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angel-of-the-moons · 3 days ago

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Do you think Khonshu would give reader a second baby after Savah? Would Savah want a baby sibling?? I’m super curious, please and thank you

Honestly??? There's two different ways this could play out:

TW/CW: Some playground bullying mentions, some NSFW hints later

Savah might be taken to the park one day, and seeing other kids play with their siblings has her feeling kinda.... Lonely.

There's nobody like her, and this is something that she already knows. I mean, her daddy is literally a god (and has a bird head!) and her "big brothers" fight bad guys and can use magic weapons and other things.

She has her special little talents, but she still knows she's different from other kids and the feeling of isolation because she doesn't have anything in common with them ... well, it stings. Especially to a young mind budding into their own identity.

She makes a flower grow from a sunflower seed in her palm, kids will look at her with awe and maybe a little fear. But very few will step up and engage with her the way that she wants to be.

And her eyes. The swirling lights and twinkles in them is bound to get a few insults tossed her way at the playground. Poor thing.

So, imagine she just toddles up to you:

"Mommy can I have a brother or sister?"

"...I--pfsh. uh. What brought this on?"

"I dunno..." She aimlessly kicks a large chip of wood near her foot. "Just wanna friend."

That little statement makes your heart ache. You try to explain that, well, that's not exactly how babies work. But her cute little forlorn expression makes your guts twist around because of your special little baby girl--she's lonely and... You're sure Khonshu would agree to another one. After all, the Midnight Mission is the safest place, you're comfortable and not struggling... How hard could another baby be?

Option #2:

You and Khonshu get so enamored with one another that you kinda just.... forget?? To use protection??

Because despite all his glorious, sarcastic, jackass wisdom, bro kinda forgets to mention that yes, while he directly blessed you with Savah and his magic is what helped you conceive her; that he healed the damage you had internally

Mythology wise, it was said that crescent moons were the time that it was easiest for women to conceive. So... Imagine Khonshu and you get intimate, a lot. And you forget to keep track of the lunar cycles, and your own cycle.

Lo and behold, you realize something is up when you feel a fluttering in your tummy; you're ravenous for food, and your ankles are killing you.

And of course you ask Yehya to watch Savah while you make a run to the drug store and buy, like, all the pregnancy tests. And sure enough.... every last one came back positive!

You of course tell Khonshu when he returns. He bristles a bit, but quickly becomes smug and happy with the idea of having a new little one running around. And... Well. Let's just say Khonshu grows very... attached to how you look, belly round and swollen with his child.

His child and nobody else's--knowing you and he were so entwined you would never be tempted by another.

And he'd be lying if the thought of having a whole brood of children didn't begin to sit comfortably in his mind. Coming home from traveling with Marc and the others, instructing them on what he wanted done with evildoers; and having cute, pudgy little hands cling to his legs and look up at him with eyes that sparkle like he's the one who hung the stars on the sky itself?

Oh yeah... Khonshu would definitely be more open and suggesting more kids. Maybe four.

....or six.

Of course you had to remind him your body needed to heal first, but at some point after the delivery of your second child, a few weeks later, to be exact...

When Yehya Badr weighs your fat, chunky little newborn for his six week check-up, he watches with large eyes as you suddenly pitch over and vomit into a nearby trash can.

It turns out, even Yehya himself will lecture Khonshu on the needs of letting your body heal after having a child. Especially because you were already pregnant again....

Khonshu just grins like an idiot internally, and merely takes the "scolding". Making mental notes on when precisely, right down to the second, it might be safe to try again.

You of course, are of little help when you kind of... Enable him. If he had hair, Yehya's head would probably already be gray with how many kids you're gonna have running around, soon. He loves them all equally of course... but it's the fact that you and Khonshu just can't... Seem... To STOP having them that has him pulling at the non-existent strands.

What would the other gods do if they found out you two had a little legion of your own?!

#🌙 answered #yehya badr #moon knight #khonshu #khonshu x reader

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ghulah · 7 months ago

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The origins of Sibling Nephtys: Etymology

Will this be a series? Perhaps, we (Warden HQ) don't know.

As many of you know (or didn't know), my Ministry/Clergy original character is a fun, nerdy librarian by the name of Sibling Nephtys. But how did we get here? What does Nephtys mean? Why did I choose that name? Did Nephtys choose their own name? And why?

To which I say, let's find out!

In a more elaborate way than my ghulah and ifrit posts are, this is a breakdown of etymology, with regards to mythology and history.

How Did We Get Here?

The processes of actually naming my Sibling of Sin was actually quite frustrating. I am a person who enjoys etymology and language. I wanted a name that honored both my Sibling's Egyptian heritage, while retaining a Gothic feel to it. Obviously, there is no actual contradiction with having both of those - but it felt hard, when a lot of the ideas of Goth-ness were associated with historically white and European things. Even though names like Isis or Seth (Set) or even Anubis were sorta in that sphere. I wanted to handpick something. It also had to be a name that, in character, Nephtys would name himself! So I made a list of potential names that were culturally relevant and fit the themes I wanted.

The candidates were:

Samara

From the Arabic root SMR, meaning a good companion. Similar names included Samir or Samira. Initially chosen as it was a pretty name I liked. It was axed because the name meaning didn't super fit what I was going for.

Lamia

Derived from Arabic, lamea, shining. As well as the Libyan queen in Libyan-Greek mythology who was turned into a monster (many such cases). Initially chosen because of the mythological connections and geographical placement. It was axed because of the vibes, truly. It is still a very good name, I think it'd be great for a name of a Sibling of Sin.

Badriyah

Meaning 'of the full moon' in Arabic, coming from badr which is the fill moon with an added iyah suffix. Initially chosen because of, well, the moon and the night. It was axed for the fact that it didn't feel the way I wanted it to when I said Sibling Badriyah.

Qadira

Feminine version of qadir, meaning 'to be capable of' in Arabic. Initially chosen because it conveys power and authority. It was axed because I didn't like it as much as my final choice. It is actually really good as well.

Aken

A fairly unknown Egyptian god that is mentioned to be the ferryman of souls, though less than the following option, which is Kherty/Cherti. Initially chosen because of the association with the afterlife. The name was axed because I thought I could make a better OC for this name.

Cherti

An Egyptian god of the Duat, who guided and protected souls to safety on their journey to the afterlife. Initially chosen because of the association with the afterlife. It was axed because of pure mouthfeel and dissatisfaction with pronunciation on my end.

Chons

A variant on the name of the Egyptian god, Khonsu. The god of travellers, the moon, and healing. Initially chosen because again, the moon and the night. It was axed because I might use it for another character and the pronunciation.

Satis

An Egyptian goddess of fertility and war and associated with Sothis - the star beneath Sirius. Initially chosen because of the nocturnal and empyrean aspects. It was axed because I preferred the final choice over it. Still a good contender.

Lilah

From the Arabic lailah, meaning night. Initially chosen for the meaning. It was axed because I know too many Layla's in my life. Very pretty name, not for my main OC, though.

Nephtys

A derivative of Nephthys/Nebethwt, the Egyptian goddess of mourning, night, and magic. Chosen because it contained all the themes I wanted to convey with the name of my OC. Also very plausible that some very passionate nerd would pick it out from a list. Aka me, aka Nephtys. THE WINNER!

But, Warden, why Nephtys, really?

I found out I wanted a name that was associated with the Egyptian pantheon. Not only because my Sibling of Sin is a history, theology, mythology and anthropology enthusiast - but I wanted something pre-Abrahamic. It's a little funny to think about, however, within the Egyptian pantheon there is no true evil, maybe once or twice, but the darker aspects of the mythology were always essential to life. A guide like Aken and Kherti or a god of funerary rites like Anubis and Osiris, the god of the underworld, even Tawaret or Hathor - all part of life and death and what came after. If I had all these options from the Osirian gods, why did I choose Nephtys?

Let's talk about it.

Mythological Background

The name Nephtys is derived from the Egyptian goddess Nephthys, the Latin/Greek version of the name Nebethwt. I will be referring to her as Nebethwt for easier distinction between her and Nephtys (my oc) in this post. Nebethwt, the goddess, was the child of Geb (earth) and Nut (sky). She was associated with mourning, death, (temple) service, as well as magic, protection, childbirth, and embalming. Nebethwt was also referred to as Isis's mirror-twin - the darkness to Isis's light.

This is a depiction of Isis/Eset (left) and Nebethwt (right) with the Djed pillar - which symbolized Osiris's (god of the Underworld) strength and stability.

Nebethwt (nbt-hwt) translates to Lady (nbt) of the enclosure(hwt), to mean Lady of the House, or Mistress of the House - alluding to her protective aspects. Her headdress indicates that as well, as it is a symbol of the house. This protection also extended to the dead.

It also should be noted that Nebethwt was cited as Set/Sutekh's consort. Set being the god of desert storms, chaos, and war. A figure of strife, a god who attempted to usurp his brother's(Osiris) throne. Nebethwt both aided in his endeavour but also eventually helped Isis in bringing Osiris to victory.

