#kohnshu

[soft-persephone]

When the Eclipse is Over the Sun still Shines CH.4

MDNI // Rating: E // WC: 4.4k // Warnings: descriptions of blood and gore, character wounds, grief, death, cunnilingus, biting, marking, unclarity of emotions (no one’s holding your hands to say what is toxic love or not) // Searching For Stardust // masterlist // ch. 1 // ch. 3 //

Marc uttered your name into the wind, unaware.

He made it onto your roof, opening the window with a clumsy urgency. It was a part of the new routine between you both.

Marc’s chest swelled with the thought.

There was a routine. The foolproof evidence that something was between you both. That you weren’t a figment of his imagination or an apparation that would soon disappear into a distant memory. A memory he’d hold onto with a death grip as he continued the rest of his life. Wondering if he would ever get as close to something as bright as you once more, before he closes his eyes for good.

After he was done doing Kohnshu’s bidding, each night he would find himself at your house. At the edge of the city, past the nearest humble farms and cottages, was a large fancy house, secluded from the world. What once was only your humble residence had now become his refuge.

The cluttered hole of his apartment that was littered with books and several little hiding spots filled with dangerous trinkets and artifacts of unknown origins, no longer felt like home.

On top of avoiding the little walls of his life, he was more than aware of his hogging of the body.

His alters had been scarce and he ignored his part in why that may be.

The ferocious guilt gnawed away at his every waking moment, ripping the flesh off his shoulders until the stray pieces of his skin and meat limped off of his body, ripping at him until they were jagged and ugly, leaving the bones to pop out at the seems of his bleeding skin. Stripping his soul into ugly fleshy bits until what was left was hardly recognizable, but what was left of him crawled its way to reach the sweet waters of salvation that was you, dutifully dragged his wounded maimed body by his arms.

Whether you washed over him in waves or he had to lap at the ground for the sparest of drops before they sunk into the dirt beyond his grasp of whatever you spared to give him, he’d do it again and again.

The silence in choice of a lack of words was still preferable, but he texted you that one time, and it didn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop.

You both were desperately grabbing at whatever scraps you offered one another. Filling in the gaps the silence left, amplifying whatever you two had into something brighter and more dangerous than what you had before. What once was a shared pit of darkness soon felt like a burning plight of emotion too strong to look at for more than a second.

You weren’t in your room.

Spilling out into the hallway with a stumble, cursing at one of Bane's stray toys on the floor, he began his search for you.

He heard the echoes of the ragged Batman doll’s owner in the halls and followed it.

Bane is never up this late.

Stumbling once more around the corner he found you intensely muttering back and forth with another man.

His brow furrowed deep into his forehead as he whispers harsh words into your face, barely an inch away from you.

He watched as your breath fanned accross his lashes, whispering back with just as much fervor. A frown dwarfing your features.

It would almost be cute if he wasn’t alarmed by who was in front of you.

His picture’s littered the walls. His closet still held all his belongings in place as if he never left. His favorite mug never strayed too far from your lips.

His wedding band was immortalized on the chain you never took off your neck.

You were having a lntense argument with the husband he thought, no, he knew was dead.

The grief inside of you that you wordlessly shared with him when he first met you, the grief in the words you texted him not too long ago, and the grief of a dog not sure when his other owner was coming back, was not a lie.

The man turned to look at him . His brow somehow furrowing further, followed by an eerie chill. You followed his gaze and your frown morphed into one of shock.

Emotion filled him. Overwhelming each and every sensation of his body, internal and external.

He didn’t hate you for whatever this is. He didn’t know if he would ever truly be able to do such a thing.

But he could walk over to you, regardless of how each step sent a shock up his spine and made his teeth shatter.

He grabs you, pulling you into him. He savors the smell of the soft plush vanilla and cashmere that swallowed your skin. The familiar softness of your lips he would never soon forget. How you fisted your hands into the threads of suit before it faded away. Letting the soft warm feeling of your palms rest on his flesh.

Moaning, he leaned into your touch, chasing for more, for you.

“Marc.”

He froze, your voice wet and wavering.

What had he done wrong?

