#moon knight system is jewish

[fdelopera]

Moon Knight on Erev Rosh Hashanah

I took part in the Moon Knight mystery swap, and I'm writing this fic for @enigmatist17 !

Since it is New Year's Eve (or New Year's Day depending on when you're reading this), I wanted to write a fic for the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah.

This fic is based on the MacKay comic book series (Moon Knight 2021), and is set several issues before Issue 30.

I wanted to show MK System as an observant Jewish System, since that isn't often explored in depth in the comics. And you just know, Jake "For the People" Lockley is usually the one who schleps their tuchus to shul!

Happy New Year!

✡︎

“We’re not going,” said Marc, shaking his head, trying to push back the emotions coming from Jake and Steven. “Absolutely not. I haven’t been in years. Not since … well, not since that time with dad. And Jake, I think it was mostly you around that time anyway. You always paid more attention in shul.”

Marc felt a familiar pulling sensation from where Jake usually hung around, when he was close to front. And then Jake’s familiar Brooklyn twang said, “Marc, bubbeleh, I could just knock ya out cold and take us there myself, you know. But I want you to be there. This is for you as much as it is for us.”

Marc felt Steven chime in with his nasally Long Island cadence, “We both want this. Jake and I do. Not for dad. Not for the family. For us. For you. We’re the only mishpocheh that matters here.”

“Well, I guess I’m just the odd man out. As per usual.” Marc shook his head, and absentmindedly ran his hands through his hair. Their hair was greasy and unkept from being shoved under the mask. What else was new. They needed a shower. That was usually Steven’s job, but Marc didn’t want to give Steven any chance to front and collude with Jake to drag them to shul. Not now.

Not with tomorrow being the 1st of Tishrei. The first day of Rosh Hashanah.

“I heard that,” said Steven. “And neither Jake nor I are going to force you to go to High Holiday services. But we bought the ticket, everything’s all set up. Central Synagogue has a beautiful service. It won’t be anything like dad’s shul. The music is more contemporary. The Rabbi and the Cantor are both women. They’ve got beautiful voices. You’ll find a way to pout about it, I’m sure, but I know deep down you’ll enjoy it. Trust us.”

“What about Reese and Soldier? What about Greer? Are we really going to leave them alone for days at a time? Just tell them, ‘See you later!’ What if they need me? What if Hunter’s Moon has to track down another one of Black Spectre’s goons?”

Marc felt Jake’s chuckle erupt from deep within, and he heard Jake’s words wash over him with yellow-colored mirth. “Marc, I think a couple of vampires and a cat woman are more than capable of taking care of themselves without you fucking everything up, don’t you think?”

“Marc…” Steven’s voice echoed softly within, a wash of blue concern pushing against the back of their eyes. “Marc, what is this really about.”

“It just feels like a complete waste of time, with everything we’ve got going on.”

“Hey!” Jake’s annoyance came quickly. “You might not take shul seriously, but I do. This is important for us. We’re Jewish, Marc. Whether you like it or not. And as Jews, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are our two most important days. Our holiest days. I know that probably doesn’t mean shit to you anymore…”

“No, no, I’m not saying that…”

“Well, you kinda are. You’re saying that our two holiest days don’t matter for shit. Meanwhile, you’re out on the street, doing the bidding of an Egyptian god.”

“That’s different. I don’t worship Khonshu. I still remember the Aseret Hadibrot, and I know that Number One and Number Two are very important.

“I am the L-rd your G‑d, Who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.

“You shall have no other gods before Me. You shall not make for yourself a graven image, nor any manner of likeness of anything that is in heaven above, that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them, nor serve them. For I the L‑rd your G‑d am a jealous G‑d, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children of the third and fourth generation of them that hate Me; and showing mercy unto the thousandth generation of them that love Me and keep My commandments. (x)

“See? I still remember what dad taught us.”

“Nice, so you can recite the Ten Commandments,” sighed Jake from inside. “But you still don’t seem to understand why it’s important for us to go to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.”

“What I do remember is something dad talked about once… This was a while ago. Before he got sick. He was preparing a d’var Torah for Yom Kippur, and there was something he said…” Marc stopped himself before he thought about it more.

“Marc, what is it? What did he tell you?” Steven’s voice was gentle, his blue concern washed over them again.

“You already know, Steven.”

“Well, why don’t you say it, then.”

“It’s silly. Just a stupid thing. Something I heard dad say once. It just, got me thinking. About us. About me.”

“If it’s silly, then why are you trembling now?”

“I dunno. Maybe I still worry that it’s true.”

“Well, why don’t you talk to us about it? We can work through it together.”

Marc sighed and rolled his eyes. “This is fucking ridiculous. It’s not that big a deal.”

“Marc, bubbeleh…” Jake’s thoughts were soft. “C’mon. Try us.”

“Fine. I have to find it.”