Other associations with Nebethwt were: hawks, sycamore trees, temples, the setting sun, twilight, darkness.

So, she was very much associated with death and mourning and the night and all those fun Gothic concepts that we enjoy here. Nebethwt was a goddess that was revered and worshipped all throughout Egypt - she was popular and beloved, not unlike her sister. Together they were quote the duo, they represented such major concepts in the Egyptian pantheon. It is sometimes debated if she was truly separate from her twin sister or if they sometimes become one at times. Regardless, she is the darker aspects of Isis, but just as divine (which is similar to the playlist title I have for Nephtys).

The Final Choice

After considering all of that and reading through pages of articles and niche blog-posts, I decided on the name Nephtys. It was not the original spelling Nebethwt and not the Graeco-Latin Nephthys, and not even the Old Coptic Nepht'ho (which I did consider for a little bit, but ultimately didn't choose). I personally found that my Sibling of Sin would choose this version of the goddesses name, which is a phonetic iteration and tack on an alliterative surname - Nuit. Nuit just means night in French. It felt like the perfect name for a sixteen year old who's aching to find a new identity and comfort while still embracing their heritage.

Besides, the title Lady of the House, it made me think a lot. She was a protective figure and a powerful one, beloved and embraced by her followers. She was a protector of people, of spirits, of temples. A comfort to be found in mourning and in death. Narratively, I thought about Nephtys and what he was like and his own relationships with others and what ideas he embodies. The things he would go through. Reaching out towards something many people shy away from and staying there, soaking in it, becoming part of it. It just fits, I think.

There's something really good about finding comfort in culture, in finding all that history of language and meaning.

Sibling Nephtys definitely did.

#warden speaks #nephtys #nephtys nuit #sibling nephtys #etymology #lore #my ocs #oc lore #ghost oc #sibling of sin

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traveller-of-the-knight · 1 year ago

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Reese: Hey, Mr. Knight! Have you seen that video of Badr lecturing you in autotune? It lives rent free in my head!

Marc: Uh... Rent free?

Reese: Yeah, it means like something that's stuck in your mind and you can't seem to get rid of.

Marc: Hm...

*a few minutes later*

Jake: REESE, WHY IS MARC ASKING ME TO PAY RENT?!

Tigra: What did I miss?

Reese: I think I made a huge mistake.

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blackkatmagic · 8 months ago

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Ooooooh thoughts on Badr? Is he going to show up in Labyrinths?

Also, I just wanted to say thank you, it’s been a comfort fic of mine for a while

I really like him! Him coming into the MK storyline isn't something I expected, tbh, but I think his inclusion has the potential to be super interesting, and I like the way he plays off Marc.

As far as him coming into labyrinths, he won't be showing up. I plotted the story out long before he was a thing in Marvel, and I'm going to mostly stick to my plans at this point. Having another priest of Khonshu in the story would upend the plot in ways I'm not prepared to address.

However, if I were to write the whole fic over, I would have included him being brought to the DC universe, too.

#kat answers

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tiptapricot · 2 years ago

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Moon Knight City of the Dead Issue 1… why…?

So. New MK side run has begun, the hyped up full on debut of Layla/new Scarlet Scarab in the comics, with a premise that most writers would twist into an epic and breathtaking journey.

We don’t get that here.

And I have a lot of thoughts on why and how I feel so frustrated with what we got. There’s pieces of something awesome, potential to go to some really fascinating places, and yet it is held back in almost every aspect, creating something messy and clunky that makes me mad to read.

(This is long btw)

First off though, some things I did enjoy!

I really love the art and coloring of this issue. The anatomy and movement and shadows, the stylization of character’s faces and costumes, the sprawling city with its deep reds and blues that feel saturated and weighty. It’s great. Besides a few moments that it comes out of left field with some bad stuff (Layla’s whole face at the end or the MK mask w teeth during the memory slideshow like whaTtt is that), it’s super solid and made for a very enjoyable looking comic.

It was also really fun to see Badr for a little. I think it would’ve been cool to get more, and the pacing of things as I’ll get to later sapped his importance in the story for me some, making him feel more like a prop or a plot device to get it going, but overall it was lovely to see him again. And it was cool to see him being a doctor as well, as we haven’t seen that as recently in MacKay! Always a joy my dear sir please come back soon.

The story in concept. Going to the underworld, detaching a headmate supernaturally to journey to a different plane of reality to save one life, and meeting a dead ally along the way is fascinating stuff, an idea that inspires me to want to explore it myself.

Because (and now it’s time to get into the stuff I didn’t like) the writing doesn’t do this idea justice at all.

This is not the worst MK comic ever rn, not their worst writing. It’s not as violently ableist or antisemitic as things like Bemis or making a joke out of MK like some others, but it’s just stupid, and what it glosses over or gets wrong is weird and uncomfortable and harmful in its own right.

To start this isn’t my Marc. His guilt is not one of punishment for penance, of believing he’s sinned and needs to be washed clean by pain. He is a man stuck in bad coping mechanisms and trying to pretend he’s not. He’s a man who hates himself and uses violence as what I would describe as a form of self harm. But it is not with the goal of erasing his past.

Yes, he runs from the person of Marc Spector, he runs from the idea and the responsibility, but Marc doesn’t try to forget. He holds onto things with a vice grip and never lets himself drop it. He believes in his own mythos and is grappling with his complicated and traumatized history to remember he can love and care and trust people again, that the work of making his life better is not solely on his shoulders. That’s what MacKay’s been dealing with.

MacKay Marc is guilty and self flagellating but in a way he tries not to think about, that he brushes over. He puts on an air of confident collectedness and has more hate for Marc as a concept then specifically his actions, and he’s still able to move forward and find a type of momentum and bravado in the MK suit.

Or in simpler terms: yes Marc has guilt. He does not have this kind of guilt.

The first few pages read so strangely, just this over dramatic spiel that feels more like daredevil than moon knight, like a rehashed dramatic intro to a moody sad 90s comic. And not in a good way. It’s not deep it’s just annoying and tedious and the prose is clunky and again, extremely off in its vibes and message. I think it could’ve been alright, if some of the talk of his guilt had been shifted and the narration hadn’t continued constantly throughout the rest of the issue (which I’ll get to later), but as is in its full context it’s just… weird.

In addition to the weird guilt vibes, there’s further issues with the Khonshu religiosity in this.

Khonshu isn’t something Marc worships, he’s something he uses for his own means. He’ll call on him or talk about being the priest of the mission, but that’s because Khonshu doesn’t have oversight, he’s a tool and form of direction and theming, and at the story’s core Marc is the priest for his mission, not this god’s.

At points in this issue he genuinely sounds dedicated though, and it shifts the flavor of earlier pieces more in line with his usual monologuing to seeming more like strange spiritual devotion. Especially calling Khonshu the greatest of great gods, or saying that him being in the underworld is Khonshu’s mission. It changes his actions from that of Marc to that of a real Khonshu follower and its…. Just weird. It’s all just weird and very ooc.

On top of that, there’s no mention or interrogation or even presence of discussing Judaism alongside all of this. I’m not Jewish myself but have had multiple convos around the topic w those who are n who have made their own posts discussing it and can add on more nuance n info to this should they like (bc more thoughts for discussion are always awesome), but just on a surface level it’s strange. It’s strange to have a plot revolving around going to another belief system’s afterlife and not at all bringing up how it clashes or relates to Jewish beliefs. Yes Marc isn’t really actively practicing anymore but I’d hazard Jake probably is, and Marc has still talked about his connection to his faith and how it’s impacted his time as moon knight and serving Khonshu.

The text treats the Egyptian pantheon belief system as the True and Accepted default here, with Marc not even discussing anything about going to an afterlife he doesn’t belong in (and shouldn’t even have) as a Jewish man, or even thinking about how Badr discussing Ka conflicts with Jewish beliefs on the soul and how Neshamah differ.

And yes, Marc works regularly with the very real Egyptian pantheon and mystical systems but it’s in a different way, and under a different context and understanding by readers of his acceptance of it.

A whole other layer of depth, conflict, and exploration could’ve been added by really digging into the theological implications of this plot, of a Jewish soul in the Egyptian afterlife, and yet it’s not brought up at all, not referenced or mentioned and it makes it all feel weirdly out of place, or like stuff is being glossed over.

That, on top of Jake and Steven (not to mention the entire rest of the main mission cast) being completely absent in mention, consultation, presence, or anything just feeds into this strange sense of Pepose wanting Marc to be the idea he has of him in his head, this guilty, sad, and violent merc serving a moon god with not a ton else. And yes again those are all aspects of Marc, but there is nuance to each of those aspects and treating him as a singlet with no thoughts on the conflicts in faith of his present is… just weird.

I don’t know if he’ll be treated as a singlet the whole run, but the fact that the body’s soul being sent into the afterlife has not already brought in any system conflict at all is an issue. Is it their collective soul? Is it just Marc’s? How does this comic understand alter soul distinction? Has it thought about it at all? I mean the answer is no but the thing is it should’ve.

