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Primary Blog / 18+ only please, no minorsI'm using for my nonsense, art & updates on fics I write.~ All my writing is on my other blogs~ I used to post crackship gifs & images that I sometimes made for friends, feel free to use!
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~ Moderator Spotlight ~
Everyone meet Melody Gates!
Project Manager, Lead Moderator, Graphic Designer, Art/Writing Moderator, Writing Contributor and Art Contributor
She's been writing for the Oscar Isaac fandom since 2022 and is the founder of the Oscar Isaac Collective! Their favorite Oscar character is Jake Lockley, and her cafe beverage of choice is a hot white mocha.
"Spearheading this project, the Coffee & Cream Digital Fanzines, isn't something I thought I'd be doing when I first dipped my toes into the fandom. I'm more excited than ever to be putting together such a memorable project with so many of my close friends and fellow mutuals within the fandom that brought us all together. It might be only for us, but this feels a little like fandom history in the making (not to sound cocky lol, I'm just excited)." - Melly <3
You can find Melody Gates here on Tumblr @melodygatesauthor and on Archive Of Our Own
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New Profile Pic, who dis?
I got this new profile pic commissioned through E-Sims for Gaza!
How bloody talented is Kristin?! Pretty art and for a good cause 🥰
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I woke up to this comment on my fic Jake's POV: Uncomplicated
HOW FREAKING SWEET WERE THEY 😭
If you needed a sign to comment on someone's fic and make their day/week/month/year, do itttt
I'm slow but I always try to pay it forward and leave the good vibes in other places. Feel free to recommend me any of your MK reads!
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End blood quantum now
Blood quantum is how much native blood you have in you and it needs to be a certain threshold to qualify you as a tribal member. Blood quantum varies from tribe to tribe.
It means my mom is a tribal member but because my dad is outside of my tribe... I don't have enough tribal blood to enroll. Neither does my daughter. Our "official" indigeneity ended with me.
My dad is still native tho. Just southern native. Others have two parents enrolled in separate tribes and can't enroll in either one despite being Full native because their parents were mixed with other tribes so they don't have enough blood of Any tribe to qualify.
And to what end are they doing this?
Under the treaties the US govt can lay no claim to native land. So how do they fix that? Get rid of the natives, of course.
And since they can't slaughter us in broad daylight anymore they did the next best thing. What the colonial government has ALWAYS done to us and other poc.
Made up a bunch of arbitrary laws to restrain and limit our power and numbers.
And this can't continue. We are the only race who needs to apply to be part of the community we were born into. The only race who needs to prove our blood.
And that's the thing: it's not even based on blood. Racist scientists defined who was a full-blooded native based on things like shoe size, head circumference, and skin pigment.
Not blood. And besides that it wasn't uncommon for outsiders to become part of a tribe!! You didn't need to be native by blood to be native! Blood quantum has made it IMPOSSIBLE for them to qualify and made it impossible for tribes to practice that long time aspect of our culture.
So please share this post. So many people legitimately think natives are extinct and even less are aware that we do more than just sit around drinking all day. Few people have good feelings about us and within that there are a few who actively help. Please be one of those few.
We need support and allies and for our voices to be heard. Please don't let this post just be me screaming into a void. We need people to know what blood quantum is, how archaic and harmful it is, and to help us spread awareness to people who otherwise would ignore us. Use your privilege.
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The Magicians: When the Fire Goes Out
I realized, I don't think I've ever shared this old fic on here. It's my most liked and bookmarked fic on AO3. Has a special place in my heart as one of my favorites to write. I have the biggest soft spot for the lil family vibes that it had going on.
AND IT HAS A SONG. So yeah, enjoy! 🔥
Pairing: Quentin Coldwater x Eliot Waugh (MxM)
Summary: Eliot stopped and scooped up the little boy to rest him on his hip in one arm. He was starting to get just a little too big for being carried and Eliot knew there would come a day they wouldn’t be able to pick him up anymore. But that day wasn’t going to be it. Explores the themes of grief, family dynamics, and healthy established relationships.
3.9k words / Canon Compliant / Mosaic Timeline
Get out on your own
Be somebody now
This came up out of nowhere
Guess I gotta go
Let’s cut to the chase
Stuck in this place for good
When I’m with you in here
It doesn’t seem so bad
Bon Voyage - Arbi, Koethe
---
Eliot should have been relieved to get through another winter in Fillory, the cold was particularly unbearable within their shanty little cabin, but nothing about this coming summer felt right without Arielle.
The community came together, a little more than a dozen people cuddled on logs near the fire in her memory, garnishing the flickered flames with items that held a personal connection to her. She’d passed unexpectedly and they’d held a memorial for her in the village just a few days after burying her.
For Eliot, his personal item to burn came in the form of a long decorative sash. He’d spent too many years arguing with Arielle over differing styles and attempting to impose their tastes over one another. It was their longest conflict.