Marc grabbed his phone and searched Sefaria for the specific passage. “It was just this one commentary in the Talmud. About Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Here it is. You’ll see how dumb this is. Really.” He sighed dramatically, but he couldn’t quite keep the tremble from his voice.

“The Gemara goes back to discuss the Day of Judgment. Rabbi Kruspedai said that Rabbi Yoḥanan ben Napacha said: Three books are opened on Rosh Hashanah before the Holy One, Blessed be He: One of wholly wicked people, and one of wholly righteous people, and one of middling people whose good and bad deeds are equally balanced. Wholly righteous people are immediately written and sealed for life; wholly wicked people are immediately written and sealed for death; and middling people are left with their judgment suspended from Rosh Hashanah until Yom Kippur, their fate remaining undecided. If they merit, through the good deeds and mitzvot that they perform during this period, they are written for life; if they do not so merit, they are written for death.” (x)

Marc sighed. “That’s it. You get it? That’s why I’m worried.”

“And what about this worries you, Marc?” Steven’s thoughts were patient, even as Marc’s emotions started to rise.

“I’m scared. I’m terrified that something awful is gonna happen. I’m fucking terrified that I’ll be inscribed as one of these ‘Wholly Wicked’ people. Steven, you’ll be fine. You’re one of the ‘Middling People’ after all.”

“Ha! Very funny Marc. And I guess that makes Jake one of the Righteous few.”

“Damn straight I am!” laughed Jake.

“You are, Jake. Jake ‘For the People’ Lockley, of course you’ll be among the Righteous. But me? I dunno. Somehow I’m convinced that if I go to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, I’m going to die.”

“Marc…”

“Yeah, Steven?”

“Headmates can’t die, Marc. At least, not without the body dying. And so long as you’re not planning on jumping out of a third story window…”

“No, no. It’s not that. I don’t know what it is. I just feel. Overwhelmed. By something. Something is weighing me down. I know headmates can’t die, or at least, not like that. But I just feel like something is coming for me.”

“Marc, what you’re feeling is grief. And guilt. And shame,” said Jake, his voice softer now. “We need to practice Teshuvah. Repentance. Being wrong. Telling the people we’ve hurt that we know we’re wrong. Explaining why we’re wrong. Asking for their forgiveness. Asking three separate times. Being prepared for them to say no each time. Being prepared to walk away. For that to be the closure we get. But Marc, we gotta start somewhere.” (x)

“I'd rather get punched in the face. Actually, I’d rather take a thousand hits than go through that.”

“Yeah, buddy. I know you would. But we don’t got that choice. Not when it’s the thing that is keeping us from being a Jew. Not when you believe that you are literally going to die because of your feelings of guilt and shame. We need Teshuvah.”

Jake sighed deeply from within. “Marc, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are sacred. They have always been our holiest days. Our Ten Days of Repentance. The Days of Awe. But do you know why they are so important?”

“Probably. I’m sure dad told us.”

“Because of Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai.” (x) (x)

“Wait, which one was he?”

“Ribaz. He’s the rabbi who pretty much saved Judaism.”

“Oh. Right. After the Temple…”

“Yes. The Temple. This is how dad used to tell it...

"After the Romans besieged Jerusalem. After they set fire to the Beit Hamikdash, our holy Temple. When we had no place left to offer up sacrifices to G-d. What would we do? Especially on Yom Kippur. Without the sacrifices at the Temple, how would the Jewish people be able to repent? How would we be forgiven of our sins each year? How would we continue to be Jews?

“Ribaz was a wise old rabbi. He stood and wept as he watched the Temple burn. The flames went higher and higher, late into the night, casting evil shadows upon the land. And he looked to the Tanakh for guidance. He turned to the Nevi’im. To Hoshea. And there he found the wisdom he sought.”

“For I desire lovingkindness, not sacrifice; devotion to God, rather than burnt offerings.” (x)

“I remember,” muttered Marc, his thoughts blending with Jake's, remembering their father’s voice. “Hoshea 6:6. And with that, he knew how we would carry on as Jews. We would offer up lovingkindness, prayer, and Torah study. That is how we show our devotion to G-d.”

“Yes!” thought Jake, nudging Marc from the headspace. “And that’s why we gotta go to shul tomorrow. Ribaz didn’t save Judaism just for us to be a slouch about it! So we gotta go to shul tomorrow to get our name in the Book of Life. So we can be sealed on Yom Kippur. So we can start the process of doing Teshuvah. We gotta reach out to Frenchie, Marc. And I miss Gena and Crawley so damn much. It’s gonna be really hard. But we gotta start somewhere. We gotta start repenting to them. And we gotta mean it this time. Let go of some of that ego you carry around your neck. It’s weighing all of us down.”

“Jake’s right,” thought Steven. “We don’t know what the future will bring, Marc. But we gotta start.”

Steven began humming a tune that pushed out in little breaths through Marc’s voice. It was a tune that Marc knew but couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What is that?” thought Marc, directing the question at Steven. “That sounds like…”

Steven pushed closer to front, and continued humming, a little louder this time. Some words came through Marc’s lips in Steven’s voice.

