Never lonely. Never alone.

Marc Spector | Steven Grant | Jake Lockley

[threegoldfish]

Indie, 18+, mutuals only, multi-everything, crossover-friendly, OC-friendly AND HEAVILY HEADCANON BASED Marc Spector, Steven Grant and Jake Lockley from Marvel’s Moon Knight (2022). Mainly MCU, small comic-based 'additions' possible.

Written by P., 30+, active within european timezones. 15+ years of RP experience. Askbox open for everyone (dash memes & (HC)-questions and/or general questions aimed at the muses). Replies / reblogs from personal blogs will be ignored. NO MINORS. THIS BLOG SHIPS THE MOON KNIGHT SYSTEM. Marc, Steven & Jake are in a polyamorous relationship with each other.

[READ THE RULES] [About the muses] [Verses] [Headcanons] [How switching works] [Jake's cars] [Their suits and weapons] [Marc's soundtrack] [Steven's soundtrack] [Jake's soundtrack] [Ship soundtrack (MarcStevenJake)] [Meme tag] [Promo]

Mains | Affiliates • @amischiefofmuses ♥ • @odditymuse ♥ Other blogs I have: • @stxincd (multi-fandom multimuse) Blog Design Credits

DISCLAIMER:

Mun does NOT have DID, but treats the topic with respect and expects it to be done from others as well. The whole interpretation of this blog (including the characters) is fictional, not meant to be educational or (medically)correct in any way, and the whole topic of DID will also be handled in a fictional way in this fictional world on the blog. Keep that in mind. If uncomfortable with such, please do not follow. Mun also means no disrespect to any existing people and does not intend to cause harm to those diagnosed with DID. Possible 'dark' topics handled on this blog: Trauma-mentioning and possible elaboration (including medical, physical, mental, se*ual), mentioning and possible elaboration of other mental disorders (depression, anxiety, PTSD etc), exploration of se*ual themes (including n/s/f/w content), violence (descriptive and non-descriptive) and other dark themes. Do not follow if you feel uncomfortable with such. Despite all this possibly happening on this blog, the mun is actually mostly fond of softer/fluffy topics/themes, and those will be around a lot.

[stxincd]

Pretend you're spotless, but I don't wash away. And now you're stained. ---- And now you're stained.

stxincd - indie, mutuals-only, selective and heavily headcanon-based multimuse feat. muses from a variety of fandoms, such as: Ilya Rozanov & Shane Hollander (Heated Rivalry), William Tell (The Card Counter), Santiago Garcia (Triple Frontier), Khan Noonien Singh (Star Trek Into Darkness), Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year) and Kane (Annihilation).

Written by P. aka Pumme, 18+, no minors. 15+ yrs of RP experience.

[odditymuse]

❝ Do you want that problem to go away. . ? ❞ multimuse ft. shane hollander || loved by bun (@odditymuse) multimuse ft. ilya rozanov || stained by p (@stxincd) ❝ I don't ever want that problem to ever go away. ❞

(template credit @)

[nogoodnessimproveme-archive]

Reblog this is your muse has straight up actually died

Optional: they’ve returned from the dead

[forevermuses]

Stephen doesn't beg. He doesn't even blink.

Instead, he slowly lowers the ancient, leather-bound tome he'd been pretending to read, letting it snap shut with a dusty thud. He leans back against the armchair he'd been perched in for most of the evening, crossing one leg over the other, and fixes Marc with a look of feigned irritation.

"Marc, you dick," Stephen says. "The last time I begged you for anything, it was for you to get your cold-ass feet off me. And, as you know, that was years ago."

The Cloak of Levitation, which is currently hovering a few feet away, dramatically throws one of its corners over its collar as if mimicking Stephen's tone. It's unclear if its mimicking him out of support or to mock him.

"Besides, 'beg for mercy'? Did you practice that in the mirror with Jake and Steven before you came over, or are we just recycling dialogue from eighty-year-old comic books now? Shut up and just hand me that scroll, I'm not gonna beg for it."

