#even beyond his dynamic with Marc

[age-of-moonknight]

“Ill Met by Moonlight,” Moon Knight (Vol. 9/2021), #24.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Federico Sabbatini; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

[projectionistwrites]

moonboys and a reader who maladaptive daydreams?

hi, nonnie! thank you for this request, you must’ve seen my blog description haha. this is my first fic request which is very exciting! my inbox is always open so if you’d like to request something, i’d appreciate it. :) anyway, i hope you like it!

IMPLODING THE MIRAGE

Moon Knight x afab!reader (primarily Marc Spector) (10.6k+)

You’ve been escaping into yourself more and more often, and the boys are starting to notice. How are you supposed to explain to them that you don’t want to live in the moment, when the version of your life inside your head is so much better than reality on the outside?

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: maladaptive daydreaming, insecure reader & negative perceptions of self, depictions of injury & violence, kidnapping, miscommunication, SMUT (inappropriate fantasizing, unprotected p in v sex, cum eating, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics if you squint)

imploding the mirage — the killers

i had to do it, i had no other choice you’ve got to listen to the inside voice a bullet train will get you there fast but it won’t guarantee a long last sometimes it takes a little bit of courage and doubt to push your boundaries out beyond your imagining

He was the moon, and she was the stars.

It was serendipitous, how the couple had come to fall in love throughout the course of their divine adventures alongside each other—two servants to a pair of primordial Egyptian deities, serving as Avatars to protect those who could not protect themselves. She’d met him at a meeting of the Ennead, when he’d been called upon to answer for his actions against a human named Arthur Harrow, who was accused of attempting to raise Ammit from eternal isolation.

The trial hadn’t gone well, and certainly hadn’t worked in his favor, but her goddess protector had a soft spot for Khonshu, the God of the Moon—after all, he was the reason she had been given five extra days with which to bear her five children.

So her Avatar was secretly assigned to keep watch over the Moon Knight, to aid in his fight to keep Ammit contained and offer her services should he need them.

He was resistant at first, but Khonshu insisted that having Nut as an ally could only serve to benefit them in their journey—after all, she was the sky, and without her, the Moon could not rise.

Marc Spector and his alters didn't anticipate becoming so infatuated with the soft curve of her Avatar’s smile or the cosmos she seemed to hold within her eyes. But as time passed, they grew closer, and when she saved him again and again, the navy blue of her armor shimmering with glowing silver emblems of stars, he felt as if his soul was tethered to her. It seemed to be fate, as clear as a constellation, that their lives were somehow intertwined and their happenstance meeting was actually the result of some unseen gravitational pull, guiding them through the darkness until they found solace in one another.

He heard her sandal-clad feet softly hit the solid ground, her body drifting down from the sky to land beside him after her short flight in the air. He turned to look at her—the flowing robes of her ceremonial armor billowed in the evening breeze, her hair pulled back intricately with thin glittering bands of silver, adorned with five-pointed stars that captured the moonlight in her curls. She was ethereal, heavenly, celestial, and when she turned and smiled at him, he swore the planets aligned in some brief moment of rapture.

“Where to next, Moon Boy?”

She teased lightly, her nose crinkling with amusement. His hands twitched at his sides, unable to control the movement of his arm as it reached for her hand.

He heard Khonshu chuckle deeply from somewhere behind him, condescending and slightly mocking. Still, he always spoke kinder about the woman beside him than any other being on this Earth.

“I should’ve known you would become enamored with the little star. Nut always finds a way to reunite the beings of the night sky.”

Marc ignored him—he was too enthralled by the way her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his fingers brushing her own, the hood and mask of his armor receding to reveal the tenderness of his gaze. He turned to face her, his other gloved hand reaching to cradle the side of her jaw. He watched as her gaze flickered down to his lips, and he smiled.

“Anywhere, as long as it’s with you.”

He leaned forward to capture her lips with his own, swallowing her contented sigh as she melted into his touch—

“Jesus Christ!”

You nearly toppled forward when Marc abruptly yanked his arm away from you, his face contorted into a look of pain. You blinked once, then twice, eyes clearing to focus in on the blood staining your hands and the curved needle that was pinched tightly between your forefinger and thumb.

“The fuck was that? Are you even paying attention to what you’re doing?”

Marc hissed at you, cradling his injured forearm to his chest, gritting his teeth as your eyes widened in realization.

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, Marc, I zoned out, here, just let me see—”

“Forget it, I’ll just do it myself.”

He snatched the suture from your hand and laid his arm back on the marbled countertop of your bathroom sink, giving you a clear view of the mistake you’d made—you’d laid the stitch nearly a full inch from where the edge of the gaping incision had started, sinking it into completely uninjured, healthy skin.

“Marc, stop, I’ll do it.”

You stopped him before he could hurt himself even more—he never had the patience to treat his wounds properly, but for ones that were this deep, it was smarter to close them by hand than wait several hours for his magical suit to heal it on its own.

He grunted in protest, but nonetheless allowed you to retrieve the needle from his hold and lean over his arm, tongue pinched between your teeth in concentration.

You were much more careful, this time, deliberate with each pull of the thread beneath his skin, finishing sewing shut the injury quickly. When you’d finally finished, you leaned forward to bite the end of the stitch and tear it away with your teeth. You reached for a piece of gauze, pouring a generous amount of saline solution onto the cloth in order to blot the excess blood from his skin.

You could feel his eyes on you the whole time, burning into your skull as if he was trying to read your mind. You sulked.

“I said I was sorry, Marc, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your words were soft, and he could hear the guilt that was churning in your stomach. He didn’t flinch when you began dabbing at the drying blood around the wound.

“S’fine. But—what happened? It’s like—you just tapped out for a second, there. Did you even hear what I was saying to you?”

You frowned.

“No, I’m sorry. I just—got lost in thought.”

“Hell of a time for that to happen.”

He chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood, but you didn’t laugh. Your eyes were still fixed on the skin of his arm, even though you’d successfully wiped away most of the remaining blood.

“I was just saying that—that I appreciate that you’re willing to do this for me.”

Your eyes darted to his face, surprised at the vulnerability he was displaying by expressing his gratitude.

“I mean—I never figured that when I’d stumbled onto your balcony all those months ago, beaten to all hell, that I’d meet someone who was willing to patch me up over and over again. Well—at least, before you stabbed me with a needle.”

Your eyes fell again, cheeks reddening at his jab. But he just laughed warmly, lifting his arm to rest his hand on your shoulder. Your bristled beneath his fingers, although his touch was nothing more than a friendly expression of appreciation.

“I’m just teasing you. But either way—just wanted to say thanks. Steven told me that I don’t say it enough, so...”

Now you laughed. It was more of a scoff, really, accompanied by the roll of your eyes as you reached for the knobs on the faucet, rinsing the blood from your fingers.

“Of course Steven made you.”

A lopsided grin found its way onto his face, and when you looked at him again, there was a twinkle in his eye. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you gazed at him��ebony curls spilling messily against his forehead, his lips quirked upwards at the corners, the fondness that was lingering beneath his brown irises. Was it possible? Could he really care about you the way you cared for him?

You turned away, standing and exiting the bathroom quickly before you could make a fool of yourself, face heating up at your own naïveté. Of course he didn’t feel that way about you. You were just—you. Only in the sanctuary of your imagination would he ever look at you and see anything beyond just a nurse playmate, or even maybe a friend.

You heard his heavy footsteps follow you back into your flat, where you wandered into the kitchen and retrieved a couple glasses.

“Do you mind if I—”

“Spare bed’s already made, I washed the sheets since last time you bled all over them and didn’t even tell me.”

You turned on the tap to fill the two cups with water. You were certain Marc hadn’t remembered to drink anything since his most recent escapade as a masked vigilante, and being around him always tended to make your mouth run dry.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You slid the glass of water across the countertop towards him, leaning back against the kitchen island to sip at your own. You watched him above the rim of your glass—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he took a large swig of the cool liquid, the way a stray droplet of water dribbled down his chin when he pulled the glass back, the way his hand came to wipe it away, the plush of his bottom lip supple beneath the swipe of his fingers.

She fell back against the mattress, breath temporarily stolen from her lungs as she felt the heat of his lips hungrily mouthing at any exposed skin it could reach—her jawline, her neck, her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. A soft whine fell from her mouth and Marc swiftly lifted himself back to her face to swallow the sound, tongue sinking into her mouth to taste her.

Her fingers clawed at the fabric of his t-shirt, twisting and yanking him impossibly closer, legs lifting to wrap around his waist to press the heat of her core against the growing tent in his pants. A low groan escaped his chest as he rutted against her, pulling back to take stock of the hazy fog of lust that clouded her eyes and the O-shape of her lips as she let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck, Marc.”

She whispered, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulderblades.

“Want you—need you so bad.”

“You’re doing it again.”

You blinked once, then twice, finding Marc's dark gaze staring straight at you as his voice pulled you back to reality. Your brows lifted in horror when you realized you’d shamelessly been ogling at him, too engrossed in your thoughts to notice how long you’d been standing there.

“Shit, I—sorry.”

You rubbed at your eyes with your fingers, hoping that maybe if you pressed hard enough, the image of Marc’s body hovering above you would erase itself from your mind. It didn’t work.

You heard the clank of his now-empty glass as he set it down on the granite countertop, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

You should be used to the rush of heat to your face by now—just being in Marc’s company caused you to blush uncontrollably, but still, the discomfort of your ruddy cheeks made your pulse quicken. Your gaze flickered down to your feet, eyes meeting the stupid fucking bunny slippers that you wore to accompany your fleece pajama bottoms. Fucking embarrassing.

“It’s nothing, Marc.”

You whispered quietly in response, although nausea was beginning to settle in the pit of your stomach. You were out of control—this man was driving you insane.

He studied you for a moment longer, eyes narrowed in suspicion, but when you didn’t look back up at him, he just sighed.

“Okay. I’ll just—leave you alone, then. Goodnight.”

There were tears pricking the back of your eyes. You wanted to ask him to stay, to come share your bed instead of the one in your guest room, to kiss his stupidly handsome face.

“Towels are folded in the bathroom for you, and there’s clothes in the wardrobe if you want to change.”

You said instead, turning to refill your glass of water in the sink behind you. If he heard you, he didn’t respond—you listened to his footsteps disappear down the hall before the door to the guest bedroom creaked shut with a quiet click. Your shoulders immediately slumped forward, eyes squeezed shut tightly in an effort to combat the desperate urge to break down.

Her eyes were full of detestation as she glared down at him, nostrils flared with rage. He wanted to shrink beneath her disapproval.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The woman started, and in spite of her towering figure looking down at him, he couldn’t help but gawk at the way the moonlight framed her, her silhouette outlined by the subtle glow of the night sky behind her. She offered him a hand and he took it, allowing her to yank him to his feet without an ounce of gentleness.

“You’re lucky I was here, Lockley, or things would’ve ended differently.”

She hissed, dusting herself off as if to showcase the strenuous effort she had put into saving his ass. He scowled behind his mask, the blood from the wound on his forearm beginning to soak through the bandages of his suit, tingeing the cream-colored fabric a dark crimson.

“I don’t need your help, estrellita. I was handling it.”

She scoffed as he turned on his heel to stomp away, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

“Yeah, sure looked like you were handling it—why didn’t you call me? Nut had to drag me out of bed so you didn’t get yourself killed. Didn’t the old bird tell you we were together on this?”

He scowled, eyes narrowed in contempt.

“Yeah, he did, and I said no. We are not partners. We’re hardly even friends.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the way her face fell and her brows creased causing a pang of guilt to stab through his already-sore chest. He sighed.

“Estrellita, I didn’t mean—”

“Why do you push me away?”

She interrupted, and Jake was taken aback by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“You need me, Jake. We need each other. I’m just—I just want to help you, why won’t you let me help you?”

He didn’t respond, just stared at her as her eyes flooded with tears. At his silence, she shook her head, turning away to stare up into the star-filled sky.

“We’re supposed to be a team, Moon Knight. The stars and the moon—you can’t have one without the other.”

He could see the reflection of the crescent-shaped moon in her glassy eyes, the soft glow painting her face with silvery beams of light.

You’d left the balcony door wide open—your routine was fairly habitual, now. A mug of warm tea was cradled in your fingers as you curled up in the wicker chair, eyes flitting across the scattered stars that were visible from your tiny apartment complex.

You watched him sit down beside you in your periphery, the movement to your left pulling you from your reverie. He reached for the glass of bourbon you'd set out on the table in front of him.

You sat in silence for awhile, finding comfort in the man’s quiet presence. You liked that about Jake—you never felt like you had to fill the air with meaningless conversation. He was perfectly content to just enjoy your company, the same as you enjoyed his.

You heard the ice in his glass clink against the side as he took a sip.

“Are you going to tell them?”

Neither of you looked at each other when he spoke—the question was spoken out into the world, not really directed towards you, although you knew what he meant.

Jake was too fucking perceptive for his own good. Even when he was silent, he was always there, watching, listening, observing—even if the other alters were oblivious to the yearning that was thinly veiled within your eyes, he certainly wasn’t. You sighed.

“No.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but something about his lack of verbal response bothered you, itching at the back of your brain. You turned to scowl at him.

“What?”

Jake hardly spared you a glance, barely quirking a brow at your emotionally-charged reaction as he shook his head.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly.”

You glared, fingers anxiously tapping at the rim of your mug. The contours of Jake’s face were sharp in the dim light of the moon, features accentuated by the shadows. He finally turned to look at you.

“You know what I think, nena. You’re only hurting yourself. And your constant...daydreaming. It’s not as subtle as it once was. You—You should talk to them. Or me.”

The last bit of his proposal caught you off guard. His eyes had already drifted elsewhere when he said it, staring into his half-empty glass of liquor, but your brows lifted in surprise.

“I—you?”

He glowered playfully.

“Don’t sound so surprised, nena. I always listen to you.”

That was true. Some of your fondest memories with Jake were of late nights spent out on your balcony, getting drunk on cheap wine and sharing stories.

“Yeah, you’re good at listening, but not so much the talking part.”

Jake shrugged, although he nodded in understanding. He was all too aware of his own weaknesses.

You took a sip of your chamomile tea, letting its warmth combat the chill of the evening air.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

You asked quietly, and even without elaborating, Jake knew what you were referring to. He sighed, tossing back the last of his bourbon before setting it on the small table between you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’ve told you before. It’s not my place. I know what they think, but not what they feel.”

You huffed quietly, although deep down, you knew he was right. It wasn’t his place to share how Marc or Steven felt about you. You sort of admired the way he was so strict in his moral obligations—especially considering the lengths you were willing to go in order to change his mind.

Jake stiffened when he felt your hand rest on his bicep, fingers wrapping around it and squeezing lightly.

“But what about how you feel?”

His jaw rippled, and you felt the muscle beneath your fingers tense at your coy words. You could feel the restraint within him as he sat up abruptly, pulling away so his arm fell from your grasp. He still didn’t look at you.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, nena. Not until you talk to Marc. He—you were his first. I’m not going jeopardize your relationship with him until he knows the truth.”

Anger flared within you.

“I’m not his. I don’t belong to anyone. My choices are my own.”

Jake flinched, eyes softening as they flickered over to you.

“You’re right, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—you have to understand. He—I can’t go behind his back like this. Yo no sería capaz de vivir conmigo mismo.”

“But you can’t even tell me if he feels the same way?”

You asked, and he could hear the pain in your voice as your tone wavered slightly. You’d had this conversation many times before, but things had been escalating recently—perhaps because it was getting increasingly difficult for you to be content in the reality you lived in.

Jake’s eyes were full of sympathy as he regarded you.

“No, nena. I’m sorry.”

You turned away.

“But you need to tell him. And Steven, too. They deserve to know. And so do you.”