Pulling away from you, for just a moment, is the only time he began to notice the blood, How it smeared your face and your clothes. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, everything turned black.

-

“This is Marc?” Luke’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, making the lines of his forehead wrinkle in aghast.

You carefully dragged Marc into the nearest bathroom with the help of your not so dead husband.

“Like your one to talk,” you both began stripping his clothes before turning the faucet on, “how many times did I have to piece you together?”

He slammed a random counter shut and handed you the first aid kit. He placed it in front of you from behind. His arms wrapping around you in quick succession. The warmth of his breath fanning across your neck as he tentatively watched you work, grounded you.

If He weren’t here, you'd be a frantic mess. Tears would blur your vision and you never would have managed to stop it in time. You could ony asume the worst for such a situation.

“Yeah, but those were good times.” The chuckle that vibrated from his chest onto your back filled you with a huff of amusement of your own.

He placed a bit of your hair onto the other side of your head out of the way as you slowly pulled the needle in and out of Marc’s skin. There was a nasty cut on his low right side, and you still had to take a look at the one underneath his collar on the left.

“You liked patching me up.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hide your smile, but you failed miserably.

‘Yeah,” he smiled, scooting even closer to you on the floor, causing you to feel the corners of his lips pulling up into the skin of your cheek, his beard tickling you which made you laugh even more, “you did.”

“Stop,’ you laughed, “Im concentrating.”

“You fucking loved it.”

You softly head butted him in the chest. “Help me wrap this gauze around him incase he bleeds again.”

How exactly Luke was able to come back into your life in these rare moments, he wouldn’t tell you.

But you always had a feeling that he was somehow here sometimes, watching you.

Glimpses of him in the mirror every now and then, whispers of his voice in the wind right before you left the house and closed the door behind you, the way Bane would bark at his favorite seat, often times refusing to let people sit in the chair alltogtether. How he would sometimes pad around the house, barking everynow and then like someone was talking to him.

You had a feeling, but you would never utter a word about it to anyone.

On the rare days like this one, he would appear. You could touch him, feel him, and smell him. Like he had never left at all. Three years of grief, and he was back like nothing had happned.

You were joyous, but he had his reservations.

He had seen the process of your grief, and he wanted nothing more than for you to be happy. He wanted you to follow the advice of your loved ones who pushed you to move on to go on dates, to do things the right way.

However, you know how he actually felt.

You know how he really felt in the moments when you could actually see and touch him. How it made you both feel.

It was easy too.

All the conversation that once had their end, now had a sequel. All those meals that he made for you, that you could never recreate, that you could never get quite right on you own, could now be eaten again and again to your heart's content.

What you once missed now became what you waited for.

You didn’t have to miss how he’d wrap his hands around you as you washed dishes. How he wouldn’t unwrap his arms from you as you walked along the house. You could repeat once more the joke of how he once hated being too touchy. How he used to be slightly annoyed with how clingy you were, but he now would never let you go.

You didn’t have to miss watching Luke play with Bane one more time before inevitably putting him to bed. He’d put up a good fight for as long as he coulduld get away with it, but Luke would firmly say enough is enough, and he’d finally settle into his little bed before they called him a good boy and ggive him his last pats and kisses of the night.

You didn’t have to miss showering together. However this time was different as you both washed away Marc’s blood from your bodies.

He carressed your skin gently. Slowly whipping the net sponge across your skin as he methodically kissed the expanse of your neck, trailing them up along your collar, cherishing the feeling of your skin beneath his lps before he disappears once more.

You turned and scrubbed at his chest, and he in turn kissed you on the forehead. You smiled up at him. His broadroad shoulders blocked the spray of the shower head, so your hair wouldn’t get wet.

“I just want you to be happy “ he gripped your jaw in his hand before pulling you in for a wet kiss. “I don’t really like him for you, but you’re an adult and my opinion ultimately doesn’t matter. You're free to do what you want.”

You averted your eyes from his. Avoiding the weight of his stare and the heaviness of his tone as he graveled lowly at you, the sound of it filled your stomach with butterflies and not the good kind you usually felt when he talked so low in your face.