{ @threegoldfish }

[threegoldfish]

"Unhappy to see you too, asshole." Way too comfortable for it to feel like a solid truth - but also way too comfortable for it to feel like it's still hurting, because it's not - Marc's expression is a composed state of carelessness as he stands there, in front of the man who doesn't seem to give much of a fuck either. Thing is, they both know they do give a fuck, under all the layers of no-fucks, but it has always been this way, no?

They get along, which is something, at least. Stephen's just as much of an asshole as he's always been, and Marc, unfortunately so, has to deal with it, because he's here and holding onto a stupid fucking scroll Khonshu's told him to deliver to the master of the mystic arts (previous? Current? Whatever), yadda yadda, the one who can bend time and reality and has almost killed them all many times because wooo, he can do magiiiic---

"What even is this thing to begin with?" A lift of a brow, with Marc holding up that scroll he's still not handing over, standing a couple of feet away from where that guy is lounging on his throne like he's not responsible for a lot of important things right now. "---Khonshu said it's important. I tried to read it, but whatever language was used here is not one I have ever seen or heard of before. ---Maybe it's a recipe for Mac 'n cheese?"

"Marc." Steven sighs from deep within himself. He thinks that the whole thing they're doing right now is absolutely unnecessary and uncalled for; Why can't they just hold a normal conversation for once? "Just... give it to him? Stephen knows what he's gonna do with it---"

"---'Sides, you liked havin' my cold ass feet on you, prick. Don't act like you felt fucking miserable 'bout it."

[h4untingeclipse]

Marc had a feeling the second he opened his mouth he would get something like that in return. Sass, for lack of a better word. They were still learning how to function together, still tiptoeing around one another on the best of nights. It was clear that his comment on Jake's antics wasn't exactly appreciated.

To the point his alter had to go and say that. Force thick brows on Marc's face to dip low in that puddle's reflection there. Not the most comfortable place to be, anything could disrupt his concentration and force him out of the area at any moment. A hand went up to rub over his eyes as he sighed, shook his head, clearly displeased. " I don't need you fuckin' with my head about this right now. I already have to manage this... mental shit on a daily basis and now you're throwin' it in my face? Classy. " It was grumbled out, and his eyes were back on his alter soon after, clearly not impressed. " God fuckin' forbid I worry about you. That's my bad. "

[threegoldfish]

Jake doesn't need to look at Marc to know how annoyed the other feels now, in return - but he does it anyways, allows for his gaze to fall back down to that puddle between his feet, the one where his host is surely feeling all cramped up within because of how awkwardly shaped it is. Heh, should've looked for another spot to manifest in - yet here they are, mainly because there's no other reflection existing currently.

And as Marc complains, Jake takes another drag from his cigarette - allows for the smoke to curl within their lungs, exhales it through flared nostrils after. Blinks once, twice. Taps his guilty pleasure, allows for a breeze to carry the ash away...

"---God fuckin' forbid I allow myself one fuckin' smoke because I've had a fuckin' shitty evenin'. That's my bad." Jake's very much echoing Marc here, just inserting his own reasonings, gaze trailing away as he grunts out a displeased noise after - shakes his head at himself, stares into the empty street in front of him, fills his lungs with more of that cancer-inducing tobacco. Holds it there, for a moment or two, before lips part and that smoke escapes yet again, dissolves into the night.

"Gotta ask you for permission next time, pendejo. Promise."

---Jake's crossing his gloved fingers, but doesn't even bother to do it behind his back.

...Then, softer:

"No need to worry. This bad boy won't kill us both. Not strong enough."

[rylandsgrace]

Moon Knight 1x05

[therapardalis]

Oh, the speech is going to be ... the usual thing. Thera would be willing to bet a fair chunk of the money they're trying to make her donate on that. Thank you for being here, so lovely to see everyone, kissy kissy smooch smooch ... and then a segue to sponsors and the charity being sponsored, in the light, jovial tone that tries to act like that isn't the major reason they're even here ...

She understands it, doesn't even resent it as such - it just strikes her as a bit disingenuous, when everyone knows the intent is to solicit cash. It's like an ant-lion pretending the sides of its burrow don't slide. Thera's not the ant-lion, more placed on the burrow's edge as a lure, but if she were speaking she'd be more straightforward about it.