You heard his weight shift as he stood to head back to bed, having spent too much time keeping the body awake—he didn’t want his alters to grow suspicious at the exhaustion when they woke in the morning.

“What if he breaks my heart?”

He paused in the threshold on the doorway, glancing back at you when he heard the thickness in your throat as your eyes welled with tears.

“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jake pursed his lips, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he pondered his response. Finally, he released a long sigh.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, nena. He’d be crazy not to.”

The smell of cinnamon wafted down the hallway as Steven rose from his slumber. There was a gentle melody floating in the air as he pulled himself from the bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his bare feet padding along the tiled floor towards the source of the noise.

She was singing quietly to herself, back towards him as she chopped the fresh strawberries into fourths. He couldn’t help but smile at the domesticity of it all—the woman he loved, that he fought beside, making breakfast for them to share. His heart felt whole.

He sidled up behind her, arms wrapping around her waist and his body pressing flush against her back. He placed a kiss to the exposed skin of her neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy updo.

“G’mornin’, darling.”

He hummed sleepily, and he felt her chest rumble with an airy giggle as she leaned into his touch.

“Hi, handsome. Sleep okay?”

He reached over her shoulder to steal a strawberry from the cutting board, taking a bite of the succulent fruit before offering the other half to her by pressing it to her lips. She smiled and happily accepted his offering.

“Would’ve slept even better if I’d woken up to your face beside me.”

She threw her head back, leaning against his chest as she laughed brightly—his favorite sound.

“Oh, boohoo. Sorry for getting up early to make you breakfast.”

She teased, and Steven pressed his face into her hair, the smell of her coconut shampoo enticing him. His arms reached to rest on the countertop to either side of her, successfully caging her in. He heard her breath hitch as the movement of the knife in her hand stalled, his body pressing up more firmly against her—enough so that she could feel the hardness of his manhood against the flesh of her ass.

“The strawberries are sweet, darling, but I’d rather have something even sweeter for breakfast this mornin’, yeah?”

“G’mornin’, darling.”

The knife fumbled in your grasp and the blade slipped across your fingers, slicing a divot in the tender flesh between your thumb and forefinger.

“Steven! Shit!”

You immediately dropped the knife and rushed towards the sink, rinsing your wound under the cold water to inspect the damage and dilute the blood.

“Oh, Gods, m’so sorry, love—are you alright?”

You could feel his body creeping up behind you, an arm reaching around to grab yours in an attempt to investigate the source of your discomfort. The warmth of his presence against your back startled you, a fierce blush rising to your cheeks as you reached for a towel and sidestepped, trying to put as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“It’s—I’m fine. It’s just a tiny cut, it’s no big deal.”

You brushed it off, although your palm was beginning to throb. You pulled the washcloth away from the afflicted area, finding it soaked with a generous amount of your blood.

“Looks like it hurts. Can I—may I help you with it?”

There was trepidation in his big brown eyes, obviously put off by the hastiness with which you’d pulled away from him. You surrendered yourself, offering a sigh and a slow nod.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You found yourself in a similar position to the previous night, although this time, the roles were reversed—and your wound was from an unfortunate kitchen incident, not a scuffle with a group of evil antique smugglers.

Steven’s bottom lip was pulled between his teeth as he secured a piece of gauze on the injury with medical tape, winding it around your palm so it fit snugly against the area. His hands were nimble and his touch was painfully gentle, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over your skin in an effort to prevent you from more discomfort. A chill crept up your spine at the close proximity.

He looked rather satisfied with himself when he’d finished, shoving the medical supplies back into the bin beneath your sink that you had specially packed for him.

“There we are—good as new.”

He smiled cheerily at you, and it was so contagious that you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Your mind briefly darted back to your conversation with Jake the night before; then the unholy thoughts you’d been having this morning when Steven had snuck up on you. Gods, you really were getting out of control...

Steven led you from the bathroom and you returned to your post, rinsing the knife and the sliced strawberries to ensure they weren’t contaminated. You stepped over to the stove to check the steel-cut oatmeal that had been simmering—Steven’s favorite. You gave it a few good stirs before deciding that it was finished, filling up two bowls with generous servings and sprinkling the top with strawberries, brown sugar, and a pinch of cinnamon. Steven was already seated at you breakfast bar when you turned to offer him his meal.

“Bon apétit.”

You flourished playfully, passing the bowl in front of him as you seated yourself on the stool across the way. His eyes crinkled with appreciation when he smiled.

“Oh, it smells bloody lovely. Thank you, darling.”

He always called you that, you rationalized. It was nothing more than a term of endearment—a friendly pet name.

You ate in silence for awhile, save for the sound of silverware clinking against porcelain and the birds chirping from your open window. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow him as he slipped a strawberry past his lips, something reminiscent of a moan escaping him as he savored the flavor of the fruit. Your face flushed bright red.

“Yes, darling—just like that, please.”

He was whimpering beneath her, pupils blown wide as he gazed up at her from where she straddled him, sliding her naked and exposed core over his boxer-clad erection.

“You wanna be inside me, Steven?”

She cooed, leaning forward to kiss along his stubbled jawline, and he moaned wantonly, hips rutting up against her.

“Gods, yes, love, please, I can’t—”

“S’there somethin’ on my face?”

Panic flooded you at the bewildered expression on Steven’s face, his hand coming up to wipe at his mouth in case you'd been gawking at some remnants of food on the corners of his lips.

You shook your head, eyes wide and cheeks already turning pink.

“I—No, no, there’s not, I—sorry. I was just—just thinking.”

He gave you a brief scrutinizing look before shrugging and diving back into the remainder of his oatmeal.

“What were you thinkin’ about?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Oh, it’s—nothing, really. Sometimes I just—space out, I guess.”

You offered sheepishly, toying with the last few bites of your food with your spoon—your appetite was suddenly gone.

“You seem to do that a lot, yeah? S’everything alright?”

“Yes.”

You answered him a bit too quickly, hastily jumping to end the conversation before it even began. His brows furrowed, watching as you quickly grabbed both bowls to busy yourself with cleaning up.

He wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer—in fact, it only served to startle him more. He watched you carefully as you began to viciously scrub at the blue porcelain bowls with a sponge.

“Are you...sure? I’m just—you’re worryin’ me a bit, yeah? And with last night, with Marc—if somethin’s the matter, you know you can always talk to us, ‘lright?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing yourself to take in a slow, careful breath in an effort to soothe your frazzled nerves.

“Yeah, I know, Steven—thank you. But—but everything’s just fine, really.”

She’s lying.

Steven was surprised to hear Jake’s voice echo from the back of the headspace—it wasn’t often that he offered internal commentary to any conversations outside of when he was fronting.

And how do you know that?

Marc quipped back in his mind—Steven hated when they argued in the headspace, especially when he was the one in control of the body. His brain felt too full and it was easy for him to get overstimulated.

What—you think she’s telling the truth, jefe?

Marc didn’t respond, and Steven was silently grateful that their quarrel had ended quickly. Still, he knew his alters were correct—you definitely weren’t ‘just fine.’

But the last thing he wanted to do was push you away, especially since it already felt like you were putting up a wall between you, keeping him at arm’s length.

He let out a long sigh, standing up from the bar to get ready to depart for his shift at the museum.

“Well, thank you for brekky, love, and for—everything else.”

You startled when you turned, finding him standing directly behind you, pulling you into his warm embrace without any due warning. God, why was he so fucking sweet? Guilt gnawed away are your insides—Jake was right. He really did deserve to know the truth, why you were spending more time living in your fantasyland than grounded in reality—but surely it’d scare him off. Marc, too.

Perhaps it was just better to keep imagining what it would be like to be loved by them—at least without being outright rejected, there would always be that small sliver of hope gleaming in the back of your mind, that tiny semblance of ‘what if’ that you let linger.

You melted into his arms, face pressed into his shoulder.

“Anytime, Steven, really. It’s my pleasure.”

There was always a smile on her face when they departed—even if their time away from each other was difficult, she knew she could look forward to the next time they'd see each other. The way his big brown eyes would light up with elation when he saw her, like an overexcited puppy reuniting with its owner.

The grin remained on her face, still, after he’d kissed her goodbye and they parted ways. She hummed softly to herself as she journeyed down the hallway to remake the bed and tidy up the room.

He never did remember to tuck in the blankets. She laughed quietly to herself and she entered the room, filled with the distinctive cypress scent of him. She reached to fluff the pillows—

Oh. That shouldn’t be there, should it?

Your fingers wrapped around the small white trinket, strung along on a leather braided band. You lifted it up to your face to inspect it more closely—it was an pendant carved from ivory, shaped like a cross with a loop at the top. An ankh—the key of life—you recalled, as Steven had once taught you. There was a certain texture that ran along the sides, and only when you brought the object right up to your nose were you able to see that there was a teeny tiny pattern etched into the surface. Hieroglyphics.

Shit, you realized. This looked like something that would be in the museum Steven worked at—although it looked a bit too high quality to be sold in the gift shop. Nonetheless, you realized that it must’ve slipped from his pocket while he was getting dressed. What if it was important?

You wandered back to the kitchen and tried calling his cell, once, then twice, without receiving an answer. He was probably already being berated by Donna—oh, well. The museum was on your way to work anyhow, just one bus stop before the café that you worked at. You could swing by and give it to him before your shift.

You glanced down at your phone to shoot him a quick text.

hey, you forgot something here i’ll drop it off for you in a bit x

It was only when you were strolling down the street with the pendant strung around your neck that a thrill of excitement ran up your spine.

What if this was from his latest mission?

It wasn’t something you’d considered before, but now that you thought about it, it seemed like the likeliest explanation. The boys didn’t tell you much about their escapades as the masked lunar vigilante, save for the vague explanations about the injuries they asked you to patch up—but you knew enough to be two-and-two together. This must be the ancient artifact he had been sent to retrieve on Khonshu’s behalf the previous night.

You suppressed a smile by sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, filled with giddiness. You were actually helping.

“Where is it?”

A venomous voice seethed, peering down at the crumpled form of the man at his feet. Marc was hunched over, arms chained behind his back, blood from his abdomen beginning to soak through the white fabric of his suit. His mouth tasted like copper, teeth coated in the sticky red substance as a gruff hand came to harshly grip his jaw, forcing his eyes upward. He sneered.

“I told you. I don’t know.”

Another punch collided with his face, this time connecting with the bridge of his nose and sending him careening backwards, landing against the concrete with a grunt.

“You’re full of shit. We know it was you at the burial site, Spector. We have eyewitnesses. You’re the only person in the world who could have possibly taken it.”

To the man's utter surprise, Marc Spector began to laugh. It was a wet sound, his mask receding so he could spit out a wad of crimson-tinted bile as he chuckled wolfishly, his lips curling up into a snarl. The perpetrator felt fear shoot through him at the look on his face.

“You’re wrong, actually. See, I was there.”

He clarified, eyes glinting dangerously. His attacker stumbled backwards as a harsh silver light blinded him briefly, and when his vision cleared, the Moon Knight had risen to his feet, freed from his shackles.

“I just wasn’t alone.”

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he slowly turned around, met face to face with intense glare of a woman, her eyes still glowing with residual power. She tilted her head at him condescendingly, before lifting her right hand—the white ankh charm was dangling from her fingertips as she smiled coyly up at him.

“Looking for this?”

She cooed, smirking innocently, and before the man could even blink, she had pounced, wrestling him to the floor and pressing his face down against the cold flooring, cheek smushed against the pavement. She straddled his back, using her weight to hold him still while her fingers made a curling motion in the air—a rope of pure silvery light materialized with the sweep of her hand, binding the man’s hands behind his back with tendrils of starlight.

Her partner was dealing with the other two lackeys, one already laid out on the ground and the other lifted in the air by his neck, one of Marc’s gloved hands raising him up with his fingers pressing beneath his jaw.

When he stopped resisting, Marc let his body collapse to the floor in a heap before he turned back to face the woman, whose chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths. Even after a fight, she somehow appeared graceful and collected—she reached upward and pulled a stray hair from her eyes, tucking it back into it’s place beneath her star-laden headdress. Their eyes met briefly.

“Thanks.”

Marc swallowed, his head bowed low in embarrassment. He waited for the jab to come—‘I told you so.’ He deserved it, really. It was stupid to come in alone.

Instead, he was startled when she approached him softly, her eyes glittering as she lifted her hand to gently brush over his cheekbone, her smile gentle and kind.

“I’ll always have your back. You know that, right?”

He looked away, ridden with guilt and remorse, but she urged his eyes back to her with the nudge of her fingers.

“Marc. I mean it.”

He felt tears stinging the back of his eyes as he sniffed, trying to play off his emotions with fabricated nonchalance.

“Yeah, I know.”

She nodded once, withdrawing her hand from his face before lifting the ancient artifact up to his face, waving it for emphasis.

“We should probably get this to the old bird, then, huh?”

Her head snapped to the side at the gust of wind that abruptly passed them, her eyes trailing up the heavenly form of the aforementioned deity, the slope of his ivory beak towering above her. She swallowed—she’d never actually seen him before, only heard of him in passing from his Avatar. Khonshu.

Time seemed to freeze, briefly, as her breath slowly made its way back to her lungs. The skeletal bird tilted his domineering skull downward, staring her down with intensity.

“Wake up, little star.”

Her brows furrowed, her jaw dropping to reply, but he interrupted.

“You are not a part of this. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Her head started to swim, the image in front of her turning hazy as her vision began to blur. She blinked profusely. This isn’t a part of the script, this isn’t supposed to happen—

“Wake up!”

With a jolt, you were pulled from your daydream—just in time for a hand to slip over your mouth to muffle your scream before everything went dark.

When your eyes blinked open, heavy with exhaustion, you were staring up at the white ceiling of your bedroom. You made a move to sit up, but the movement caused a throbbing pain to bloom in the back of your skull, forcing you back down against the pillows as a groan of discomfort fell from your lips. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to regain your bearings, when a set of heavy footsteps grabbed your attention from the hallway.

He faltered in the doorway when he made eye contact with you, his dark brows furrowed heavily with concern, dark purple bags settled beneath his lower lashes. When his initial shock wore off, his jaw set as he approached you slowly, a glass of tap water clutched in his left hand. He perched carefully on the edge of the bed, mindful not the nudge you.

“Marc?”

You croaked, your throat hoarse and dry, and he wordlessly reached forward, propping you further up onto the pillows before lifting the glass to your lips.

“Drink.”

He said sternly, pressing the rim to your mouth, and you obliged blindly, letting him tip the contents of the cup back into your mouth as you took slow, tentative sips. When he was satisfied with your water intake, he pulled the glass away and set it on the bedside table, the movement punctuated by a heavy sigh. Your eyes followed him carefully, brows knit together in confusion.

“I—what happened?”

You asked slowly, sitting yourself upward just a bit more. The pain in your head was lessening, although their was still a dull ache lingering at the back of your neck. You could see his jaw ripple again as he clenched his teeth, his body facing the door and his eyes focused on the wall across from him. You studied his profile carefully before he ran a tired hand down his face, rubbing at his eyes with his fingers.

“What do you remember?”

He prompted, and you hesitated, thinking back on the last thing you recalled. You remembered leaving for work, and finding the little white pendant you were planning on returning—and you remember getting lost in another fantasy before a hand clamped around your mouth and—

“Was I kidnapped?”

You asked incredulously, eyes blowing wide with realization as you recalled the sensation of a strong grasp around your face and neck before your fell unconscious. You watched his lip twitch with frustration.

“No. Well—yes. But you, I mean—what the fuck were you thinking?”

He finally turned to look at you, and when he did, you immediately wanted to shrink away and evaporate. His eyes were fiery, burning red hot with fury, the disapproving expression on his face striking something deep in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

You asked quietly, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes, and Marc stood up, running a hand through his unruly curls as he took in a deep breath, obviously attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

“You almost got yourself killed—bringing that charm with you, parading it around like a trophy.”