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly but infliction in his voice caused the volume of it to raise higher, but his voice was so deep that it only made him sound gravelier, deeper even. The low dulcet tone rang loud in your rears, bouncing around in your brain. How you wished he spoke to you like this under differnt circumstances.

You rolled back and forth on your heels and toes.

“Look at me.” He said firmly, tightening his grip on you.

“If you can’t answer that question with a yes straight away, I don’t want you with them.” he paused, redjusting his grip into simeethign more gentle bust just as firm. “Is that too much to ask?” He looked into your eyes for reassurance and answer, anything.

“I.. I don’t know the answer.”

He pursed his lips and let you go, crossing his arms, but he didn’t move away from you, staying near you.

“But. . . I know,” you breathed sharply through your nose to keep your composure. “I know. . . I can’t not have him near me. I know I need him.”

He nodded, but he didn’t unpurse his lips.

Placing each hand on your shoulders and rubbing warmth into you, he sighed.

“I don’t like that answer.”

You leaned into him, placing your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you.

“What do you think about your relationship with him? What do you even call it?”

“I don’t know,” you closed your eyes, “we don’t talk.”

The water no longer warm anymore, he turned it off while he kept one arm around you before grabbing a towel and patting you both dry before wrapping it around his waist before you both headed to the bedroom.

He laid you down into the bed and followed suit with a small pump container of oil, you watched as his jaw tensed so tight, a vein peaked out of his neck. He breathed sharply through his nose a few times before he started rubbing you down.

No matter how you both spent the day when he appeared out of nowhere, they always ended the same. After a shower he longed to recommit every inch of your body to memory. At first you through it was for him, but you soon learned it was for you.

That it was all for you.

It was a small memory for you to hold onto. For you to carry with you, so that when the grief comes circling back. That when the reality of the situation shakes you to your core and rattles your bones and starts eating away at the pieces of you that you worked so hard to get back, you would have something to remember him by.

You could remember how his very large and beautiful and warm hands would caress every nook and cranny of your skin. How they felt on you. How each swipe, squeeze, tug and kneed of your flesh comforted you into a hazy cocoon of safety and love.

Even now, as he was irritated with you.

In your younger years you both would have exploaded.

Every harsh word and thought would be uttered, and you both would separate for the day, stewing in your emotions before falling back into one another with soft words and apologies that turned into compromises or a solution, but as you aged with one another, learned every unspoken word and movement , and what that meant.

Yelling at one another lost its appeal and was replaced with little gestures and words with clenched teeth. Harsh whispers, but open honest communication.

You both somehow learned to be angry with one another without the horrible consequences, but neither of you could take credit. It was all up to his therapist that eventually thought it would be a good idea for you to come with him sometimes.

“What do you mean you don’t talk?” He leaned over you, about to put the bottle back on the nightstand, but you took it from him to give him the same treatment he had given you. It was only so you could have something to do with your hands.

You ran your hands through his hair, savoring how soft his loose curls were before, kneading the oil into his shoulders. The soft smell of vanilla was filling the room.

“We. . .” You lost track at his chest. Savoring the scratch of the patch of hair on your hands “we met and looked at one another. Like really looked at one another, and we didn’t really say anything to each other and it just worked.”

You fiddled with your hands on his chest. He stilled your hands with his. Holding them firmly against his chest as if to tattoo the imprint of them into his skin.

“And how exactly did you meet him and decide with one look you two would just, I don’t know, have something without talking to one another?”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

He laughed and maneuvered you sideways, so you could comfortably lay back into his chest. He propped up his head with a bent elbow. “Haha, your so funny.”

“He’s, like a Superhero or something?” you narrowed your eyes at him as he laughed. “Well he’s too bloody to be an avenger.”

You slapped his chest with the back of your hand.

“He saved my life.”

“You almost died!”

“I’ve told you I’ve almost died like a thousand times!”

“You did not say it was under Superhero conditions! A fact you consequently left out not only because of how you’d know I’d react to you almost dying, but also about this mysterious new guy I’ve been seeing that’s so hot and so amazing! I think he’s really helping me move forward for once.” He mocked you at the end.