Has been, in the past, which is possibly why she's not allowed to anymore.

The microphone makes not hearing almost impossible, but the option of not listening? That's still on the table, almost literally as she plays further into their act by leaning close to Jake as they talk. "A little bit of a surprise," She admits with a soft laugh, "though thinking about it, it really shouldn't be." Now that he's pointed it out, it seems just another natural facet of Jake's vibe, his fondness for the finer things. And speaking of ... she has a fresh glass of red wine, and goes through the motions of inhaling the 'bouquet' before taking a sip.

"I love to dance," In a tone and with a curve of her lips confirming that yes, they'll be hitting that dance floor the first chance they get. "I was around when a lot of the modern dances were invented." A murmur, and a laugh, "The Waltz was 'scandalous' enough that people were disowned!" Her voice trails off but the smile remains, not upset by Jake's attention drifting but curious on what's caught his eye.

"You look like you've seen something really awful."

[threegoldfish]

It's still fascinating to Jake, the fact that Thera has been around for so fucking long, and he's very much curious about all the things she's telling him from time to time, dropping facts like small breadcrumbs of sorts - bringing up how she'd been around when the Waltz had first been invented, got to watch it all explode in person (literally), telling about how it was considered to be oh-so-scandalous back then...

--It makes him snort a little, amused, thinking about how those very same people from back then would probably just die of a heart attack if they were able to witness what's happening nowadays - how much dancing as a whole has evolved, changed, and how much skin is allowed to be shown... including the private parts at times, depending on the location and circumstances, such things.

Thera inhales the bouquet, Jake reaches for his second glass of Whiskey, and for a moment they allow for those hello-welcome-glad-you're-all-here-thank-you-for-your-generosity-yadda-yadda words to cut through their conversation as dark eyes trail once more - before getting stuck on that ridiculous outfit of that stranger yet again, causing lips to curl upward, with him leaning his head toward Thera to have his lips closer to her ear as he proceeds to let her know.

"Right in front of us, four tables down, slightly to the left. The fuck is that supposed to be, the---" A pause, "---Suit that guy's wearin' there. His shoulders are way too skinny to fill it out properly, you see how it bunches up 'round the upper arms? 'Sides, can tell it's Polyester, it got that plastic-y sheen to it that tries to look like Satin but isn't quite gettin' there. And purple is really not that man's color at all, he looks sick wearin' it... in the bad kind of way."

A sip of his drink, slow and steady, as Jake allows for a hum to leave him - then his smirk grows and his attention is back on her, followed by a lifted brow, a tilt of his head as their gazes meet.

"...I know how to dance the Waltz, by the way." Jake does look smug about it, yes. "I'm quite good at many dances, actually - also the non-conventional ones. Y'know, club stuff... ---But the Waltz is in there, in my head. Tango as well, find it pretty entertainin'."

[odditymuse]

[ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : You want me to. . . indulge you about birds not being real? [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Honestly Marc, of anyone we know, asking me to do that is absurd, yeah? [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Maybe we need to stop leaving you on your own. . . I'm getting a bit worried here 😟 [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : I'll be home in an hour! [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Please do not jump out of the window before then! We are on the highest floor! [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : I miss you too, love. Very much! You can make it another hour can't you? [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Look at those books I mentioned!

[threegoldfish]

[ text to -> Steven ] : I'm sorry, I'm just being an idiot I guess [ text to -> Steven ] : Not gonna jump out of our living room window, looks a bit scary, not gonna lie [ text to -> Steven ] : But birds are just!!! Why are birds???? [ text to -> Steven ] : Why is Khonshu a fucking dead bird too???? [ text to -> Steven ] : Also I think I'm going to get sick [ text to -> Steven ] : I probably ate way too many of those cookies [ text to -> Steven ] : But they were so good [ text to -> Steven ] : Oh my god Steven I think your books are moving by themselves the hell did you bring home from that museum [ text to -> Steven ] : Probably some cursed item? [ text to -> Steven ] : I am done with curses! [ text to -> Steven ] : Stop bringing home weird cursed stuff being possessed by an Egyptian god is enough to deal with [ text to -> Steven ] : ... Can you bring a caramel frappuccino though when you come home, I'm craving one?