That’s where so many of my issues with this come from though: choices just being… not good. Not thought out or in line with the characters and world. The writing is off and out of place and gOD THE CONSTANT NARRATION IS GRATING!!

I don’t know why it was chosen for Marc to novel write his thoughts and observations the whole issue but it’s bad. It goes past introducing plots or observations that can’t be shown in text to either:

1. Filling space that doesn’t need to be filled

2. Restating what has just been said or shown in a panel (“we have the power of the four horsemen” “wow they just got the power of the four horsemen”)

3. At worst, telling us stuff that was not indicated at all by anything else (“oh I know something is wrong here even though I have not been given enough reason to pique that suspicion” “oh I reunite with Layla and hold her and take her in but haha you don’t see that ig”)

It’s annoying and makes reading things difficult because he’s blabbering on the whole time in places he DOESNT NEED TO!! And it makes the action and emotional movement feel awkward and forced. I don’t need to know every second of Marc’s thoughts Pepose I can parse out things with my eyes I promise you that. Also can he stop talking about penance for TWO SECONDS!!!

The worst part is narration works when done well! When it highlights things that can’t be shown in art or gives some bits of exploration into feelings or exposition, but we don’t need it in every panel. It actually confused some parts of where to look for me by telling me what was about to happen before it did. Stop being like “I thought it was over but—“ JUST LET US SEE ITS NOT OVER!!

Another moment (similar ish to the start) where the narration would’ve worked for me (if it was not surrounded by just more constant narrating monologue) is when Marc first arrives in the Duat. The prose is pretty, it’s vibrant, it describes things the audience wouldn’t be able to pick up from static pictures and helps to set the scene. The only issue is that it doesn’t stand on its own, it’s not an interjection of observations and thoughts, it’s another entry in the never ending cycle of Marc just talking. And it loses some of its luster because of that.

There’s also just a handful of pieces of either dialogue or thoughts that (in the context of Steven and Jake being absent at the moment despite not being absent at the point in time this should be taking place) make me feel very uncomfortable with Pepose’s vibes on their mental health. Some lines that rubbed me the wrong way in context include “The rage fills within me—and suddenly I have a plan. That said, it would help if my plan wasn’t dangerously insane.” “You know me Badr, mental discipline is my middle name.” And a few similar ones I don’t want to reread again for.

They’re just unnecessary man. We don’t need vaguely or directly ableist vibes in words with MK anymore. It works if it feels like it’s coming from Marc’s internalized ableism IE when he was talking about being called crazy during the discussion with Steven and Jake and Jake called him out for it, but when it’s obvious it’s just how the author sees things it sucks!

Stop using insane, stop using crazy, stop being like “oh I’m so good at keeping myself in check,” WE DONT NEED IT!! ALSO THEY R AT A GENERAL POINT OF SYSTEM COMMUNICATION N HARMONY RN!!

Which also just… man this feels like it’s trying to introduce MK instead of continuing an already established and well under way arc. Yea, this isn’t MacKay writing it, but it’s still in the continuity and set up for his run and like… sorry not sorry but I think you should take that context into account if you’re going to be working within it???

Instead the story props itself up by trying to introduce everything at once and Marc feels like he’s starting from the bottom of development.

And speaking of introducing everything at once! Oh boy the pacing!

No one besides Badr is consulted before Marc goes into the Duat, Badr just. Sends him there. There’s no real build up for why there’s a need go that far, for what the threat is or why Marc would go to these lengths so suddenly. Like yeah I know he wants to save a kid who’s a traveler of the night, but like… Others have died or almost died on his watch and he’s never gone to this point before, even though it seems like it’s always something they’ve had as an option. Like… ok ig if Soldier hadn’t been vamped he would just be dead lmao (though also hey! Why and how do souls end up in this afterlife? Do they have to believe in the gods? Do they have to be in some way tied to the pantheon? Is it just where souls go if they’re near moon knight lmaO? If you want to have your afterlife plot you have to do the worldbuilding for it)

And while yes, a lot of this is because This Plot Wasnt Thought Up During Earlier Parts Of Mackay, it also isn’t introduced in a way that feels natural or makes sense.

Events just Happen. Mysteries or drives are just Said without a good basis for why they’re there. Again, this cult was talked about as just kinda a sadistic gang but then they’re a big deal? And oh the kid is dying and oh he’s worth going to the afterlife for and OH WERE JUST HERE NOW and “oh there’s a conspiracy I’ve decided with no real evidence” and HEY FOUND THE GUY and—Suddenly a whole lot of what is happening. God heart full on cult horsemen of the apocalypse memory flashback and BOMBS NOW APPARENTLY and LAYLA and MK BIG PAST BADDIES BOSS FIGHT INCOMING!!

Like ohhhh my god stuff is so rushed and happens so inorganically and with no time to really understand what’s happening. It’s a type of story where my suspension of disbelief isn’t there and it fully just feels like seeing the writer trying to get to the end goal of what they want to write about (moon knight fighting old villains) as quickly as possible. And it SUCKS! Like this genuinely should’ve been more than one issue, there should’ve been at least sOme more build up to gEtting to the city of the dead in the first place, no matter additionally uncovering a plot of some sort happening and Layla turning up.

It’s just…. It’s so rushed and strange and forced and it didn’t have to be and IT MAKES ME MAD IT IS and it’s just not enjoyable to read. It all feels so shallow and stilted and weird, all while having this underlying idea with so much weight, some generally gorgeous art, some moments that could’ve been really awesome, and last but not least…. Literally a good reference to doing a Duat plot well.

This whole mini run is for MCU synergy, bringing Layla in, exploring the Duat and it’s lore, and again yes, the run isn’t done, but it just…. Compared to the MCU plot for the Duat this feels so…. GraaggHhggh. Especially when it comes to system interaction and exploring different painful memories that effect headmates in different ways.

It’s just. It was an extremely frustrating read from both a technical writing standpoint and a character exploration standpoint, and it worries me and doesn’t excite me at all for future issues. Like we’ll sEe but goddamn this is not a good start no matter how it plays out and it doesn’t give me confidence if it turns out I have to read several more issues of this kind of stuff.

Petty nitpicks speed run because there wasn’t enough enjoyable padding for them to not stand out!

I don’t know if Pepose could’ve specified or not but Marc’s not drinking vodka in the opening scene, it looks more like whiskey or something similar by the bottle, again nailing home how strangely off this Marc is from the Marc he’s meant to be with how Mackay has built him up.

Why do they use Duat and City of the Dead like they’re interchangeable titles it’s just the Duat like I get calling it “the city of the dead” since it is that but like. Let that just b the run title they shouldn’t be calling it that like it’s a final name.

They misspell Dr. Alraune’s name lmao

How did the kid get… hurt..? The only point in the opening fight I can think he maybe got hit was with the gunfire but it didn’t seem like that was aimed towards him and there wasn’t any moment of having a detail in the background showing him get injured. And he wasn’t lethally injured at the start so ???

What… is the continuity between the Hydra vs Karnak Cowboys fight we see in MacKay and the flashback here. They were on an empty road there when they crashed? And now they’re in the heart of the city? AlsO bOMBS???

Anyway all I’ll wrap it up with is when the only thing I genuinely smile at is the cameo and namedrop of Apocalypse you know something is wrong with your story lmaO

#moon knight #moon knight comics #moon knight city of the dead #the fruit is talking again #marc spector #mikes mk meta

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longeyelashedtragedy · 1 year ago

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granit and uhhhhhhhhh šime 😭

i was legit just thinking about šime earlier today 😭

@colorsofmyseason also asked me granit so i will answer š's here and then tag u in that one!

favorite thing about them: man, of everyone who's made an appearance on my favs list, he is absolutely the most mysterious, both because he is mysterious but also because he would rarely do an interview in a language i can understand (tyoma is monolingual but somehow very understandable anyway 😂). šime speaks spanish and english but would only really do interviews in croatian or italian i feel like. so i feel like i know so little about him! but of course: he has the absolute most beautiful footballer tattoos (that BUTTERFLY!!!), fantastic taste in music, and his sense of style--a little more alternative/edgy than other footballers. he's clearly a guy who did his own thing without seeking a lot of external validation, and it was fascinating how he comes across as very mysterious but very steady at once. he's also very uniquely beautiful--there is that "you can tell a lot about a person based on whether they think šime or dejan is hotter" concept 😂 and the whole tungelr knows where i stand on this, but, damn if šime's slutty pirate/širen self isn't captivating to stare at. i miss him SO much and think constantly about how he essentially gave his whole career to the 2018 world cup without realizing.

something else is how humble and normal he always came across. of course you can only know about these people what they put on social media, but back when he was active on there, he was never vacationing to dubai or ibiza or on some yacht--he'd go home to Zadar and repair old cars with a grungy tshirt tied around his head.

least favorite thing about them: that he knocked up some Instagram Hot Lady and got together with her! and disappeared off social media and is made of literal glass! promise i'm not showing favoritism--i don't think šejan had a dramatic and bad breakup, but i think science kind of proves that the breakup was driven by šime bc dej is persistent as fuck and clearly a very devoted long distance boyfriend 😂

favorite line: omg i can't remember the exact translation of it, but it was during the wc when he was like "you film me doing everything, you'd probably film me taking a piss" and dej was like "THAT'S RIGHT!!!" i mean, the šejan lajvs had a ton of classics that i could go back and find, but i'm contractually obligated to say that one

brOTP: ŠLUKA! i loved their drunk asses together at the Slutty Pirate Party in zadar after the wc

there's a lotta good photos but obviously this one has širtless content so... I also feel like šime and domo would make a great brotp.

notp (switching these next two around): probs will piss off some section of gen z tumblr saying this kind of thing but...his girlfriend/fiancee/wife/whoever. just...Not feelin the vibe

otp: i mean...

to see šejan, two grown ass men, in hysterical giggles in their own private world, is something else entirely. those 2 really had something going on. they kind of had "read each other's minds and finish each other's sentences" vibes, except they were usually laughing too hard to even finish a sentence. at the same time, šime's calm, even energy was obviously so healthy for dejan's uh, in the words of Mo, stormy head. it breaks my heart that it is over.