His hand slowly moved up and down your chest. You wanted to focus on the conversation, but his thumb circled lightly at the swell of your breast.

“Well— I—“ you cried out sharply and arched your back, keening into his touch.

He swallowed the sounds coming out of you with a seal of his lips. They were warm, hot, and demanding.

He moved his mouth to your neck, sucking harshly at your skin before biting down. You scratched your nails along his back, pulling him into you.

Once he was sure that your skin would hold the mark of his mouth for more than a day or two, he relented, rewarding you with shoving your head down harshly with the palm of his hand as he positioned himself behind you.

“Is that what you want?” He slid himself into with one harsh thrust, knowing that you’d be more than just wet for him. “Is that what Marc gives you when I’m away?”

He ended his sermon with a succession of brutal harsh movements. With each one you fluttered around him, squeezing him in as your teeth clenched together.

“He’s… gentle.” You whined through yourteeth.

He smacked your ass before moving his hand to the back of your throat, squeezing tight.

“You don’t need gentle. I’ve given you plenty of that when we were younger.”

You opened your mouth in a silent moan. You could no longer comprehend the feeling of him gliding in and out of you. Only a mind numbing pleasure that swaddled every bit of your flesh, seeping out of your pores.

“You're spoiled.” You tightened around him. “You get everything you want and somehow find it in you to—“ he choked up. “To always ask for more.”

“And I. Give. It. To. You.” He punctuated each word with an even harsher thrust of his hips.

Fisting the sheets, you came around him with a moan and he only thrust into you faster. Giving you everything and more. Just as he’s always done.

He ripped you open and poured into you, giving you everything.

You did the same. Turning over and scratching into his skin, marking him as you mouthed at him relentlessly, burning yourself into him as he imprinted a bruise of his entire body into yours. It was in the varying teeth marks that littered about your body, the bone shattering ache of him inside you that was sure to stay for weeks, the soft scratches of his beard littered around your neck and chest.

You both took and gave until there was nothing left. Until you both could only pant into one another's skin. You savored the warmth that radiated from him, from his body, his hands wrapped around you, and the low breath that fanned your neck.

Closing your eyes you held onto the feeling, the moment, because when you opened them again, it would be gone.

-

Marc stirred awake in silence.

Briskly throwing his body into an upright position, holding a groan through gritted teeth.

He looked down at his bandaged body with a frown.

You did a good job.

How?

He pushed away the uncomfortable thoughts as he meandered through the halls of your home with trepidation. The first few rays of sunshine were still at bay, but they would make their presence known soon.

He had to find you before then. He had to know. He just had to.

If you were this focused on the true matters at hand, you wouldn’t be in this predicament.

Marc ignored Khonshu as he finally made it toward your bedroom.

His bare feet pattered softly on the warm wooden floors that should have been cold.

You had money, so of course they weren’t.

Of course you spend money on heated floors to go with your picture perfect estate or mansion or whatever the fuck it was. Your home was larger than life. Your. . . your husband was a part of that.

He was everywhere. He always had been.

But it didn’t matter. It never did.

On the nights you both found your solace away from the creepy crawlies that hid in the shadows and away from the darkest corners of yourselves, your husband’s sweater hanging off your shoulders, it didn’t matter.

When he’d wrap his arms around your waist before turning you around and slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you over and over again. He would slide his fingers into yours and place your husband’s favorite coffee mug onto the counter before lifting your legs around his waist and carrying you to your bedroom.

It didn’t matter on the times you would ride him and his wedding band would dangle above his nose as you cried out to him.

It did matter that sometimes as you’d lay into one another in a blissful bubble of silence away from the rest of the world, he’d twirl the ring you sometimes wore onto your thumb. It barely fit, so you had to clench your fist to keep it from tumbling onto the ground. Which was why on those days he knew you had never left your house.

Even now as he watched your chest slowly rise and fall as you were curled into a half circle like the moon, you were still laying in bed as if your husband's arms were wrapped around you. The mattress showed a dent of a body that once was but no more.

You slept peacefully save for the furrowing of your brow.

Perhaps you could feel his absence in your dreams.