[odditymuse]

Their pinkies link and Steven feels like a little bit more of that weight is lifted off his shoulders there. Feels like he can look up at the sky without as much of a worry about having ruined the mood. Marc wasn't closing up, he wasn't closing off. Steven knew the signs of that all too well, after all, and none of them were being present right now. In fact, to his surprise, the other was opening up more. He was explaining things, even outright apologizing which left poor Steven to frown, to blink, to let dark eyes fall over to his partner instead of the stars still twinkling in the sky. " Hey — hey, no, alright, we're not — no saying sorry for that, yeah? I mean, really, if you'd let me out back then it would have been a mess. I would have probably been confused as hell, no? It was better that you. . . y'know. " Kept Steven hidden? Maybe that wasn't the best phrasing, but it made the most sense. " I mean yes, sometimes not remembering such. . . big parts of our life is — it's unsettling, I suppose? A little bit, but. . . but you were trying to keep me safe. " And Steven wholeheartedly believed in that.

Looking back on it now, after all he had seen when they were in the Duat. . . Mark and Jake both had done their part to protect him. Just as much as Steven protected them when Marc would let him surface. It had been an equal effort, even when he had never quite been aware of that. . . His eyes had never left Marc. Had continued to watch the alluring curves of his side-profile. A sigh left Steven's nostrils, and his pinky hold? He shifted that to turn into his full hand moving to take Marc's own, deciding the fuller intimacy was much more appropriate. " You've never had a choice in those matters, love. Wasn't your choice to do what you did, not really. There's a whole lot more good in you than bad. "

[threegoldfish]

Marc swallows, feeling the weight of the entire world resting on his firm shoulders when Steven looks back over at him; He can spot it happening from the corner of his eye, senses his former alter's gaze trailing along his form... and Marc inhales, then exhales, as he lets Steven's words wash over him in a gentle but insistent wave of sorts.

Sure, he had done everything he could back then to protect his partner - to keep him away from all the bad things that were happening to his life so as to make sure he isn't remembering any of it, could continue to exist within his mundane, happy bubble that would never fail to make Marc feel so at ease in return... but, as said, he does feel guilty still, because of it all. Feels guilty that Steven had always believed in something that wasn't true, in the end, and had to come to terms with it in such a quick, rough way, barely leaving him any other options besides to just take it and accept it---

You never had a choice in those matters, Steven then says, and Marc snorts out a soft noise in return - something that's very much self-degrading in nature, amused in a bitter kind of way as he keeps gazing up at the stars, watching them twinkle and flicker...

"Could've told you the fucking truth from the very beginning." It sounds dry as it leaves him then, but he's not pulling his hand away when the other reaches to fully intertwine their fingers - a palm on top of his own, warm and secure, and it allows Marc to let go of another breath he'd been holding onto with way too much tension there. His eyes fall closed right after, followed by a shake of his head.

"---Could've... told you 'bout me. About who I am. Who you are. But I... ---I was so scared of doing that. You were my happy person, you made me feel good at the end of the day. You... allowed me to pull back into the comfort of our own head whenever you took over, and--- things always felt so... normal. So... mundane. I craved that, to have a normal life instead of the fucked-up one I was cursed with. Telling you about everything would've destroyed that, and I---"

A pause, with Marc swallowing again; He realizes how much he's opening up here and that terrifies him, but he goes on nevertheless. He thinks that Steven deserves to get some closure at least, even if it happens rather late into their relationship.

"---I wasn't strong enough to take it. To take the world as it was. To.. let go of the happy things you gave me. Was fuckin' scared of it, so I just... kept quiet. Stayed a secret, orchestrated your life as much as possible to make sure you'd be okay... ---Fuck."

No, Marc is not going to cry. No. He refuses to. Which is why he swallows yet again and bites his tongue, preventing moisture from spilling free.

[threegoldfish]

🌺Send this to ten blogs you think are wonderful.🌺

Awww, thank you so much friend!!!