“I didn’t know, Marc, I just—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you get wrapped up in all of this—fuck, if I hadn’t been there...”

His back was towards you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, his body heaving with heavy panting breaths. You felt small, like a child being reprimanded. You felt your eyes flood with tears.

“I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, well, don’t.”

His voice was firm and harsh as he snapped over his shoulder at you, glaring.

“You can’t help. You’re not a part of this.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, desperation clawing inside of you as you threw back the blankets, swinging your legs off the side of the mattress so you could approach him.

“But maybe I can, Marc, if you’d just give me a chance, if you’d let me—”

“Stop!”

He whipped around to face you, voice louder than you'd ever heard it before. He was yelling, towering over you as he snarled, fuming.

“Just stop. If you keep this up, you’re gonna get yourself and a lot of other people hurt. You’re not a fucking Avatar—”

“You don’t think I know that?”

Marc flinched when you matched his intensity, the tears falling down your cheeks a stark contrast from the sheer anger that dominated your expression.

“You don’t think I realize that? Or think about it every goddamn night when I have to sit here, alone, wondering if you’re gonna show up, or if you’re somewhere dead and I can’t do anything but wait.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to swallow your tears down as you broke down in front of the man, your internal conflict reaching a boiling point and spewing out of you without warning.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could be out there with you, doing something, helping, anything—how often I imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t fucking useless, if I was actually a part of—”

“What did you just say?”

Your eyes snapped open, and your anger faltered when you saw the look of pure horror on Marc’s face, his skin looking several shades paler than it had before. Your mind was reeling, trying to look back on what you said, what your mistake had been, but he quickly clarified for you.

“Did you just—are you saying you wish you were an Avatar?”

His body was rigid, his expression suddenly stony and impenetrable as he looked down at you, offering a barely perceptible shake of his head as he grimaced.

“How could you—how could you possibly want that? Why would you ever—”

You could see his eyes turn glassy as he turned away, his chest beginning to heave again as he ran both of his hands through his hair anxiously, his gaze suddenly appearing frenzied. His words were laced with something adjacent to betrayal.

“You have no idea what—what I wouldn’t give to go back to my life before all of this, to—to not carry this weight, to not—I fucking kill people, do you not understand that? I’m a monster, because my life is fucking controlled by a monster, and you wish you were like me? You wanna suffer like this?”

“At least we’d be suffering together.”

It was barely more than a whisper, your addition, but Marc caught it. You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore—you turned and sat back on the bed, folding your hands in your lap and staring down at your fingers as your heart finally poured out of your chest.

“I don’t know what else I could do, Marc. I don’t know any other way to get you to actually see me.”

“See you?”

He asked incredulously, face marred with confusion, and your lip quivered as you looked anywhere but at him, awaiting his rejection as you spoke.

“I just—all I’ve ever wanted was to be able to help you. To—for you to trust me, for you to—to care about me, and—and the only scenario I can actually imagine you wanting me is if I’m not myself, I’m a version of myself that’s actually strong and capable and—”

You stifled a sob, your face scrunching up as your arms wrapped around yourself in a protective stance, huddling inward as you cried.

“—I don’t know what I’m trying to say, but I just—I want to be more than I am because���because I want to matter to you, Marc, but I know that won’t happen because I’m just—I’m just me.”

Marc fell silent. Your heart was hammering in your chest as you squeezed your bleary eyes shut, forcing yourself to take slow, deliberate inhales despite your desire to hyperventilate. You felt like the room was closing in on you, the walls shrinking and shrinking and you wished the space would swallow you whole.

“What have I done to ever make you think you don’t matter to me?”

His voice was soft and quiet, and when you blinked your tear-filled eyes open, he was staring at you, a look of genuine hurt on his chiseled features. You stuttered.

“I—what?”

“I—”

You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“Why would you ever think that I don’t care about you? That you have to—to be someone else for that to happen?”

He sounded broken, his big brown eyes wide and imploring, and the sight made your chest feel tight. You pressed the butts of your palms into your eyes.

“I don’t know, Marc. You’re—you’re a fuckin’ superpowered badass who was chosen by an ancient Egyptian god to beat up monsters and go on these epic missions, and—and how can I even compete with that? I don’t even understand why you waste your time with me.”

“Why do you keep saying things like that?”

You startled when he took a few hulking steps towards you, his brows creasing in a look of frustration.

“If you’re so convinced that I’m some superior being to you—which I’m not—then rationalize that, for me. Why would I keep coming back if I didn’t care about you?”

Confusion flashed across your face as you contemplated his question.

“Because—because I patch you up when you get hurt, and I—and I take care of you. You only come here when you need something—”

“But that’s not true.”

He insisted, sounding exasperated with your obstinance.

“I have a magic suit of armor that heals me, I don’t even need you to stitch me back together—”

“But you told me—”

“Well, I lied.”

He snapped, his arms crossing over his chest, and you felt a foreign feeling flutter in the pit of your stomach as his hands came up to rub at his jaw—a nervous habit.

“It was an excuse, and honestly, not even a very convincing one. An excuse to see you.”

Your head was starting to pound again, a dull ache blooming behind your eyes as your mind continued to reel. It didn’t make any sense.

“But you—you never needed an excuse. I would’ve dropped everything for you, Marc—for all three of you.”

“I know.”

He nodded sadly, his face pained as he flinched at your words.

“And that’s what’s so bad about all of this. I shouldn’t have—you shouldn’t feel that way about me. I’m—it’s dangerous. I’ve been trying so hard to push you away because if something happens to you, if you get hurt—that’s on me. And I don’t know what I’d do with myself if—”

“I’m a big girl, Marc.”

You defended, and he seemed impressed with the conviction of your tone.

“You’ve never been anything but honest about the kind of life you live, the kind of things you do—if that scared me, you wouldn’t be standing here right now. I made that choice for myself.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, his lips parting to scold you or deny your claims, but there was resolve in his eyes. You watched as he slowly walked towards the bed, slumping into a seated position beside you, utterly defeated.

“I know.”

It was difficult for you to focus with the proximity of your bodies. He’d left a generous gap between the two of you, but his legs were spread wide as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and your legs were almost touching. It was unbearable.

“I always thought you were taking advantage of me.”

You spoke smally, a bit ashamed and hesitant to admit the truth, and you saw Marc’s shoulders tense before he hung his head low, a deep sigh coming from his chest.

“Yeah. Jake told me that you might be feeling that way.”

Your eyes darted to his face, taken completely by surprise.

“He—he did?”

Marc chuckled ruefully, scoffing a bit at his alter.

“And I never fuckin’ listened. Told me I needed to come clean—be honest about how I feel, or else I’ll just keep hurting you more—”

“I didn’t realize he’d actually tried to talk to you about it.”

Marc’s brows furrowed.

“Wait, are you—did you tell him that?”

You blushed, feeling somewhat guilty as you nodded. You weren’t proud of the fact that you’d been talking about Marc and Steven behind their backs to their other alter.

“Why did—why didn’t you just talk to me?”

Marc leaned towards you, trying to catch your gaze with his, but you quickly looked forward again, eyes focusing in on your shaky hands.

“I didn’t know if—I never had to question things with Jake. He’s never been shy about how he feels about me.”

“Jake’s never been shy about anything in his entire goddamn life.”

You actually giggled at that, Marc’s tone sour and somewhat envious, but a soft smile easily curled on his lips at the sound of your laughter. When your amusement faded slightly, your breath caught in your throat when you felt a warm hand fall atop your knee, thumb rubbing over the flesh gently. You stared at the place where his skin met yours, heat flushing your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. If I would’ve known sooner—if he’d have told me—”

You shook your head quickly, dismissing his apology.

“No, don’t. I made him promise me he wouldn’t tell you. And—and the reason I didn’t say anything is, well—he would never tell me if you felt the same, so I didn’t—I just kind of assumed you didn’t.”

“I don’t understand why you think so little of yourself.”

His fingers gripped your knee a bit more firmly, the heat of his hand traveling upwards despite your attempts to stop it.

“You really think—thought the only way I’d want you is if you were an Avatar?”

You laughed wetly, swiping the last of your tears from beneath your eyes as you shook your head abashedly.

“When you say it out loud, it sounds so fucking stupid.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid.”

He corrected, and you froze when you felt his hand lift from your knee to reach towards your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so he could see you more clearly. His fingers slipped beneath your jaw and gently coaxed your head to face him. You forgot how to breathe.

“It’s just not true.”

“Baby, I’ve wanted you since the day I met you, Avatar or not.”

She let out a quiet gasp at his confession, face lighting up with delight as he surged forward and captured her lips with his own, whimpering against her mouth as his arms encircled her body. He guided her back towards the bed, laying her out beneath him, looking absolutely heavenly, truly ravishing, and the sight made him ravenous as he worshipped her, starting by dragging his tongue—

“Hey. Where’d you go?”

It was only a brief moment of wistfulness, your daydream, but Marc saw the way your eyes misted and filled with a faraway look. He let his fingers dance across the softness of your neck before reaching to cradle your jaw in his hand, fingers threading into the hair behind your left ear.

You blinked away your reverie, trying to ground yourself in the present regardless of how desperately you wanted to fantasize about how much you craved him, how much you just wished he wanted you—

“Sorry.”

You uttered, voice barely above a whisper, and you blinked up at him through your wet lashes, doe-eyed. Your shame quickly melted away into something entirely different when you saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his lips.

“What were you thinking about?”

Your breathing stuttered, and you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off quickly, the timbre of his voice low and gravelly.

“You can tell me, sweetheart. Whatever it was, whatever you want—I’ll give it to you.”

It all became too much too quickly—the swirling heat of desire coiling lowly in your abdomen, the warmth of his exhales across your face, the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheek, the almost taunting gleam in his dark eyes. His promise emboldened you, and without much thought, you surged forward and captured his lips in your own, whimpering against his mouth as your arms encircled his body.

He was quick to meet your pace, his free arm twisting to wrap around your lower back so he could pull you into his lap, one of your hands sinking into his brown curls and the other digging into his right shoulder. You heard him groan into your lips and you took the opportunity to sink your tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you pressed your body flush against him, desperately seeking as much closeness as possible.

When his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw and throat, you were pulled out of your stupor.

“Wait—wait.”

You whispered, fingers tugging at his curls so you could see his face. His brows furrowed in concern as he looked at you with worried eyes, his lips dewy and kiss-swollen.

“What’s wrong?”

He asked carefully, his voice gruff but still attentive, and you lifted both hands to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones as you drank in his features, studying his face carefully.

“I just—”

You let out a shaky exhale, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his.

“I need to know that this is real. That you’re—that this is all real.”

He pulled away from you slightly, grinning somewhat wolfishly at you.

“This is real, baby—does it feel real?”

You nodded eagerly, your lips still tingling from the severity of his kisses, and he pulled you in for another one, his touch deliciously bruising.

When he pulled away again, you felt his fingers trace down your arm before he grabbed your hand in his. Your brows furrowed in confusion as he guided your grasp between your bodies, but your hips jolted when he pressed your hand into the hardness of his bulge in his jeans. You whimpered at the feeling, fingers curling around his length to squeeze him. His lashes fluttered.

“Yeah, baby—you feel what you do to me? That’s fuckin’ real.”

You felt yourself grow increasingly desperate at his words, fingers curling into the hem of his shirt and yanking it over his head with abandon. He seemed in tune with your own neediness because pretty soon, clothes were being ripped off and haphazardly tossed around the room, lips meeting newly-exposed skin at every opportunity.

You were laid out beneath him, his body slotted between your parted legs as he hovered over you, pumping his cock languidly as he gazed down at you with hooded eyes.

“I’ve pictured this, too, you know.”

You felt a small smile find your face.

“Really?”

He bit his lip, the pace of his hand jerking his length speeding up just slightly.

“Oh, fuck yeah, baby. You’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

His sweet compliment was a stark contrast to the depravity of the current situation, but you could hear the sincerity in his words. You smiled up at him, reaching forward to take his cock in your grasp and line him up with your awaiting entrance.

“And you’re even bigger than I ever imagined.”

You purred, watching his eyes flash with pride as he leaned forward to brush the tip of his cock through your sopping folds, causing you to mewl unsurepetitiously.

“Please, Marc, shit—I can’t wait anymore, please.”

He grinned wickedly down at you, and before you could even take a breath, he was plunging into you with force, his cock sheathing itself fully within the softness of your cunt.

He choked above you, his arm slamming down on the mattress beside your head for support, his fist curling into the sheets.

“Jesus fuck, you’re tight.”

He breathed out, his expression almost pained with just how perfectly your walls were squeezing him.

The sudden intrusion was a startling sensation, but the burn of the stretch was quickly evolving into an addictive sting of pleasure.

“Oh, God, yes—move, Marc, please.”

You begged, brows furrowed deeply, and Marc quickly obliged, starting a rapid pace as he hammered into you, his hips snapping forward with jarring strength. The sound of slapping skin echoed within the room and only served to add to your arousal, the noises leaving your lips sinful and completely involuntary.

“Fuck yeah, baby—is this what you wanted? This what you’ve been daydreaming about, huh? My cock filling you up?”

You moaned wantonly, back arching at Marc’s words. His curls were falling across his forehead, dampened with sweat, and you reached up to grip his shoulders for support, fingernails digging into the carved muscle.

“Yes, fuck, yes—so good, Marc, so fucking good—”

He reached down and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, forcing his cock even deeper inside of you, the new angle earning a sharp cry. Your walls were fluttering around him.

“Yeah, you wanna cum, baby? You wanna cum on my cock?” He hand reached between your bodies to thumb at your clit, and the added stimulation sent you suddenly toppling over the edge into your orgasm, your eyes rolling back into your head as you let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Yeah, attagirl—fuck yeah.”

Your walls were clamping down on him, pulsing rhythmically over the ridges of his cock, and he felt his release rapidly approaching.

“You want my cum, baby?”

You nodded frantically at him, eyes wild with desperation, and Marc groaned as his pace began to stutter.

“Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

You fingers sank further into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Mouth—want you to cum in my mouth.”

Your request alone was enough to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Oh, shit, gonna cum—”

He pulled out of you quickly, hand reaching down to fervidly fist at his cock as he crawled forward to straddle your stomach on his knees—you eagerly leaned forward just in time as his balls drew up tight, his cum shooting straight across your awaiting tongue as you opened your mouth wide for him.

“Oh, baby—fuuuuckkk—”

His hips thrusted into his fist with each pump of cum that escaped him, some shooting above your lip and dribbling down your chin. He grunted harshly as he tapped the tip of his cock over your tongue, coating the head in his release that had pooled within your mouth. You quickly closed your lips around him and suckled the tip into your mouth, swallowing all of his seed as you swirled your tongue around his length.

He let out a low groan before he finally reached forward to tug you off of him, collapsing onto the mattress beside you heavily.

You both caught your breath for a few moments, coming back down to Earth after your intense climaxes.

It was Marc who broke the silence first, a deep chuckle coming from his chest.

“If this is what you’re constantly daydreaming about, then fuck—you gotta tell me. I will make every goddamned one come true.”

Your laughter matched his own as he reached over to wrap an arm around you, pulling you towards the warmth of his body comfortingly. Your smile quickly faded as the heat of the moment made way for reality.

“Was this—I mean, this wasn’t just—just a one-time thing... right?”

Marc pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering along your hairline.

“No, baby. Besides—Jake and Steven haven’t even gotten their turns with you.”

His attempt at a joke fell flat.

“That’s not what I mean.”

You said quietly, and Marc sighed, letting his head rest atop yours as he held you close.

“Sorry. I know what you meant, but still, the answer’s no. Kinda hoping this is an all-the-time thing.”