Licking his lips, Marc placed his knee onto the foot of the bed and crawled his way over to you. Just as he wanted to last night.

Your eyes immediately opened. You kept your head towards him, but he couldn’t help the pain that shot through his chest as your hands searched the sides of the bed, throwing the covers in the process.

“Marc.” His name was wet and heavy in your mouth. Full of things you wanted to say and things you couldn’t.

It was too much. He didn’t want either.

So he placed his hands on either side of you and sealed your lips with his. As his mouth seared across yours, he swallowed your silent tears and your even quieter cries of pain, swallowing them down with his own.

When he pulled away from you for just a moment to rip the foreign sweatpants from his body, his heart swelled at the sight of your naked one.

Your swollen lips, the marks of teeth on you, above the collar of your neck, the one around the swell of your breast, your equally swollen and irritated nipples.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

His cheek was wet.

It was one of your tears, had to be.

He ignored it as he placed his mouth above the mark on your neck, making sure you hiss and wince as he swiped it with his tongue. Your nails dug into his skin as he started to suck on it. Trying to push him away from it, you made a strange sound, and he moved to kiss you again.

Chasing you, whatever was left.

You were never his. Not truly, and he was okay with that, or at least he thought he was.

But that was before the shadow of a man was revealed to be a complete one. He could compete with a memory, but the real living and breathing thing?

The fear of what that held consumed him, so instead of wallowing that, he focused on consuming you.

You made him feel whole, but that didn’t mean he still wasn’t the loose fleshy strings of a being that once resembled a man.

So he took what was left of him and placed one of your legs above his shoulders as he laid on his belly.

He moved to kiss you on your thigh the way he knows you like, but he froze, taken back by the littering of teeth marks that lay there.

Blinking, one, two times, without thinking, he placed his tongue, wet and hard, across the deep indentations of teeth before slowly following with the rest of his mouth letting the full plush of his lips wrap around the soft plump skin of your inner thigh.

Your back arched as you made a strangled cry and he pulled back, smiling to himself. It was bitter and crooked.

He wanted to be gentle, but he heard you hiss sharply as he separated your folds with two of his fingers. Wet, swollen, and raw with evidence of another man, you still had a pretty pussy.

He placed a similar slow kiss onto you, giving you everything. Something.

As he greedily memorized the taste of your lips, he ignored the forlorn feeling that rose higher and higher in the deep pit of his belly.

The bright light of what you two had didn’t feel so bright anymore, and he didn’t know why. He wanted to ignore it but he couldn’t. Everything was different.

Your hand fisted into his hair and he buried himself within you more, plunging two fingers deep as if he could pull all the things he felt about you out as if he could become a part of it.

Your hand pulled at his curls even harder, your cries were muffled against his ears because of how your thighs clamped tightly around him.

“Marc.” You strangled out his name once more through a moan.

He plunged another finger in, pushing deeper into you to drive you over the edge, deeper to give you everything you needed, deeper to shut you up.

His revelation complete, you came in his mouth and around his fingers.

Things were different, but you two still needed something from each other. He couldn’t define just what that is or how exactly, but burying his face within you was enough for now. He could do that, but he couldn’t talk to you. Not yet.

Talking was still too much for him.

@megamindsecretlair @nerdieforpedro @venusintheblindspots-blog @notapradagurl7

@sirenaluna @gardenof-venus

Thank you for reading!! Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next one!!

[findyourrp]

hey!! 18m looking for someone 18+ to rp against my god!oc. he's usually from marvel, similar to the way kohnshu or Thor are gods with physical beings. but I can totally bend him for most fandoms! I'm down for any sort of plot! my current fandoms are marvel, moonknight, eternals, Spiderman, black panther wakanda forever, to be more specific, DC, superman, Batman. honestly the list goes on! just ask or send me your list! I rp on discord and plot on tumblr so like this and I'll reachout! ❤

.

[titanus-horizio]

Fun fact about Ghidorah: when speaking to horizio he has a voice.....

He has a relationship kinda like kohnshu and Marc before he is set loose....