I know I am not very active on here rn, I promise I will return, my focus is all over the place (and on my multi) rn 😅💖

Right back at you!!

[threegoldfish]

Writing sassy Jake is giving me life.

He's my baby.

[threegoldfish]

@h4untingeclipse asked: “you know you can die from that?” and my marc for your jake because this seems silly From my meme tag || always accepting

Jake is in the middle of taking a drag from his cigarette - yes, cigarette, because of reasons he doesn't want to think about, as they annoy the shit out of him, and he's not having enough fucks left to spend on that - when Marc has the audacity to appear out of nowhere, present himself in the rainwater-puddle between his feet, and stare up at him like he's currently watching said Jake trying to throw them off a cliff or something; It would be hilarious under any other circumstances - but ¡Dios mío!, he's simply smoking a fucking cigarette, not holding a gun to his head.

And Jake blinks once, twice, stares down at his host with both a frown and a lifted brow. Don't ask him how he's doing it, but Jake can pull that one off - and yes, his gaze is very much giving 'what the fuck' energy.

There's a second of tense silence existing between them then, surrounded by the darkness of the night and the clouds high above threatening to spill another bucket worth of water onto who is already fully drenched at this point. A heartbeat passes. Two. Three.

A deep breath - a sigh, theatric, dramatic, over the top, exaggerated, you name it, as Jake throws his head back and pulls that cigarette from between his lips. No, he's not going to stomp it out or something - instead he then brings it back up, pointedly, to take a more enthusiastic drag of tobacco and lung cancer, just to make sure it reaches them deep. His eyes return to that puddle after, as lips part and a thick plume of smoke is exhaled, carried away by a not-so-gentle breeze, followed by a slow blink and a tilt of a head.

"...Should I tell you somethin' funny?", is what he says then, drawls basically, accompanied by a smug little grin that's much more devilish in nature than soft, all things considered. "Given the fact that you're sufferin' from DID, you are currently doing this to yourself - kinda. More or less. We both know it's different for us, but if viewed from an, uh, psychological or medical perspective, this is totally what you're doin' - and you're lecturin' yourself 'bout it."

Jake's being an ass, he knows, but - he's had a shit night, alright? Give him some slack here. Let him have this cigarette, at least, if he's already denied the pleasure of having a good cigar instead...

[threegoldfish]

@deficd asked: ‘i am not the same person i was 18 minutes ago.” (( vega for jake! )) From my meme tag || always accepting

"... ---And I'm not the same guy I was 5 seconds ago." Duh. No one is the same person they used to be some (more or less defined) time ago; The past is the past, the future is the future, only the present is... well, the present. Yada yada. Jake's not too sure what her statement is trying to imply here - or to bring across, as a matter of fact - and he blinks once, twice, sharp dark eyes focused on her through the inside mirror of his beloved Jaguar they're currently both existing within.

She as a customer of sorts, on the back seat. Jake as the... uh, the person who gets shit done. The driver. The pay-me-money-and-I-do-shit-for-you-guy. Whatever you wanna call him, he can be that (to a certain extend).

The smoke of his cigar has since filled the small space that exists surrounding them and he takes another drag - then turns, the precious leather of his seat creaking as he's looking over his shoulder, taking in the sight of her with a lifted brow; Amusement might be there, next to something that could be called an incredulous expression of sorts.

"Tell me somethin' new, chiquita. Better yet - let me know when you've made up your mind. Preferably within the next--- dunno, two minutes or such? My time is limited, I've got shit to do."

Literally. Non-literally. Take this whichever way you prefer.

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Two bullets.

[therapardalis]

... 'WTF?' is really, seriously, taking the lead. Enough so that Thera isn't even going to point out that hey she 'talks' to animals, remember, and the 'minds' of sea sponges are as loose, porous and absently vague as their bodies. She's not going to mention that whales were always like that, or about African Grey parrots or Koko the gorilla.

No. Instead she's frowning, moving around her apartment at a brisk but steady pace as she turns off appliances, puts on solid flat shoes, finds her coat, purse, keys ... and phone, of course, which she was watching until around the third message before she decided to act.