Now, you laughed, and he swore it was his favorite sound in the entire world.

You had a brief conversation with Steven about your mutual feelings, later—although he was a stuttering mess, his smile was wide and eyes were bright with elation when he finally kissed you. He fell asleep holding you close to him, and you listened to his breathing slow as you began to doze off beside him.

Just when you were about to fall asleep, his arms around you squeezed tighter.

“Told you so.”

Jake’s voice taunted jokingly, and you lifted a fist to punch his shoulder at his teasing. He chuckled, and you tilted your head so you could see his face—he looked relaxed, truly at ease, and you practically melted into his touch.

“Yeah, I guess you did.”

You admitted defeat, and Jake gave you a cheeky lopsided grin before he leaned down and gave you a soft, chaste kiss that left you breathless.

You rested your head back against his chest, but he interrupted your peace yet again.

“Can I ask you somethin, nena?”

You nodded.

“You told Marc you imagined being an Avatar. ’m just curious—what kind of things do you think about?”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, still feeling silly and insecure about admitting to your daydreaming habits, but Jake gently encouraged you enough until you relented, explaining how you’d always had an infatuation with the deity Nut and liked the poeticism of the pairing of the moon and the stars.

“And you called me estrellita.”

You informed shyly, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, but you could hear the way his breath caught in his throat, his muscles tensing just slightly.

“Estrellita?”

He questioned, and you lifted your head to look at him, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it—it means ‘little star.’”

You explained, and he shook his head.

“I know that, but I—hmm.”

His lips pursed, and you nudged him, his confusion worrying you.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before staring back up at the ceiling, his expression contemplative

“No, it’s nothing. It’s just—today, when Khonshu came to tell us that you were in trouble, he—he called you that. Little star.”

You bolted upright, the color quickly draining from your face.

“He fucking what?”

Jake shrugged uneasily, but you felt your heart begin to hammer in your chest, recalling the bizarre intrusion Khonshu had made in your fantasy today, interrupting your own train of thought. Was that—actually him?

Little did you know, Khonshu had been eavesdropping on your daily mental escapes for some time, entertained by both your active imagination and the elaborate stories you seemed to conjure up on a whim. As a matter of fact, both he and Nut found great amusement in your investment in the life of the Egyptian deities, and should something happen to the Goddess of the Sky’s current Avatar—she knew exactly where to find her next candidate.

[batsplat]

I keep seeing people say Agostini likes Marc and I think you had post which included what Agostini thinks about the rosquez situation.

I was wondering if you knew if they have actually interacted or how this fondness started. And if it's continued.

Apologies if you've already made a post about this and i missed it ���

And thank you for all the responses to my prev asks!!! You are like my favourite grandparent i sidle up to and ask to reveal some new thing of the MotoGP world. Which you do so patiently 💛. ( I'm sorry for the grandparent comparison i couldn't find a better one 😔😔😔😔😔).

ahaha that's super sweet. and honestly, I don't think there's really a story here, beyond 'ago quite likes him'! they did a joint interview of sorts at the laureus awards in 2015 which is worth a watch - which came after that 2014 season in which a big talking point was how it looked like marc might be able to match ago's numbers in 'winning everything'... also you have that presser clip from 2013 where the riders are asked ago or hailwood, and marc says "if everybody say ago, ago" and laughs, which. I mean. I'm sure respected ago just fine but it's probably worth pointing out he's not exactly an enthusiast, is he

but yeah, beyond wading into a couple of marc controversies, ago's definitely spoken warmly about him quite frequently over the years. as early as 2014, he was saying that if marc matched his records, he deserved to do so - and in 2020, he said marc didn't need to switch bikes to prove his greatness. he compared marc to one of his own big rivals, hailwood, in 2019, he spoke with sympathy about marc's switch to ducati at the back end of last year and sounded confident marc could win again (+ here), and made similar comments early this year and likewise was fairly encouraging in may. in 2023, he also spoke about marc's capacity to put on a show. plus, he also said in 2018 that marc and valentino's relationship doesn't matter as long as "they both make us have fun and give us a show", and also that "they do not have to marry". giacomo agostini homophobic dog question mark

a lot of it just seems kinda generic 'legend of the past being nice about the new kid', like say doohan was with valentino but without the mentorship angle. but yeah, ago does seem fonder of marc than he does of marc's contemporaries? with valentino, let's be honest, part of it is that he was the first to really show up and challenge some of ago's records (even steal some of them like premier class wins) - plus he's italian so there's really more direct competition than there is with marc. but y'know, obviously ago's been asked about both of them gunning for his records (generally win number for valentino and title number for marc)

you can read tonal differences into those answers if you so choose, but you can also say he's expressing roughly the same sentiment for both (if you so choose). ago did also joke in early 2020 that he'd beat them both:

(again, this is obviously a joke and I'm not going to read anything into it lol, just thought I'd include it)

ago does have retired athlete talking head syndrome where he does... y'know, have a lot of opinions and has shared quite a lot of those opinions. which... okay, I'm aware this isn't really what this ask was about, but. look. I just have to bring in jorge lorenzo at this point. this is only tenuously relevant, but I think it kinda provides a fun contrast with how utterly drama-free the dynamic between marc and ago is... AND gives some much needed context for how ago was relating to some other star riders of this century

ago and jorge had always gotten on pretty well - and ago joked back in the day that jorge had to stop valentino from getting too many more wins. it is probably worth mentioning that in that 2013 clip I linked to above, all the riders at the presser were asked the 'ago or hailwood' question. in response, jorge, that old simp, essentially went 'actually the goat is valentino'... but that's really isn't about ago as much as it is about jorge's relationship with valentino being *gestures vaguely* complicated. weird. complicated. anyway, look, ago and jorge got on well, had done so for years. then, in may of 2020, shortly after jorge's retirement and with no racing whatsoever going on during lockdown, the two of them got into a PUBLIC SPAT!! (low key between this and the dovi feud picking up again at the end of the year, jorge was really working overtime to make motogp less depressing that year)

the argument was prompted by ago's comments about jorge's time with ducati and honda:

so basically he's saying jorge was mid for three years because his head wasn't in it. which is... a debatable assessment of jorge's 2017-19, but let's just run with it. now jorge obviously isn't the type to just let this kind of thing go unchallenged, so he hit back:

for some reason. jorge's father also got involved, as he has an unfortunate tendency of doing:

(I'm gonna be so real, personally I wouldn't be particularly flattered if one of my parents suggested I could challenge one of my main career rivals 'on my day'. but anyways)

and then mr agostini in turn doubled down and told jorge that 'the truth hurts':

note the bit about how ago had sided with jorge against valentino! it is broadly true that ago has often been very complimentary of jorge, including to the detriment of valentino - and apparently that might have created tension with valentino's team. ago also added the following bit and it's kinda even more brutal:

so basically - ducati didn't pay jorge that much to win three races. funnily enough. jorge did not take kindly to these comments... and then he hit back on instagram (all of this is still in may 2020 btw, literally the only thing we had going for us). here's the text from the post:

jorge lorenzo a proud fellow warrior in the 'it's useless to compare different eras' campaign, saluting a real one

so, after jorge had said that ago doesn't know what he's talking about, that this kind of criticism was 'improper' from a legend like ago... we'd actually finally gotten to the point where ago wanted to clamp down on the controversy. here's what he had to say:

he doesn't want controversy! it's not his fault jorge didn't win! jorge didn't win a title with either ducati or honda! what a shame!

okay, there is arguably a slight difference in rhetoric between saying 'well I can't say he won at honda when he factually didn't!!!' and 'ducati paid him a lot and got nothing out of it' - BUT obviously this was still a bit of an olive branch from ago. unfortunately, we've gotten no updates on whether ago did ever reach out privately, but we did get jorge's response. and jorge... kinda accepts the peace...? but also not really!

so to paraphrase jorge here, he's basically going 'sure fine I'll accept the peace but I also know ago will start the same shit again when he has a microphone in front of him!!' - and also makes it clear that jorge will not shut up about ago chatting shit, unlike those other cowards who just let ago get away with it (including other champions). jorge then goes on to talk about their personal relationship and ago's past support of him:

and then jorge goes on to stridently defend his time with the ducati project - pointing out that, without detracting from what casey had done, it was a very good bike back when casey won the 2007 title:

(yes, obviously there is a rider who was doing rather a lot more with that bike during the same time span as jorge was there - who you'll note jorge very much does not name. I suppose jorge's argument would be that this particular rider had been with the team since 2013. without getting too much into 2017-18 discourse in a post that really isn't about that, it is broadly true jorge just Was Not Clicking with that bike for way too long, but he was running dovi pretty close in 2018 until he got injured at aragon. which is also because dovi was having a pretty ragged first half of the season himself but y'know, six of one half a dozen of the other. also low key those three jorge wins did get during his time at ducati massively flatter how that stretch of his career gets perceived a few years later, but again. this isn't all too relevant. just some historical context!)

and jorge rounds up the whole thing by demanding an actual apology:

and, lastly, here's what ago said in june:

anyway, that's basically it as the public spat went, but it did still give us some nice little gems. you'll note that jorge believes ago was supporting him against valentino - "what I know is that in the duel I had with rossi he wanted me to win races more, for the titles and all that". and then, of course, there's the fun bit where jorge says that ago has also said inaccurate things about valentino before: "because he has also said things about valentino many times that did not correspond to reality". jorge going full 'enemy of my enemy' about valentino on this issue is just extremely him, not least because that is a rivalry where, according to him!! ago basically always was rooting for jorge! and YET jorge's like 'valentino may not speak up on this issue but I!! will!!' I honestly have no clue if there's anything specific jorge's referring to here that ago is getting wrong about valentino... but again ago does have retired athlete talking head syndrome so really it could be anything

what this does do is give us a little bit of confirmation that ago probably isn't the world's biggest valentino rossi fan (obviously, valentino wouldn't let you know that kind of thing so it's great when you've got someone a little more talkative like jorge around). jorge didn't have to bring in valentino here - he did so of his own volition, because he apparently disagreed quite strongly with something ago had said about one of jorge's fiercest rivals. by contrast, there's nothing comparable you can point to with marc... which, given that we've established ago has run his mouth about past champions, would lead you to the conclusion that ago really is a bit of a marc fan. all things considered, ago seems genuinely fond of the little guy! he's never really talked him down, or taken another rider's side against marc! why? ... unfortunately, I have no clue. maybe it is linked to ago's feelings towards valentino, maybe it's completely unrelated and he just likes marc a lot, maybe he's a fan of him as a rider or his personality or something else. there's not really anything to suggest they're particularly close - for instance, I don't think marc has had dinner with ago's family like jorge has - but he generally always seems happy to offer up a lot of marc prop without any qualifications. it just seems like quite an uncomplicated relationship, and given ago's been fairly vocal within the past year about marc's switch to ducati, about how he could win again etc etc... he's perhaps quite enjoyed following that story. mostly, there's clearly just a lot of mutual respect there... and if ago did ever find cause to criticise marc as strongly as he did jorge, well, it's a lot less likely marc would decide to clap back on instagram. that'll help, I suppose

[percervall]

my lovely mar 💛 you are one of my inspirations for threesomes on this site and so i wanted to know…

of the players / managers / drivers / tps you’d write for… what threesome pairings do you think would make for fun fic ideas? would love if you’d briefly describe the scenario / dynamic that would suit these threesomes 😂

Oh my fucking God, Ivy I love you, but jesus christ

Okay. Okay. This will be under a read more so enjoy I guess?

Carlos Sainz jr. x reader x Marc Marquez

I mean....

The football AU we came up with months ago still lives in my head rent free. Both Carlos and Marc play for the national team and they just won their first major trophy since 2012. Drunk on adrenaline and alcohol Carlos takes his girlfriend back to the hotel for some post-match celebrations only for a drunk Marc to stumble into the room he shares with Carlos, scarf tied around his head, bottle of champagne in his hands. Safe to say that mattress is beyond salvation once they're done.

Mats Hummels x reader x Nico Schlotterbeck

So this is a dynamic we've discussed quite a bit in the discord server, but Nico somehow stumbling across his teammate and mentor of sorts getting his dick sucked leaves him rooted to the spot. Mats is quick to spot him, watching the young defender watch his girlfriend (or wife) enjoy pleasuring him and so he invites Nico to give him a helping hand -or mouth. This whole dynamic has me so unwell.

Lewis x reader x Toto Wolff

Listen, by now you already know I'm a slut for these men, but together??? Ooh boy. I can just imagine Lewis teasing her about her crush on Toto, how that photo taken after Abu Dhabi becomes the fuel for so many of her fantasies. And so somehow Lewis convinces Toto to join them, allowing his boss to show her what happens to naughty girls who don't listen to daddy. Oh my god, I need a cold shower.

Kostas/Darwin x reader x Thiago

This could work with either Liverpool player, I still can't get over Darwin giving Thiago a lil smooch after he explained something to him. So. Let's just go with Darwin for this scenario. Darwin and his girl have been together for a while already. They've had sex, that's not the issue. The issue is that she won't let him go down on her, claiming she's fine with just giving, how she's never been able to come from oral sex before and it's fine honestly. This just won't do for Darwin and so he asks the only person he can think of to help: Thiago aka el profesor. Thiago is more than happy to impart his wisdom onto his younger teammate and you know what they say about putting theory into practice.

Diego Simeone x reader x Antoine Griezmann

Listen, I am not proud of this okay? Having said that, how can you look at the way Cholo treats Anto and not think how he would blindly trust him with his life wife? Atleti have won La Liga and to show Anto just how much Diego appreciates him, he invites him into their bedroom at the hotel, his wife dressed in red panties and a matching red ribbon tied around her chest. And, because he trusts Anto, Diego just sits back and enjoys watching her fall apart again and again and again.

Antoine x reader x Rodrigo De Paul

Okay, now this is just-.. They're boyfriends okay? This isn't a threesome, this will become a throuple and I have spammed @footballffbarbiex so much already with ideas for this. The scene that lives rent free in my head for them isn't even sexual, but I love it so much. Antoine had to report for international duty while Rodri got to stay home with her for a change. They FaceTime every single day and Anto misses them both terribly, so much so that he manages to get home a day earlier than planned. When he opens the door, he's greeted by reggeaton music playing over the sound system Rodri was adamant on installing. Anto moves further into the house, dropping his suitcase by the stairs and opens the door into the kitchen. He sees his girlfriend throw her head back with laughter as Rodrigo tries to teach her how to dance, wearing that backwards cap both of them love so dearly, while biting his lip to not burst out laughing too. And Anto? He just leans against the wall, taking pictures and videos of the two people he loves most in the entire world.

Charles x reader x Carlos

It technically doesn't matter which way you put their names, this was always meant to happen. The idea I have for them is also the plot for a part 2 to this fic in which Charles allows Carlos to attend a demonstration of the app in person, which quickly leads to some hands-on experience

Charles x reader x Sebastian

The only idea I have for this is basically an extended version of this fic. Seb would have a field day ruining that innocent boy Ferrari poached from Alfa Romeo and I need a minute to compose myself.

If you need me, I'll be over here in a puddle 🫠

[zingaplanet]

What are your thoughts on Rafole? I fell down a rabbit hole on everything regarding them and their relationship and it’s very interesting how they went from being quite close to not…

My darling I love u but I'm trying to stay djoko-free and drama-free so I'm rlly not the best person to ask this hahahaha. Either way I don't think I'm qualified to speak about their relationship simply because I don't know much about it? I'll give my best perception but honestly take it with a kilo of salt lol. I seem to remember there was a falling out over Djokovic's father at some point (or was that with Federer?)

