in his teal and golden robes. In her hand was a different kind of bow, something that you have never seen before.

There was no doubt that Mayari received it as a gift from Bakunawa. It was metallic turquoise, a slight shade off from Bakunawa’s usual teal, but still obvious enough to know it was his. As you approached the pair, the bow had golden engraves of the moon cycle. A deity’s blessing.

“This island floats right above the estuary, and all these trees contain magic for all anitos. I can be summoned anywhere if needed be.”

“With your god friend’s permission,” Mayari added as a matter of fact.

Bakunawa nodded.

“What is it like in your realm? Is it up there? Or beneath the water?”

“You are quite the curious mortal, Mayari,” Bakunawa said with a sly smile. “I am forbidden to reveal such things by the gods, but… let’s just say that when your final breath is released, we shall once again meet in my realm through your kalag, your soul.”

You raised your brow at that. You knew that Bakunawa had ties to the underworld, but that narrows your guesses now to just two gods.

“Find anything?”

“Jesus!” you jumped again, your heart doing a complete somersault when your Bakunawa suddenly appeared behind you.

“Wrong deity, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

You looked at Bakunawa unimpressed. “Did you at least recognize the creep watching us?”

“No, but whoever it is knows about the curse. Be on your guard.”

“Can’t we just wait for the first-generation gods? Have an audience with them like the Ennead.”

Bakunawa stared at you as if you had complete lost your head. “That family has no time to listen to the accounts from a lesser deity such as myself as much as that wounds my pride,” he said. “Vain, self-important bastards, the lot of them.”

“Like you’re the one to talk,” you rolled your eyes at them.

“Trust me, child, you haven’t met a god until you met Kaptan or his family.”

“You think the god of all gods did this?”

“No, but I’m sure he is complacent about this whole ordeal.”

“’Vain, self-important?’ You hurt my feelings, old friend.” A voice whispered through the wind.

Someone was definitely out there toying with you, and you didn’t have time for it. People were dying by the second, and you were still stuck with figuring out this curse. You didn’t know if your powers worked in Bakunawa’s mind palace, but you were sick of playing along with their games.

“Show yourself. Come out!”

Suddenly, it felt like everything stilled. The wind was silent, and even the wildlife in the forest cease to make noises. The only sound that was heard were the crunching of your feet on the ground as you carefully stepped back closer to Bakunawa.

“Please… don’t hurt me.”

What the…?

“Bakunawa, why is there a child here?”

The child looked no more than ten, and there was no doubt that this child was not of this world either. His silver-white hair contrasted with his warm brown skin, paired with a set of golden eyes that shined with a richer luster than Bakunawa’s. He was clothed in traditional Filipino loincloth, but the material was almost sparkling white lined with gold that flowed like moonlight even under the morning light.

“How did you get here?” you asked, sensing uneasiness the longer you were with this unknown child.

“I’m scared,” he whimpered.

Bakunawa took a hesitant step forward to approach the child, but you reached out for the sleeve of his robe to stop him. Instead, you spoke, your voice seeping with magic, “Come forward, child.”

The child stopped his pitiful noises and looked straight at Bakunawa, ignoring your magic and presence overall. “I can’t move,” he said, his words almost seeming like a challenge than words of helplessness. “Please come closer.”

“Don’t,” you whispered to the deity. “We don’t what he is.”

“He’s a child,” Bakunawa stated the obvious.

“And you just said to be on our guard,” you reminded him. “My magic isn’t working on the child, and you’re cursed.”

“Maybe magic doesn’t exist here.”

Out of blue, the child stomped his foot like he was pulling a tantrum for being ignored even for a few seconds. “Both of you are no fun,” he pouted.

“Who are you?” Bakunawa asked, and his question only seemed to irk the child even more.

“You seriously don’t remember me?” the child spat out, now slowly approaching us. The menacing and spiteful look in his eyes were enough warning signals for you and Bakunawa take steps back to every step forward he took. “I guess that curse really did a number on you.”

“Wha—”

“Shut up!” the child snapped at you. His voice alone sent a blast of sharp wind on you. You reached for your cheek, and when you drew back your hand, your fingertips were streaked with blood. “I should destroy you for even trying to use your inferior magic towards a god.”

Then the child looked up at the morning sky as if the sunlight was a mere inconvenience to him. “Let’s change things up, shall we?” he tutted. With a wave of his hand, the sun quickly set and was replaced by the moon, and when you laid your eyes back on him, it was as if the child grew older by a decade.

“Mm, much better, is it not?” the god hummed, running his slender fingers on the fabric of his vest.

“Libulan,” was the only name that left your lips.

The god smiled smugly, looking impressed but only felt condescending for you. “So, you aren’t totally stupid,” he said. “What gave it away other than it being obvious?”

“But why?” You tried to ask before Bakunawa cut you off. “You were the one helping me pass through realms. You took me here and brought me back.”

“That, I did,” Libulan confirmed, a haughty laugh escaping him. “You’d be surprised how amusing it was seeing you struggle in the mortal realm for centuries. It’s like watching a headless chicken running loose in a labyrinth.”

You sneered at him, something that the god didn’t take lightly. Bakunawa was not joking. This particular god had an insane ego. “You could’ve just left the door closed and left him here. Why curse him?”

Libulan’s face turned even more sour the moment you spoke to him. “Lower deities are mere playthings to gods as much as mortals are,” he said. “But,” he continued, “my mother thought otherwise. Always fascinated with pretty things, that one.”

“Does the goddess of the sea know that her son is a little psychopath?” Bakunawa asked off-handedly, aware that his aloofness would piss off Libulan more than any spiteful tone.

Except the moon god only smiled bitterly. “Okay,” he clapped, “since I’m feeling generous, I’ll throw you a bone… a fish? Were you a dragon or a snake? I can’t remember.”

You rolled your eyes, and yet, you had no choice but to play along. Your best and only option was to let this asshole gloat and gloat until you can catch him off-guard.

“I’ll grant you your memories back,” Libulan declared, the sinister smile still plastered on his beautiful face. “I admit, casting away your memories were a little overkill from those witches I blessed to take you out.” He approached Bakunawa, who shielded you from the mad god by pulling you behind him.

The protective gesture was not left unnoticed by Libulan. The god sneered and gripped the Bakunawa’s face. “You are going to enjoy this, brother.” Wisps of moonlight began seeping from the god’s fingertips as his eyes glowed white, similar to Marc and Steven when they were wearing Khonshu’s ceremonial armor.