Now, Ghidorah will act similar to how he was in King Of The Monsters, so he will be intimidating with a little bit of a comedic edge to him,I think you guys will enjoy who I have in my head voicing him and how I'm gonna handle King

Ghidorah

Ghidorah

Ghidorah

[joseizquierdophotography]

As get ready for Anime NYC this weekend here are some of my favorite shots from #NYCC2022 Bookings for #AnimeNYC 2022 are closing this Thursday. Save your spot DM for price and availability. 📸🔥from: @newyorkcomiccon October 2021 (Saturday) Check my YouTube channel for great video clips and behind the scenes content and hit the Like and Subscribe button (link in bio). ——————————————————————————— Cosplayer: • @albertmunoz626 ——————————————————————————— #photooftheday #instafamous #instagreat #portraitphotography #nyc #newyork #nycstreetphotography #photoshoot #joseizquierdophotography #jip #portaitsnyc #photooftheday #sonyphotography #cosplayersofinstagram #cosplayphotography #cosplayphotographer #cosplay #cosplaymakeup #cosplaymodel #cosplaysupplies #marvel #dccomics #nycc #nycc2021 #newyorkcomiccon #animenyc2022 #moonknight #kohnshu (at New York Comic Con) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClALbKfDaFB/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[onebadwinter]

As they continued Marc mentally felt his entire mental stamina start to drain, Steven commenting on it. Mostly he just wanted to drink in silence while shutting his mind off for the most part. But, he could deal with this, for the time being. Lifting his head a bit, he looked over toward the man, they did it again, he noticed. Narrowing his eyes on the other a bit, he observes them.

"Oh great. I'd probably have no idea what to do with myself if I were an a national threat." He'd probably just, kill a bunch of people if they went after him. To be honest. But, maybe he was a little overestimating some factors here. Marc brought his drink up to his lips, drinking from the glass then as the other's words circulated through his thoughts. Then placed the the cup back down, sucking on his teeth a bit "Must be doing something right."

Though he would say that his curiosity was more to do with the fact that he couldn't remember at times what was going on in his personal life, to keep up with whether he was or was not a national threat. He hadn't done anything to his knowledge, yet. To become one, good. He nodded "Yeah." He liked to check, just because, someone might. They might also be fooled enough with some remote familiarity to him to actually give him money, not ever having owed any in the first place.

"Yeah. A lot of people owe me money." He lied, amused by himself. Leaning back a bit then, he shifted, getting a better look at his new acquaintance, telling they wouldn't be going away tonight, he might as well settle in "Yeah. They do." Marc lies again. Shrugging he turned slightly "Not particularly, no. It's not exactly been easy on my life." Not with Kohnshu or his mother, and certainly not with his father. It's been a source of strain "What about you, why do you find it fascinating?"

Q nodded quickly, far too enthusastic for the whole situation but it was nice to meet someone who would actually talk to them about this. Since speaking to anyone from work - which was everyone else he knew - would just end up in M finding out and a visit to their doctor.

"Hmm... No, I don't think so. Not one that his department would deal with anyway. You're definitely a threat, just not on a national scale." Marcus chuckled as he picked up his scotch and took a sip, wondering how Q would react to alcohol in a situation like this. Probably best to keep it under control. Q spun the glass on the bar once he was back in control, the quick changes from almost a decade of swapping back and forth in their own home. It was fun to do it while out.

"Owe you money..?" The question seemed to take Q back, unsure if he'd ever borrowed money in his whole existence. "I don't think so. We haven't met before. I haven't met Steven either- I don't know... I don't really remember faces unless they're my job to keep safe." He considered. "Do a lot of people owe you money? Seems like a bad idea, lending money-" He sipped the scotch again. "Genuinely just curious. Are you not curious about other people who are similar to you?"

[dumbgothbunny]

Steven falling for a cute goth woman who wanders into his gift shop.

Marc doesn’t mind the skirts and fishnets, and the black dresses you wear? Delicious. and he can’t believe Steven would pick out someone with this aesthetic, but it’s kinda hot?

She’s not safe when Jake is around. He can and will dominate her the moment he sees her flesh covered by stockings of any kind. And the black lipstick? It kills him.