“Who by fire? And who by water? … Hmmm hmmm hmmmm… and hmmmm hmmm hmmmmm…”

Marc coughed, cutting off Steven’s song for a minute. “Oh, it’s Leonard Cohen.”

Marc could feel Steven’s smile from inside the headspace. “That’s right, Marc. And you know what it is, right?”

“I do. Yeah. Yeah. Who shall live and who shall die. His version of the Unetaneh Tokef prayer.” Marc began to sing softly. (x) (x)

And who by fire?

Who by water?

Who in the sunshine?

Who in the night time?

Who by high ordeal?

Who by common trial?

Who in your merry merry month of May?

Who by very slow decay?

And who shall I say is calling?

“But teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah shall avert the severe decree.” Marc took a deep breath. “I’ll go. I will. For Ribaz. And I’ll do it for you Jake… I’d do anything for you. You know that. And yeah, you too Steven. Even though you’re a pain in my ass. I’ll do it for you. We’re mishpocheh.”

“And for you, Marc?” asked Steven, whispering the words through their lips.

“Huh. Okay. Fine. For me too. I’ll go be a good Jew. Ha! Dad would be so proud.”

“We’re not doing it for him,” thought Jake.

“No. Okay, no. You’re right. We’re not. I’m not. We’re mishpocheh. We’re doing this for us.”

#moon knight #moon knight mystery swap 2023 #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #enigmatist17 #moon knight system is jewish #Youtube

[ivystoryweaver]

Happy New Year, Jake

Happy Rosh Hashanah to the Moon Knight system

I haven't written enough for Jake, so he gets an impromptu story this lovely Rosh Hashanah (New Year).

Pairing: Jake Lockley x gn!reader

Word Count: 820

Content: Fluff, slight feelings of unworthiness, mentions of food, alters mentioned, brief reference to past trauma, mentions of religion and religious practices, not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

You asked Marc and Steven if you could do this.

Celebrate something with Jake.

Marc had some happy memories of holidays - Passover meals - finding the afikomen and getting a few dollars for it. The food, the wine, the prayers, the traditions.

Hanukkah wasn't quite as big of a holiday, but there were presents and dreidel to play and latkes to eat.

There were candles to light and services to attend.

Then, one day, there was no more happiness.

Steven's memories were spotty at best, but they were happy. His heart was rooted in the traditions of those before him.

But Jake had none of this. He was a shadow - a creature of the night. He had only been in your life for less than a year.

Jake was a difficult man to get to know. He preferred to keep to himself, but he was soft for you - that, he could not fight.

You didn't want to ambush him, or even surprise him. You asked his permission.

"Could...do you think we could have a little dinner for New Year's?" You asked him one night, moonlight spilling across the bed as you drew circles on his bare chest with your fingertips.

"New Year's?" He gruffed out, confused. "In September?"

"Rosh Hashanah," you supplied. "You know...the new year. If you want. I wanted to make you dinner - just something nice."

Jake's calloused hands scratched lightly down the curve of your back. "Not sure, mi vida. Better ask - "

"I did," you interrupted. "Marc's not ready yet and Steven is okay skipping this year - at least the dinner so you and I can share it. Only if that's okay with you. It doesn't have to be anything you're uncomfortable with."

The stubble of his chin tickled the skin of your cheek as he whispered back and forth with you.

"Okay. Yeah. I...I don't know exactly what I'm supposed to do, but...sure."

You were excited, having hoped Jake wouldn't turn you down.

You prepared a savory meal - doing most of the work the night before. You set an elegant yet simple table, with your best dishes, a tablecloth and your grandmother's silver.

A round challah loaf sat on her silver serving platter. You prepared apples and honey to symbolize the hope for a sweet year. You also served pomegranates and some vegetables. You made some brisket for Marc to eat later. Wine glasses and water glasses were set appropriately. You were ready.

You put the finishing touches on the table just as Jake emerged from your bedroom, straightening his tie. Jake was no stranger to wearing a tie or looking absolutely dashing at any given moment.

But this was something else. Instead of his typical leather jacket, he wore a dark suit jacket. Noticing your blatant stare, he ran a hand over the stubble of his jaw.

"I think this is like a...proper dinner," he attempted, sounding a little like Steven. "This too much?"

"Jake," you breathed, floating toward him. "You look incredible." Placing your hands on his muscled chest, you leaned in and brushed your lips tenderly over his.

"Shana Tovah," you wished him, motioning for him to have a seat at the table. But he pulled you back to his side, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple.

As you sat down to enjoy your holiday meal, your heart burned within your chest each time Jake seemed uncertain about what exactly to do. The last thing you wanted was make him uncomfortable, or make him somehow feel less...Jewish? Than Steven or Marc.

You only desired for him to be who he was. But you wanted him to feel a part of his history too, if he was comfortable.