The moment Libulan let go, Bakunawa fell to the ground like a stack of bricks. It only took a few seconds for him to recover and get back on his feet. “Me… You… We grew up as brothers,” he said, his voice wavering from the bombarding wave of returning memories. “I cared for you.”

Libulan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And yet, you betrayed me!” he shouted, sending gusts of wind blowing from every direction. “You were willing to stay here for your disgusting mortal who didn’t even have magic! You were going to leave me!” The wind grew stronger as his voice rose to a crescendo from every word.

All of his calm, menacing demeanor was now replaced with pure unadulterated rage.

“So, you blessed Mayari’s sisters to destroy me?”

“Wasn’t the first time I did it, and it won’t be the last.” Libulan conjured out a weapon, a spear that resembled closely to Khonshu’s crescent moon staff but slimmer and was bladed on both ends. With undeniable grace and ease, he struck down Bakunawa with the flat side of the blade. “You underestimate the greed of these humans. You didn’t even realise that your favour towards Mayari sowed discord in her family. If we’re being honest here, this whole thing was your fault.

“I’m sure your pathetic little host understands that better than you do,” he laughed at you. “Your village elders were so willing to accept my blessing just to put a little handicap on you,” he said, referring to Bakunawa unconscious on the ground. “Pity they tried to go against my back. When I told them to kill you with Bakunawa inside you, they tried to take all your powers instead. They had to go. All of them.”

Libulan aimed the spear at you. “That includes you.” Then he scoffed distastefully, “Oh, please, there’s no need for the scared doe-eyed look. Did you really think you and a fallen deity could defeat a god?” His eyes glowed white again as you felt the air leaving your lungs. “Think of it this way. I’m just cleaning house. That includes you. It was fun watching Bakunawa for the first few hundred years, but you,” he spat. “You just had to stick your nose on things that aren’t yours, just like that mortal Mayari.”

The moment Mayari’s name left Libulan’s lips, Bakunawa’s taloned hand shot up and grabbed the spear, pulling it out of the god’s grasp when he was unguarded. “Enough.” Bakunawa rose to his feet, his hands still gripped firm on the spear. He didn’t look angry or upset at his brother.

Bakunawa looked weary.

“Haven’t you done enough? You’ve killed people, destroyed families, tempted them through their greed. You were supposed to protect them.”

There was nothing else you could do but stare as they both straightened up for a fight. It was over. There was no way you or Bakunawa can win against a god who was powered by his wrath. All Bakunawa could do was prolong what time you had left before Libulan would strike both of you down and destroy your souls, leaving you far, far away from eternal peace.

The only way to defeat a god… was to summon another god.

You panicked at the thought. There was no way to ensure that whoever you’ll summon would be a friend, but with each passing second, Libulan grew closer to gaining back his weapon, overpowering Bakunawa who was barely standing his ground. You didn’t even have anything to call out a god in the afterlife.

Unless you called a god who was already here.

“Taweret!”

In an instant, you fell through a door and found yourself back on the deck of the Duat. The hippo goddess peered down at you from where you were lying on the floor and waved. “That didn’t go well as planned, was it?”

You jumped to your feet. “Steven,” you said. “Where’s Steven and Marc?”

“Oh, dear, you’ve missed a lot,” Taweret chirped. “They’re back. Back to the living realm. You certainly made it easier by healing his body before you followed. Smart one, aren’t you?”

“Not that smart, I suppose,” you muttered mostly to yourself. “I left Bakunawa in there to fight a crazy god.” You stared at the doors leading back inside the Duat.

“Mhmm, he's barely holding on. I see everything that happens in my boat,” Taweret informed you, “but unfortunately, as much as I want to help you, I cannot fight deities from other realms.” With a remorseful tone, she continued, “I can give aid to them, but I can never directly harm them. It’s kind of an unspoken rule between us gods.”

“Then you know other gods who can. Gods from his realm,” you said, unable to stop thumping your foot against the wooden floorboards from the raw urgency flowing through your veins. “Please, Taweret, I don’t have much time.”

“There is one. A god from the underworld realm,” Taweret trailed off. “It was quite the scandal, and quite the subject of gossip even for gods in other realms.”

“Yes?” Your foot never ceased its incessant tapping and only increased rapidly as the goddess fell into a tangent of gossip.

“I don’t know if he would come. Details come fuzzy as they travel through realms, like a bad game of telephone. Last time I heard he was sleeping inside a mountain.”

“A mou— you just told me he’s a god of the underworld.”

“Yes, well, he’s quite fascinated with you mortals as well, albeit quieter and tends to keep to himself. So, he keeps himself near his own little portal.” Suddenly, her face looked very distracted. You stared at her for a brief moment until she snapped back. “Oh, dear,” she said without leaving room for context. “My dear, I can try to summon him, but he wants to keep hidden… Well, Layla needs my help.”

“Wait, are you bailing on me?”

“Ta-ta!”

What the fuck just happened?

You heard rustling from the corner of the boat, catching your attention. When you turned to look, you found out that your situation was about to get worse. You sighed and grabbed a wooden plank from a corner, ready to bash in some sand zombies.

You were definitely fucked, but you weren’t going without a fight.

“I’ve been possessed, shot, and beat up by a manchild god,” you spat out, gripping the narrow plank tight between your hands. “Try me because I am so fucking pissed right now.”

“As expected of Bakunawa’s host.”

The zombies slowed in their steps and titled their disfigured bodies down, almost like a bow. However, you turned to whoever was behind you and began poking at their chest with your wooden weapon.

“I am so sick with you gods just appearing out of nowhere from behind,” you complained, more exasperated than angry. “Can’t you just face us right ahead? Is this some kind of complex I don’t know about?”

Finally getting all of your frustrations out, you looked up and paled at the god in front of you. Dressed in black lined with deep dark gold loincloth, the god’s body made out of wood, a mix of dark and red wood with notches all over him that could easily be mistaken for scratches or scars. Standing three heads taller than you, he looked down on your short figure while you tried to decipher what he was thinking when his face was nothing but an empty wooden mask with glowing purple eyes.

However, you couldn’t even call him plain. No, not with those wooden horns that almost seem to fan out like branches. Each branch was different and never the same, one had spiked ends, the other had the tiniest of green leaves, while another had delicate flowers.

The groaning from the sand zombies caught your attention again, and you gripped your plank defensively in case they would try and approach you again.