(PLUS. when deki said šime should get his name tattooed on him on šime's pornographic workout livestream...)

(i think all my other photos are on insta somewhere)

random headcanon: i don't think i have one? in mare liberum, i want to figure out the headcanon about how he uh...got Cursed to become...what he is (NO SPOILERS even though i think mare liberum only has one reader lol).

unpopular opinion: idk what would be unpopular? i think that like, his playing when he wasn't injured was super underrated.

song i associate with them: so these are songs i associate with him because i've seen him listening to them:

badr hari by grše | california love by dr dre/2pac | i'm still standing by elton john (LOL) | klinka by jala brat (the song in the background of the Pissing Video).

jgb edit of deixa a gira girar by os tincoãs because i listened to this on repeat while writing 5.VII lol. i think i wrote the entire bathroom porn scene in 1 sitting and i needed something awesome to power me through

and then also... song for the siren by this mortal coil | o meu amor marinheiro performed by carminho (this song makes me cRYYYYyyY...i think it played a big part in inspiring mare liberum)

favorite picture:

ok i know this seems like a copout because it doesn't have his face, but...there's something about it

#perfectpiety #answered #šime #THANK YOU #I MISS HIM...

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kindred-spirit-93 · 8 months ago

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kicked myself in the feels today by thinking about bianca ft. a smol nico

so to set the scene: after a pit stop at camp it is now time for the huntresses to depart for their quest, and the di angelo siblings must part ways.

nico isnt too pleased to see his sister go. hes been quite happy at camp so far; playing with his mythomagic cards, taste testing in the kitchens, playing pirates and making new friends. why must she leave? no one's forcing her he sulks, wrapped in his sheets like a caterpillar.

he very nearly doesnt bid her farewell in his childish display of displeasure. hilal manages to convice him last minute however, secretly fearing the worst, and so he does, reluctantly at first, but warmth and reconciliation soon fall over the two as they embrace, both at peace. if nico knew then what he knows now he wouldnt have let go.

the touching display of affection both warms and crushes hilals soul. she misses her brother more than she could put into words. it was taking her everything to not break down there and then in full view of the world. dont you dare ruin this, she warns herself. breathe. we'll go over everything tonight i promise, just breathe.

the sound of nico's boyish giggles bring her back to reality. she looks up and meets bianca's gaze, giving her a long and lingering smile. the warmest she has, and from the depths of her heart she wishes her luck and safety. hilal cant shake off the heaviness in the pit of her stomach. something hot and bitter rises in her throat. too much.

grateful, and relieved to see nico will be well looked after, she grins and waves her last, the taste of freedom sweet on her tongue yet.

it was ten days left till hilal's birthday, and she had enlisted the help of nico to taste test for her a few new recipies for a cake. it was quite surprising how fast shed grown fond of him. she saw a lot of badr in him she thought honestly to herself. maybe too much, she worried. ill only wind up hurting myself and those around me by latching onto anyone. i cant risk it. she looked at her hands. i dont want to hurt.

her spiralling was interrupted by a chocolate covered nico demanding more sugar. the audacity.

"absolutely not young man. look at the state of you!" he stuck his tongue out at her and she stuck hers right back at him. he ran out of the room flailing his arms and wailing his injustices in italian. cackling at the drama queen that he was, hilal turns around to presume washing the tins and trays and ignore the growing hole in her heart.

not a minute later, small arms find their war around her middle. she blinks, and the air leaves her lungs for a second as she registers whats happening. a second passes, two, three...

the arms suddenly tighten and a face presses into her back furiously moving right and left. a few words are mumbled, but hilal cant hear anything over the buzzing in her ears. she looks down and half expects to have spilt something warm all over herself. no. its just nico. another muffled 'pardon me'. why on earth is he apologising?

then it hits her. a gasp alerts nico that hes been exposed. she turns around sharply to catch him but he squeals and runs off giggling. she looks down at her apron to see it covered in buttercream and sprinkles. she replays the scene in her head, dread building in her guts.

she holds her breath and reaches to the back of her dress where nicos face was burrowed just a moment before. her hand returns with chocolate and even more sprinkles. it hits her a second time and she realises his muffled words were in fact 'perdonami'. her jaw drops to the floor and an unholy shriek of laughter gathers in the back of her throat. she pinches the bridge of her nose and yells instead.

"NICO!"

that was the last time she saw him for a very, very long time. if hilal knew then what she knows now she would have held him back

welp this started as bianca angst, and i genuinely have no idea how i ended up with baby nico shenanigans. and then my brain said go forth and add more angst. i hurt all over ugh ;-;

bianca (according to the wiki) took her oath on december 14, was killed on the 18th, and nico leaves camp on the 21st.

also double meaning on that last line mwahahaha interpret it as u wish ;)

#pls excuse my nobel prize in literature level writing #i havent written anything since i was 10 lol #im 20 now #also i havent read the books so if i got anything wrong lmk #hilal #hilal khalil #why do i do this to myself #might proffread later idk

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quran-translation · 8 months ago

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youtube

Introduction to Nasr The Virtues of Surat An-Nasr It has been mentioned previously that it (Surat An-Nasr) is equivalent to one-fourth of the Qur'an and that Surat Az-Zalzalah is equivalent to one-fourth of the Qur'an. An-Nasa'i recorded from `Ubaydullah bin `Abdullah bin `Utbah that Ibn `Abbas said to him, "O Ibn `Utbah! Do you know the last Surah of the Qur'an that was revealed'' He answered, "Yes, it was ﴿إِذَا جَآءَ نَصْرُ اللَّهِ وَالْفَتْحُ ﴾ (When there comes the help of Allah and the Conquest.) (110:1)'' He (Ibn `Abbas) He (Ibn `Abbas) said, "You have spoken truthfully.'' 1. When there comes the help of Allah and the Conquest. 2. And you see that the people enter Allah's religion in crowds. 3. So, glorify the praises of your Lord, and ask His forgiveness. Verily, He is the One Who accepts the repentance and Who forgives. This Surah informs of the Completion of the Life of Allah's Messenger Al-Bukhari recorded from Ibn `Abbas that he said, "Umar used to bring me into the gatherings with the old men of (the battle of) Badr. However, it was as if one of them felt something in himself (against my attending). So he said, `Why do you (`Umar) bring this (youth) to sit with us when we have children like him (i.e., his age)' So `Umar replied, `Verily, he is among those whom you know. Then one day he called them and invited me to sit with them, and I do not think that he invited me to be among them that day except to show them. So he said, `What do you say about Allah's statement, ﴿إِذَا جَآءَ نَصْرُ اللَّهِ وَالْفَتْحُ ﴾ (When there comes the help of Allah and the Conquest.)' Some of them said, `We were commanded to praise Allah and seek His forgiveness when He helps us and gives us victory.' Some of them remained silent and did not say anything. Then he (`Umar) said to me, `Is this what you say, O Ibn `Abbas' I said, `No.' He then said, `What do you say' I said, `It was the end of the life of Allah's Messenger that Allah was informing him of. Allah said, ﴿إِذَا جَآءَ نَصْرُ اللَّهِ وَالْفَتْحُ ﴾ (When there comes the help of Allah and the Conquest.) which means, that is a sign of the end of your life. ﴿فَسَبِّحْ بِحَمْدِ رَبِّكَ وَاسْتَغْفِرْهُ إِنَّهُ كَانَ تَوِبَا ﴾ (So, glorify the praises of your Lord, and ask His forgiveness. Verily, He is the One Who accepts the repentance and Who forgives.)' So, `Umar bin Al-Khattab said, `I do not know anything about it other than what you have said.''' Al-Bukhari was alone in recording this Hadith. Imam Ahmad recorded from Ibn `Abbas that he said, "When ﴿إِذَا جَآءَ نَصْرُ اللَّهِ وَالْفَتْحُ ﴾ (When there comes the help of Allah and the Conquest.) was revealed, the Messenger of Allah said, «نُعِيَتْ إِلَيَّ نَفْسِي» (My death has been announced to me.) And indeed he died during that year.'' Ahmad was alone in recording this Hadith. Al-Bukhari recorded that `A'ishah said, "The Messenger of Allah used to say often in his bowing and prostrating, «سُبْحَانَكَ اللَّهُمَّ رَبَّنَا وَبِحَمْدِكَ اللَّهُمَّ اغْفِرْ لِي» (Glory to You, O Allah, our Lord, and praise be to You. O Allah, forgive me.) He did this as his interpretation of the Qur'an (i.e., showing its implementation).'' The rest of the group has also recorded this Hadith except for At-Tirmidhi. Imam Ahmad recorded from Masruq that `A'ishah said, "The Messenger of Allah used to often say towards the end of his life, «سُبْحَانَ اللهِ وَبِحَمْدِهِ، أَسْتَغْفِرُ اللهَ وَأَتُوبُ إِلَيْه» (Glory to Allah, and praise be unto Him. I seek Allah's forgiveness and I repent to Him.) And he said, «إِنَّ رَبِّي كَانَ أَخْبَرَنِي أَنِّي سَأَرَى عَلَامَةً فِي أُمَّتِي، وَأَمَرَنِي إِذَا رَأَيْتُهَا أَنْ أُسَبِّحَ بِحَمْدِهِ وَأَسْتَغْفِرَهُ، إِنَّهُ كَانَ تَوَّابًا، فَقَدْ رَأَيْتُهَا: ﴿إِذَا جَآءَ نَصْرُ اللَّهِ وَالْفَتْحُ - وَرَأَيْتَ النَّاسَ يَدْخُلُونَ فِى دِينِ اللَّهِ أَفْوَجاً - فَسَبِّحْ بِحَمْدِ رَبِّكَ وَاسْتَغْفِرْهُ إِنَّهُ كَانَ تَوِبَا ﴾» (Verily, my Lord has informed me that I will see a sign in my Ummah and He has commanded me that when I see it,