Arielle had won, obviously, but not entirely because she’d gotten one over him by dying. They’d always joked that would have been the case, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth to think about. He’d genuinely started to like her style.
He thought about Margo constantly and what she might have said or done differently. No one could have ever replaced his Bambi. He missed her more than he’d ever say. But at least Arielle was a good person to be around. He felt he’d become a better person because of her, or at least one not so heavily reliant on alcohol or drugs. She’d been the one to teach him to sew and had shown him how to dye fabrics in colors not even Earth could recreate.
As thanks, he’d make her things she’d have no choice but to wear. Boasting about his taste in fashion and how perfectly it could have worked if they hadn’t been living in the backwards lands of Fillory. The sash had been one of the first things he’d made that she’d actually kept using. She’d told him it was so ugly that it somehow made it cute. He feigned offence and it became one of their longest-running jokes.
Quentin tossed a peach into the fire, it was the only other item he had on him. The other was a small teddy that Arielle had made while pregnant with their first. A little brown Cozy Horse, much too small to be the real deal but it was from one of her favorite Fillorian tales. Too valuable to burn.
The sleeping boy curled up in Q’s lap held the teddy in a vice grip. He hadn’t let it out of his sight ever since she’d gone.
“Why hadn’t more of the world known about her?” Q’s voice was low, too tired to cry anymore, but the raw pain of it was there all the same. Eliot was beside him. He’d been staring off into the fire and watching the fruit simmer and burn.
“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want that? Her world was always you and Ted.”
“And you,” Q corrected.
“And me,” he agreed.
Eliot looked back to him and reached out to stroke through the snoozing boy's hair. It was soft and pale in the low light of the flickering flames, as blonde as Arielle's had been. He couldn’t see them now, but he already knew if Ted opened his eyes he’d see splashes of her colors mixed in with those familiar browns.
This was going to be a harder life for the boy without his mother there. Eliot wished he could carry all that pain for him. Leave the burdens of the world on his own shoulders. The boy was too young to fully understand, but he’d soon come to learn she wasn’t coming back. Quentin brought him out of his thoughts when the silence was broken again.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this without her El.”
“Take it one day at a time. Plus, you aren’t going to be doing this alone. Promise you’ll never be alone.”
Quentin leaned on him, Eliot pressed his cheek against the top of his head.
“I wish I could get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t think I want to.”
“Q, can I tell you a secret? For a while, all you’re going to do is float. You’re going to try and stay alive for something other than yourself. And those waves of grief and pain never stop coming, but somehow, you don’t really want them to. They’re a testament to all the love you’ve ever felt and can feel. This pain will pass and the edges of it won’t be as sharp each time it comes back.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Well you know me, I’m always right.”
“Not always.”
“Mhm. Okay, not always. Just most of the time.”
Eliot reached out to pat the top of his thigh. They pulled back and shared a sad smile. The conversation between them was overseen by the crackle of the fire raising up when another item was added by someone else. The others returned to their logs. Voices talking amongst each other, low and soft.
Eventually, they all left too. Leaving the quiet grieving family alone with the dying fire. The night was beautifully tragic. Eliot knew he’d always remember this moment, though he wished he wouldn’t. It was one of the more painful highlights of his life.
---
“Ted.” The voice patient but repeating the same thing for the millionth time that day was beginning to wear. Eliot glanced up from his spot in one corner of the mosaic and watched the young boy standing out past the treeline.
His stubborn little body barely visible past the wards and through the bramble and foliage. Quentin hadn’t moved, but he was watching the boy like a hawk.
“Hey, that’s too far and you know that. Stay where we can see you. It’ll be dark soon.”
“No!” Silence, Quentin gave him a second to think about it. Eliot raised an eyebrow and looked to Q, they knew what was coming. Ted was starting up again. “No dada, no!”
The little boy didn’t dare move from the spot he’d been caught in. Glued in place by his father's words. His grip tightened around the long stick he’d been holding, just so he could wave it aggressively in Quentin’s direction. The other arm wrapped protectively around a tattered brown Cozy Horse, holding it close to his chest. He let out a frustrated growl in the process.
Ted had been testing boundaries all day. Getting him to help or play near the tiles for the evening after an eventful dinner was next to impossible. No doubt going to bed would be the same. On days like this he’d get the passing thought of using his magic on him. Arielle would never have approved.
Eliot had watched the buildup happen all day, as much as it killed him not to intervene, he quietly watched on again. It was always a balance between who dealt with what. When Ted was first born Eliot didn’t have the slightest clue of what to do, but all that seemed to come so naturally for Quentin.
“I’m not going to ask again. Move back in the warded area by yourself or I’ll come get you.”
“No! I hate you! No! I wanna go see mama!”