“Leave.”

At the god’s command, the zombies collapsed into a pile of sand, but before they could hit the wooden floor, the sand dispersed into a kaleidoscope of black butterflies. An eerie but beautiful sight.

It also told you everything you needed to know about the god. Ten horns, the notches that signified the life of each mortal, the butterflies. You knew exactly who he was.

“Sidapa, god of death.”

“Indeed,” Sidapa said, gesturing to the notches on his body. He gestured to a particular notch on his chest. “You went far too early, I see, and strayed over to the Egyptian gods’ afterlife. Odd.” He continued, “So, why did Taweret summon me to the Duat? To give you another chance? Bring you to our afterlife?”

“I want you to help me free Bakunawa’s curse.”

Sidapa’s face grew grim for a moment as he took in my request. “What can you offer me to face Libulan again?”

“’Again’?” you echoed. “So, you know about the curse? About Libulan being…?”

“The moon god has a fascination with gods and deities associated with death,” Sidapa explained. “When he isn’t the center of attention… well, look what he did to me.” He gestured to himself.

“You’re… cursed too?” you asked carefully.

“Not necessarily.” Sipada looked away. “I didn’t use to be associated with death.” Then he shook his head as if trying to break free from painful memories. “But that’s a story for another day,” he said. “Right now, I know you need my help. Not for me, but for… whatever is going up there.”

“I thought gods from other realms aren’t supposed to meddle in other gods’ business.”

“You’re the one borrowing my blessing, child,” Sidapa pointed out. “I should be asking you if you’re prepared for the possible consequences of your actions.”

“I have no choice,” you shrugged, trying not to look as terrified as you felt. “Steven is out there and needs my help. Ammit is out there killing innocents by the thousands. Bakunawa needs me; he needs peace for what Libulan did to him.”

“And you understand what you’re giving up to free him? You will be destroyed, body and soul,” he reiterated. “I can offer you Paradise right now. You have suffered enough on a childish fight between gods.”

You hesitated for a moment. Sidapa was already here, offering you an out. You wondered if Taweret knew about the dilemma of what you were about to face, if she was aware of what you really wanted. After all these years, you desperately wanted peace. You didn’t even know what it felt like, and now, you have the chance to take it.

“I see you.”

And yet… it wouldn’t be fair to them. To Steven, to Marc, to Layla, to Bakunawa. To your beloved mothers.

“Take my soul. Bakunawa can have my physical body once he’s free.”

A kaleidoscope of black butterflies swallowed you whole until everything else was dark.

[mrcspectr]

Hope you’re doing well and sorry if anyones asked before. But how do you think Harrow stopped being Khonshu’s avatar? Like did Khonshu know he was straying too far, or did he just drop him when he saw Marc in his temple? I’ve been trying to figure out what their dynamic would have been like but we know so little from that time.

You know, I'm so glad you asked, because I'm pretty sure Khonshu dumped him. And I do NOT think it was a clean break, I think Harrow made it messy.

The way he talks about Khonshu is just. Actually so funny to me when you think about the fact that they probably have an extensive history? He's almost petty about it. There's something to be said about the intimacy required to be an avatar; you'd have no privacy, would be called upon at a moment's notice. They would've been together a majority of the time, or at the very least, Khonshu would've been watching him. He would've maintained some sort of presence whenever he could.

I bet Harrow loved that, because I think he felt like he was the best at his job and wanted to continue doing it for as long as he could. He wanted Khonshu to see it. His entire drive is vengeance, justice, and all matters of judgement. And I think over time, that belief became a little more harsh, those decisions made a little more hastily. Which isn't to say Khonshu didn't appreciate that sentiment, a sharper blade cuts deeper and all that. But it's a chaos not so easily controlled or contained. It's why Harrow turns to Ammit after being separated from Khonshu, because she shares that vision, just more to the extreme under the disguise of being preventative.

I feel like I should also point out that at this point, Ammit's trapped in an ushabti, unable to communicate with anyone (to our knowledge, I'm only basing this off the fact that Khonshu was completely separated from Marc and Steven while trapped). Meaning Arthur would've had to do his research, leading towards the entire plot of him seeking her out. He was looking for a rebound.

What makes the most sense to me is that I think Arthur got a little too confident for his own good. I think he may have starting questioning Khonshu's ideas a little bit, maybe backtalked more than Khonshu cared to listen to.

What's he saying? Is he telling you to kill me? Just remember, you don't have to do everything he asks.

You don't have to listen to him. He often throws temper tantrums like a two year old. None of the gods respect him. Perhaps that's why he's banished.

Because Khonshu very clearly wants a certain level of obedience, he's an omnipotent god after all, and Arthur wanted more than that. More responsibility, more punishment, more blood, and the more he craved, the less satisfied he became with their arrangement. So at some point, Khonshu would have (very dramatically, I imagine) left him to his own bloodlust.

Do you seem him right now? That's a privilege I no longer have.

Now that brings me to Marc. The story's always the same; Khonshu chooses Marc because of his chaos, but it's a different kind. He chooses him because he's so malleable, so changeable. It's easier to manipulate a person who's already questioning and struggling to make sense of their own thoughts and who they are. Khonshu knew he could forge him into a better, more obedient weapon. And Harrow clearly hates that, he's jealous of that.

I'm curious, do you think that Khonshu chose you as his avatar because your mind would be so easy to break or because it was broken already?

He looks at Marc and Steven and only sees insanity, he's not sure what to make of Khonshu's choice in picking them. It's like.. he looks down on them both because he thinks he's better than they are, makes a better avatar, like he can't believe that Khonshu replaced him with what he views as lesser.

Before you, I was the fist of vengeance.

I see by the presence of Khonshu's current makeshift avatar, the purposes of our meeting must be nefarious?

I've seen him speak to himself, threaten himself, I have no idea how many personalities he must possess, the man is clearly insane.

Arthur makes it clear how devoted he is to Ammit, a stark contrast to Marc and Steven's vocal desire to break their deal. It's almost like he has this insecurity, or a need to prove himself to someone, whether that be Khonshu or another god that might appreciate his proclivities more. I mean, he's seeking to free one while he can't seem to let go of the first. It's a pretty interesting dynamic to me, especially in the context of Khonshu taking Jake back to take him out for good.