"You okay?" You quietly asked, watching as he dipped his apple slice into the honey.

He paused, his warm brown eyes going wide. "Did I do something wrong? Is there like a prayer?"

"Jake, you can't do anything wrong. This is for you. Just...be with me." You reached across the table and squeezed his hand, watching as his shoulders relaxed.

"This is nice, baby," he spoke up after a few minutes. Leaning in, he made sure to catch your eye. "It's really nice. Thank you...for thinking of me."

You smiled warmly. "Of course, I'm always thinking of you."

You shared your special meal and some traditions together, feeling so warm inside and so grateful for this man of yours. When you got up from the table, he pulled you close and told you how amazing you looked.

"Gotta dress up like this again so I can take you out," he roughly whispered against your ear while holding you against him.

Easing back, you brushed your fingers along his jaw. "You mean 'take me out' a date, right? And not...your nighttime job?" You teased.

"Very funny," he mocked, scooping you up into a hug, where you stayed for a while, content in his arms.

"Happy new year, baby," he whispered, feeling like he belonged.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Moon Knight Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #holiday fic #rosh hashanah #new year #happy new year #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight system #moon knight fic #jewish holidays #oscar isaac characters

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the Comics: Writing a legend, building a history.

Today we aren't reviewing an issue of Moon Knight. Today we are going to talk about something important.

So who wrote Moon Knight?

"Easy!", you might say. "Doug Moench!"

Sure. But you'd be surprised to find that it's not as much as you'd think.

Doug Moench wrote issues 1-15, 17-26, 28-33.

He returns in 1998 for a 4 issue mini seires Vol 3 "Resurrection Wars" which revives Marc Spector, who had been killed off in the previous volume.

He continues in 1999 with Vol 4, another 4 issue mini series "High Strangers/Strangeness" which won an award for favorite limited series.

He also wrote werewolf by Night, which gave us the first iteration of Moon Knight. An instantly popular character that made appearances in other comics like "The Hulk" before he was given his own comic.

He had time to work on the designs with Bill Sienkiewicz. They built up the weapons, the costume, the cab, and the copter.

He also built up the side characters of Gena, Gena's two boys, Crawley, Frenchie, Detective Flint, and Marlene.

He set the ground rules:

Moon Knight system is Jewish.

Marc, Jake, and Steven are a part of a system and are not one man pretending to be someone else

Jake is the one that is friendly and loves being with the people.

Steven is posh, collected, and takes care of things.

Marc is the one with experience, has the skills needed to get things done, and holds all the pain.

They are former Mercenaries who did terrible things and have deep guilt.

Khonshu resurrected them to act as Moon Knight

They strive to protect any who would come to them for help that perhaps might not get it elsewhere

I would even argue that he was building up to the fact that Moon Knight himself was his own form of alter but it has since been glossed over and replaced with the idea that Marc is most often the one under the mask.

Pretty simple rules to follow to make it a Moon Knight comics, but you'd be surprised what some writers have done with it.

These comics were written long before DID was acknowledged and the different forms of PTSD and Dissociation were defined.

And yet, here we stand with a traumazied man from Chicago slowly working through a freshly cognizant system and trying to figure out how three (four) people can work together towards not just a life, but life as a superhero who wants to help people.

Further more, an odd thing happened in this.

We had a comic that often focused more on mental health than on super powers, heroics, or villains.

More often than not, we watched Marc, Jake, and Steven struggle with themselves and one another. We watched stories unfold from the villain's point of view, often just being ordinary people pushed too far by a system that failed them.

More so, we watched Moon Knight sympathise with these villains.

How often he let them walk away or he let them kill their abusers, wondering if he was doing wrong himself.

How can he help when sometimes the help he offers is not what is needed?

We even watched him fail. We saw him lose his temper and cause damage. We saw him curl into a ball and break. We saw him get lost in his own nightmares and dissociative fuges.

Moench stepped forward and often handled current events with raw emotion. We saw his characters cry over the loss of public iconic figures. We watched people struggling as they returned from war. We saw child abuse and poverty. We watched economic struggles with classism and we watched people struggle to deal with grief.

We even watched them deal with antisemitism over and over again. How many times were the victims of his stories Jewish and trying to survive in America? What about the story that took place with the mass shooting in the Synagoug? We heard stories of Generational trauma as elders struggled with survival after the Holocaust.

Moon Knight was a unique comic unlike any other I've ever come across. For it's time and for it's topics at the time. What's more, this comic continued.

It was no 'special of the week' comic and spanned multiple years as they grew.

What do we know about Moench? Who did he write this comic for?

The Moon Knight in the Were Wolf by Night certainly didn't have all this depth. He was just a man dressed in silver, fighting a monster and ultimately choosing the side of the monster.

Moench himself was from Chicago. He knew what it was like to live in the city and see the fall of factories and hard times on the streets. We know he witnessed the times of Vietnam veterans being forgotten and abused. He witnessed a lot of changes happening in the world and the places he was writing about.