Quentin let out a sigh and moved to get up. In the same moment, Teddy beelined off through the trees at full speed. Eliot shook his head and got up, shaking the dirt and dust from his favorite pillow. Q had already set off with speed into the treeline after the now-screeching toddler.
He moved to another corner of the mosaic where the sunset was always particularly beautiful, through the treeline only the sound of one very unhappy child could be heard. Eliot dropped his pillow beside the pile of others and dropped back down to make himself look busy.
It didn’t take long before a panting Quentin made it out the treeline victorious with a squirming red-faced boy fighting his arms. “NOOO” a sob pitched out loudly from the boy's tiny fighting lungs.
The stick was long gone but the horse remained flung about in his flailing little arms. Ted had decided to wake up and choose violence for the day. Absolutely nothing could please him. He got a pass, he was still trying to understand what his emotions meant. Eliot had been learning a whole lot more about that himself.
He could see Quentin's face a mixture of patience, pain, and grief. His eyes said it all, trying his best to stay silent about his own inner turmoil, but he was suffering all the same. Eliot waved Quentin over as he got closer. “Here. Bring him to sit by me. Go get some water and take five. The lamps will need lighting up soon.”
Quentin didn’t argue, though it was clear he was contemplating it. He looked defeated. Handling his own grief along with Ted’s outbursts had been wearing on him. He carried Ted over to sit in the pile of pillows by Eliot then turned to walk off towards the cabin. He could hear Q blow out a stream of air as he turned to leave, a hand rising to stroke his hair back. Eliot wished he could do more. One thing at a time.
The second Ted was placed down he tried to squirm away and go again. Eliot was faster, he’d already anticipated this movement. Hands around his small waist, he wrestled the boy back into the pillows.
”No papa!” sobbed out from the little boy, fresh tears replacing the anger, finding the moment had hit its breaking point for him. He buried his face into the dirty stuffed horse.
“Oh, come on kiddo. That was never going to work. Running away was my signature move.” None of those words meant anything to Ted. Eliot didn’t let up on his grip, not yet. “Listen, sometimes it can be a very good thing to run away from something, but right now it’s not a good idea. Show me you can sit beside me and I will let you go.”
It didn’t take long of Eliot holding him before Ted gave up fighting and grew impatient. Eliot loosened his grip as soon as he could. He didn’t want to be in his son's space while Ted was upset. The little boy puffed out loudly, body coiling away from Eliot, arms wiping his face then folding wrap around his face and knees in an effort to not look up at him.
Eliot sat back, he tried to show he was completely calm and in control. He waited for Ted to have that moment to himself, eyes going to the sunset to saviour the last of the setting sunlight through the trees.
The dirty brown horse hadn’t been let go, still crushed into the boy's lap. Eliot made a mental note to inspect the seams. It’d need repairing soon and he was dreading the potential headache it’d bring. He never could do the work quite as beautifully as Arielle once had. Maybe Quentin would be up for using his abilities instead.
When Ted came down from his mountain and slowly twisted back to look up Eliot, red puffy eyes still wet. In response, he smiled back reassuringly and reached out to stroke the wet from the boy’s face. His little one was engaging again, this was a good thing.
“See? You’re okay. I know you’re really mad right now and I would be too.”
He waited for a response, when there was none, Eliot leaned in and continued.
“Do you remember what I do when I get so mad?”
Ted shook his head. It wasn’t a fair question, Eliot had never so much as raised his voice around Ted. He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers patiently, bringing the boys attention to that.
Eliot promised himself he’d never be like his own father and he’d to date he’d stayed true to his word. Ted glanced down to his own hands, opening his palms across the mangled horse in his lap.
“How about we blow them out together? Maybe if you helped me we can get them down faster we could go do something else after. You ready?”
Eliot breathed in, making an exaggerated show of it with air filling up his cheeks, then waited for Ted to copy. After each slow exhale he’d fold a finger down. Ted genuinely just wanted to blow out the candles as fast as he possibly could. He was starting to blow a second time by the time Eliot was done with one exhale. It didn’t matter, the fact he was doing it at all was a step in the right direction.
By the end of it the young boy was still red-faced, but not quite so ready to explode. Eliot’s chest felt lighter and he knew Ted probably felt the effect too. They weren’t out of the woods by any means, but this was a start. Eliot placed his hand back down as his last finger closed.
“Did you get that nice feeling in your chest too? Means it’s working. So, what do you think happened that made you have to come sit here with papa?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay. I forget sometimes too. I think it was because you went outside the warded area which isn’t safe. What do you think?”
“... but I didn’t want to be safe. I wanted to go see mama.”
“I know you want to be with mama, I miss her too. But going out into the woods isn’t a good idea and won’t make you closer to her. You want to know what I think will help?
“What?”