[elliaze]

GODS WARRIOR - CHAPTER FOUR

A/N: So it’s already four chapters. I know that it’s slow burning, but I want it that way hahah 😀 Anyway enjoy your reading and thank you for your likes, comments and rebloggin!  ❤️

Italics are your thoughts, bold the thought of Poseidon

Pairings: Steven Grant x fem!reader x Marc Spector

Warnings: age gape (everyone is an adult, nothing illegal), few curse

Words Count: 1700+

MASTERLIST

WE TEAM UP

Y/N WONDERED IF SHE HAD EVER BEFORE DRIVEN THROUGH LONDON IN SUCH A GRAVE ATMOSPHERE AS SHE WAS NOW, SITTING NEXT TO STEVEN. 

In her head, she kept calling him that, because until now she hadn't learned his true identity. 

“You still haven't told me your name,” she spoke up, breaking the silence in the car. Even the radio wasn't turned on, and that was slowly starting to annoy her. “Which, considering that I've told you quite a lot, is unfair.” 

“Marc Spector” he said simply, without even looking at her. 

“So what, Steven Grant the cute gift shopist is a lie?” 

Wait, did I say charming?

“No” he shook his head. “It's more complicated than that. You wouldn't understand.” 

Y/N felt vividly offended. 

“Mate, we just fought with an Egyptian ancient jackal,”  she said reproachfully. “In situations like this, you don't say that something is complicated. Check me out.” 

“Steven is real. He is my alter” explained Marc, finally sending her a brief glance. “We share one body, but we have two different lives. It's a disorder.”

“Dissociative identity disorder,” she announced, and if Marc was surprised by her knowledge, he didn't show it. She felt she should explain how, she knew, anyway. “My mother loves to read psychology and share everything she learns.” 

Y/N folded her arms across her chest. The brief thought of her parent made her instantly miss her. She didn't like the distance that separated them, but she knew it was so much easier this way. 

“Steven is not aware of your presence, right?” She asked, and he nodded. “Are you going to tell him?” He swatted his head. “Why?”

“Because,” he replied, and Y/N felt like banging her head against the glass in the window. 

Poseidon, I'll kill you for this. 

I'm a god, sweetheart. You don't have the power to kill me. 

She rolled her eyes. The deity always spoke when she didn't need him at all. 

“Next time when you meet Steven,” Marc spoke up, and the tone of his voice changed slightly. Y/N didn't know what influenced it, but she got the impression that he was worried about his alter. “You won't tell him anything, do you understand?”

“Do you realize that sooner or later he'll find out?” 

“Y/L/N…”

“Oh, okay, okay. Besides, it's none of my business. This is between you and him. Just remember, Steven was perfectly aware that we were being attacked by a jackal, and I doubt he'll forget about it after you two exchange.”

“Just don't tell him anything. If he asks you about anything, you'll lie to him. Believe me, it's definitely better that way.” 

“It's just one little extra lie on top of a whole list of others, isn't it?” She muttered ironically. “Anyway, never mind. Will you tell me what exactly this resurrection of Ammit is all about? And who was the guy who want to do it?”

“Arthur Harrow,” he answered briefly and looked at her as they stopped at a red light. “As long as he doesn't get the scarab that leads to Ammit's tomb, it's all under control. You have nothing to worry about, it's safe.” 

“Well... I wish it was that simple too, Mr. Spector,” she replied. “But it isn't. Harrow can't get a scarab.” 

Marc did not reply. The lights turned green, and the car moved on. Y/N wondered where they were actually headed. She also thought that maybe she was behaving a bit irresponsibly by getting into a car with a stranger. Even if she was supposed to be cooperating with him. Spector turned into one of the noisy streets, and she quickly recognized that they were in Camden Town. She loved coming to this place for the wonderful Chinese food and the hot chocolate churros she indulged in every time as dessert. 

The car was parked on the pavement, and she looked at her companion with evident interest. 

“Why did we stop?”

“We get out” Spector said briefly and, without waiting for her reaction, left the car. Y/N came out into the street a moment later. “You don't have to thank me for the lift. And don't worry about the scarab. If anything changes, I'll let you know.”

Marc didn't even look at her, he turned and moved down the street. It all happened so fast that she didn't even have time to react, and he disappeared into the crowd of people. 

“You don't even have my number!” She shouted loudly, hoping that he hadn't moved far enough away. Her words definitely attracted interest, someone even whistled and commented that he himself would most likely take a number from her, and she growled quietly and looked angrily at the sky. She knew she wouldn't find any answers there, but looking up into the sky always calmed her. 

She took a short breath and then headed towards the underground station where she hoped to get to her district. She hoped that at least this evening Poseidon would give her a break already, because all she wanted was to bury herself in her sheets and go to sleep. 

☾☾☾

Y/N felt like the luckiest person alive when she actually got what she wanted so badly that evening. She even managed to fall asleep at a fairly decent hour, which for her meant at least a few minutes after midnight, having previously done adequate research on who Marc Spector was. Thanks to several online acquaintances, she had access to various security agency databases, which definitely made her job easier. The information she had obtained wasn't really useful, except that she had an insight into some of the man's accomplishments. And she had to admit that his file was really considerable. 

That in itself should discourage her, but she knew too well that she was no better. She only pretended to be damn innocent, because it was easier for her to accept the fact that she also killed in cold blood. Even if everyone definitely deserved it.

She felt exceptionally sleepy in the morning, and even the prospect of spending another eight hours in the library made her exceptionally optimistic. A short conversation with her mother and the news that her little niece had finally started to walk on her own also made her feel positive. For a moment, she even forgot about the fact that she had twelve Olympians over her head including Poseidon, who was watching her closely, and the task she had to complete. 

Later, however, her phone rang, and she saw Steven's name on the screen. 

And here we go again. 

At first, she was apprehensive about whether she should answer. She didn't know if she was sure she was going to talk to Steven or if Marc was still in control of the body. She wasn't ready to talk to either one. She sighed heavily, but finally answered the call. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Steven's broken voice on the other end. Of the two of them, she'd rather be talking to Grant already. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Steven said nervously, and she hoped he wasn't asking about last night. “Could we talk? If you have time, of course. I feel like I'm going crazy, and I don't know what's going on. You saw it yesterday too, and I was hoping you could tell me what was going on, especially as I saw you on the CCTV footage with me. Or rather, with a person who looked exactly like me, but was definitely not me.”

Y/N cursed silently.

“Steven, calm down,” she spoke up, trying to interject Grant's monologue. “Take a deep breath and count to ten. If you want, we can  do it together.”