He wrote about what spoke to him and what he saw around him.

And in his stories, there often were no clear heroes, winners, or villains.

But there was one issue that he chose to add into this comic that was already filled with so many things that other comics avoided.

Moon Knight wasn't written as Jewish in that one shot cameo. He wasn't written with DID either, but I'll get to that.

There are interviews of Doug admitting that "I didn't say, 'I'm going to sit down and create a Jewish character.'"

In fact, he picked a name and later found out it was a Jewish name. This made him do research. Not just into Judaism, but into the areas that Marc Spector fought in and where his family came from.

Do you have any idea how many writers of that time and our current time simply slap the label of "Jewish" on a character and refuse to actually look into what makes them Jewish?

I can't say how much he researched and how much he got wrong or right, but I do know that when he did choose to dive into topics that touched on certain issues, he handled them with a grace that is often overlooked.

The writer that came after Moench? Alan Zelenetz, a former Jewish day school principal from Brooklyn.

Zelenetz had been acting as an editor for a bit before he took a look at Moench's early start.

And it was in Issue 37 and 38 where we get the real backstory of Marc Spector. A man running from his Rabbi father.

Marc now became the son of an Orthodox Rabbi who had been forced to flee Czechoslovakia after the Nazi invasion.

Here, we get the story of Marc running to the Marines. Running to the mercenaries, and running from home. Perhaps even, running from G-d.

Zelenetz wanted to lean into the Jewish past and Jewish story. He explored themes of using a holy book to create a villain while playing with Jewish myths. He also explored Antisemitism without toning it down or hiding it under comic bookish villainy. He portrayed Moon Knight facing white supremacist vandalizing a Jewish Cemetery. He showed Moon Knight saving the Torah from a Synagogue fire. He also showed a strained relationship and the question of Moon Knight finding his own relationship in what he does with his father's views.

Alan Zelenetz edited/wrote shorts for issues 18, 21–22, 27, 32, Then wrote the whole story for issues 36–38.

Zelenetz voiced that he was looking to add some Jewish representation into his workforce and perhaps into the comic industry at the time. Considering his background, perhaps he was the only one at the time that had the proper knowledge to play with things the way that he did in the story of Elias Spector's death and Marc Spector's pain.

He did not stick around with Moon Knight for long after. Though, he admits that he wanted to play with the fact that Khonshu was an Egyptian god and Marc was from such a Jewish background. I am sad we didn't get to see that story.

After that, Moon Knight's original 1980s run was finished. The question of what to do with Moon Knight, where to take him, and who would take up the mantle of writing him now lay in the hands of Marvel.

Many failed after this. They failed to keep the heart of what Moon Knight stood for and who Moon Knight was. His Jewishness was forgotten and his mental health became a joke.

Not to say all of them failed. There are a few shining stars that gleamed in the darkness and I like to think that it was these moments that kept Moon Knight going all these years.

Moench didn't set out to write a story about mental health, and yet his approach is the most real I've seen. Hardly a shining picture of perfect representation, there is still something there in watching the character almost seem to push back against the unintended desire to push him into a corner.

No matter how often Jake and Steven and Moon Knight were seen as Marc pretending to be someone else, there was always ALWAYS that correction. Always that push back.

Call it the writer's curse of characters misbehaving and taking on a life of their own, but perhaps there was something more there. Perhaps he felt the weight of time and cry of the suppressed and overlooked.

So many of his stories danced the line of "I can't say it because it will get edited out by the big wigs at Marvel, but if you would just look... Just look over here for just a moment..."

And years upon years later, a writer did see the whispers there and said "I see the story of pain. I see the cry of mental health." Lemire told the story that Moench couldn't and from that, we are still pushing forward with McKay.

And more, perhaps we will see the Jewish story that hides in all that also get a spotlight again.

In the era of big battles, cross-over events, explosions, and super villains cackling about domination... I still look back at Stained Glass Scarlet, The Druid, the Music Box, And Colloquy.

As I finish the original 1980s run, I brace myself to dive into what comes next.

I think I'm trying to find where and how the original run ventured so far into the dark and insulting territory it did and the journey back into a revival that now means so much to so many.

In a way, perhaps it mirrors a journey into our own mental health. How easy it is to become lost in what everyone around you tells you that you are and how you are supposed to be until your own doubt sets in to drown you. Perhaps it is the journey of Moon Knight's character emerging from this to find a path to healing that is what kept us here so long.

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight comics #Analyzing the comics #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Doug Moench #Moon Knight is Jewish #Moon Knight has DID #A system of hope #I'm rambling again #But this is important to me

[shu-of-the-wind]

i would like to aggressively demand formally request the entirety of the moon knight fandom writing holiday fic to remember that the moon knight system is collectively jewish and that sticking jewish characters into christmas fic is really really exclusionary to jewish people. i promise you there are guides to hanukkah celebrations out there you can reference.