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highseaskxng · 2 years ago

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It has been years since he’s been here. The place that USED to be Tison village. Everything had changed so drastically but Sinbad’s memories pushes him through the streets alongside his companion. They spoke of wanting to join him despite Sinbad uttering that he’d prefer to come alone. It was a stop he needed to make before he embarks on his quest to capture the dungeons to acquire more Djinns. It was the graveyard where many were buried, his mother, and extended family that he’s made along the way, but this was also an opportune time to mourn for those he’s turned his back on in pursuit of his dream, the goal to change the world.

However, he was naïve. Thinking that such an endeavor would have been possible with purely good intentions..the fact of the matter the earth beneath his feet rotted with more corpses that laid buried within the area but that wasn’t something to ponder on now. He simply wanted to find his mother’s headstone, he looked and looked until he found out. ‘Esra, wife of Badr Ibn La’Ahad, mother to Sinbad’. A lonely smile played on his face, he wondered what is mother would say in the presence of the monster that devoured her innocent son in order to see his dream to fruition. “I really hope she’s resting well with my father..the two great people far too good for this world.” His gaze turned towards the sky before coming back downward fighting the despair that threatens to creep.

liked for a starter / @sleeplesswork

#❛ rp ━━ lost my faith i've been running on trust.#❛ au ━━ i've been fighting but i just can't do enough.#sleeplesswork #not sure who you wanted this for so i left it vague

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brooklynislandgirl · 3 months ago

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She nods when he asks her. They might be more alike than he knows, more than any of them know. Beth isn't an Avatar proper. But being awakened means something similar; by choice she serves Grandmother. Swayed to a tradition bent on living as close to nature as they can, bridging the animal, the mortal, the divine. She's not bound by any means, it's always a choice. But she hear's Sea's call and knows Hina's hidden face, abides by Teanoi's bans and boons.

What remains in wake of those thoughts are something else she doesn't know how to ask. What would Jake do, or Steven, or Marc if the spheres were as clay between their fingers. If they could reshape reality on the potter's wheel of their own will and imagination. What would the world reflect of them guiding and shaping it? Would they wish to be Sleepers again? Would their dreams be beautiful or still, somehow, blood-soaked? Her body leans her toward him and chasing wayward rabbits of fantasy, perhaps she stares a little too deeply into hooded dark eyes.

Again comes that understanding nod as she devours those worries bit by bit. The darker truths that somehow live between breaths and between fares. A duty just as sacred as mending the sick, protecting the herd. People aren't meant to be solitary. If they were, there'd be no society. Much as maybe some of them think to the contrary, they can't really be a pack unto themselves. So Badr, and the rest, are a blessing, too.

Beth shies away from his pronouncement. He might see her recede behind a true sense of humility. "My..gifts..One simply flows. Always has. It sustains the weakest ones as best as can. Given time and opportunity, I try to mend what is broken, to give every little life a chance at survival. And to do so is to toil in silence. To be an unseen agent. Dat is enough, and I don' know if I'd want praise or appreciation even if dey did know." An incline of her head speaks to the silent bargain struck. She wants to know everything about each and every one of them and Jake is both the outlier and the welcoming on, the one she feels safest asking questions of. She's also aware of how awful that might sound inside her head. A part of her is grateful then that mind-reading doesn't seem to be one of the myriad gifts Khonshu has afforded them. Her face soften as he mentions friends of hers. The last thing either of them would want is to have children emulate their exploits and potentially endangering the youth, though adults using their likenesses in commission of crimes might be equally devastating in a different way. The description of the third clearly throws her because of the way she squints then draws her lips down with a shake of her head and a shrug of her shoulders. Her entire face is a Cirque du Soleil of emotion; there's fond amusement, followed by wide eyes and palpable fear for Jake despite knowing and seeing him sitting there, no worse for the ware after this harrowing tale. And finally, there's the moment where she drifts like a wave on shore between craning her neck back and shivering at the change of his tone, and the small bark of laugh that he earns from the rest of his implication. If she'd been drinking at that moment... When the giggle subsides, she applauds him with a quite clap of her fingers and a bow of her head toward him. A few forkfuls later, and she's daubing at her lips before clearly her throat in the most delicate way possible. "Okay, so...prologue or preface, wha'evah you prefer. Mebbe not a good idea to share these so you're gonna hafta give me grace an' not aks for more detail. Now almos' every story you are evah gonna hear about da ER is eiddah gonna be about foreign bodies or oddah sexual kine of injury. My sistahs an' braddahs in medicine seem to share dese da most as bein' funniest an' mos' incredible. An' most of da time, dey kinda are.

"Dis one, small kine different. One shift, on a tremendously warm summer day, I had da fortune to witness dis man come, an' I'm tellin' you, he got da biggest luck blessin' of any sleeper...ah...human alive. He an older man, in his forties, an' was doin' repairs on a roof of some kine. Probably had a couple beers for him, but I don't recall what his BAC was. Anyway, he lost balance and fell off. Normally dis means broken bones an' some internal bleedin' at best. "But dis guy manages t' impale himself on a piece of rebar fence. Metal went in his lef' backside cheek an' exit t'rough da right shoulder, yeah? As you can imagine dere's a choke amount of important bits an' bobs he could hit t'rough his body li'dat. EMS had removed da rebar from da ground wi' it still inside him, dripping blood onto da floor entire ride into da place. Before we can even go to work on him, his ten-years-pregnant wife come flyin' in about ready to crash from a panic attack. We had to devote a team of OB nurses t' calm her down. "Anyway, off t' surgery he goes, an' less dan twen'y four hours later, he's sittin' up in da ICU aksin' f' food an' lettin' us know he's ready t' go home so he could be dere for his wife. Only real damage done was a single spinous process of one vertebrae. Dis is more or less a medical miracle I still don' understan'. " A second later, she seems to realise that her story if far more boring than Jake's offering and she hangs her head, fascinated by the nothing of a napkin in her lap. "Mebbe...mebbe I should'a gone wi' da foreign object story aftah all."

Rarely does Jake get ‘beautiful sentiment.’ He tends to get blank stares or surprise he can sling words on the human condition together. Grant may’ve gotten them to pieces of paper -- earned his own pieces of paper to play with numbers and stocks that translate to products and dollars in some universe -- but Jake and Marc aren’t stupid.

Potato Rosti fork-speared against white platter in a small screech, chin resting against the back of his hand. “Can you?” twinkle in his brimmed eyes not a tease nor a stab to her upbringing or her own pieces of paper. Leaning into the dance, basking in similar wavelength, in his posture and rhetorical. They have the hard jobs. Doing what they can for humanity in all its infinite diverse combinations. She continues out the same tear he’s got going, passion for her work, her way, a lantern shining from inside her.

“We got some of the same passengers. Dealing with em on their worst days. An’ their body fluids no doubt. Sometimes get folks that I gotta drive your way. It’s a headache for other drivers. Legal hot water. Stressin’ someone’s gonna pass on.” Labor – single women, steely teared faces; stressed couples yelling for him to go faster. Young and old OD-ing. Bleeding from bullets and blades in his backseat.