All I know is Novak's relationship with Rafa wasn't the only one that kinda suffered this fate. I don't think Novak was ever close with Roger to begin with, but pretty sure him and Murray used to be quite good mates (they were kinda childhood friends on the tour and played doubles) but that kinda fizzled out in the end. Nadal, Djokovic, Murray were kind of a strange teenager friend group at some point, simply I assume cause they're basically just from the same generation on the tour (they played together since juniors as well) and used to play video games n football together i think.

A bit strange cause I don't think Rafa and Andy's friendship ever really got strained. But then again it's completely understandable within an environment as competitive as them (considering the Nadal-Djokovic rivalry is much more competitive and tbf to Andy maybe, I too would find it difficult to be besties with somebody who beat me 6 times in an AO final 😭).

Don't think there's any point in guessing round the dynamics of the men's tour's locker room throughout the years. It definitely is fascinating, tennis is prob the only sport where you have to share locker rooms with your rivals every day of the year, something here and there are bound to happen, I guess. I bet you there are a shiton of gossips more scandalous than the royal family there throughout the 2000s but I also guess that there's a kind of unspoken code of conduct that you shouldn't ever talk about it? Which is why even the retired players never really did (look at A-Rod he's the biggest gossiper there is even he never said anyth about shits going down in the locker room lol).

Whether it was simply them growing up, having families, becoming more serious in their careers and hence more competitive with each other then grew apart or was there an actual internal friction/conflict I don't really know. Not that we'd ever know for sure I think, they'll prob never ever disclose it for PR reasons (maybe when they're retired). For me, Djokovic seems like quite a lone wolf on tour (?) which is quite sad, but maybe that's the way he prefers to stay competitive. He generally seems to have a kind of joker persona that's either well-liked or a bit divisive n he seems close with his Serbian countrymen although never really to the level of friendship with any specific one of them like Nadal did with Marc Lopez or Federer did with Wawrinka. This is all just my perception of course n could be 1000% wrong.

Anyhow, as the two remaining of the big 3 and looking at the way they interact (in laver cup and in charity matches in the AO for instance) i think it's obv that their relationship has grown into one of massive respect for one another, there's still a hint of kind of an old banter there sometimes (look at when they partnered up for the AO relief last year), but it doesn't seem like they have much of a personal relationship nowadays beyond that of respectful, competitive rivals who drove each other at the last leg of their careers.

Rafa and Andy are different tho, quite evident in the way Rafa invited him to his insta live and them interacting by challenging each other to play playstation afterwards. Even in Novak and Andy's insta live, I seem to remember there was a section where Novak said he was actually really glad to be able to do this instalive with him cause they "never had the chance to talk about this kind of things (personal stuffs) before" seemingly kinda hinting that they've been cordial and friendly these days but they never really ✨️ held each other's hands✨️ if u know what i mean lol.

Ok i could do a full on analysis of their interactions or instalives but this will take me 5 lifetimes lol. All in all, I just wanna be honest that I don't, emm how do i put this, really get Djokovic? I can't seem to get a read on him as a person, which is quite strange. I read politicians' faces for a living and I feel like you can always tell what someone is like based on their public persona a little bit cause nobody can hide that well without injecting a bit of themselves into their PR front (Federer is like the most PR perfect guy ever but even sometimes he slips up). Djokovic is just... really hard to read? Although ppl see him as the joker etc I always kinda feel that he's a very closed off person, at least with his personal thoughts. I don't really know what's going through his mind when he does certain things sometimes. But hey, each to their own right?

Again anon, you have alas triggered again this aimless rambling of mine, but there you go, one must eat the fruit that they've picked, (What even is this saying lol, sorry!)

[another-corpo-rat]

Vic x Michiko? I know they’re friends in your canon and I’m honestly desperate to know more about their dynamic. xD (can’t remember if I’ve asked before, sorry)

oml the besties, the co-conspirators-

are you ready for me to ramble? cos im going to- the readmore is a warning tbh

I have 100% considered them as a couple -- a polycule actually tbh, Smasher wedged his way in there as he's wont to do -- and i haven't exactly ruled it out just yet. One of the sticklers for my consideration is Michiko's husband Marc and his position/role in it all, or if i want him alive at all.

The foundations for it is already there, or will be if i ever actually write but yknow,

Victoria and Michiko's companionship starts with a simple basis: the mistrust of Yorinobu Arasaka. I'm operating soundly on headcanon here, but I reckon any corpo worth their lick of salt would feel something in the air before Yorinobu stole the relic; an anticipation, kinda like when your hair stands on end before lightning strikes too close.

For Victoria, Michiko is more appealing than any other of the Arasaka bloodline, and while she holds no love for the family she recognises them as powerful pieces of the board: if change is to happen, it has to be with one of them at the helm. Yorinobu made it clear he held no love for his father and the company in tandem, and Victoria holds something of a grudge after he attempted to have her replaced as Smasher's netrunner. Hanako would be more appealing were she not confined to a compound for most of her adult life - too sheltered, even from the teeth of their own company. Victoria doubts she could solve a conflict if the weight of her family name wasn't enough.

And that leaves Michiko; the black sheep. Once sheltered herself but thrust into the public and Arasaka eye following the death of her father. And while once Victoria did fall for that sweet, naive act that she held up like a shield, it was soundly shattered in her eyes once she learned the girl and Smasher had a thing. Her founding and the success of Danger Gal also raised her quite a bit in Victoria's opinion.

For Michiko, Victoria is another ally in her pocket but perhaps one with more gusto than the rest of the Hato faction - Michiko despises talking ill of her own people, but a majority of them think that her leading them is enough for victory. She knows it is not, and she wasn't going to turn down the opportunity of having a damn good combative netrunner with a direct line into Yorinobu's dealings on her side

Beyond that practical reason, Michiko did just genuinely want to get to know Victoria as well. She was curious of the woman, but noted her aversion to companionship and so wanted to think her approach through carefully - kinda like building trust with a stray cat, done gradually with consistence

Later in Victoria's canon, when Yorinobu is dead and Hanako has retreated to Japan, not quite with her tail between her legs but certainly shaken by the sharp turn taken by the Hato faction, Victoria and Michiko's dynamic become what it would remain if they were to be a couple; the empress and her shadow. Very much a 'they shout my name, yet whisper yours' sort of thing

Michiko doesn't want to destroy Arasaka in the same way her uncle did, reform is enough for her. Rebuilding, restructuring (because unlike her uncle, she doesn't spew moralisms and then turn around and destroy livelihoods with the same self-righteous folly he condemned his father for-) but she's not naive, and she trusts Victoria to reel her in when her ideas border too closely to ideals.

Just as she is there to reel it back when Victoria's suggested methods are a touch too brutal to be acceptable, too much how things used to be done. She understands that force and fear are necessary at times, but the netrunner tends to push it too far; her bloodlust more readily apparent when its not being overshadowed by Smasher - and as much as its a steady cause of conflict between them, it is something that draws Michiko closer to Victoria. she has a thing for danger, she guesses

It would bring them together, already close as they are after planning a coup within a coup - placing an explicit trust that paid off for them both, solidifying their companionship into friendship and then potentially something more

so yes, 10/10. absolutely am considering Michiko as a potential partner for Victoria

[amandamazzillo]

REVIEW: Linoleum - Surrealist Sci-Fi Meets Heartfelt Family Drama

Colin West's Linoleum builds a unique world imbued with nostalgia and its influences are felt, but never become overpowering--creating a wholly unique experience through its perfect blend of mystery, sci-fi, and heartfelt human drama.

Linoleum tells the tale of Cameron (Jim Gaffigan), a middle-aged scientist who hosts children's science show Above and Beyond, but dreams of something bigger. As a rocket crashes in his backyard, Cameron's life comes sharply into focus. Cameron spent his life wanting to be an astronaut, and now even his TV show is being taken away from him. Even worse, his replacement is Kent Armstrong (Jim Gaffigan), a retired astronaut who bears an uncanny resemblance to Cameron.

In addition to dreaming of being an astronaut, rather than an astronomer, Cameron's wife Erin (Rhea Seehorn) wants to get a divorce--and the film explores their changing relationship especially well through segments of his show.

Exploring concepts of regret and trying to live our dreams, when they feel so far away from our current lives. Erin can't seem to remember what she once dreamed of doing, but it isn't her present job working at an air and space museum. When a chance comes to try and rediscover what she once loved about science--and in turn, what she once loved about her husband--we see Erin juggling between her heart and her head.

Rhea Seehorn's performance is nuanced and subtle, allowing small moments to speak volumes of her character's internal dilemmas and questioning of life and time.

Jim Gaffigan gives one of his best performances playing both the distant and awkward Cameron as well as his slick, somewhat menacing doppelganger Kent. As the film progresses, Gaffigan plays each part, building these two complex and extremely different characters. One moment which especially sticks out is an uncomfortable moment between Kent and his son Marc (Gabriel Rush).

Linoleum poses interesting questions about sexuality that are not often explored in film, especially related to bisexuality. The moments between Kent's son Marc and Cameron's daughter Nora (Katelyn Nacon) are some of the most memorable in the film, crafting a sweet dynamic that feels natural and introspective.

Marc and Nora are both outcasts at school, and as they bond, their conversations about sexualities and identity are surprisingly thoughtful.

The unique tone of Linoleum builds from a world which feels both absurd and surreal, while staying extremely grounded in reality. The relationships and problems facing the central characters feeling so real makes the more surreal moments pack even more of an emotional punch.

Linoleum is a beautiful and strange exploration of the mind and the human idea to always compare ourselves to everyone else, rather than enjoying the unique beauty of our lives. Linoleum is a heartfelt and uplifting film with dark undertones, expressing to everyone that our own universe--and the people who make up our world--are worth more than we could ever imagine.

The tone of Linoleum shifts--taking the audience on a mysterious journey that sometimes drifts into unsettling territories with images such as a lone woman far off in the frame, a cracked astronaut helmet, and a shadow-filled street. The cinematography of Linoleum crafts a unique world which feels both timeless and filled with nostalgia.

Linoleum's blend of surrealism with family drama and dark comedic moments brings to mind Dave Holstein's series Kidding--with its focus on an extremely realistic failing marriage amid a surreal, darkly comedic world. Like Kidding, Linoleum utilizes its surrealist visuals to build a world that feels natural and emotionally poignant, especially when exploring the changes Cameron and Erin's marriage has experienced over time.

Gaffigan and Seehorn's performances perfectly capture the chasm erupting between their memories co-hosting Above and Beyond together and their challenging present life. The difference between the Erin in these TV segments and her present life--far removed from the dreams she once held--is apparent.

Linoleum is a unique blend of science fiction and heartfelt dramady, brought to life through poignant performances, especially from Jim Gaffigan and Rhea Seehorn. The visual style crafts an unforgettable exploration of what it means to be human.

Linoleum released in select theaters February 24th by Shout!

[themovieblogonline]

Sharon Stone Joins Bob Odenkirk in Nobody 2: A Villainous Turn

Sharon Stone is stepping into a new role that promises to shake things up in the highly anticipated sequel, Nobody 2. The actress, known for her iconic performances in films like Basic Instinct and Casino, is set to star opposite Bob Odenkirk as the movie’s chief villain. Universal Pictures has slated the film for an August 15, 2025 release, and fans couldn’t be more excited. The Return of Bob Odenkirk Bob Odenkirk reprises his role as the mild-mannered family man turned government assassin. In the original Nobody, Odenkirk's character, Hutch Mansell, revealed his secret past and showcased some serious action chops. The film was a surprise hit, made on a $16 million budget and grossing over $57.5 million worldwide. Critics loved it, with The Hollywood Reporter calling it “a wish-fulfillment romp just as ludicrous as any of them but more fun than most.” Sharon Stone's Villainous Debut Sharon Stone, a legend in her own right, joins the cast as the film’s main antagonist. Known for her breakout role in Basic Instinct and her Oscar-nominated performance in Casino, Stone is no stranger to intense and compelling characters. This time, she’s trading in her usual roles for something more sinister. Stone’s addition to the cast brings an extra layer of excitement and anticipation to the film. A Stellar Team Behind the Scenes Nobody 2 boasts an impressive team both in front of and behind the camera. Directed by Indonesian filmmaker Timo Tjahjanto, known for his work in horror and action films like May the Devil Take You, the movie promises to deliver intense action sequences. The screenplay is a collaboration between Derek Kolstad, Aaron Rabin, Bob Odenkirk, and Umair Aleem, ensuring a gripping and well-rounded story. The original film’s producing team returns, including Kelly McCormick and David Leitch through their Universal-based 87North production company. Marc Provissiero and Braden Aftergood are also on board, bringing their expertise to the table. Universal’s executive VP of production development, Jay Polidoro, and director of development, Tony Ducret, are overseeing the project. Sharon Stone: A Force On and Off the Screen Stone isn’t just known for her acting prowess. Her humanitarian efforts have earned her numerous accolades, including the United Nations Global Citizen Award and the Nobel Peace Summit Award. Recently, she was honored with a lifetime achievement award from the Taormina Film Festival. Stone continues to be a powerful force in Hollywood and beyond, using her platform for both entertainment and advocacy. What to Expect from Nobody 2 With Nobody 2, audiences can expect a thrilling blend of action, suspense, and top-tier performances. Bob Odenkirk’s return as Hutch Mansell promises more jaw-dropping fight scenes and heart-pounding moments. Sharon Stone’s villainous debut is set to add a fresh and exciting dynamic to the story. Under Tjahjanto’s direction, the film aims to surpass its predecessor with even more spectacular action sequences and a gripping narrative. Final Thoughts Nobody 2 is shaping up to be a must-watch action flick. With Bob Odenkirk back in action and Sharon Stone stepping into a villainous role, the film promises to deliver an unforgettable cinematic experience. Mark your calendars for August 15, 2025, because this is one summer blockbuster you won’t want to miss. Read the full article

[marcwithnall-01]

Marc Withnall's Strategic Advice for Clients in the Real Estate Acquisition Process

Marc Withnall, a renowned Real Estate developer in Sydney, Australia, is well-regarded for his extensive portfolio of businesses that span the entire spectrum of the real estate industry. With a reputation built on dedication to clients and a track record of successful ventures, Marc Withnall provides invaluable strategic advice to clients throughout the real estate acquisition process. This article delves into his expertise and insights, covering various aspects of his career and the impact he has had on the industry.

The Marc Withnall Portfolio- Scootalife, Oroshiuri, and Kuranda Industries

Marc Withnall's impressive business acumen is evident in his diverse portfolio of real estate ventures. He has successfully established and managed three key businesses:

·       Scootalife:

Scootalife is a testament to Marc Withnall's innovative spirit. With the aim of building an efficient business model, Marc set out to create an organization that not only reduces investor risk but also emphasizes transparency and delivers high-value returns to investors.

·       Oroshiuri:

Oroshiuri is another notable addition to Marc Withnall's portfolio. This Real Estate Company, situated in Sydney, Australia, embodies his commitment to quality and excellence in development.

·       Kuranda Industries:

With years of experience as a Venture Partner within Kuranda Industries Pty Ltd, Marc Withnall leveraged his knowledge to develop a business model that could withstand the challenges posed by a global financial crisis.

Marc Withnall's Role in Real Estate Acquisition Process

Marc Withnall's influence and expertise extend far beyond his business ventures. He actively participates in the real estate acquisition process, offering strategic guidance to clients at every stage.

·       Sourcing and Identification:

One of the critical stages in real estate acquisition is the identification of suitable properties and opportunities. Marc Withnall's keen eye for potential and his extensive network enable him to source properties that align with his clients' goals and preferences. His ability to identify promising investment prospects is a testament to his years of experience and market insight.

·       Due Diligence:

Due diligence is a critical component of any real estate acquisition. Marc Withnall's attention to detail and commitment to thorough research ensure that clients are well-informed about the properties they intend to acquire.