“O-okay” he agreed and after a while they started counting together. It was moments like this that she was thankful that her mother loved to explore such things, and whether she wanted to or not, she remembered most of them. Finally, they counted off the last number together, and she could hear that his voice sounded calmer. “I think that helped. Thank you.” 

“There's nothing to thank me, Steven. Now tell me again what you wanted to tell me.” 

“I've just been fired from my job,” he confessed grumpily. “Apparently I trashed the whole bathroom at the museum, but I don't remember it at all. I saw the footage, and you were on it with me. I thought you might be able to tell me what happened?” 

“I'm sorry you got fired, I know you enjoyed working at the museum,” she said honestly, biting her lower lip. “I will try my best to explain everything. Although I don't really know what happened yesterday. We can meet again today” she lied without stammering.

“Could you come to me?” - He asked uncertainty. “I don't want to talk about this in a public place.” 

“No problem, I understand,” she agreed immediately. “Just send me your address, and I'll be on my way.” 

“Yes, yes, the address. I'll send it right away, but can we meet a little later? I have to do something else.”

“It's okay, Steven,” she assured him. She had a feeling that although he somehow sounded calmer, it was not so, and she was starting to worry about him. Especially since she herself knew perfectly well what had happened and Steven - despite Marc's opinion to the contrary - deserved to know what had happened. “Are you sure you're okay? I mean…”

“Yes, yes” he interrupted her. “I just need to check something. I'll send you the address, and I'll see you there. See you.” 

The connection was broken before Y/N could say goodbye. She stared at her mobile phone screen for a moment and then shook her head. She had written a short text message to her boss, saying that she would not be able to come to work today because she was sick. Y/N hated such situations, but she had no other choice. Losing her job was the least of her worries at the moment. 

She knew she only had two choices. Either she would tell the whole truth to Steven, breaking her word to Marc (which, by the way, she was most inclined to do, given their conversation yesterday). Or she would add another lie to her list. Neither of those options seemed right to her, and she also knew that there was nothing to be gained from Poseidon's advice. She had to make this decision herself, and she was going to delay it as long as possible. 

Or at least until she came face to face with Steven.

⸻

TAGLIST:

@officialholyagua

@graciexmarvel

@princessleah129

@simonsbluee

@inwisper

[dominantslasherking]

Arthur Harrow with dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+. YANDERE Arthur

Backstory: He thought Ammit was the one he needed, but he was so very wrong. Arthur found a new god, he was going to worship, whatever it takes.

You weren't a god that was typically worshipped, it was because most of the gods despised you, because their avatars and worshippers would always seem to be drawn towards you, their power on earth was rather feeble when you were in the picture.

Ammit's judgment soon tried to reach you, She sat by Ma'at scales to figure out what you truly were, but the scales broke, Ammit took it into her own hands to judge you, but she couldn't, it nearly drove her insane, were evil, were you good?

The destruction and chaos you brought down were like hell itself, but at the same time, the peace, and forgiveness, you gave were revolutionary, it was also heaven itself. The gods didn't know what to do so they locked you away, and imprisoned you, much to multiple gods that favored you dismay.

Set tried to forcefully get you out of this prison, with the help of other gods such as Khonsu, Anubis, and Hathor. unfortunately, they were unsuccessful and mourned their fellow god for not being able to see or be around them, the other gods put this betrayal on Kohnsu considering he was already despicable in their eyes, even though the other gods and goddesses tried to defend him it ended in vain.

"[Name]," Ammit whispered right before her own capture, if one person would be able to free her, it would be him, or his Avatar which he hasn't taken one in...yet.

<<>>><<<>>><<<>>>><<<>>><<>>><<>>>><<>>><>>>><<>>>><>>>>>

"Well, Well...Look who is here." You purred out in the bleak and plain area of nothingness. Ammit seethed out looking around in the prison.

The other gods and goddesses were quite lazy with their prison making...they would send all the same gods and goddesses to the same place of nothingness.

Ammit, stood up in all her glory looking at you before she let out a sigh. "Must, I really be trapped in here with YOU?" Ammit shook with annoyance as she bobbed her crocodile head.

She curiously looked at you to see you seated at a table with a game of---what is that? Ammit curiously looked at the cards.

"It's called Uno, Apophis brought it to me, he pops in on occasions..." You shrugged, "Apophis..." Ammit slowly spoke out, hatred in her eyes and voice as Apophis was a deity who embodied chaos.

Ammit slowly made her way over to you, taking a seat. "Very well.."

<>

Ammit flipped the table over with intense rage, "I HATE UNO, AND I HATE YOU-" Ammit stalked off into the nothingness and grumpily stomped around.

It has been over two thousand years, since playing Uno none stop with you, but for you, it has been longer, Ammit, didn't know how you did it, being able to play the same game over and over and over and OVER- And the fact that you could leave whenever you wanted even boggled her godly mind more...so she stayed with you hoping you would break out, obviously you were content on stay where you were.

She suddenly froze in her spot, slowly turning around to face you. "My power is being used..." Ammit purred out with delight, Her eyes frantically looking around as if seeing something that isn't there.

Smirking, "Luckily I won't be here for long." Ammit sat down, you knew what she was going to do, I mean, when playing Uno you both did talk a lot...she told you her plans about making the earth a peaceful place, devouring all the evil souls.

It sounded boring, I mean, there were heroes for a reason...but killing children before they could do evil that they would do in the future, sounds harsh, but who were you judging.

You looked how happy Ammit seemed to be-- A large sinister smile placed itself on your face. I mean she was one of the goddesses that placed you in this prison...

"So your...Avatar--is your way out....Well, he isn't your avatar yet huh..?" You lulled out, her nodding as she daydreamed.

"HAHAHAAHAH-" You began to laugh and hold your stomach while looking at her. "Well, it looks like I have a worshiper to woo~" You smiled got off your seat, and looked at the bleak floor below you.

"What?" Ammit was confused, you would escape this awful prison just to get back at her would yo----A portal...no a way out formed below your feet, as Ammit screeched and quickly tried to rush over to pry herself out of this prison.

But it was too late, you were gone, along with the way out!! Screaming and raging Ammit, threw out all her anger.

<<>>><<<<>>><<>>>><<>>><<>>><>>><><>>>><<<<>>>><>>>>><<>>

Arthur looked at Mark, before calmly speaking, "Kohnsu, told you yet another lie, [Name] the god of, destruction, hatred, and yet also held the title of god of peace, and forgiveness...He is not real, there has been no record of this god." Arthur slowly spoke not knowing that it was the complete opposite.