Kohnshu finds it at least agreeable that they’re with someone who is familiar with the artes- not that they know that yet - and actually feels /something/ possessive within him when he sees that shes been reading up on him. Had said “woah that’s bad ass. He’s quite a handsome man” to Steven in order to tease him. It also didn’t go unnoticed to him she started wearing a small silver bird skull charm around her neck after that day.

[bestwitchsam]

Moonknight Episode 3 Openning Scenes

#MoonKnight

[sarah9531]

Kohnshu is like a street peddler and Steven the gullible tourist. He's just spent half an hour bartering, got half the price off and now is walking away feeling smug. Kohnshu is lamenting how he is going to go bankrupt while laughing on the inside, because the item is three times overpriced and he is still raking in profit. Idiot worm.

[rantswithhannah]

moon knight finale spoilers

okay I loved the moon knight finale - but I'm kind of confused... what was the meaning of the Putnam asylum scenes with dr. harrow??? Because there were such sudden cuts between those scenes and reality (and especially in episode 5, they were basically seamless transitions from marc/Steven talking to dr. harrow, and walking through tawaret's ship), I still don't get how it links into reality.

can anyone just give me theories/explanations?

[weirdhappycigarette]

best marvel show thus far 10/10

[dragon-kazansky]

Fuck you, Khonshu

Gender neutral reader

For @askmarinaandothers because this would totally be us 😂

This fic is for humour purposes and isn't meant to be taken seriously to the plot.

You're cool, murder bird

♡♡♡

"Khonshu?"

"Yeah..."

"And he's a big bird man Egyptian god that wants you to give control this dude Marc who lives in your head?"

"That's the gist of it, bit more complicated, but yeah."

"And he wanted you to kill someone?"

"Yep."

You nod slowly, trying to understand what Steven had told you. He had spent the last hour going through everything he was suffering with.

He trusted you.

You trusted him.

You believed him.

"Is he here now?"

Steven shifted his gaze around and then returned to you. He nodded slowly.

"Where?"

"Up there," he points in a lazy manner to the rooftops of the chapel behind you. You turn, looking up knowing you won't actually be able to see him.

"Still there?"

"Yes."

You stand up, turn your whole body toward the chapel roof and raise your hand.

"What are they doing?" Kohnshu asks.

He doesn't get a reply from Steven, who is just watching you. He has to bite back bursting into laughter as you stick your middle finger up in the general direction of where Kohnshu is perched.

"The bird for the bird man!" You declare.

"KILL THEM STEVEN!"

Steven gives in and bursts into laughter.

"Is he offended?"

"Definitely."

"FUCK YOU, KHONSHU!"

For whatever reason you leg it. Steven gets up and runs after you, laughing as he goes.

Khonshu is left seething.

He doesn't like you very much.

[dumbgothbunny]

Just wanna read about Kohnshu fucking the reader on his Alter , deeper back in the temple where Marc met him. The skylight is positioned just over large slab of gold, adorned with fine silks and sheer linens that somehow don’t look at all like they’ve been here for thousands of years. As he relentlessly takes you, a full red moon is the only light (besides a few candles burning) showering the two of you with dull moonlight from above.

[cosmicskittlez]

Wait dude this might be off but Steven and Layla are so damn similar in interest but opposites in personality and Marc is so damn intent on not only protecting them but willing to give his life for them in multiple different ways. But both relationships are inherently strained cause of the distance he keeps between himself and his loved ones for protection. But maybe now he can see and learn that they're both capable it'll start to lower those needs to protect and stop that isolation he keeps himself in. Unless Kohnshu does shit, which seems likely

[the-feral-and-unhinged-coyote]

𝓓𝓾𝓪𝓽~ 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓔𝓰𝔂𝓹𝓽𝓲𝓪𝓷 𝓶𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝔂

 So, here's more ideas....

So when I Previously said that Anubis isn't around when she needs him it's because he's in the Duat.  So, I know that mummification and all that is a lost art. But, what if during the rise of Ammit's cult there are more souls that need to be weighed. Like the people that were deemed worthy by Harrow that passed due to natural causes?