·       Asset Management:

Even after the acquisition is complete, Marc Withnall's involvement doesn't wane. He continues to provide strategic guidance in asset management, ensuring that clients maximize the potential of their real estate investments.

·       Back-of-the-House Operations:

Beyond client-focused activities, Marc Withnall shoulders the responsibility of overseeing the back-of-the-house operations for his real estate portfolio. This multifaceted role encompasses property management, development, construction, revenue management, training, utility and energy management, national purchasing, contract management, real estate tax management, and financial and operational reporting.

Conclusion

In the dynamic world of real estate, Marc Withnall stands as a beacon of excellence and expertise. His commitment to clients, dedication to quality, and visionary approach to business has made him a trusted partner in the real estate acquisition process. Through his businesses such as Scootalife, Oroshiuri, and Kuranda Industries, Marc continues to shape the industry and inspire others to achieve success in the ever-evolving realm of real estate development.

FAQs

Ques1:  What businesses has Marc Withnall established in the real estate sector?

Ans: Marc Withnall has established businesses such as Scootalife, Oroshiuri, and Kuranda Industries in the real estate sector.

Ques2:  What is the mission of Scootalife?

Ans: Scootalife's mission is to reduce investor risk, promote transparency, and deliver high-value returns in the real estate sector.

[nexthlive]

NEXTH Season 4: The best is yet to come. [https://nexthchic.live/] [https://nexth.city/runway]

LIFESTYLE - [NexthChic] 139. Marc Jacobs: Vintage charm meets bold modern twists in playful eclecticism.

In the bustling and diverse landscape of New York City, Marc Jacobs embarked on a transformative journey that would ultimately shape the fashion industry over the course of three decades. From his modest beginnings to the establishment of his own fashion empire, Jacobs has left an indelible mark on the world of style and creativity.

Early Years and Development of Passion: Growing up in the vibrant and dynamic neighborhood of Manhattan's Upper West Side, Marc Jacobs found himself immersed in a city that pulsated with energy and creativity. Raised by his grandmother, he developed a profound connection to fashion from an early age. His grandmother's impeccable style and influence sparked Jacobs' curiosity and ignited his passion for all things fashionable.

During his formative years, Jacobs' life became a blend of academic pursuits and real-world experiences. As a young student, he balanced his design studies with hands-on work at upscale clothing boutiques after school. These early encounters with the fashion industry exposed him to a spectrum of styles, materials, and techniques, allowing him to develop a keen eye for detail and a unique understanding of the fashion landscape. These experiences served as the foundation for his future success and innovation.

Recognition and Education: Jacobs' talents did not go unnoticed. His creative flair and dedication caught the attention of prestigious institutions. His journey led him to the Parsons School of Design, an esteemed institution known for nurturing and cultivating emerging design talents. At Parsons, Jacobs honed his skills, refined his artistic vision, and gained invaluable insights into the world of design. The education he received laid the groundwork for the groundbreaking work he would later undertake.

Simultaneously, the Council of Fashion Designers of America (CFDA) recognized Jacobs' contributions and potential. This recognition solidified his status as a promising visionary in the making, setting the stage for his impactful journey ahead.

A Bold Step with Perry Ellis: The turning point in Marc Jacobs' career came when he joined Perry Ellis, a prominent fashion brand. Here, he was presented with the platform to showcase his design prowess and innovative ideas. Jacobs' creative ingenuity came to the forefront as he introduced bold and daring creations that defied conventional norms. His ability to blend unexpected elements, challenge boundaries, and infuse a sense of rebellion into his designs garnered significant attention.

The Birth of an Empire: In 1993, Marc Jacobs took a monumental step by launching his eponymous label. This marked the birth of a fashion empire that would span across various categories, from womenswear to menswear, and even children's clothing. Jacobs' brand extended its reach beyond apparel, encompassing a wide array of products, including shoes, handbags, beauty products, and accessories. This diverse range of offerings showcased his unparalleled ability to capture the essence of style in multiple domains, solidifying his position as a true fashion maven.

Dual Roles and Global Impact: One of the crowning achievements in Jacobs' illustrious career occurred in 1997 when he was appointed as the creative director for the esteemed French luxury house, Louis Vuitton. This dual role allowed him to manage his eponymous brand while simultaneously leaving an indelible mark on the high-end fashion realm. His tenure at Louis Vuitton demonstrated his dynamic skill set, blending innovation with tradition and transforming the brand's image. Jacobs' influence rippled through both high-end and accessible fashion, reaching a global audience and cementing his legacy as a visionary leader.

Focused Excellence and Legacy: In 2014, Marc Jacobs made a strategic decision to channel his energy and creativity exclusively into his namesake label and its diffusion lines. This focused approach allowed him to further refine and expand his brand's offerings, demonstrating his unwavering commitment to excellence. By concentrating his efforts, Jacobs solidified his position as a driving force within the fashion industry.

Continued Influence and Inspiration: Marc Jacobs' journey from a young enthusiast with a passion for design to a venerable figure within the global fashion landscape serves as a testament to his dedication, innovation, and transformative impact. Against the backdrop of his humble beginnings, he has carved out a legacy that continues to influence and inspire generations of designers, creatives, and fashion enthusiasts around the world. Jacobs' ability to blur the lines between tradition and innovation, high-end luxury and accessibility, has reshaped the way fashion is perceived, experienced, and cherished. His journey is a beacon of creative exploration, unwavering commitment, and enduring legacy in the ever-evolving world of fashion.

[marc-mesmar]

Maximize Your Investments with Marc Mesmar: Dubai’s Leading Property Consultant

In the ever-evolving landscape of Dubai’s real estate market, having a trusted and knowledgeable property consultant can be the key to maximizing your investments. Marc Mesmar has emerged as a leader in the field, offering his expertise and guidance to help clients navigate the intricacies of the Dubai property market. With his extensive experience and commitment to excellence, Marc Mesmar has positioned himself as the go-to property consultant for individuals and businesses looking to capitalize on the lucrative opportunities Dubai has to offer.

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What sets Marc Mesmar apart as Dubai’s leading property consultant is his unparalleled market insights. He possesses an in-depth understanding of the city’s real estate trends, pricing dynamics, and emerging investment hotspots. Marc keeps a close eye on market fluctuations, enabling him to identify lucrative opportunities before they become mainstream. By leveraging his expertise, clients gain a competitive advantage and are well-equipped to make informed investment decisions.

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Marc Mesmar understands that every investor has unique goals and requirements. Whether you are looking to expand your portfolio, secure a profitable rental property, or explore off-plan investments, Marc’s ability to craft customized investment strategies is unparalleled. He takes the time to thoroughly understand your investment objectives, risk appetite, and financial constraints. With this comprehensive understanding, Marc tailors investment strategies that align with your goals, maximizing the potential returns on your investments.

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Negotiation Expertise:

One of the most crucial aspects of successful property investments is the negotiation process. Marc Mesmar possesses exceptional negotiation skills honed over years of experience in the industry. Whether you are buying, selling, or leasing a property, Marc’s expertise allows him to secure the most favorable terms and conditions on your behalf. His strategic approach, attention to detail, and comprehensive market knowledge ensure that you achieve the best possible deal while minimizing risks.

Long-Term Partnership and Ongoing Support:

Marc Mesmar believes in building long-term partnerships with his clients. His commitment to customer satisfaction goes beyond a single transaction. Marc provides ongoing support and guidance, even after the deal is closed. From property management advice to market updates and future investment opportunities, he remains a trusted advisor throughout your real estate journey. Marc’s dedication to his clients’ success is evident in the lasting relationships he builds, ensuring their investment endeavors thrive in the long run.

Conclusion:

When it comes to maximizing your investments in Dubai’s real estate market, Marc Mesmar stands out as the leading property consultant you can rely on. With his unparalleled market insights, customized investment strategies, access to exclusive opportunities, and exceptional negotiation skills, Marc is well-equipped to help you achieve your investment goals. Moreover, his commitment to building long-term partnerships and providing ongoing support ensures that your investment journey is not only successful but also fulfilling. Trust Marc Mesmar to guide you through the intricacies of the Dubai property market and unlock the full potential of your investments.

[wysteria-clad]

The phases of the moon

paring: moon boys x fem! reader; established relationship, but main focus on Marc and Jake

summary: You have an argument with Marc but don't make up yet. During sex with Jake, he gets little too rough, you use safe word and he loses himself in passionate frenzy, didn't notice you say it. Marc worries and physically yanks him off you. You assure a guilty Jake and make up with Marc.

genre: angst, smut, fluff. The trifecta.

a/n: as always thanks to @imgoingtofreakoutnow for Spanish words and phrases <3

warnings: consensual sex, dom/sub dynamic, fingering, rough sex, daddy kink, praise kink, degradation kink, overstimulation, use of safe word.

minors dni

warnings have been given, if any of these upsets you, do not proceed

tagging the ones who hyped me up for this fic: [let me know if you wish to be removed 💕]

@katarina-catalina @taisha-san @kotonei-molyneux @friendlyneighbourhood-parker @the-girl-king @budugu @sofiaparallel @sheisforthebirds @twwcs

--------

You purposely slam down your shared bedroom door little too loudly. You don't look at his face, but you knew he is rolling his eyes. He was already in bed, his body facing away from your side of bed.

You don't even remember how it ended up like this.

Why it always have to be me?

You were annoyed. It's been six days since you and Marc talked. You were surprised you didn't cave in and went this long. It was always you to make an attempt to apologise first.

Marc had the unhealthy trait of isolating himself and never talking again if he wanted to. He was adamantly strong in it too, even if it hurt him inside. He did not show it.

If you don't want to talk to me, fine. I can play that game—both of you made mistakes, but both of you were also stubborn, holding on to ego, refusing to admit it and apologise.

You lay there, facing the wall. Drops of tears roll down on the corners of your eyes, sliding down to your pillow. You miss him so much.

Is she..crying? Shit.

He wanted nothing more than to turn around, pull you back to his arms, tuck you under his chin. You wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms.

Alas, silly egos were slightly bigger than hearts' desire.

You quickly wipe your tears, swallow the cries and shut your eyes, trying to sleep.

The two of you kept your walls high and iron- strong instead.

.

.

The next day, you notice his bedside was empty. You lazily drag yourself off bed, your eyes half closed, still laden with sleep.

Right when you are about to bump your head into the bedroom door on your way out, you feel a palm on your forehead, stopping you from hitting the door.

"Cariño, you are still sleepy", he says, half smiling, half amused.

You open your eyes fully. You feel beyond glad to hear Jake's voice and see his face smiling face. You are glad you don't have to have another glaring match with Marc.

Without saying anything, you rush into him, burying your face into his chest, wrapping your hands around his torso. You hum against his chest, inhaling his scent. It's been a while since he fully fronted and you missed him.

"Mi amor", he hugs you back, you feel his lips on side of your head. You didn't have to look up to know he has one of those rare smile on his face now.

It did not take long for the little sweet moment to turn into more passionate one.

His hands wanders down, lifting your shirt slightly and tracing your skin underneath, ever so lightly and tauntingly, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"Jake" you exhale against his chest as his hands slide up to cup your breasts and squeeze them with right amount of pressure.

"Ah" your nipples perk up, that sweet sensation twirling in your gut. You feel his sturdy arm lifting you by your thighs, it didn't take long before he carried you back to bed and stripping you off naked.

He watches your lip part open like a lotus bud. Soft and beautiful. And moaning his name, just the way he liked it. He hovers over you.

You wrap your arm around his head, greedily pulling him by the nape of his neck, to taste his lips again.

He begins to kiss you, starting from your forehead, lowering to your lips, your throat. When his tongue grazes the hot skin of your breast, a moan escapes your lips involuntarily. He kisses the spot before kissing the delicate skin between your breasts. Then a bite.

You thread your hand into his curls, urging him to capture your lips again.

He takes his sweet time, much to your annoyance.

"Tan impaciente"

Your lips open into a gasp, feeling him chuckle between your legs, his slight stubble against your flustered skin. You needed him, now. He kissed your inner thighs, slowly building up the anticipation.

When he kissed one thigh, he caressed the other one with his thumb. "Already wet for me," he presses a light kiss on your inner thigh, before kissing your lips and parting them with this index and thumb finger.

When you reach out to grab his head and sink his head closer between your legs, he pulls away completely, making your let out a whiny moan at the lack of contact.

"Princesa," he takes both of your wrists in his hands, bringing them closer to his lips and kisses them before pinning them above your head, "be a good girl and don't move your hands," his voice is calm and sweet but his eyes said, 'or else you would be punished'

You nod, eager to please him.

"Say it, muñeca"

"Yes, daddy"

"Good girl," he cups your cheek, his dark eyes gazes you—already flustered, obediently eager, "good girl."

His praise only made it harder for you, amping up your arousal. With a smirk on his handsome face, he starts all over again. Caressing and kissing your lower stomach, your inner thighs.

You let out a sharp gasp when he massaged inner walls of your vagina. You arched your hips in insatiable lust, he pressed your hip back down with one hand.

He gets your wetness and paints it around the rest of your clit. Mercifully, he slid in two fingers eliciting a string of blissful moans from your lips. He curves his fingers and stroking your bud delicately, your eyes roll back. You clench your hands into fists, desparately looking for something to hold, but you knew he ordered you to keep your hands there.

Fuck.

"Jake, Jake. Fuck. I need you now"

"What was that, princesa?" he slows his rhythm, but doesn't remove his fingers fully.

He is giving you a chance to correct yourself.

"Please, papi"

"Atta girl"

Another praise sends you jolt of rush into your head.

"What do you need?" he moves his fingers into you in punishing pace.

"Ah-I..I-need your cock now, please"

That was the last sentence you managed to speak coherently.

He teased you enough this time. He missed this, missed touching you. He plunged his cock into you, thrusting deeper and deeper, each thrust making you moan in intoxicating pleasure, fucking you into oblivion and making you orgasm three times, continuously.

"Look at me" he made you look into his eyes as he pounded into you. The eye contact turned you both even more, it made it more intimate.

He was starved. And so were you.

Sounds of flesh against flesh, wanton moans and groans filled the air.

Your eyes blurred with tears of intoxicated pleasure.

You moved your hands from previous position, purposely to making him punish you. Before you realise what is going on, he flipped you, your face pressing against a fluffy pillow.

"Fucking slut," hard slap made your ass throb in pain just before bordering and merging into pleasure, "needy whore."

By the end of your punishment, you were sure you cannot sit on your ass tomorrow.

It wasn't long before you were back on the bed, your body pinned underneath him. Your core throbs, aching more for pleasure, more euphoric bliss. He never left a spot on your skin untouched by his lips and hands.

You cry out in pleasure when he gave you another two more orgasms. You feel your body getting tired.

He grabs the flesh of you thighs, lifting your legs and hooking it above his shoulders. This change of position make you close your eyes, completely drunk on exhilarating pleasure.

"Jake, I-I can't again-" you manage to speak those words between your groans and moans.

"Puedes aguantarlo, perrita" he begins to thrust into you, carnal desire driving him and taking him into frenzied passion.

He doesn't notice when you say the safe word.

Your core is beginning to stir with dull pain now. "Jake, Jake, baby, I can't anymore" you reach out to tap his hand.

You say the safe word again. You try to move off him.

Oh God, he still thinks this is part of the play, he doesn't notice it.

Before you could try to say it louder, Jake falls off you, off the bed, on the floor, making you cry out sharply when his cock pulled out of you suddenly.

"Oh baby," you see him hurriedly rush towards you. It is not Jake. Marc yanked Jake off you. He saw you when you were in pain and said the safe word.

"Are you alright?" he carefully hovers over you, his features etched with worry. "Baby, talk to me please," his breathing is heavy with worry. He cups your face gently.