#moon knight #judaism #do i tag this as #cw antisemitism #i don't think it's intentionally antisemitic but also like.....come on guys. come on. the mk system are our first on screen jewish heroes- #-in the mcu #like #can we just. can we not please #eta: yes wanda and piotr are jewish but where does whedon say that? nowhere #so #first canonically on screen jewish superheroes

[loelysian]

metanoia

(n.) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life

pairing: moon knight system x isis!avatar reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: following isis’ orders, you head to cairo in search of an ancient artifact that could threaten the exposure of the gods. the problem? marc spector was deployed on the same mission.

note: after reading up on isis, i thought she was the most exciting goddess to write about and have y/n represent. i plan on having steven show up next chapter and jake will be present here and there since much like the show, he isn't exactly a known alter yet. like i mentioned in my namor x reader fic, since i am a jewish-arab writer, it is hinted that y/n also belongs to those cultures but if you do not, that is completely fine. if i've offended you, feel free to let me know so i can fix my mistake and apologize to you personally. thank you and enjoy chapter one.

warning: depictions of violence and choking. if you are easily squeamish, this might not be the fic for you.

Breathe.

As you dipped behind the corner and hid among numerous street vendors, you took the time to catch your breath. This wasn’t the first time you’d been chased and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but you had to admit whoever was after you was fast. He’d nearly cornered you numerous times, demanding you hand over the amulet. You only held the satchel you had over your shoulder closer to your chest as you baselessly kicked out, hoping to make contact with some part of his body—anything to get as far away from him as you could. Thankfully, you’d made contact with what you thought was his stomach and lept over him as he reached to grab for you. One thing you could always appreciate about Cairo was how busy it was, even at night. The lights were always on no matter what, people were always out selling things and music was always heard from every direction of the city.

In and out.

To be discreet, you grabbed a cloth you noticed one of the shop-owners had on a vacant table and did your best to wrap it around your face, hoping the man didn’t remember what you were wearing. Distantly, you felt Isis’ presence. Oftentimes, she followed you around on your missions to make sure you were following her directions. She spoke to you like a mother would to a child but to you, she felt more like a teacher—a mentor in many ways. Right now, you felt she was reminding you to stay focused—to stay alert. To breathe. Sometimes you forgot to do that.

Stay focused.

Slipping down a darkened alleyway, you used this to your advantage as you shut your eyes, focusing on the energy around you. When you became Isis’ avatar, she’d given you abilities you hadn’t thought were possible. You could heal any living being with the right intentions and while you were only still learning, you’d discovered you also had telekinetic abilities that stemmed from the magic Isis was known to perform.

Climb.

Once you opened your eyes, you noticed a ladder to the right of you and climbed up as quickly as you could. This would give you the advantage as you would be able to scan the crowds and pinpoint where the man was. As you made it to the top, you were glad to find you were the only one there. In Cairo, most buildings were connected so if you had to make a run for it, you were confident you’d be able to best him. Crouching by the ledge, your scarf blew in the wind as you peered down from overhead, watching people go about their days with varying expressions on their faces. Some were smiling while others wore frowns. Since you were so full of adrenaline, you weren’t sure how you felt.

He’s coming.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as an array of goosebumps trickled up and down your arms. You knew what that meant. You dropped the satchel containing the amulet and hid it behind a vase that happened to be to your left. You’d have to make sure you kept it in your peripheral vision.

Know who you represent.

Was the last thing you heard from Isis as the man grew closer and closer. For a moment, you thought you were being surrounded until he revealed himself. He didn’t look very happy. You glared at him.

“I know what you are here for, and you will not get it.” you spoke calmly, yet demanding.

“Look. I don’t want to make this hard on the both of us, but only one of us is leaving here with that amulet and we both know who that’ll be.” so he wanted to play? You had him right where you wanted him.

“Yes, we do.” you muttered.

At your sides, you summoned two identical knives and charged toward the man. He clearly hadn’t been anticipating that at all.

He was as strong as you were—as resilient—none of your punches, no matter how strong, were doing anything and he wasn’t giving up at all. He’d had you pinned against the ground more than once and though you kept throwing him off, you were only human. There was sand in your hair, the scarf having blown away a while back. The sun was taunting the both of you as you battled on the roof, beads of sweat dripping off both of your faces in tandem. Any time you tried to spawn a weapon, the man was one step ahead, knocking it out of your hands as it scattered away and eventually vanished into thin air. The amulet was still in the pot and you couldn’t help but glance over every now and then to make sure it was still there.

“Just give it up,” you grunted out after a painful punch to the gut. He was relentless.

“I don’t talk during fights.” his voice was gritty as you pinned him to the ground, pressing both his arms into the concrete so he couldn’t grab you from behind.

“Well I do,” you snarled as he tried to free himself.

He’d been glaring at you until something from behind you caught his attention, his eyes softening. You noticed the multiple shadows that seemed to appear from nowhere and hesitantly, you let go of his hands to get a look at who’d shown up.