“We can miss someone and have them close to our heart. I could tell you my favorite stories of mama, or hum that song she always liked to do. Or we can just walk around the safe area and hold hands without talking. I don’t want you to feel more sad. What do you think?”
Ted sat there quietly, reasoning the pros and cons as far as his small developing mind could take them. Eliot was always surprised by how mature he’d been. Raised around only adults might have had that effect, or maybe it was being raised in Fillory. He couldn’t know for sure, he’d never experienced the hardships of kids before and didn’t really have any baseline to go off.
These newer outbursts Ted was having were always so sudden and explosive. Eliot could only hope this would get easier with time, for the sanity of all of them.
“Just walk papa? I don’t want to be more sad.”
“Alright little man. Whatever makes you happy and safe.”
Eliot got up first, hand offered out for the smaller person to reach for it. He held Ted’s hand as they walked out to the parameter of the wards. Each time Ted pointed to parts of the ward he knew, Eliot tried his best to explain why they’d added that, in a way Ted would understand. He never did, but he liked the pretty lights of it and listening to Eliot talk.
After a while, lanterns around the mosaic were lit by Quentin and their home looked like the most inviting spot for miles. Thankfully the wards they’d put up together should keep the worst at bay. Coming from the original falling apart shack it once was, they’d spent enough magic making it a home.
Q had a silent conversation with Eliot from across the yard before coming over to join the pair, checking to see if he was allowed or if Eliot would just shoo him off again. Ted was doing better. The coast was clear. Q smiled warily as he joined them.
Ted automatically held up his only free hand with Cozy Horse and looked sad when he couldn’t hold both that and his father. When Q got close enough, he took the horse from the small boy, then bent down to tuck it into Ted’s shirt so its head would poke out against his small neck. He took the free hand and used his other to ruffle the boy's hair when he stroked it. Straightening back up they began walking again.
The trio wandered aimlessly, attempting to talk about other things, anything to distract Ted, making him smile or laugh about something else. Showing him the world wasn’t always so damn tragic. Ted was pretty set in his thoughts, and it was hard to keep away from the harder-hitting questions. When no answer came from Quentin, Eliot stepped up and drew the boy's attention to him.
“What is dying?”
“Well, uh… Mama’s body stopped working when she got sick. She couldn’t eat, or play, or move her body anymore like we do.”
“But what if I get sick?”
“Everyone gets sick sometimes. I’m going to take care of you, and Dada will take care of you, and the doctors will take care of you too. You’ll be okay even if you get sick.”
“Does everyone die?”
“Eventually, yeah... everyone dies. But the bright side? Most people die when they are very, very old like Nana.”
Q tossed Eliot a look but Ted didn’t seem all that bothered. He was too caught up in his own head, just like someone else Eliot knew. His expression softened when Ted’s small voice spoke again.
“But not Mama. I miss her.”
“No, not Mama. I miss her too”
“Why is Dada’s face wet?”
“I think he’s just going to be doing that from now on, but that’s okay. Everyone needs to cry sometimes.”
“He’s crying? Why?”
“Dada’s crying because he’s very sad that Mama died. We all miss her very much. What do you think we could do when we see someone is sad?”
Ted offered no advice but immediately let go of Eliot and leaned in to try to hug Quentin. Eliot stopped and scooped up the little boy to rest him on his hip in one arm. He was starting to get just a little too big for being carried and Eliot knew there would come a day they wouldn’t be able to pick him up anymore. But that day wasn’t going to be it.
Getting closer to Quentin to side hug him. Q leaned his head in immediately to hide his face in the nook of Eliot’s neck and sniffled quietly. Ted leaned across Eliot to rest his head on his father. Q tried so hard to hide this side from Ted, Eliot wished he wouldn’t.
When Q pulled back and whispered his thanks, they began walking again. Eliot didn’t dare let him move back too far. Arm staying wrapped around his best friend, he pressed his cheek against his head and hummed that beautiful melody Arielle always used to do.
The small boy curled into the crook of Eliot’s neck where Q had been and hooked his little arms around his neck. It didn’t take long for the boy to doze off like that. They walked together in silence a little longer.
It was still too cold for him to sleep outside yet. Eliot knew they’d all be doing that once the temperatures were right for it. He eventually carried the sleeping boy back to the cabin. What looked tiny from the outside became a full spacious home on the inside thanks to years of refining their spellwork.
Tucking the small boy into his own bed, he carefully pulled Cozy Horse from the boy’s clothes and stashed it away into his back pocket. Once he was sure Ted wasn’t getting up again, he crept back out as quietly as he could to go find Quentin.
Quentin had been curled up on the bed-like bench outside. The campfire had been started back up and he seemed to be staring off into space. He hadn’t noticed Eliot approaching until he was moving past his line of vision. Q blinked back and looked up at him. Eliot took up space on the bed beside him, tugging at the blanket sprawled over the arm to cover their bodies against the cold. The nights weren’t warm enough yet, but it was still nice enough to be out there.