"I'm okay, Marc. I'm okay" you breath out, assuring him, touching his hands cupping your face. "I'm okay..." your voice was barely a whisper. He gently pushes strands of hair fallen over your eyes, stuck to your forehead with sweat. "C-Can I talk to Jake?" you sit up straight, leaning against headboard.

He wanted to hold you and make sure you are feeling safe and alright, but, he also knew it was Jake's place now and you needed to talk to him. He pesses his forehead with yours, just for couple of seconds and nods.

You watch him through half lidded eyes. You are really tired.

"Cariño" he doesn't give you time to react or say anything. "Lo siento, mi vida. Lo siento"

Marc saw when you were vulnerable, noticed and he didn't.

"Jake, hey, it's okay-"

"It's not okay" he doesn't yell, his voice is scarily calm. You know what he is thinking. You trusted him, you were open and vulnerable to him and he broke it. That's what he thinks.

"I should have heard you, I should have noticed" he was driven by carnal lust into intoxicating bliss.

"Jake-"

"Querida, I know what you are gonna say"

"Jake Lockley, shut up and listen to me"

He is sitting at the edge of the bed, away from you.

"C'mere"

He doesn't move. You let out a sigh. You move towards him.

"Baby, this happens. That's why safe word exists"

When he was to object, you knew what he was about to say.

I did not notice you when said it, twice.

You fix him with a firm glare, 'let me finish'. He doesn't speak.

"Moments like these happens. It's not unusual" you are now sitting in front of him. "We are not gods, you know. We are simple creatures and this happens. And I know you won't let this happen again."

His eyes are hard, full of guilt and anger, towards himself.

"I trust you, Jake"

Gods, do I really deserve it?

"I don't"

"Well, I'll trust you for both of us, then" you place your palms on sides of his face.

"It doesn't work like that, princesa"

"Yes it does," you wrap your arms around his shoulders, "I trust you, Jake."

It was the answer to his previous question he asked himself.

He hesitates at first, then wraps his hands around you. He sighs.

"Please don't push me away" that catches him off guard. His first instinct was to distance himself from you, physically first, then emotionally. If staying away from you would keep you safe, he would.

And you knew that. You knew him. That scared him. You loved him passionately, fiercely, with everything you are.

But he knew it would hurt more if he pushed you away. He decided to never hurt you by pushing you away, in any way.

"I won't, mi corazón" a promise.

You breathed a sigh of relief.

"Stay. I want to sleep" you mumbled against his neck.

After getting cleaned and dressed in comfy clothes, you are cuddled together facing towards him.

"You can kiss me, you know?" your voice was light and soft.

His hard eyes softens. "Eres mi amor, mi vida" He doesn't care if he sounds like a guy from romcom now. "I won't hurt you, mi sol"

"Hm, that's new. Keep going," you smile teasing him, hoping to lighten up the mood.

He doesn't smile fully, but you can see the heaviness in his eyes is gone now. Still, he couldn't keep the nagging guilt off his chest.

Forgive me, princesa.

He brings your faces closer, and kisses you softly, sweetly.

You touch his cheek. "I forgive you"

He closes his eyes, melting under your loving touch.

"I know, baby. I love you" a reminder. You know he would beat himself later and he hasn't forgiven himself fully yet, but you would help him.

"Te amo, mi querida" he kisses your forehead softly.

But for now, you both decide to bask in unspoken promises and soft love for eachother.

.

.

You wake later up in the evening. This time, successfully making your way out of bedroom. When your stomach growls, you realise you haven't eaten anything since morning. You walk to the kitchen to see Marc.

Is he cooking? Something is on the stove.

"Marc"

You didn't want to hold on to stupid ego.

"Y/n/n"

He strides towards you, engulfing you in tight embrace. "Baby, I'm so sorry"

He felt like a jerk. Why did he even ignore you?

Loving and protecting you came first. Fuck that pride of his.

It didn't help either of you.

"I'm sorry too" you hold on to him tighter.

He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"I don't know what you are cooking, but something is burning"

"Shit!" he pulls back from the embrace to turn off the stove, making you chuckle.

But hey, you really appreciated his gesture.

You both ended up eating take-out food later.

Even though the moon had different phases, it was still lovely.

Dating your boys were like different phases of moon. It had moments, some days was darker, some days was brighter than the others, some days it was a blend of both.

Just like the moon, your boys were beautiful and loveable in all of their phases. You accepted and loved them for them.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

--------------

cariño - sweetheart

mi amor - my love

tan impaciente - So impatient

princesa - princess

muñeca - doll

puedes aguantarlo, perrita - you can take it, little bitch

lo siento - I'm sorry

mi vida - my life

[fdelopera]

Judaism in Moon Knight (or, How Steven Is Marc’s Emotional and Spiritual Protector)

Sooo I've been thinking a lot about Marc Spector's relationship to Judaism in the Disney+ show. This week in particular (in light of Jeremy Slater’s recent comments), I’ve been thinking about the ways that Marc has put walls between himself and his Jewishness. This is a trauma response, of course. And those of us who experience trauma have walls for a reason. As a Jewish person, I have high trauma walls in relation to my Jewishness, which is why Marc’s arc in Moon Knight resonates with me so strongly.

Marc has been disenfranchised from his Jewishness in three key ways. These are actually the pillars of Jewish identity: Believing, Behaving, and Belonging. I’ll bring more clarity to this later on.

The one thread that ties both Marc and Steven to their Judaism is the Magen David necklace that they share. And indeed, we can chart the course of Marc’s relationship to his Jewishness by following the appearances of the necklace.

When we meet Marc, he has distanced himself from most sources of connection in his life, and he states repeatedly that he wishes he could disappear. He tells Steven, “Look, when I am done, when I have repaid my debt, I swear to you, you will never see me or hear from me again.”

Jeremy Slater has spoken about how he wrote Marc as Steven's protector, but I want to challenge that as well. And that’s certainly not how Oscar was playing him.

You see, I keep coming back to a moment in Episode 2. It’s the scene where Steven stands up to Harrow and his cult.

I think this is the moment where we first witness Steven as Marc’s emotional protector, which becomes more and more evident throughout the course of the series, until Episodes 5 and 6, where Oscar makes this alter dynamic clear.

However, I believe that this scene is where we see Steven become Marc’s spiritual protector, as well. Because Steven appears to have the closest connection to their Judaism.

At the end of Episode 1, Marc presents himself to Steven (and to us) as a protector of the system. “You’re not going to die. Let me save us.”

But as we learn throughout the course of the series, Marc is really more of a trauma holder. Yes, he has military training (as well as a healing factor and a nearly indestructible suit from Khonshu), but that doesn’t necessarily equate to him having a protector role within the system.

By the end of Episode 4, we start to see the actual dynamic emerge between Marc and Steven, where Steven is Marc’s protector. Jake is a protector as well — both physical and emotional. He defends the system when Marc and Steven are in physical danger, and he also fronts when Marc is at emotional risk or in danger of self-destructing.

In Episode 2, we learn from Layla that she and Marc have been searching for Ammit’s ushabti for several years. Marc knows that what Harrow is doing is potentially world-ending. If Ammit is released, she will consume much of the earth’s population. It’s Thanos 2.0.

But Steven sees beyond the Avengers-level threat that Ammit poses. He senses the deeper nature of her existential and spiritual threat.

Ammit represents a doctrine of deterministic prejudgment. According to her philosophy, everything good or evil can be known about us from the moment that we are born. And if the bad outweighs the good, Ammit holds that we should be destroyed. She believes that we have no ability to grow or improve. We are stuck on a fixed path with no possibility for change.

This runs contrary to the concept of free will, in which we all have the capacity for change and growth. Even if we do something wrong, we can make amends. We can choose differently next time. Our lives are not represented as a fixed line; rather, they are a series of branching decisions. And we can always choose to do the next right thing.

In the final battle between Khonshu and Ammit in Episode 6, Ammit asks, “Why fight, knowing you will fail?” To which Khonshu replies, “Because it is my choice! The very thing you take away.”

Free will is a primary concept in Judaism. There is no afterlife (at least, not in terms of heaven and hell), and so LIFE is for living. We can always change. We can choose differently next time. There is room to learn from our mistakes.

But Marc has already bought into Ammit’s philosophy. His mother taught him that. Wendy was the human embodiment of Ammit’s form of prejudgment. It is absolute, inflexible, and with no possibility for change. If you are good, you are good; and if you are bad, there is no hope for you. After Randall’s death, Wendy says to Marc, “I should have known you’d do something like this.” She places all the blame for Randall’s drowning on Marc’s shoulders, even though he was just a child.

And so, Marc believes that he is bad, and that nothing can change that. He sees no possibility for his own redemption. He fights against Ammit and Harrow to protect the world, but on some level, he believes that for him, she might be right.

It is up to Steven, the emotional and spiritual protector of the system, to challenge Ammit’s philosophy. And why Steven? I believe it is because Steven has a greater connection to their shared Jewishness.

In the “lentil soup” scene at the cult compound in Episode 2, Steven converses with Harrow to figure out more about what is going on. It’s clear to him that Harrow has information about the experiences he’s been having with Khonshu. But as he and Harrow talk, he begins to understand the true implications of Ammit’s philosophy.

There is a specific moment in the scene. A specific point where Steven shifts. Up until this point, he has been terrified. He’s terrified of what is happening to him, he’s scared of Marc, he is positively quaking at being trapped by this cult.

So what changes? Steven looks in the reflective surface of the soup bowl, and he sees Marc retreating to get away from Harrow’s words.

Harrow tells Marc (through Steven) that Khonshu is weak and ineffective. That his punishments come too late. However, this is the nature of free will. We are given the choice to do good or bad. The punishment cannot come before the crime. As painful as it may be, we must allow people to make mistakes. And we must allow them to grow and change and redeem themselves when they fail.

Then Harrow reminds Marc that he will never be free of Khonshu, because there is always one last thing. One last mission. One last evildoer for Marc Spector to punish, when the problem could be solved so efficiently and with so much less mess if Ammit were just allowed to rule.

Marc starts to withdraw at these words, and Steven watches him. Then Steven has a moment of choice. He chooses to defend Marc. Even though he still believes that Marc (and therefore the body) may be dangerous, he knows that Harrow has no right to judge Marc or anyone else for what they might do in the future.

Steven says, “If Ammit judges people pre-evil, like, before the fact, then, isn't she judging an innocent person? I mean, a thought can't be evil, can it?”

Then, instead of placating Harrow or trying to find the nearest exit, Steven looks at the cult in disgust and says, “You're all into that? Killing children? Maybe it's just me, but I draw a line at child murder.” He doesn’t run, even when Harrow starts to threaten him with Ammit’s staff. He has seen how uncomfortable Marc is at Harrow’s deterministic zealotry, and he knows that he has to take a stand.

But why is this important from the standpoint of Marc’s and Steven’s respective experience of their Jewishness? And why is Steven able to be Marc’s spiritual protector? Why can’t Marc do this himself?

The Moon Knight show gives an incredibly realistic depiction of how a person becomes disenfranchised from their own Jewishness. Being Jewish consists of three pillars: Believing, Behaving, and Belonging. If any one of these pillars is knocked down, the ceiling will start to collapse. But if all three are knocked down, the person's connection to their Jewishness can be destroyed, or at least deeply damaged.

In the show, we see that these three pillars of Marc's faith have been knocked down in an unfortunately common way: he has experienced abuse and rejection from his family, specifically his mother. This abuse has a spiritual nature, because in Jewish families who actively practice their faith, the mother is often the one to maintain the traditions of the Jewish home, which is what is necessary for a child to participate as a Jew in the community. Without that Jewish home life, it is easy for a child to be cut adrift, even if they go to Hebrew school and attend their Temple or Synagogue.

In the time and place that Marc was growing up (in the American Midwest of the 1990s and early 2000s) the fastest way for someone to be disenfranchised from their Jewishness was to sever their connections to Judaism in the home.

Steven is the one who maintains a connection to their Judaism. He is vegan, which is a common strategy that Jewish people use to keep kosher outside of the house. He also has a mezuzah on his door, which serves as an indicator of a Jewish home. He belongs to the Jewish community in London, and speaks with the cadence of a regional London Jewish accent (Oscar said that Steven’s accent was based on Jewish people he met in the Borough of Enfield). The pillars of Steven’s Jewishness haven’t been knocked down. He still Believes, Behaves, and Belongs, at least to some degree.

But it is the Magen David necklace that gives us the metaphorical throughline of Steven’s role as spiritual protector.

We first see the Magen David around Steven’s neck at the end of Episode 2. We can see it clearly as Steven “looks out” from the mirror. A beam of light hits the necklace, and it shines. It is right in the middle of Steven’s chest. At the center of his heart.

As the camera pans over to Marc, we see the necklace chain, but the Magen David is obscured by the direction of the light and the angle of Marc’s body. 

Both Marc and Steven wear it — it is actually the single item that they both consistently share — but we don’t see it VISIBLY on Marc until Episode 6.

In Episode 3, we catch a glimpse of the necklace when Marc is changing his shirt in Layla’s car. But we only see the chain. We don’t see the Magen David. It is cut off.

When Marc is shot at the end of Episode 4, both the necklace chain and the Magen David are obscured. We cannot see them at all, even though at other times throughout the show, we can see at least the chain of the necklace peaking out from Marc’s shirt.

BUT!!! After Marc has connected with Steven in the Duat, after he has gone through this part of his hero’s journey, after he has finally allowed Steven to come into his life, the Magen David finally appears on Marc’s chest. 

As you can see, it was NOT THERE before, when Marc fell into the water in Episode 4. Nothing physically has changed at the beginning of Episode 6. In fact, only minutes have passed in the upper world since Marc was shot. But because of Marc’s journey with Steven, he can finally begin to cross the chasm and reconnect with his Jewishness. The Magen David may not shine like it did on Steven’s chest, it may only glimmer, but it is a start.

I believe that it is through Steven that Marc is able to reconnect with his faith. At the end of Episode 6, Marc finally expresses his free will. He will not kill on Khonshu’s orders, even though it would mean ending Ammit as a threat. He has a choice, and he chooses LIFE. In Judaism, life is for living. In death, there can be no change. Without reconnecting to Steven, to his Jewishness, I don’t think Marc would have been able to make this choice. 

And of course, that does leave Jake, as Marc’s emotional and physical protector, to make sure that Ammit and Harrow never hurt the MK system again. Because I believe that of the three alters, Jake buys into Ammit’s philosophy the least. Jake knows that Ammit is a threat, and he knows that she has to be destroyed, but he never entertains that she might be right in the way that Marc does. Marc is still wrestling with Ammit’s ideology of prejudgment (as we would have likely seen at the end of the Diab cut), and Steven is still challenging it, but Jake just rejects it outright. “Hoy te toca perder.” And that’s why Jake has to be the one to kill Harrow and Ammit, because they still pose an existential danger to Marc and Steven. Jake protects Marc against self-destruction, and he knows that in a rematch against Ammit, Marc might be tempted once again in that direction. And since Khonshu knows that Jake does not entertain the notion that Ammit could be right, he uses the “legal loophole” he put in place in his bargain with Steven to enlist Jake to take Ammit out.

But none of this diminishes the fact that Marc has expressed his free will. Or that Steven, as his emotional and spiritual protector, has helped him reach a point in his life where he can see himself as more than a killer.

And I think it started in the moment when Steven first stood up to Harrow. When Steven asserted that people can always change and grow, because they can always make a different choice.

This is why I say that Moon Knight is a Jewish show. It deals extensively with Jewish themes. And it does so in a real way, even though it is set against a superhero backdrop. This Marc isn't cut off from his Judaism by a serial killer Nazi posing as a Rabbi. Nor is he disenfranchised because of an esoteric rejection of God and his father for being too weak. No, he is separated from his Jewishness in the most realistic and common of ways — because of family trauma. And his path back is through the connection and understanding that he now shares with Steven.