“Well what do we have here.” the voice came from a tall, frail man who was surrounded by a group of fighters. Your eyes shifted toward the pot and quickly shot back to the elder in front of you. Thankfully, your satchel was still in there.

“This doesn’t concern you.” came from behind you. It was from the man you’d been running from. You really had no idea who any of these people were.

“Oh, but I think it does.” the old man shouts. You were out of your element here. This was bigger than anything you’d done for Isis before. “You have something I want and I intend to leave here with it in my possession.” he spoke before coughing into his arm.

“What is it we have?” you tried to play it off like the amulet wasn’t sitting right behind them.

“The key to Isis.” what? “She will heal me if I have this in my possession. Inside the amulet, there is a map that will lead me to a pyramid. From there, I must place the amulet under the eclipse and wait for her to show herself.” no wonder Isis had sent you after it. If the old man went through with this, it wouldn’t just free her—it would free everyone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you said.

“Search them both.” the old man ordered. Immediately, two of the guards who stood beside the old man marched toward the two of you and pushed the both of you to the ground. Despite the sun beating down on the two of you, your blood ran cold when you noticed the guns they had in their pockets. Something told you they weren’t afraid to use them.

You had no choice but to sit there as they checked every inch of your body, including beneath your shirt, to make sure you didn’t have the amulet. It made you uncomfortable but you complied to appease the man and hopefully get out of there as fast as possible.

“Neither of them have it, sir.” one of the inspectors told him in a hushed tone. This only seemed to worsen the old man’s anger as his eyes trailed from you to your attacker.

He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“Tell me where the amulet is or I'll gut you right here!” he yelled in his anger, his grip on your chin tightening.

“I,” you struggled to get out. “I don’t know where it is.” you gasped when he let go, holding your face in your hands.

“She’s lying! She knows.” he held a shaky finger in your direction before it fell against his side.

Once you were certain the old man couldn’t hear you, you slowly moved your body toward your attacker.

“It’s in the pot.” you whispered. That caught his attention. “I couldn’t let you take it off of me.” you finished.

“We have to get to it before they notice something’s up.” he whispered back. “How about you distract them-” you cut him off. Absolutely not.

“What, so you can run off with the amulet and bring me back to square one? I don’t think so.” you rushed, your voice hot.

“Well that makes two of us.” you were about to give up until you thought of something.

“How about we take out the men and leave together with the amulet. There’s no way he can hold both of us off.” you whispered. He seemed to agree with you, nodding before he stood up.

Oh, so you were doing this now.

You quickly joined him and focused on two throwing knives materializing into your hands. You smiled once you felt the weight of them in your palms.

Your attacker was already handling the other guard so you snuck up behind the other and politely tapped him on the shoulder, waiting for him to turn around. Little did he know you’d already pocketed his gun so there was nothing he could do but surrender. Once he saw you and your knives, he barrelled toward you, hoping to knock you off your feet but you briskly moved out of the way, watching as he toppled into the man your attacker was fighting, effectively knocking both of them out.

Well, that was quicker than you’d expected.

Your attacker was lying on the ground looking up at you with something akin to what you thought starstruck might look like. As your knives faded away, you reached out a hand and helped him to his feet.

The old man had vanished completely from the roof and as your attacker tried to look for him, you grabbed the satchel and felt around inside for the amulet, smiling to yourself when the cold stone came in contact with your hand.

“I have it! Let’s get out of here,” you shouted before you felt someone wrapping their arms around your throat from behind, causing you to drop the satchel. You tried to punch at their arms but you were only so big and they had the upper hand.

“Get out of here,” you choked out. You weren’t sure how long you were going to last. Whoever was behind you was practically choking you to death. “Take the amulet. Run!” your voice was hoarse as your windpipes were struggling to intake air.

‘Marc. Save her.’ a voice you’d never heard before. spoke to the two of you from above. It was deep and you looked at who you assumed was Marc and hoped he’d stop wasting his time, grab the satchel and run but he didn’t.

He grabbed the gun he’d stolen from one of the guards and shot the man who was choking you square in the forehead. You felt the life drain from his body as he fell backward, the grip from your throat easing as you collapsed to your knees, gasping for air. Marc ran toward you and helped you to your feet as he grabbed the satchel and shoved it under his arm, leading you toward the ladder. You were still coughing and were certain there was going to be a nasty ringed bruise around your throat the next day. Wiping at the stray tears that had formed in the corners of your eyes, you quickly but cautiously climbed down the ladder, jumping once you made it to the bottom.

Once Marc made it to the ground, the two of you ran toward the crowd in order to lose the other guard who would surely be waking up soon. You made sure to keep an eye on your satchel as he ushered you toward a busy building that read hotel in Arabic.

“A treat for almost trying to kill me.” you stated sarcastically. Marc grumbled and led you inside where you waited at the front desk for an employee to check in.