Worn leather jacket shoulder rises and falls. “Me, I don’t mind so much. They don’t got any real options if they’re hailing one of us.” Fees for ambulance, for care, wait times. Systems within systems power has built and don’t seem bothered to unbuild.

Marc also being the guy who people wanna treat and street or stick five-pointed in the grippy socks hotel, Jake reckons he has responsibility.

Smile goes worn as his leather jacket, adjusting his brim. Voice lowered, darker wood, words for him and her, “The NICU is a mitzvah. They don’t just let anyone in. Lil ones and their parents must grateful to have you watching over them.”

He pulls away a skosh, mixing Rosti and salmon together. Chewing quietly for mouth noises should be kept to himself. Nothing less than five stories are pulled up, riffed through, and tossed. “Okay. I got one. It’s a trade though. One ride for your room.” Cheeks remain the usual shade.

“So, years back, three robbers run outta a bank into me turnin right. Head guy pulls his gun on me. They’re all Halloween hero masks. Y’know. Spidey. Devil, and someone wearin’ one with a red wig on top. They all get in. Tell me to shut it and drive till I hit water. I make way towards Coney Island, don’t spare the horses neither. Weavin’ in an’ outta traffic a bit wilder than usual.” Cabbies right? gleams his side smile.

“Try an’ spook em a bit. Warn em we’re attracting attention. They don’ listen to ol’ Jake. Stun ‘em with a hard brake. Stick a trunchon to the accelerator, hop in the back. Rough em up a bit an’ that’s when Marc tells them -” Jake’s accurate Moon Kni.ght’s macabre delivery odd past the first fingers of dawn, “You said not to stop until we hit the water.”

A pause, flat hand curving in an arc miming a dive into his low mug.

#silverjetsystm #In The Neon Light|Jake Lockely #Remember Tracing It|The System and Beth #Touching the Light|MK au #Brooklyn Stories|New York

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

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Nothing Is Lost

Khonshu x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of attempted sexual assault, death, child death, certain amounts of grief, mentions of incestual marriages (It's ancient Egypt, y'all c'mon) canon divergence/merging

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Hah! Betcha I had y'all convinced it was Khonshu creeping through the window, didn't I? :D But also yeah, there's gonna be some inaccuracies here and there while I merge the show and comics (hello, it's fanfiction, duh) Also we get more backstory on Jezebel! Also idk why but this chapter feels off to me, maybe I'll be able to comprehend better (and possibly make edits) once I've had some sleep!

Taglist: @drinkingwithkhonshu

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 5:

Pomegranates

"And you're positive it's her?"

Jezebel gripped at the inside of her wrist, knuckles white. She swore she could feel the scales burning her palm.

"I know it's her. It has to be." She affirms.

Zephyr croaked from his perch nearby at the man who stood in a darkened corner of the room.

His hands clasped behind his back, his stark white suit stood out from the rest of him (save for the bots of golden button-up that peaked from beneath his collar). A cleanly shaven head, tanned skin and dark, piercing eyes fixing Jezebel with an intense glare from behind his glasses.

"Jezebel, there is no such thing, really, as knowing, and at the same time thinking something has to be what you want it to be."

"Yehya..." She hissed through her teeth, pressing her fingertips to her temple.

"I don't... I can't explain it to you. You don't understand. I know it's her. I don't know how I do, but... I just do. Trust me, okay?" She looked up at him, her brows softly pinched in a plea.

"I would never do anything to cause Him harm. If I ever did I would sooner kill myself. This could... This could lift Him up, Yehya..." She said to him.

"If it wasn't for your intervention, as well as Khonshu's... I would be dead like almost all of Ammit's blind followers. I would rather my heart serve the Moon, than serve the Soul-Eater."

"Well, Jake Lockley saw to that loose end being tied." Yehya Badr sighed, his posture slumping somewhat as he paced.

He looked at the small golden idol depicting Khonshu, the moon disc proudly displayed upon his head, and his gaze softened.

"Yes, He seems rather keen on utilizing Jake, lately. Whether or not Marc knows about him I cannot say, yet. I must admit, I missed Khonshu's voice whilst he was away, dealing with Spector's insistence on letting his alter, Steven Grant live a "normal" life..." His fingers brushed the base of the statue.

"I just wish he came to me for help. One Fist isn't enough to defend the world."

"It is a war on more than one front. Two Fists means He has more than one weapon to defend the innocent in different places." Jezebel said, sipping her spicy tea.

"Perhaps Khonshu kept you here to carry out his will in his absence? He trusts you enough, believes in your abilities enough that he doesn't need to hang over your shoulders like he does with that Spector fellow and his... brothers."

"Maybe you're right." Yehya said, tilting his head as her turned to look at her again.

"But we're getting off track." He moved to sit in the chair across from her, gingerly holding the teacup in his large hand as he sipped silently.

"You've seen her?" Jezebel asked, quirking a brow.

"Yes. And frankly, she looks like death. She looks like she isn't sleeping, or eating. I'm honestly curious as to when was the last time she saw a doctor."

"There's a reason for that." Jezebel set her cup on the small plate with a clink.

"And that is..." He asked, raising an eyebrow in return.

"She came to me almost a week ago, now. She's been having what she assumed were dreams, but from the little context she's been able to disclose they sound like... visions."

"And these dreams only happened after..."

"She's had them her whole life. They've gotten more intense, more disturbing to her after I gave her the statue and told her to pray to Khonshu for protection."

She reached out to the crystal ball in the middle of the table and waved her hand over it. Briefly, an image of the moon swirled in its depths, before vanishing.

She showed him the conversation she'd had with you, the things you said happened, what you dreamt and what happened to the man who tried to rape you.

Yehya's brow furrowed deeply as he listened, absorbing every detail before the images in the crystal vanished.

"...That does sound concerning. You... Do you think Khonshu himself saved her? Directly?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." Jezebel sighed. "She can't ascertain any details of her dreams for me to build more, and well... Given that it has been so long, perhaps she has access to magic, like I do. It can explain some of the things she dreams, her "feeling" as she describes it... Things change, though that body isn't the original, who is to say she doesn't have a gift for magic in this life?"

"You're a mystic. A priestess. This woman... She cleans offices." He said skeptically, leaning back in the chair.

"Merit was simply the cousin of a wealthy man." Jezebel said, her gaze narrowing sharply. "She was a scholar, a scribe. That isn't much higher than a cleaner, these days."

"...A scribe with the ear and arm of a god." He murmured.

He met her gaze with his own.

"But you don't know for certain."

"It... It might not be Merit. It could be someone else, but I just..." Jezebel ran a hand through her hair.

"I feel it, Yehya. Inside me. I feel a connection to her, and it's one I haven't felt since..."

Yehya reached out and touched her hand in a comforting gesture, knowing the subject was a tense one for her.

"I know." He said. Then, he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes with a sigh that he exhaled slowly.

"I will investigate, watch this woman from afar. I will see if there is any truth to your suspicions. And if there is, I must watch her, ensure she is kept safe so history does not repeat itself."

"...Maybe she can tell us who killed her." She whispered softly.

Yehya's head snapped to look at her. "Whoever it was is most likely long dead."

"But if they aren't... Justice might finally be dealt. He can finally have closure to the mystery." She insisted, tapping the table with her fingers.

"Perhaps." He conceded.

Yet again, Jezebel astounded him.

"Has Khonshu mentioned any changes with Merit's tomb?" She asked him. "Has anybody found it?"

"No, it is tucked so far away within the desert and hidden with magic. The previous Fists did well to conceal her tomb and keep her safe. Khonshu would certainly have mentioned if interlopers had raided the place."

"Good. Maybe one day..."

Yehya made a dry chuckle.

"If this woman is Merit. Maybe. But who wants to visit their own grave?"

"You'd be surprised, Yehya." Jezebel smiled, sipping her tea.

"Graveyards are often haunted. By the living and the dead. Some by choice."

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You pulled at the hem of your apron beneath the table, nerves frayed and body exhausted.

When was the last time you ate? You ate this morning, right? You were sure of it.

You had honey and bread, with some dates.

Or... did you? Was that another dream, too?

But, wait...

You hadn't slept. At all. You were so sleep deprived that the line between the waking and sleeping world were blurred so well that you were jumpy, seeing things even when you were awake.

You would be walking down the street and all of a sudden you'd be on a cliff, overlooking some kind of town, or a city, the stars and moon shining high above you. You stopped yourself before you fell over the edge, or a large hand on your shoulder jerked you back.

Yeah, when you snapped out of it you saw you had almost been hit by a car and a cyclist pulled you back to safety before you got turned into street pizza.

You were dreaming even when you were awake, it seemed.

Right now, a horrid pit was in your stomach, your nerves tangled and twisted violently together. You had been up for nearly three days. You knew that legally you were insane once you'd gone past the 72 hour marker. But you were just so afraid to sleep because of your dreams that you just... You couldn't. You couldn't stand it.

And here you were, in your boss's office. Not just the guy in charge of the cleaners, but the whole building itself.

It was currently 9:27 am, your old, beat up watch told you.