'That makes utterly no sense, if he wasn't real why would Kohnsu constantly speak about him, I mean it's not like there is a purpose of him telling us about [Name], it's not like he's trying to use the god's name for anything...' Steven blabbered to Mark, meanwhile, Mark was closely watching Arthur.

Arthur was obviously trying to bring Mark, and Steven's trust in Kohnsu down some of it working but they still persist in stopping Arthur.

Mark suddenly jumped forward getting ready to attack, but before he could even lay a hand on him, he was thrown back by a rough force of magic power coming from Arthurs's staff.

The man let out a sigh, as he slammed his cain down, and quickly summoned Jackals, "I'm afraid this will once again be our parting." Arthur spoke, letting the Jackals deal with the avatar(s).

Arthur and the other cult members of Ammit made their way from the scene.

"Who is [Name]?" One of the female cult members asked gently, Arthur suddenly froze once she asked this question before slowly picking up his pace, after a while of walking he decided to speak.

"A made-up god, that I wanted to dedicate my life to after Kohnsu promised to let me go...He made up this god to string me along into his path of hatred and death." He slowly declaimed, letting out a sigh before giving a smile, "But it is all right, We, have Ammit now." The cult members slowly nodded.

<<>>><<<<>>><<>>>><<>>><<>>><>>><><>>>><<<<>>>><>>>>><<>>

Arthur gently leaned back observing the view from his balcony of Siwa located in Egypt. "Paradise..." He slowly whispered closing his eyes, imagining the life of happiness that Ammit would bring.

Slowly opening his eyes, he heard someone yawn from behind him, slowly turning around he was met with a figure on his bed, relaxing while looking at him.

"It's quite rude to enter unannounced..." Arthur spoke, watching as you stretch your arms and sit up instead of laying, giving him a better view of your handsome features, your hair slightly a mess

Carefully observing your movements, his eyes trail to your outfit, before quickly stopping himself from having unpure thoughts.

"So, you want to release Ammit?" You asked standing up, and slowly making your way over to him, your body wasn't a large size like the gods loved to portray themselves to their avatars or any mortal, it was simply a normal size.

Arthur simply nodded his head, "I hope you were not sent here to stop me, the world can become a paradise, Ammit will stop any crime before it has happened, and she will devour the souls of the people who already have done bad...-" Arthur tried to sway you as he would do with anyone, he didn't want people to die really, however it was for the greater good.

His breath slightly halted as he got a better look at you, you looked exactly like how the god [Name] was described by Kohnsu.

"You use to be an avatar of Kohnsu...yes? It does really make me angry how the other gods belittle him..." Letting out a gentle hum, you slightly towered over Arthur who looked at you in awe, you should see him ever so slightly shaking.

Placing your hand on his forehead, you suddenly whispered, "Are you alright? I know how you humans are prone to sickness..." You slowly felt on his forehead, it was a normal temperature for a mortal.

"[Name]?" Arthur pronounces, his voice becoming slightly breathy. His eyes became slightly hazed with admiration and worship.

"Yes..." You asked out, watching as Arthur fell to his knees, the sounds of glass could be heard in his shoes from falling down as it made a slightly scratchy noise.

Arthur needlessly drops his cane throwing it aside slightly. His head leaning down on your legs, taking in all in, that you were real, and in front of him.

"I'm sorry, I doubted your existence- I'm sorry for my unforgivable past--" He stumbled on his words, gulping down the saliva stuck in his throat. "I'm...sorry for worshipping another- --" Arthur stopped speaking as you sightly gripped his hair, forcing him to look up at you.

Gently caressing Arthur's face with your other hand and gave him a smile watching the tears fall from his face. "It's alright, you were mine from the very beginning, hm?" You gently state as Arthur leaned into your touch.

"Good, thing you were trying to free Ammit, I mean it did give me a reason to leave the place...I was also getting tired of being imprisoned..." You muttered to him, before asking the soon-to-be ex-cult member of Ammit.

"Would you like to be my avatar?" Arthur looked at you in astonishment before eagerly nodding before using his words, "I am--Unworthy to be your avatar I--" Arthur was cut off by you helping him stand up.

"Shush, say yes, I know you want to." You smirked as he nodded his head, "Very, well.I am very---" A sudden wave of power entered Arthurs's body as he couldn't even finish speaking feeling your power glaze over his entire body.

"Most, gods use, these weird oath things on their avatars.....but I just prefer the shock on their face once they feel power entering their bodies." You explain as Arthur slowly regained his composure.

"The glass in your shoes..take them out, it makes an irritating noise when you walk." You disclose with a look of disgust.

Arthur stared at you, with a small smile on his face.

[voppyit]

I have a theory on why Harrow stopped being Khonshu’s avatar

So I’m actually a very big Khonshu apologist, I think that he’s an asshole who needs to treat his avatars better but a lot about him can be explained by the fact that he was banished by the gods for trying to do the right thing, and has seemingly had no contact with any of them since his banishment (which is implied to have been a very long time ago).

But even with that in mind, why would a god so focused and dedicated on punishing evildoers cause someone like Harrow to turn so bad, or manipulate a dying Marc into his service?

Well, for the second point, I believe it’s because Khonshu’s sense of justice extends to the avatars he chooses, which is shown when he condemns Ammit for choosing Harrow. He wants an avatar who is fundamentally a good person. But good people aren’t willing killers, even if the people they kill have done more than enough to deserve it. If Marc knew what Khonshu’s service would truly entail, he would have chosen to die then and there. And like he said, even while being Khonshu’s avatar, he kept wishing one of his targets would kill him instead.

So the manipulation is necessary, at least from Khonshu’s perspective. Eliminating the evildoers that threaten the innocent is not something that a truly good person would be okay with, meaning that Khonshu has to be manipulative in order to have any avatar at all. It’s a very “ends justify the means” way of thinking, and while I don’t agree with it at all and think Marc deserved much better, I also understand Khonshu’s perspective here.

It also could explain why Harrow stopped being Khonshu’s avatar. He makes a comment about how he ended up enjoying killing on Khonshu’s behalf, which is contradictory to what Khonshu believes in. I think it’s likely that he felt a shift in Harrow, one that would leave his scales unbalanced, and that Khonshu was the one who chose to no longer have Harrow as his avatar.