“He’s asleep.”
“Thanks. You were amazing today. I felt like a useless floundering fish.”
“C’mon now, give floundering fish some credit. They generally tend to mature into some of the most beautiful and powerful creatures. Plus, they taste delicious.” Eliot tried to tease, leaning in to nudge against his favorite person, wrapping him in for a much-needed cuddle under the blanket. “Some days are just going to be like that. You did exactly what you needed to get through it.”
“He’s asking to go be with her. That’s not normal. He’s just a kid.”
“Kid or not, he’s going to say and feel what he needs to say and feel. He lost someone important to him, just like you did.”
“I hate this. I don’t know the first thing about making any of it okay again.”
“Who says any of it needs to be okay? We just need to keep ourselves above water for a little while longer.”
“You seem to be handling all this way better than I ever could.”
“Just because I’m not hitting the booze anymore, or munching on all the psychedelic carrots I can get my hands on, doesn’t mean I’m handling it, Q. I’m a little numb to it all right now.”
“You’re better with Ted.”
“-And that’s because I’m a dispassionate cold-blooded lizard. Listen, him seeing you like this and showing him it’s okay to be upset is better than anything I can do. He has big feelings he doesn’t know how to deal with, much like someone else I know.”
“You’re far from being cold-blooded or dispassionate.”
“So we both agree I’m a lizard.”
He shifted his arm to retrieve the tattered and dirty Cozy Horse. Quentin sat up to watch and Eliot followed suit.
“I’d try sewing this but I’m lowkey terrified I’ll make it worse. Nobody wants an Ugly Horse.”
“Let me.”
He took it from him, hands gently inspecting the damaged toy. Cozy Horse came to life under Quentin’s touch, moving on its own accord as seams were repaired and holes patched themselves up. It was almost like it was brand new again, minus the lost stuffing and patches of fur. Eliot was enamoured by the sight. Watching something so broken be fixed back together like it was always the same could never get boring.
Eliot dipped in to kiss him softly against his lips the moment he knew Quentin could be distracted. Cozy Horse dropped down onto the blanket. Quentin hummed against the contact, hand reaching up to touch Eliot’s face. When they parted. Eliot nudged Q back down into the bed so that he could watch the stars above while Eliot kissed him in other places. He’d do anything to remind him he wasn’t alone. After their day, the contact was needed.
“See? You’re doing better than you know.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
“I’m always right.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Just most of the time.”
“Eliot, shut up and kiss me again.”
---
I’m tired of this waiting
And I am not alone
Oh I’m burning up
Saying what you will
I’m not out of love
I’m the captain of this sinking ship
Please just get a grip
I know it’s my fault
But we’re not going down
Bon Voyage - Arbi, Koethe
#eliot waugh#quentin coldwater#the magicians#mosaic timeline#queliot#the magicians fanfic#domestic fluff#established relationship#family feels#grief/mourning#peaches and plums#canon compliant#pov eliot waugh#hale appleman#jason ralph#Spotify
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Marc's POV: The Weekend
1,013 words / 18+ only, no minors
Masterlist.
If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥
Summary: Marc has a weekend to himself and is trying a hand at this whole self-care crap that everyone's on his ass about. Turns out he can't get away from himself.
Warnings: No smut. Mentions family death, C-PTSD, childhood trauma, self-hatred, hurt/comfort. I'm all up in my feels and wanted to write a character that can relate. Sorry not sorry in advance 8)
Most important thing to remember: Take care of yourself first, no one can do it better than you can.
Marc was having a good weekend. There was nothing special about it but that was the whole point. Layla was going to be gone for another week. He wasn't out on a job. He wasn't tasked with doing anything special for Steven. There was a few jobs around the apartment he could be doing - he probably should be doing - but instead, he'd decided to try that whole self-care crap the others kept getting on his ass about.
So he tried doing nothing. A day of rest. A whole weekend of it.
Admittedly, at first, it was an unsettling sensation. Didn't feel right that he wasn't trying to be useful to someone else. He'd always pushed Steven to the front to take up the majority of their free time. Now that he had it, what would he do with it?
Turned out that doing nothing was doing something. He doom-scrolled on his phone for the longest time. Longer than he cared to admit. Not entirely permitted on a day of rest but it was enjoyable and no one was there to stop him.
More importantly, Steven wasn’t there to stop him.
He remained in bed. Finding no motivation alone to get out of the pit he'd settled into and called home. Letting himself rot was self-care, right? Wrong. Steven didn’t need to be there for Marc to hear that little British voice saying otherwise.
Eventually, hunger took over his needs. Prepared a meal in the form of leftovers. Told himself not to meal prep for the others while he was at it. He should. They needed to eat properly too. This weekend was about doing something for himself. Why was that so much harder?