[perceabeth]

I've been meaning to ask this for a while now but I could not remember your current username on either of your blogs lol

I don't know if you ever answered this but if you ever feel like, i would like to know what about andrew!peter specifically makes you... Hyped I guess? I just like your opinions and had time to catch up ur spidey au and got curious

lol this is actually such a funny question like i'm beyond myself that u asked but also i'm giggling a bit just bc i know u didn't expect my response lkdjflsdf. also wanna be crystal clear this is about the tasm movies and has nothing to do w my spidey fic lol

andrew garfield, for starters, is such a great actor. he was like 27, 28 when the first film came out but i think he did such a good job capturing what it's like to be just a regular teenager. i know his peter specifically gets a lot of hate for being too "cool" or "attractive" but the thing is. school isn't really like that is it. he wasn't a complete loser but he also was clearly not accepted in social circles bc looks and skateboards aren't everything. he was just a boy that's all he was and then when he got his powers instead of immediately using them for good he uses it to humiliate Flash. he's childish, impulsive, easily angered. he's not a hero. he's kind of a dick.

but the thing about andrew's peter is that he is always growing. and more importantly, he's growing because he faces consequences to his actions. he acts out with flash so ben can't pick up may. he selfishly chooses connors over his family and fights with ben. he's offended by the store clerk and refuses to help him. all of those contribute directly to ben dying. and the thing is. he doesn't even fully learn his lesson because the movie ends with him choosing gwen stacy (selfishly) because he's human!!!!!!!! he's come a long way. he's become a hero. but he has yet to learn sacrifice.

it ties in well i think with tobey's spidey in SM2 where he also undergoes such a powerful arc where he learns that as spider-man he can't have everything. he makes his peace with that without anyone getting too badly hurt, but andrew's peter learns that lesson the hard way because he also wasn't as willing to give things up as tobey was.

and this is all just about andrew!peter. which, by the way, is NOTHING without bringing up THEEEE gwen stacy.

look i know she's diff from the comics. i know she has a bit of MJ in her. but the thing is- she works. she works fabulously as a character and she's better than both, MJ in the raimiverse and MJ in the MCU because she's a fully fleshed out character. not only is it GREAT to see gwen have friends, family, ambitious outside of peter- it also really helps propel peter's own journey.

gwen's dad cares deeply for gwen. he wants his daughter- his child- to be safe so much so that he uses his last breath to ensure it. peter's entire motivation is to find a father figure in his life because he hasn't yet got to tobey's level of acknowledging ben parker but we move on and he wants what gwen has. gwen is a brilliant scientist and he needs her help with making the antidote. gwen isn't just a pretty thing on his arm, she's his partner- it makes her a real character and she grounds him, which is something peter in this universe absolutely NEEDS.

but that's all, of course, because of mr. marc webb. sorry for nerding out a bit but u cannot talk about why tasm works well despite what people say without bringing up marc webb of 500 days of summer, gifted, and only living boy in new york fame.

the man EXCELS in interpersonal relationships. he's absolutely undefeated in creating beautiful, complex dynamics which is exactly why tasm works!! was the lizard a bit strange? sure. was tasm 2 an absolute trainwreck of fucked up and superficial plotlines? ofc. HOWEVER. what was at the absolute heart of the films?

it's about peter and gwen. about how they fell in love when they knew better and it SHOWS!!!!!!!!!!!! webb uses this lens of like. an innocent teenage romance that everyone knows is dangerous-- he uses it to navigate what it means to be a hero in this world.

speaking of worlds. it did smth specifically to set itself apart from the prev. film. it's grounded in a reality. it's not campy, the vibe is very much that this could happen to you and me right here, where we stand. it's different! it's not a dystopian world; it's not aliens it's just- science, even if it's science too good to be true. i like that. im something of a sciene nerd myself. it does well for me.

and being rooted in our reality- it rly rly helps that they used these brilliant sets to shoot. that andrew garfield got to swing through nyc in his suit and that all the explosions and car crashes were real. it adds an extra layer of like. it just constantly grounds you i think. that's it.

unfortunately i can go on for even longer but i have to hit the gym so here's ur answer: i like andrew! peter bc he's entertaining. long answer: i like him because of the films he's in

[charlotte-headcanons]

I wonder if some of siblings with twins, triplets, and others get along well. We know the monster triplet seems close to each other, decuplets get along well, just some silly siblings fights, sometimes, Smoothie with Citron and Cinnamon, they just argue when she used her devil fruit power on their subordinates to take the energy to her attacks, Chiffon still loves Lola even after leaving the family. But I wonder how is Cracker with Custard and Angel, Brulee with Broye, and Opera in his group of quintuplets.

Thank you for this ask, anon, that one was super fun to figure out! 💕 We decided to go through all the twin/triplet/etc. groups in the Charlotte family and describe their relations quickly. Naturally, then ❗long post ahead❗

Enjoy! ✨

Group 1: Katakuri/Daifuku/Oven

This three get along great and are indeed, very close to each other. Despite their personality differences, they spent a lot of time together already in childhood and even now they make sure that they find moments to cherish in each other's presence often. Katakuri feels more comfortable around these two than around most, especially since they both know his secret and never judged him for his mouth. Oven and Daifuku find him amazing, sure, but they also still treat him as their brother, not an unattainable ideal, and that allows Katakuri to somewhat relax.

Group 2: Mondee/Amande/Hachee/Effilee

Although Mondee is unstoppable in her efforts to bring these four closer together, being a bit jealous of some other twin/triplet/quadruplet sets, Amande, Hachee, and Effilee are all individualists and quite distinct personalities. Therefore, they might have a bit of a soft spot for each other, but these quadruplets only properly hang out once every three months or so; always from Mondee's initiative.

Group 3: Opera/Counter/Cadenza/Cabaletta/Gala

This group definitely likes to hang out together! They aren't super close and they don't know a lot about each other's personal problems or private life, but they do enjoy regular activities that they can do together: like brawl fights or going out for a few drinks. However, Opera is always a bit out of place in the group. Since he doesn't so much enjoy the same things the others like, they sometimes don't even bother inviting him, and they might be kind of jealous that out of all of them, he was the one who received a Devil Fruit. Gala always brings attention to it, trying not to exclude Opera, but sometimes, unfortunately, he still gets left out.

Group 4: Cracker/Custard/Angel

In their childhood, Custard and Angel got along well, but Cracker was always annoyed by the two and their constant attempts to play with his hair, put flower crowns on him, and more of that girly shit he loathed. Now, Angel changed quite a bit, toughened up, and became known as a kind of feral gal, who loves her triplets, but might sometimes scare/disgust while trying to make them tougher. In effect, Custard and Cracker grew ever so slightly closer. It helps that the girls stopped trying to girlify him, too.

Group 5: Brulee/Broye

Personality-wise, these two are polar opposites. Generally, Broye pities Brulee for not having found a husband yet, as well as for how her lifestyle usually looks like: rather than cooking and gardening she prefers partying and flirting, rather than living in an unpretentious hut, she prefers glamour. Brulee, on the other hand, is always nice to Broye and likes her, however, their relationship grew a bit awkward ever since Broye caught her staring at a wedding dress and bought her one, claiming that 'she's never going to get married anyway, so she may as well just wear it now'. Brulee knows that her twin meant well and thus wears the dress to this day (was it just us or did Brulee's first dress really look like a wedding dress); still she can't help but feel slightly hurt.

Group 6: Nusstorte/Basskarte/Dosmarche

These three see each other mostly as rivals, plain and simple. Basskarte is especially salty that the other two received Minister positions while he didn't, but even between Nusstorte and Dosmarche you can expect only constant attempts to one the other up rather than any sibling closeness.

Group 7: Moscato/Mash/Cornstarch

Moscato and Cornstarch adore each other! They're both idealists and wholesome people, so they can talk with each other for hours and feel very comfortable with each other's presence. Now, Mash is slightly excluded from this: they still like her and are always nice to her, but don't hang out with her half as often. She doesn't mind, though; she prefers Broye to those softies anyway.

Group 8: Compo/Laurin

Compo is very protective of Laurin. Despite only being minutes older than him and despite his short height, he always makes sure no one makes fun of his twin, and has a sixth sense for when the latter is uncomfortable. In return, Laurin is very grateful, and if he could ever return all the favors, he would.

Group 9: Mozart/Marnier

These two are your like, most typical ✨twinsies✨ sisters. They like to wear matching outfits sometimes, they gossip with each other lots, and generally they get along great; although, unlike some other twins on this list, they do have their own, separate lives.

Group 10: High Fat/Tablet

High Fat and Tablet probably have the worst relationship from all the siblings on this list. Even more opposite than Brulee and Broye, they disliked each other since early childhood, when Tablet relentlessly picked on High Fat, and the latter interpreted what Tablet thought was merely playful as outright cruel. As a result of their different perception on things, their antipathy only grew, and they prefer not to talk these days if it can be avoided.

Group 11: Smoothie/Citron/Cinnamon

Smoothie, Citron, and Cinnamon are each other's favorite people, full stop. They all have similar views on life, know each other's secrets, and they love their dynamic; in this dynamic, Smoothie normally takes on a role of the leader, with Cinnamon and Citron often looking for her approval and even mimicking her sometimes, but all this happens without them ever feeling consciously like there is any clear hierarchy.

Group 12: Saint-Marc/Basans

In their childhood, Saint-Marc and Basans were often confused due to their similar facial features. This experience left them bitter, so now, despite not hating each other, they both really try to stand out from the other. For Saint-Marc, the armor was a method; Basans went so far as to wear fake horns, being quite happy whenever it was assumed that Melise was his real sister.

Group 13: Galette/Poire

Poire likes Galette, even with the latter's anxiety and all. Galette, in return, is always kind to Poire, however, she cannot help but be overly stressed out by her sister's often dangerous ways of life. While Mont d'Or is a calming presence for Galette, Poire heightens her worries, so she'd rather hang out with the older brother, all things considered.

Group 14: Snack/Bavarois

Similarly to the first set of quintuplets, Snack and Bavarois like to share fast food or a few drinks, but don't necessarily tell each other much about their life, or their hopes and fears. Their hang out sessions are a bit rarer than for the quintuplets, though, even if they became more frequent when Snack lost his Sweet Commander post.

Group 15: Prim/Praline

Prim always looked at Praline from above, being both smarter and stronger than her. Still, their relations were somewhat amicable until Praline's betrayal. They used to enjoy at least shopping for clothes together, but now, Prim is pissed that Praline left, without telling her, taking with her a large portion of Totto's underwater population, and leaving her behind for Mama to take out her rage on her. If they meet again, Prim will not hold back and will definitely attack Praline just like the rest of her family, if not even more viciously.

Group 16: Kanten/Kato/Montb

Those three are completely neutral in their relations. They have distinct goals in life and personalities, and don't really think of each other as 'their kind of person' but can definitely have a friendly small talk when they meet; which happens rather rarely, considering they don't really seek these meetings out.

Group 17: Chiffon/Lola

As we all know, Chiffon and Lola love each other lots! Chiffon was always very protective of her younger sister and supported her fully in pursuing her dreams; little Lola, on the other hand, would beat up anyone who even looked at her twin wrongly. Since Lola left, they missed each other plenty, but Chiffon never blamed her for leaving and was just very happy to be reunited with her eventually.

Group 18: Mobile/Marble/Myukuru/Maple

These quadruplets get along in pairs. Mobile and Maple like each other lots and hang out with each other plenty, and so do Marble and Myukuru; however, between these two groups, there's little care and more of a neutral outlook.

Group 19: Mascarpone/Joscarpone

Mascarpone and Joscarpone are essentially inseparable. They know everything each other, finish each other's sentences, share literally everything (including clothes), and could be easily confused if not for their different gender. If you tried to keep them apart even for a few days, they'd probably be very uncomfortable and feel lonelier than ever.

Group 20: Newichi/Newji/Newsan/Newshi/Newgo/Nutmeg/Akimeg/Allmeg/Harumeg/Fuyumeg

The decuplets generally all tolerate each other, but hate to be confused. Overall, the boys get along, and so do the girls, but they don't mingle beyond these groups so much, with the exception of Newshi and Harumeg, who are best friends. There is just quite a bit of rivalry between the boys and the girls; they can cooperate great in fives, but as a whole 10-person group they might struggle to communicate all that well.

Group 21: Dolce/Dragee

Basically Mascarpone and Joscarpone on steroids. These two literally speak in unison at times, have their own secret communication system, sometimes switch their clothes which makes everyone confuse them, and get completely miserable and shy whenever separated. We'll see if they grow out of it ever or not!

Aaaaand there you have it! Congrats to everyone who got through the entire post, here's your supreme Charlotte family fan medal 🎖️ hope you enjoyed! 💕

[themovieblogonline]

Sharon Stone Joins Bob Odenkirk in Nobody 2: A Villainous Turn

Sharon Stone is stepping into a new role that promises to shake things up in the highly anticipated sequel, Nobody 2. The actress, known for her iconic performances in films like Basic Instinct and Casino, is set to star opposite Bob Odenkirk as the movie’s chief villain. Universal Pictures has slated the film for an August 15, 2025 release, and fans couldn’t be more excited. The Return of Bob Odenkirk Bob Odenkirk reprises his role as the mild-mannered family man turned government assassin. In the original Nobody, Odenkirk's character, Hutch Mansell, revealed his secret past and showcased some serious action chops. The film was a surprise hit, made on a $16 million budget and grossing over $57.5 million worldwide. Critics loved it, with The Hollywood Reporter calling it “a wish-fulfillment romp just as ludicrous as any of them but more fun than most.” Sharon Stone's Villainous Debut Sharon Stone, a legend in her own right, joins the cast as the film’s main antagonist. Known for her breakout role in Basic Instinct and her Oscar-nominated performance in Casino, Stone is no stranger to intense and compelling characters. This time, she’s trading in her usual roles for something more sinister. Stone’s addition to the cast brings an extra layer of excitement and anticipation to the film. A Stellar Team Behind the Scenes Nobody 2 boasts an impressive team both in front of and behind the camera. Directed by Indonesian filmmaker Timo Tjahjanto, known for his work in horror and action films like May the Devil Take You, the movie promises to deliver intense action sequences. The screenplay is a collaboration between Derek Kolstad, Aaron Rabin, Bob Odenkirk, and Umair Aleem, ensuring a gripping and well-rounded story. The original film’s producing team returns, including Kelly McCormick and David Leitch through their Universal-based 87North production company. Marc Provissiero and Braden Aftergood are also on board, bringing their expertise to the table. Universal’s executive VP of production development, Jay Polidoro, and director of development, Tony Ducret, are overseeing the project. Sharon Stone: A Force On and Off the Screen Stone isn’t just known for her acting prowess. Her humanitarian efforts have earned her numerous accolades, including the United Nations Global Citizen Award and the Nobel Peace Summit Award. Recently, she was honored with a lifetime achievement award from the Taormina Film Festival. Stone continues to be a powerful force in Hollywood and beyond, using her platform for both entertainment and advocacy. What to Expect from Nobody 2 With Nobody 2, audiences can expect a thrilling blend of action, suspense, and top-tier performances. Bob Odenkirk’s return as Hutch Mansell promises more jaw-dropping fight scenes and heart-pounding moments. Sharon Stone’s villainous debut is set to add a fresh and exciting dynamic to the story. Under Tjahjanto’s direction, the film aims to surpass its predecessor with even more spectacular action sequences and a gripping narrative. Final Thoughts Nobody 2 is shaping up to be a must-watch action flick. With Bob Odenkirk back in action and Sharon Stone stepping into a villainous role, the film promises to deliver an unforgettable cinematic experience. Mark your calendars for August 15, 2025, because this is one summer blockbuster you won’t want to miss. Read the full article