Marc’s torment under Khonshu’s service is because of the lives he took for Khonshu. But if Harrow enjoyed it, what part of being Khonshu’s avatar did Harrow hate? Khonshu’s insistence on being an asshole? No, I think it’s far more likely that Khonshu left Harrow, and Harrow feels bitter about it, twisting the story in a way to use it to his advantage, like during the trial with the Ennead.

This also adds to the list of reasons why Jake isn’t evil: maybe he’s more willing to kill than Marc, but from what we have seen so far it seems to be in self-defense (justifiable) or on Khonshu’s behalf to bring justice to evildoers (Harrow/Ammit) to protect the world as a whole. Yeah maybe he got some satisfaction from killing Harrow, but that was completely deserved and I don’t think it says anything about whether or not he enjoys killing as a whole.

[theerrorofmylife]

Betrayal of Anubis

Based before Moon Knight, this tells the story about the avatar of Anubis and how they meet Marc/Steven. Most of the characters and gods are depicted are closely to the myths as possible, I did… so much research for this.

This... was purely for my own sake. But, it turned out longer than I anticipated so it’s gonna end up being a series hehehe. In this, the main character is an avatar, has no pronouns, and has no preference to partners HAHAHAHA aight enjoy PART ONE. 

~ Error 

     As an avatar, the first and foremost role is to be a god’s voice and acting hand on the mortal plane, as well as the be their eyes and ears concerning humanity. For thousands of years, avatars have walked the earth, mostly hidden from the public, doing the will of the gods and protecting humanity. Gods who represented war and such went through avatars quickly, whereas more peaceful gods could keep a single avatar for several lifetimes if they took care of them. In very few, rare cases, some avatars lived to be hundreds of years simply because their god couldn’t bear to part with them. The gods responsible were usually life or death gods who understood the fleetingness of human lives and became attached to their avatars. I was 28 when Anubis had chosen me.

 Anubis, a towering entity, with the body of a well-tanned man draped in the clothes of his ancient homeland, and the head of a jackal. Across his collar bones was a plate of gold with embeddings of red and orange and green jewels, in his right hand a tall was sceptres, in his left the ankh. He radiated the power he held and, while many had the wrong idea of him, he was always kind. Anubis had a care for humanity and an interest in their ways that many of the gods lacked. Those who passed into his realm were treated with kindness and those who were not able to be were at least given a fair send-off before Ammit ate them. I knew all of this because I knew him. As his avatar, there wasn’t much work to be done, mainly just keeping tabs on the mortal world for him while he stayed in the underworld for the majority of the time. I also accompanied him while he attended meetings of the Ennead, a treat and a dread to attend. While being in the presence of such great deities was thrilling, after the first two or three meetings, it became a rather dull affaire. Plus, sitting in on family problems was never that entertaining for me. But I remember one day, a meeting was taking place and Anubis was sneakily letting me listen in instead of fully controlling my voice and blocking me out.

“Tell me, Set, why have you called this meeting of the Ennead? You are aware your presence is unwelcomed here.” Set was a disgraced god, known for his evil tricks and cruel acts, especially against Osiris. Looking upon him made me sick.

“Aware, yes, you all have made that quite clear. I have called you here on the account of Anubis, and his treachery. His abuse towards his avatar. And his blatant hatred for the gods.” I was shocked, to say the least. Set was cruel, yes, but this was something else. To make such accusations, even without proof, would sow seeds of doubt in the minds of the gods and it may be difficult to weed them out. A cooling relief settled through me. Osiris spoke.

“Set, you are serpent tongued, doer of great evils, your words and your tricks are meaningless here. Leave us!” His presence was forced out of the temple, and the Ennead was left to think. I don’t know why I panicked so much; I should have remembered his words have no merit. They would not have believed him anyway. “Anubis, may we speak to your avatar.” It wasn’t a question so much as a demand, and chills run down my back as Anubis left my mind. Even more so, I felt him leave the temple entirely, leaving me alone to the Ennead.

“My lords and ladies of the Ennead.” I addressed them all with a bow of my head.

“We must ask, however uncomfortable it may be, is Anubis abusing or neglecting you at all? If Set’s claims have any merit that you know of, please speak up.” Isis looked across to me with worry on her face. I shook my head frantically.

 “No! No, Anubis has never and will never abuse me! And to address his claims, I can vouch for his character when I say Anubis has never harbored anything but love and reverence for his fellow gods. He would never commit any sort of treachery or hurt anyone!” I could tell my anger towards Set was getting to me. I took a deep breath and tried to reign myself in. “I apologize… I did not intend for my anger to be so blatant.”

“You defend him vehemently. You two are obviously close.” Nephthys teased. Looking up, I arched an eyebrow at the obvious jest. As Anubis’ mother, it wasn’t uncommon for her to tease me relentlessly, but I knew between her and Isis, I would always have a mother figure here at court. She laughed and smiled at her sister. “Clearly we have nothing to worry about, let us be off.” With that, the gods stand and leave their avatars. As I made my way down the steps to leave, Isis’ and Nephthys’ avatars, Lani and Mahora, race down to kiss my head before leaving. Lani was about 58 now, with two sons and a loving husband. Mahora was in her late 60’s, with children grown and grandchildren on the way. Mahora worked in a funeral parlor and tended to the families of the deceased. Lani was a writer working on her latest book. Both had taken me in in a way, and after bidding me goodbye they left, slipping through their portals, and soon it was just me, lingering in the temple room, the ancient chamber providing a calm security I didn’t quite know anywhere else. Upon returning to my home, I found Anubis waiting for me with Asim and Sadiki, my two jackals. Anubis had given them to me long ago since he could not always be with me.

“My child, Nephthys says you defended me. Thank you.” A large hand rested on my head for a second. I remember the days that followed vividly, only because nothing happened. Anubis left the next day, returning to the underworld where he attended the dead and maintained the scales with Maat. It had been some thousand years since Ammit was imprisoned and the task of disposing of the souls that did not pass the scales were left to Anubis and his jackals. More work for him… It wouldn’t be until about two weeks later that I would notice something off. It was on a Wednesday when I met Maat for the first time.

“Avatar of Anubis, watcher of the living and record keeper for the Lord of The Dead.” A woman in a maroon suit with a large rectangular bag set over her shoulder stood at my door. Short, buzzed hair and brown skin, she looked like everything I’d fear to see in the courtroom. This must have been Maat’s avatar.