Found himself venting to Gus. Even with his whole weekend shtick of only focusing on himself, the fish needed to eat. Little bastard relied on them. Plus he really didn't need another fish funeral as part of his self-care routine. Marc found he was indeed a good listener. Even if he was ranting about nonsensical things. It felt good to get it off his chest.
The evening was spent reading but that soon put him back to sleep.
Overall, if someone asked, he'd say it was a pretty decent weekend.
By Sunday, it did feel like it'd taken some of the weight off his shoulders. Lost a lot of the day to a game he discovered where he could renovate houses. Something about the repetition relaxed him. Let him switch off while still being very much at the forefront of their mind.
At some point his phone buzzed. Expected it to be Layla calling and paused his game to take it. Froze when he saw what name that came up.
Ma.
It was his ma calling.
He hadn't spoken to her on the phone in years. Watched the phone buzz with some underlining urgency. Knowing it wouldn't be forever but that moment felt like an eternity. Staring at the screen. Suspicious and unmoved. That churning in his stomach. He should take it. He knew he should. Could take a good guess at what would come if he did.
The call rang out and stopped, but Marc was still staring at the screen.
Why now? What did she want?
He should call her back. Apologize for not picking up. Make up some excuse why he couldn't. Nothing came to mind. He pushed the phone away from himself. Couldn't bring himself to go back to his game. He pushed away from the desk. Needing to move. To find something to distract him. To ground him.
His ma had called. He checked again. Sure enough, a missed call.
Why.
No message. No voice mail.
Another punishment of hers. Only this one was of his own doing. A reminder of what a bad son he was. He should call her back.
He paced his apartment.
What if something bad had happened?
What if it's nothing and she's just drunk again and wants to lash out?
But what if she doesn't? What if she actually wanted to talk to him?
He threw his phone on the bed. Watching it bounce off and go clattering along the floorboards. Another thing that went out of his control. Hand wiping over his face and into his hair to pull. It hurt but he needed to feel something. It was that or he'd hit himself.
Fuck.
Why was she calling him? Hadn't she died? That unsettling logic in the mess of his thoughts brought him back to himself. He checked his phone again. The bottom right of the screen was all cracked, but it still functioned. Couldn't find it in himself to care about the damage. He was going back to the call logs.
Ma had called. It was there in plain sight. Tears welled in his eyes. He dropped down into his bed and curled up in his sheets. Tried holding it in but alone with the missed call he found it all came crashing down. He sobbed like a little boy again. That was easier to do than to call her back.
Had to remind himself he was safe, he was okay. That he wasn't that kid anymore.
He should call her, but everything in his brain told him he shouldn't want to call her. He couldn't even say he hated her. The truth was, he didn't. He wanted to love her. As he'd grown, he came to an understanding that he could love her at a distance and accept she couldn't love him back.
It couldn't be his ma that called. She was dead. Maybe he was losing it again. That made more sense.
He thumbed at his contacts. Hitting the call button and bringing the phone to his ear. Listening to the ring until she picked up.
"Hey." His voice cracked.
Layla’s voice on the other end. Concerned but trying not to be. Marc uncurled and rolled onto his back. Taking a breath. The corner of his lip quirked to something she said.
"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you."
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Jake's POV: Barking at the Moon
Jake Lockley & M!Reader (Werewolf)
400 words / Masterlist.
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Notes: Lil starter I've made for a friend. For those Jack Russell x Jake Lockley fans, I see you. Hope you enjoy reading my nonsense!
It was supposed to be a simple job. Help out the smaller mutants and get them out of town. He’d used his cab to get them a portion of the way there but with all the blocks put up it was impossible getting his cab out without getting searched. He’d abandoned it in an alley for them to take to the underground. Cab lights shone the way.
Jake got out and opened the truck. “New plan. One at’a time. Quit pushin’ each other.”
Trunk closed he guided the small group around to the front where the headlights illuminated a manhole cover, the wisps of humid air slithered out like tendrils from the cover. The group hid behind Jake and he took his jacket off, tossing it aside and rolling up his sleeves. He walked over to the manhole cover and began brute-forcing his way into opening it. Other mutants made it look so easy, but Jake was finding without the suit this shit was harder than it looked.
The group just stood in a huddle and watched him. Weren’t much help at all. He couldn’t understand for the life of him why anyone would want them.
Another figure stepped into the light, the group shot off towards Jake to hide in his shadows. Jake straightened up in a low pant. The cover moved but not completely out of the way yet. Maybe enough for those little things to squeeze in, he thought. Just needed to distract whatever came to ruin their night. Putting on his best non-violent tone that he could muster, Jake growled. “This ain’t the night to be messin’ with me, pal. Go find another alley. Go on.”