[Text - Baby Driver] Where are you?

She hopes he'll just tell her - Jake's not the kind to have 'location' open on his phone. But on the other hand he's not the kind to do ... whatever this is. Possibilities run through her mind in quick succession; he's drunk, or he's high, or he's somehow managed to take enough of a smack over the head that neither of the others can step in. Or Steven has picked up the wrong phone, which is honestly the least concerning option.

Maybe she's worrying about nothing, and this is actually a good thing that elegant, no-hair-out-of-place Jake Lockley trusts her enough ramble like this, in writing no less. Maybe he's ... they're ... just happily at home, a couple of bottles deep.

Or maybe not.

[Text - Baby Driver] You're right, I don't need to know your bathroom habits. [Text - Baby Driver] You sound like you're somewhere interesting, room for one more?

[threegoldfish]

[text message -> Thera] : Where I am? Why you asking? [text message -> Thera] : I'm fine. I'm just having deep thoughts about life. It happens. I might be the one out of the three of us who's the most trigger-happy, but I actually can think about deep and meaningful things in between. Sometimes. [text message -> Thera] : ...Is it because I asked about those sponges? [text message -> Thera] : Sponges could have feelings, after all! Like, seriously. Deep feelings. Emotions. I still hope our bath sponge does not have feelings. I'm going to throw the body off a cliff it it turns out that sponges have feelings and perhaps a brain to remember what kind of stuff people use them for. [text message -> Thera] : Guess Marc wouldn't approve of it, but... eh. He's never approving of anything anyways. He's fun at parties. Very.

Another pause happens, one in which the constant stream of text-messages comes to a very similar halt like before. The well-known dots are appearing now and then however, implying that Jake is typing... but it takes him a moment, apparently, before he's back on track.

[text message -> Thera] : Shit [text message -> Thera] : Okay, before you keep worrying your pretty little head about me: I am high. [text message -> Thera] : Guess I'm high enough to worry about fucking bath sponges. And sea sponges. [text message -> Thera] : Don't tell Marc. Don't tell Steven. Absolutely do not tell Steven. He's going to force me to listen to a three-hour lecture about how bad drugs are for our body, blah blah blah, whatever I don't care [text message -> Thera] : Might've also had a beer or two. Maybe five. Could've been Whiskey. I don't really remember. [text message -> Thera] : I'm sitting in my car right now, smoking a cigarette [text message -> Thera] : Life is quite something.

Another pause, shorter than the last.

[text message -> Thera] : But if you really wanna join me - there's that empty parking lot close to that park with the big pond in the middle, you know which one i mean? The one where the fucking lights are always out of order for some bullshit reason [text message -> Thera] : No one's here and it's peaceful. Leaves room to think.

[odditymuse]

[ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : I assure you, love, pigeons are very real things! [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : All birds are. Like, factually. Logically. All that. [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : I've probably some books in the flat, even, about many types of birds! [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Somewhere in that. uh. Mess. Heh. [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Though I suppose you do have a point about Khonshu. . . [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Kind of does make one think about the logistics of it all, huh? Wow, alright, maybe you aren't far off. . . [ text to → lovely ( marc ) ] : Are you sure you sure you're all there? Existential crisis on a random Monday evening is. . . interesting.

[threegoldfish]

[ text to -> Steven ] : I love and hate you at the same time for how you just throw those facts straight at my face [ text to -> Steven ] : Taking away all of those reasons I came up with that were sounding so plausible in my head [ text to -> Steven ] : Kinda wished you indulged me but at the same time maybe it's for the best you don't [ text to -> Steven ] : One of us has to stay sane [ text to -> Steven ] : Because I think I'm going insane [ text to -> Steven ] : I mean, Khonshu is a fucking myth all by itself I don't care whatever the fuck he is, fucking bird skeleton thing whatever [ text to -> Steven ] : When do you come home? [ text to -> Steven ] : I miss you [ text to -> Steven ] : Flat's fucking empty [ text to -> Steven ] : Jake's not here either don't have anyone around, why are you all always gone, this sucks [ text to -> Steven ] : Gonna jump out of a window I guess