“Maat, goddess of justice, truth, and order, daughter of Ra, keeper of the scales and giver of divine justice.” I acknowledged, but I didn’t see why we were using such formalities. Gods, that left me winded just a tad. Maat was always so formal from what Anubis had told me. “I must inform you; that such formalities are no longer necessary, my lady.” She smiled a bit, and her eyes glowed a yellow gold for only a second. I welcomed her into my apartment and as she passed, unease washed over me.

“My child, avatar of my oldest friend, I bring news,” I nod along but I already felt my stomach drop. “Anubis has been neglecting his duties, and the dead are roaming the red reed fields without guidance.” I was shocked. Anubis was never one to neglect his duties or be so careless as to leave souls unsupervised on their journey to the other side.

“My lady, what are you saying? Anubis would nev-”

“I sought him out, but only found blood. Your patron has been very busy.” She looked…accusatory. Suddenly she grabbed my arm and her eyes flashed gold again, this time brighter, louder, and my arm burned. When she let go, she looked conflicted. “If you had lied, the scales would have told me… but you are pure of heart…you did not know.” With that, she turned to leave. I was left alone with everything. Anubis was off killing people, my scales were balanced, Maat just visited the mortal realm for the first time in centuries… Anubis… I felt a chill run down my back as I realized what was going on. Two weeks ago, Set had made those claims, and here Anubis was, doing exactly what she predicted. If what I thought was happening, I needed to speak to Isis and Nephthys. Walking into the far back of the apartment, I pulled out two tiny statues, one shaped like a kite bird and the other a scorpion, setting them out and lighting two green candles for the sisters. I sat on my shins in front of the makeshift altar.

“Isis, Divine Mother, bearer of Horus, sister of Nephthys, I pray to you in my time of need. I seek your wisdom and your sanctuary for I know not what to do in troubling times. Nephthys, goddess of funerals, barer of Anubis, my patron, sister of Isis, I pray to you in my time of need. I seek your guidance and sanctuary for I am lost and alone. I can offer nothing but my words and intentions-” The room was flooded with the scent of hot sands, cooking garlic, and balsam oil which smelled more like vegetable oil. Turning around, Lani and Mahora stood in the center of the room, both of their eyes glowing a peridot green.

“My child, whatever is the matter?!” Isis rushed towards me, nearly stubbing Lani’s toe in the process. She wrapped her arms around me and for a moment, just a moment, I felt calm. Nephthys also approached me, taking her turn to hug me.

“It’s Anubis, Maat came here with her avatar and told me he was neglecting his duties. It’s just like what Set said! But I know him, he would never do this!” I watched Lani’s eyes take on a sad look and Mahora’s looked ready to cry. Nephthys had always cared so very deeply for Anubis, being his mother, so the idea of him neglecting his duties and potentially having to be imprisoned if it were truly as serious as Maat said, it visibly broke her heart.

“Child, if Maat is right, this could be very serious. We have certain things in the underworld in place for a reason; souls cannot be left to wander; the ritual of the scales must be overseen by both a god of death and a God of truth. We must call a meeting of the Ennead; we must speak to Anubis ourselves.” They each took one of my hands and closed their eyes. My apartment faded away, as if it were nothing but sand, drifting in the breeze until we were standing in the center chamber of the pyramid of Giza. Opening their eyes once again, they quickly walked to their seats, leaving me to stand front and center.

“Isis, what is the meaning of this?” Osiris and his avatar walk through a doorway to my right. Without Anubis with me, I had no place to be here. I felt nauseous all of a sudden standing in front of some of the most important deities in Egypt.

“Set’s claims may have some truth to them, and if so, we must speak to his avatar and Maat.” At the mention of her name, the Goddess of Justice entered through a hall to my left. Her avatar was still dressed in her suit, but she no longer carried her bag.

“Maat in attendance. I come to speak on Anubis.” She looked to me, and for a moment I saw sadness.

“Child,” looking up, Isis was looking down at me with Lani’s eyes, “We will summon Anubis once all accounts have been heard. If you feel unsafe at any time, tell us.” I nodded and stepped aside for Maat to speak directly. “Maat, relay your account and what you and your avatar had found.”

“The souls in the underworld are wandering aimlessly, they are not entering the afterlife. The scales are being neglected; the ritual is only being fulfilled on one side. And worse, too many souls are coming through, more than there should be. This led me and my avatar to seek out the cause. Anubis has been rampaging through the mortal plane, killing and hunting like a wild animal!” I felt… cold. Like a fear I did not ever want to know had washed over me. Anubis… killing… I felt sick. Had Set been right?

“Child,” Osiris addressed me, “Did you know this?”

“No! No, I didn’t… Anubis would never do this…I do not wish to disrespect Maat, but there has to be a reason…” I could feel them look at me with pity, even Maat. If Anubis really did this… no.

“We must summon him; we must find out the truth.” Nephthys lifted her hand and a door at the far end of the room. Thudding steps echoed through the chamber. Anubis, in a form somewhere between physical and not, walked out of the shadows, blood dripping from his hands and maw. Teeth bared like a wild animal; something was… off. As he came closer, for the first time since I met him all those years ago, I felt fear.

“Why do you pester me?” His voice was growling, low, and tired.

“What have you done Anubis? Did you kill a human?” Nephthys spoke, standing to get a better look at him.

“Not just one. They deserved it, their insolence… disgusting… they all deserve death. They do not deserve the scales or the promise of the afterlife. They are worthless…” I could hardly breathe. Anubis, a god who had so much care for humanity as to literally create embalming and dedicate his time to guiding the dead. A god who had found me when I had nothing and stayed with me through everything, who was more like a father to me than any other could be. He would never say such things.

“Anubis please-” I stepped too close.

“Silence!!” His hand swatted at me, and his claw caught my jaw. Stumbling back, I hit the raised floor behind me hard enough to hear the crack of the stone and my own ribs. The pain was blinding; I squeezed my eyes shut and drew every muscle in my body tight to try and stop the pain. Hands grabbed at me and practically dragged me up a set of steps, away from the meeting, where a lot of yelling was happening. I was tugged into another room, I think. I tried to open my eyes but my right one hurt too much, a stinging pain just making my face smush together after every attempt.

“Don’t try to open it my child, it's ok, it's ok.” Isis was there, was she the one that dragged me away? Where was Nephthys? I felt rubbing against my face and the whole of the right side stung sharply. Everything hurt, my back, my chest, my arms, my face. Maat was right… Set was right… my father was gone.