He got closer and Jake’s gloved hands balled into fists, until the face came into view and he untensed. “Shit, why didn’t ya say you’re the local stray?” Jake suddenly all light and a touch more playful. Him and this asshole went way back. The guy hadn’t killed a person in his life, so there was no need for them to be killing him. No doubt lingering feelings from that were still present, but Jake had no reason to believe tonight was going to be another fight.
“Get this for me? We gotta move.” He gestured to the manhole cover. Neither stepping back or away when the other approached like the others behind him did. Unintimidated by the werewolf’s presence.
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I got this commissioned by Blue Delliquanti through the E-Sim Donation Drive. As thanks, I donated another e-sim on their behalf because it's so perfect.
Thank you to Blue + everyone who contributes to this cause 🥰
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Been thinking of other ways I can help on top of donating e-sims for Gaza.
This is what I came up with;
Gifting these handmade bookmarks out to a mutual. On the back of each is their socials where they read out IDF testimonies, and a link to learn more.
I think bookmarks make great gifts that can be regifted. Hope my friend likes them too.
#palestine#gaza#west bank#free palestine#eyes on rafah#ceasefire now#breaking the silence#art#bookmarks#gouache#painting#watercolor
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Steven's pov: Mooning Business
Marc Spector & Khonshu & Steven Grant
336 words / Masterlist.
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Summary: Marc's discovered something nefarious at the port. Steven's getting more involved in this whole Mooning business. (To which Marc will keep telling him not to call it that but alas.)
‘Marc’
“Quiet a minute.” Marc shushed him. Focusing on the one with the golden mask. Determined to find a way to swoop in just as that crate was getting opened.
‘Our evidence is about to go in the river if you don’t bloody look.’
“What?” That got Marc’s attention. Leaning back into himself to stop him from plunging out from hiding. Eyes darting in the direction away from the unboxing. Closer to the waterline. Steven was right. Someone was dumping shit into the river.
Marc moved, going as fast as he could while trying to minimize the risk of discovery. Looking around to see if any others were around. Finding no one. Marc moved in.
‘No wait! I found him let me!’ Marc hesitated.
‘DO NOT LET THE WORM INTERFERE.’ Khonshu was suddenly in his head again.
A tap on the guys shoulder, head swiveling around. Mr. Knight chirps, “Alright mate?” All before socking him in the face with his baton.
His arms wave to keep his balance but he too falls back into the water with a splash. He can swim, he’ll be alright. Steven wastes no time bending down to pick up a piece of rock in confusion. Grey stone all over except where the breaks were, all iridescent and pretty. Steven had never seen anything like it.
“Opal?” He asks. “No whys this fellow tossin’ opal into the river?”
Turning the stone over revealed it was once part of someone’s arm. Steven knew enough about the decimation to know it wasn’t just stone.
That was once a person.
He almost bleeding went and dropped it. Making a disgusted noise as he stepped back away from the crime scene. “Ooooh bloody hell that’s a-”
‘Quick looking at it and run.’ Marc barked. Jostling Steven into a panicked blind run out of there, following the water’s edge. Hugging the stone arm tight to his chest. Gunfire kicked up water behind him and Steven yelled in panic.
“Alright! Alright! That’s it. I'm out. Take the body Marc - Take it- Take-”
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Marc's pov: Under His Wing
Marc Spector & Khonshu & Young Defender
363 words / Masterlist.
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Summary: Marc takes a new hero under his wing and takes them out into the city to show him what they're capable of. Khonshu has some thoughts about it.
Moon Knight wasn’t the only vigilante in the city. The place was crawling with all kinds of people and their gimmicks. Just as many good as there were bad. He’d known for as long as he could remember he’d never liked being alone. Not truly alone. The silence in that was deafening.
Some of these assholes he was going up against he couldn’t do alone. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed help. He didn’t hate people as much as he sometimes put out there.
Marc had done his part. The bright moon overhead set the scene for a perfect night. Allowing Khonshu’s influence to blanket itself over the world. The god saw all transgressions against those that intended to harm the travellers of the night.
He could see all that, and yet, he kept Marc operating strictly within New York. Something didn’t feel right. Marc knew better than to ask questions. He’d been with the god long enough to know questions got him cryptic answers.
Khonshu was able to give Marc information on things happening in the city as they went underway, allowing Marc to pick and choose what they saw to.
“Alright kid, you’re up.”
A robbery was unfolding. Fifth one they’d been to that night. Two men wailing on the person resisting them. Marc crouched on the rooftop, letting the new recruit take point again. Needed to be sure she could handle herself in back-to-back scraps before they took it a step further.
‘You’re wasting your time on small game. Let us not stray too long from the path that is set out before us. There are far more dangerous foes, who seek to do real harm, both during the day and the night. We must be ready for what is to come. ’
Khonshu was on it. He’d been on it all night and it was making Marc snippy under his breath.