You raised your eyes to look at your reflection in the small mirror on his desk, and squeezed your eyes shut.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

The incense filled the air, the smell coming in off the Nile and the blooms around it being carried on the wind, straight into your house.

You hummed as you looked into your golden mirror, applying with great care and practice your kohl eyeliner, applying your wings; being careful not to poke yourself with the stick. Then, you begin drawing out your eyebrows, the end slope following the curve of your wings.

You take a moment to admire yourself, smiling proudly at the turquoise coloring you'd applied on your eyes, and how well it complimented your looks, highlighting the blackness of your liner, and stood out starkly against your darkened skin.

Setting the kohl stick down, you grab the reed with the red ochre attached and begin to daintily apply it to your lips, giving yourself a nice red tint.

Once finished with that, you placed your used tools on your makeup pallet.

When you were finished applying your makeup, you set down your mirror and reached out to your cosmetics box, and grabbed a small ivory pot and opened it and dipped your fingers in the scented oil, dabbing it on your wrists and throat, rubbing it into your skin in gentle circles, the spice and sweetness mixing together into an intoxicating scent.

You run your hand over your shaved scalp, feeling the fuzzy beginnings of new hair growth start to form. You frowned.

Ugh, you'd have to shave it again when it got too long. You did not want to risk getting infested with lice.

You would cross that road when you came to it.

You stand, and go over to the chest at the foot of your bed, trying to decide on what to wear, as you were still only clad in your small trappings that only covered your nethers.

It was rather hot today, the heat already stifling in the early morning.

So, you decided on your beaded dress. A garment that left little to the imagination, yes, but given the summer heat many opted for the most breezy and comfortable clothing available in their wardrobes, the richer ladies opting for beads to accentuate their beauty.

You grab the garment and slide it over yourself, beads tinkling as you do so. The upper edge lay on your ribs below your breasts, the straps coming up and over your shoulders to cover your breasts (barely, given the style of beading).

Once clothed, you walk back over to your vanity and grab the golden and beaded neck collar your father gifted to you a week before he died. It was your favorite piece, depicting the face of your mother, who, passed away not long after your younger brother, whom had drowned when playing in the Nile. His body had gotten swept away in the currents and it was a full day before they fished him from the waters.

Your mother mourned painfully, loudly... Her cries, you felt, could still be heard even in your dreams as a girl...

Your father told you the pain of losing him was simply too much, and the Gods decided they couldn't keep her separated from her younger child any longer; that her prayers and desperate cries for her son broke the very heart of Anubis himself, so they showed mercy and claimed her early so she could reunite with your brother and ease her suffering.

After your father's death, the golden collar had been modified at your request, showing a depiction of both your father and brother as well, happily holding onto one another in Sekhet-Aaru.

The only members left of your family were you and your cousin, whom your father once tried to marry you off to. You declined, and surprisingly your father accepted. Mostly because your cousin had already expressed an interest in the daughter from another noble family, one closely related to the royal line. Your cousin graciously allowed you to live with her and his new family, mostly because you and his wife had become steadfast and loyal friends, especially after you helped her through the birth of their daughter. Your cousin exalted her birth and graciously left lavish offerings to Taweret and Hathor as thanks for their protection during the pregnancy and birth.

You sighed wistfully at the thought of family. Your parents would never see you wed, or have children of your own. Your father passed away three seasons ago, leaving you the last of his line.

The collar had always allowed you to feel their embrace, even if it was only by the cold of the soft metal and beadwork.

You sigh once more at the sentiment and go to put in your heavy turquoise earrings (to match your makeup and the beads on your dress). Then it was the ivory bracelets on your wrist, and the simple silver anklet that hung over your foot, the cold material soothing you.

It had been a recent gift from your lover. It pleasantly surprised you, you honestly hadn't expected him to be one for gifts such as these.

Inside the anklet were carvings depicting a poem of sorts dedicated to you.

"To my love,

Without you I would have no sky.

There would be no inky black to hang the stars,

The jewels of the night.

Or for the Moon to rest and shine down upon you."

You giggled as you reached for your crimped wig, sliding it comfortably into place before applying the gold and silver chains you hung as a sort of extra ornamentation. After that, you reached for your linen shawl and draped it over your shoulders, tucking it in so it concealed yourself just a bit more conservatively than your dress on its own did.

Afterwards you slipped on your most comfortable sandals and grabbed your basket, as well as whatever items you would need to trade for things you'd need or like. Sure, you could have the servants do the shopping, but then you'd never get out of the house, save for when your lover whisked you away into the night.

You wanted to feel the sun on your skin, as blistering as it was, feel the breeze on your face; feel the atmosphere of a bustling market.

You pause to look at the altar across from your bed, where the incense burned and your offerings lay.

You wondered if you should shed these clothes once you got back from the market, or from the Palace this evening.

You certainly had an excuse, it was hot, after all.

He would come tonight, your lover. And already you knew what the night would entail once the two of you embraced.

Before you leave your room, you lean over and kiss the statue on the altar, smiling happily.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

You jerk your head up with a start and blink when you see your boss sitting in front of you, looking concerned.

You glanced down to your watch.

9:32 AM.

It felt like hours you had been in that dream. Maybe less, but it sure felt like a while. But it had only been a few minutes. Did you nod off when you weren't paying attention..?

He repeated your name again, and you cleared your throat.

"Y-yes sir?" You asked meekly.

"I've received several concerns from your coworkers about you." He sighed, opening the file and flicking through the papers.

"You've been a loyal employee, you've almost never missed a day since you were hired..." He continued to list off the hood things you'd done since coming to work, there.

However that icy, nagging feeling in your gut wouldn't go away.

"But the concerns are regarding your well-being. At first I paid them no mind, until I saw you with my own eyes." His bushy brows furrowed deeply, a frown crinkling his salt-and-pepper beard.

"Alec is a good friend of mine, and he as well told me how you've been feeling. He also told me recently about a man who has been spotted in the vicinity, watching you through the windows."

"Th-that was one time..." You peep.

"Well, given everything that's happened to you, kid... I'd rather not risk it." He scribbled something down in one of the binders on his desk, before hastily typing on his computer.

"As of this second, you're on your PTO."

You felt your mental train derail as you blinked dumbly at him.

"But--"

"No buts, missy. You're obviously not well, and I can't have you passing out on the job or falling down stairs. That's dangerous to your health and my company's reputation. You've racked up enough time to..." He blinked outrageously.

"...You've worked long enough that you could take a few months off work. For now, I'm giving you just two. You need to see a doctor, and get help."

He locked his gray eyes with yours.

"I think you got narcolepsy, kid. I had an aunt who had it when I was a kid. It's not good, that's what got her killed. Passed out at the wheel and got into a wreck."

He stood up from his chair, walked over to you, and rested his hand on your shoulder, fixing you with a gaze most would save for their child or grandchild.

"Trust me, kid. You're one of the best cleaners I've ever hired. Probably the smartest, though Alec tries, bless his soul. The man has admitted he's never been the sharpest tack in the box..." He chuckled a bit. "I'd hate to lose you to your health, of all things. It'd be easier to handle if you were poached out by some other company."

Your jaw hung, opening and closing but you couldn't think of words to say.

"Go on, kid. I have a meeting to get to. Go home, eat something, and take a nap."

As you were gently ushered out of his office, you were left in the quiet ambience of the sterile hallway, the buzzing of the lights above droning endlessly into your ears.

Great.

Just great.

What the hell were you supposed to do for two months?

Maybe... you could conduct some more research. Learn more about Egypt, keep writing your dreams down, and go see Jezebel again...

But first things first... You had to figure out why your hands wouldn't stop tingling.

That would have to wait. At this point you didn't care if you didn't get well-rested.

You needed sleep.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Chapter 6: Link

#khonshu x you #khonshu x reader #khonshu moon knight #khonshu #moon knight #yehya badr #my writing #khonsu #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley

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oh-hush-its-perfect · 2 years ago

Text

It's Never Too Late to Come Back to my Side

A (very short) Fierrochase fic, inspired (very loosely) by "Dorothea" by Taylor Swift

Pairing: Magnus Chase & Alex Fierro, Magnus Chase/Alex Fierro

Summary: Decades after getting together and years after breaking up, Alex and Magnus take a tiny step towards rekindling their friendship.

Word count: 703 (Hence why I'm publishing on Tumblr rather than Ao3).

Alex’s door was already open, which made this a whole lot easier for Magnus. He peered inside, listening to the music she was playing on the speakers he had gotten her for her nineteenth birthday. It didn’t feel that long ago, even though it was— fifty-three years whisked by as a series of seconds. Time flies when you’re having fun. Maybe that’s why the last five years had dragged so much.

Alex sat at her pottery wheel, shaping some odd lump. A similar odd lump started forming in Magnus’s throat. It had been half a decade since their break-up, but she still looked so pretty. Of course, he had seen her in the interim. They’d met every day for the daily battle. They sat at the same table at dinner. And they avoided eye contact as if their lives depended on it.

Magnus knocked on the doorframe. “Alex?”