What if the only was she can contact him when he's there is to like....you know. Kill herself..So being the avatar of Anubis she shows up on his boat to find him.  Obviously she isn't really dead, cause he can send her back.

Maybe she can't really die during a fight so she's almost immortal.

{Side idea: What is he has her heart, like he uses it as motivation for her do what he wants, like Kohnshu making Marc obey him or he'll pick Layla as his next avatar? Not sure that's a little dark and weird lol}

So, what if her wounds never leave a mark, so she can get cut but she's like Wolverine. But when she shows up in the Duat her skin looks like:

{Like this but gold}

So like all her scar turn into gold Egyptian/ geometric designs on her skin. So when she meets the soul who's heart is being weighed they think her skin is pretty? But what the designs represent isn't pretty.

What if when she fights she has the ability to reach in the opponents chest and grab their heart.

She then internally "weighs" it and deems it unworthy, she crushes it and it turns to black ash!?

{Similar to this but ash and she actually crushes it- also the heart would be dripping}

So the heart should be bloody and as she crushes it, slowly the blood turns to ash or black sand.

So after she vanishes into the knight there would be like dead tomb raiders missing their hearts abandoned in the desert somewhere.

Authors Note

Comment your thoughts and ideas I would love to hear what you guys think!

Also comment what else you want to hear about Iris Hart. I was thinking about making one-shots! Any Ideas?

[trickarrows-bishop]

Kohnshu: Marc is banned from decaf the rest of this adventure

[shadystarlightgentlemen]

OK SO

First I’d like to say

MAJOR MOON KNIGHT SPOILERS IF YOU HAVENT SEEN THE 6TH EPISODE OR THE SHOW IN GENERAL YOU WILL NOT UNDERSTAND SHIT

Anyway

HOLY FUCKING SHIT IM SO GLAD STEVEN AND MARC WERE ABLE TO STAY TOGETHER AFTER STEVEN TURNED TO STONE AND MARC SACRIFICED HIMSELF TO GET STEVEN BACK SUCH A BROTHER MOMENT! AND IM SO GOD DAMN HAPPY JAKE FINALLY GOT SCREEN TIME THAT WITHOUT A DOUBT PROVES HE EXISTS NOT JUST SOME BLACKOUTS AND THE ASYLUM SCENE. I WANNA KNOW HOW TF HE GOT OUT OF THE TOMB THOUGH CAUSE HE DIED WITH STEVEN AND MARC BUT THEY DIDNT RELEASE WHILE THEY WERE WALKING TOWARD THE EXIT. THEY JUST KINDA SAID “Oh is that another tomb, yk like the one I just pulled Steven out of, one of my alters? Probably nothing.” LIKE?? I LOVE THE WAY HE SHOWED UP THOUGH, IT WAS HOT, IT WAS UNEXPECTED, AND MY GOD HE SPEAKS SPANISH!! HE DIDNT HAVE A CAB LIKE THE COMICS BUT HE HAS A LIMOUSINE MEANING MARC, JAKE, OR STEVEN HAVE THE MONEY FOR THAT AND SUGGESTING THAT HARROW WAS IN THERE FOR A LONG TOME BASED IN HOW HE ACTED, IT HAD BEEN A LITTLE WHILE SINCE THE FIGHT AND BASED IN HOW KOHNSHU WAS DRESS, LIKE THE COMICS, ITS SAFE TO ASUME THAT STEVEN WAS THE ONE WHO BOUGHT IT BECAUSE IN THE COMICS HE WAS THE RICH ONE FUNDING MARCS’S ESCAPADES, HE WAS LIKE MOON KNIGHT’S BRUCE WAYNE. LAYLA WAS FUCKING COOL WHEN SHE BECAME AN AVITAR LIKE HOLY SHIT SHE WAS LIKE WONDER WOMAN BUT BETTER. I LOVED HER OUTFIT I LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT HER! I KEPT SCREAMING “BEAT HIS ASS LAYLA GASLIGHT GATEKEEPER GIRLBOSS THAT SHIT!!”

I AM SO GOD DAMN EXCITED I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO SATISFIED BY A MARVEL MOVIE/SHOW IN SO LONG