“Give it a rest will you?”
‘No. While the lesser thugs may not pose much of a threat to this new hero, their strength and resolve should not go unchallenged.’
Marc didn't bother to respond, waiting to see how the young defender handled their business.
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Jake's pov: 'Not a Date' Date
Jake Lockley & Layla El-Faouly
590 words / Masterlist.
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Summary: Snippet from Jake's night of taking Layla out to get to know him. Jake doesn't know how to behave around Marc's wife. No smut, just fluff & mild gunplay.
Lowkey all the love to @lunaselena for all the nonsense they write with me.
His cap was firmly pressed back onto his head by her. Dark curls of his hair not quite making it back into place. Jake just smiled. Thin as it was, wanted her to see his appreciation for returning his cap. Or maybe for the lingering touch surrounding it.
Everything about the arcade was bright and flashy, designed to snag attention, though Jake’s was firmly on Layla.
“No…” He admitted after she asked him if he wanted to go home yet. Feeling out his reluctance to leave right away. Not after that chaste little first kiss they’d shared in the photo booth. He needed more time to sit with that. This was Marc’s wife. He shouldn’t be wanting more of that.
He reached up to properly get the cap comfortably on his head. One hand lifted it while the other combed back his hair. Contemplating an arm around her shoulders to pull her over to the shooter while holding her. Instead, he stepped back and gestured for her to get moving with a tip of his head in the direction of a game he spotted with plastic guns.
Walking over there Jake pulled the gun off the console to check it over. Not overly realistic, but for the game they were about to play, it’d do.
“Here.” He pointed at a space in front of him for her to stand. Treating it like it was a real gun. Arms around her he got her to hold the gun. One hand on her wrist. Shifting her fingers away from the trigger.
“Only hold the trigger if you intend to shoot. Otherwise, it goes here.”
His other hand reached for her second hand to bring it up and clasp over her first hand.
“Better grip for recoil and steadier aim.”
He muttered, not that it’d matter for an arcade game. Leaning back he looked down at her. His foot came between hers to kick them apart a little wider. His hand going to her hip to steady her posture.
“Tch. Look real dangerous now, Chica.”
Jake chuckled as he stepped back to appreciate her stance with a gun. He reached for the second one. And tapped the console to start.
Zombies charged towards the screen. Head shots took them down but a few rounds in the body also seemed to do the trick. Jake shot with precision. Making every bullet count.
“Coming in from the left.” He warned. Helping Layla to clear out the oncoming crowd. “Right. Right.”
The levels rolled by and soon there were too many to hold off. Zombies overwhelmed them, gnawing at the screen.
“Ack. They got you. We don’t keep any infected under this roof.”
He laughed, Hand reaching up her back to wrap around the back of her neck and tug her into him. Affectionate and playful. Nothing rough about it. Bringing the gun up to press under her chin. Pressing just enough to tilt her head up to look at him.
“Pew.” He said quietly. A smirk. He brought the gun down.
Finding any excuse to untangle and move away from her, he put the controller back in its holder. They’d spent a good portion of the night together. Going through drive-thru’s and watching the stars. Late-night arcades and doing every game they could. Even managing to hit the leaderboard on one of them. J +L imprinted on the screen. Jake truly didn’t want the night to end. He knew if they stayed any longer he’d be finding other reasons to kiss her.
“Ready to go?”
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Moon Knight Masterlist
18+ no minors | requests + asks are open
Ask | Rules | AO3 | ko-fi
If you like what you see, leave a like or reblog and follow me ♥
► Jake's pov: (read all)
He Knows (jake & marc)
Night Shift (jake & khonshu & steven)
Little Detour (jake & steven)
Aftercare 🥵 (jake x fem!reader)
Uncomplicated (jake x fem!reader)
► Marc's pov: (read all)
Calling it a Day (marc & steven)
Port Problems (marc & khonshu & reader)
Early Hours (marc x reader)
Church Service (marc & khonshu & reader)
Rough Night (marc & reader)
Date Night (marc x layla)
Behind Closed Doors (little marc)
Need You 🥵 (marc x fem!reader)
► Steven's pov: (read all)
Dropping By (steven & marc & reader)
Rainy Day 🥵 (steven x fem!reader)
Happy Simple Normal Life (little steven & marc)
Oh Sausages (little steven & friend)
► Layla's pov (little-bug-el-faouly):
Asylum Escape #1 (layla x moonboys)
Museum Meet (layla x steven)
Asylum Escape #2 (layla x moonboys)
► Moonboys:
How They Loved You (all three x reader)
Top Notch Banter (marc & steven)
Valentines (all three x reader)
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Brittany Snow + Jared Padalecki
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Brittany Snow + Jared Padalecki
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Brittany Snow + Jared Padalecki
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Brittany Snow + Jared Padalecki
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