Alex stopped turning the wheel and turned to look at him. Her face hadn’t changed. Of course her face hadn’t changed; she was immortal, forever stuck at sixteen. She quickly glanced away, leaning over and shutting off the power on the speakers.

“Hey.” Her voice was a little surprised, and a little delicate. At least she didn’t sound angry like she had when he tried talking to her in the first year after the break-up. “What?”

Magnus pursed his lips and looked past her, trying to figure out how to phrase his request. On the back wall of her room was a painting that hadn’t been there when they had been dating. It was a gorgeous modern art piece, like something from the Harlem Renaissance, featuring people playing trumpets in bright, vibrant colors.

“Where’d you get the painting?” he asked.

Alex glanced behind her. “Oh. It was a gift from Badr.”

Magnus smiled. “I love Badr. It’s crazy how her kids are our age now.”

“You keep in contact with the Fadlans?” Alex asked.

“Of course I keep in contact with the Fadlans,” Magnus said. “Samirah is old and decrepit now. I like making fun of her.”

“Hey, she ain’t bad for 71.” Alex’s smile eased Magnus’s nerves a little bit.

“Yeah, she really isn’t,” Magnus agreed.

There was a somewhat awkward silence.

“Well?” Alex asked. “Did you just come here to hang out, or…?”

Magnus bit the inside of his cheek. “I have a favor to ask, actually.”

“Shoot.”

“We’re having some trouble at Chase Space.” Magnus leaned against the doorframe.

“What kind of trouble? Monster trouble?”

“No. See, we’re kind of short-staffed since—” since you left, Magnus thought, “— since Hearth retired.”

“Oh.” Alex looked down at her creation on the wheel.

“Yeah,” Magnus said. “Look, I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you don’t have anything going on… do you think you could come in and help out? You’ve always been great with the kids, and—”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex said.

Magnus blinked. He hadn’t expected her to be so easily convinced. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always loved working with the teenagers. Also, I miss Hearth and Blitz.”

Magnus cracked a smile. “How long has it been since you’ve seen them?”

Alex thought about it. “Jeez, I haven’t met up with them since my going-away party at Chase Space. I feel bad now. I should have arranged something.”

“Don’t feel bad,” Magnus assured her. “They’re old, anyway. They don’t have a lot of interesting things to talk about.”

This time the joke fell flat. Alex looked at her hands, covered in clay. “Yeah. Well, I’ll see you… when? Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow would be great, if you don’t mind,” Magnus said.

“I don’t.” Alex gave him a little sarcastic smile and waved her hand. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” Magnus said.

He leaned out of the doorway and walked across the hall to his own room. Unlocking the door, he wondered if Alex still had a copy of his key. What would she have done with it? Turned it back into the hotel staff? Sold it to someone out of spite?

Magnus slipped into his room, still very conscious of Alex’s open door behind him. Just as he closed his door, he heard the music from across the hallway start back up.

#this was asked for so don't blame me #i was all 'what if i posted my short fics' and y'all were all 'do it.'#mcga #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #fierrochase #alex fierro

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rokugenshiki · 2 years ago

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Inspiration: The Willow Maid (Erutan), Hijo de la Luna (Mecano)

another old piece I wrote some time ago, possibly with a lot of poetic license. since I’m quite satisfied with how it turned out, though, there we go!

(still under the cut, since it’s long-ish)

It happened a late afternoon.

Asra had spent a good deal of time speaking with Nadia, about both the investigation itself and to grant his fellow magician a deserved break. He had nothing against the Countess, but he knew she could be rather… demanding, sometimes, when she assigned a job. Badr didn’t fail to mention the “damned test” Nadia put her through, using one of their Arcana to see if she could follow magic traces with moving targets.

Still, Nadia was a nice host, really. Once she warmed up to a person, she wouldn’t hold back with gifts or shows of appreciation. An aspect that finally brought to the magician’s current predicament.

Taking a stroll around the castle with the ruler, talking about lighter topics. More or less.

“Asra, I must ask a… delicate question.” the Countess began at a point, an unexpected sigh leaving her lips. “Do you think Badr is bothered by my actions? It’s true that we didn’t exactly started with the right foot, but… I suppose I still haven’t redeemed myself?”

The magician looked at her curiously, a little taken aback from the confession. Then, he smiled amiably. “It’s not like that, Nadi. Badr is just horrible at expressing feelings.” he admitted, fondness as well as bluntness in his voice.

“You say that, but I fear I have… ah, offended her, with my last gift.”

The dress.

Badr showed him the garment the evening before. It was a beautiful piece made with a soft, almost feather-like fabric that Badr herself defined “like a cloud”. Nadia had given it to her some days prior, if he recalled correctly, while Badr was just having a “bad” moment.

Shaking his head, he placed a hand on the Countess shoulder. Her gaze fixed in his almost immediately and he smiled once again, a honest and reassuring smile. “I know where the problem lies, Nadi, and believe me if I say it’s not as you think. She’s not always comfortable in dresses and, as you may guess, prefers slacks over skirts in general.”

As he finished his explanation, the pair passed by one of the large windows that granted them a clear image of the garden. Before he could continue, however, his eyes caught glimpse of something—or rather, someone.

“I’m well aware of her preferences, but her figure is—Asra?”

Nadia stopped herself mid-sentence, as the magician brought his right index to his lips, a secretive smile telling her to keep quiet. She followed him when he gestured her to, getting silently on the balcony that oversaw the garden.

There, oblivious of the audience she got, Badr was crouching on the ground, bare-foot, fixing her handmade anklets before standing up. She was wearing the dress Nadia gave her, much to the Countess’ surprise.

Before the two could say or do anything, the dark haired magician started to move, her eyes closed as she danced on inaudible notes. The dress’ ends fluttered around, each step and movement was executed fluidly, with an elegance so unexpected that Nadia could only observe the show with delight.

She knew there was more than the usual frown and sharp words, but now Badr’s reminded her of the willow tree in the maze, flexible and gracious, swaying at the wind.

“See? I think she likes it. She just wasn’t ready to wear it.” Asra’s voice was only a murmur and got a simple nod as answer.

Each step she took felt like growing closer and closer with the elements themselves. Even if the contact lasted only a few moments, she could feel grass and soil under her feet, a spark of life reverberating around her.

Earth was her mother and her home, her first prayer in the morning and last at night. If she focused enough, she could feel the light thrumming coming from the ground - life at its most natural, purest form - and that alone had always the power to make her relax, even after a stressing day in the city.

As much as Asra tried to teach her his element, water couldn’t just become as important to her as earth was since her birth.

It didn’t take long for her to notice the lingering stares from the balcony - her magic sensed the familiar presence of her mentor, together with one which she still wasn’t totally accustomed to. Her friendship with Nadia was still something she could work on, but nonetheless the endless kindness of the noble host was something Badr wanted to treasure. Not because of the gifts she received, but simply because she felt the woman’s honest and good intentions.

People like her were hard to come by, in all times. Badr wanted to treasure their relationship.

Gulping down the embarrassment of being stared at in such a moment, she held out her hands to the two of them, an open invite to join her, much to Asra’s surprise.

The three of them danced and danced and danced, with no real music guiding them other than the pace set from one and each of them.

Badr couldn’t recall how much time had passed since they started, but soon enough Nadia excused herself to go back to her duties. Her mentor, Asra, followed like a few more minutes, after telling her to try and not exhaust herself too much--which was funny: after all that moving, Badr just felt even more energized than before.

Still barefoot, the Apprentice walked around and in the little maze surrounding the familiar fountain she used some time before to get in touch with Asra. She didn’t feel like going back inside ye. The energy she felt from the dance before, the vivid aura she could feel around her even in that moment, made leaving very difficult, after all. It still wasn’t like taking a walk in the woods outside Vesuvia where her dearest familiar lived, but it was something.

Luckily, even the obnoxious selfishness and the poor style the later Count had couldn’t completely erase the nature from the castle. That, or it was all Nadia’s merit. Unsurprisingly, Badr tended to the latter.

A chuckle left her lips - she felt no guilt in talking, or thinking, bad of Lucio.

From what she heard and saw, he was not a nice person, nor one she could get along with. She’d rather punch him in the face probably, but that would have to wait anyways.

For the moment, the Apprentice was rather satisfied with simply resting in her favorite element.

A few hours later, Asra went back to find her before it became too dark outside, only to find her leaning back on the willow tree near the fountain. Her aura, as he could see, still was saturated with natural energy: it thrummed pleasingly around her in such a way that he could see the surroundings echoing with it, albeit more silently.

He sometimes wondered if Badr knew how strong her magic could become if she kept linking herself to the elements like she did that day. That is, if she knew what she was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time she pulled something like that, following the way her instinct and magic itself laid out for her, so it was a fair doubt he had.

Honestly, his dearest was either incredibly intuitive or unbelievably lucky sometimes.

That was his last thought before he walked up to her sleeping form, ready to wake her up.

#writing #the arcana #the arcana apprentice #nadia satrinava #oc: badr #(missing moments of sorts?)#(it's rather self indulgent not gonna lie)#asra alnazar

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