“Hi! Welcome to the Horizon Nile. How can I help you today,” the man who was working the computer asked. He was speaking arabic. At Marc’s confusion, you stepped forward with a smile.

“We’d like two rooms please. Emphasis on two.” you replied. You’d grown up speaking Arabic and since you visited Cairo so often, it helped that you were so fluent.

“I’m afraid the only available room we have is a one bedroom suite. Couple’s fight?” he asked. You reeled back. You hadn’t expected him to ask that.

“No, we’re not together.” you rushed out, clearly uncomfortable. This seemed to peak Marc’s interest, who turned toward you.

“What did he ask?” he said, crossing his arms.

“Nothing important.” you mumbled in english before replying to the man in arabic. “We’ll take the room for a night.” you said, nudging for Marc to hand over your satchel so you could pay for it. However, when Marc noticed you pulling your wallet out, he stopped you and reached into his back pocket.

“You keep your wallet in your pocket when you’re chasing people?” you asked, hoping to get a rise out of him.

“Nobody ever gets close enough to touch me, sweetheart.” he muttered before handing the man his credit card. You tried to ignore the nickname he’d just called you to no avail.

“There was only one room available, partner.” you said, voice void of any emotion.

“Fantastic.” sounds like Marc was just as thrilled as you were.

This was going to be a long night.

#marc spector x you #steven grant x you #jake lockely x you #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight system x reader #jewish reader #arab reader

[faebirdie]

me seeing all these moon knight fanfics where the boys celebrate christmas rather than hanukkah:

#they're jewish! #like writing a multicultural imagine with them and their partner celebrating each of their holidays together is fine #thats how couples who have different religions work #but so many fics dont even mention Hanukkah #i'm so fucking tired #marc spector #jake lockely #steven grant #moon knight #mcu #moon knight system #anti semitism #hannah talks

[usaigi]

One time, my mom told me that Latino people(particularly immigrants) don't suffer from PTSD because we've had to suffer all our lives and therefore have thicker skin.

Always, I think Marc was told something similar at some point. Any discussion on mental illness and therapy where so stigmatized and shamed within his family and community. And assuming he did receive help at some point, the social and cultural barriers, as well as racism he likely had to experience.

From his teachers, "Marc's acting up in school? Mood swings and fighting with other kids? Typical for latino boys."

and classmates, "Yeah dude, my mom hits me with the chancla, or the tortilla, or the wooden back massage stick, anything she has in her hand when I talk back. Don't be a cry baby Marc, that's just what our moms are like."

to therapists, "Your mom drinks a lot? She hits you? Is that a cultural thing?"

#pls don't say anything bad about my mom i love her a lot shes just very brown #also this doesnt mention anything about their jewish identity and how that affects everything so it anyone would like to add on #Using marc but referring to the whole system #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #also jokes on u mom I didnt inherit thick skin im too whitewashed #cw racism #cw child abuse

[poelya]

the way my parents interact with media genuinely just. confuses and astounds me. i cannot fathom how they "interact" with it. my father can watch the most pointed, poignant pulls-no-punches story and go "that was good because it didn't have an agenda!", my mom can miss critical plot points and established pieces of character development/relationship building because she's too busy just looking at the aesthetics of the show (set-dressing and clothes, which is fair enough those do deserve appreciation). their idea of discussion about stories is how much it made at the box office or how many ratings it got, or talking about the actors' personal lives, and occasionally the most half-hearted theory about what will ever happen next. it's so........boring........

#nym speaks #what do ratings have to do with anything. #how are you missing BLATANT story beats. #BLATANT STORY BEATS ON A /REWATCH/ #YOU'VE SEEN THIS SHOW BEFORE? #this was prompted by them talking about dw again (bc they've largely ignored me stating repeatedly idrc about it. shocking! they didn't #listen to me! did you know if you stick your hand under water it'll come away wet?) #but like. specifically i'm thinking about their respective reactions to moon knight #dad saying (WITH HIS FULL CHEST!) that it was a good show because it 'didn't have an agenda' (he's one of those bigot trolls obsessed with #woke alarmist youtubers) #and i'm like. IT IS A SHOW ABOUT A JEWISH DISABLED LATINO SYSTEM. #THE THREE MAIN CHARACTERS ARE PEOPLE OF COLOR. THE VILLAIN IS A WHITE EUGENIST WHO WEAPONIZES DISABILITY #IT! IS! ABOUT! SYSTEMATIC! ABLEISM! #WHAT! ABOUT THAT! ISN'T ! HOW DO YOU THINK IT DOESNT HAVE ANYTHING TO SAY WHAT IS GOING /ON/ IN THAT BRAIN OF YOURS #like JESUS #and then like. on a REWATCH (NOT HER FIRST WATCH! A /REWATCH/) #abruptly out of the blue DURING EPISODE THREE mom's like '[layla] knows he's moon knight right?" #GIRL! THAT IS A WELL ESTABLISHED FACT - #HOW LITTLE ATTENTION ARE YOU PAYING TO THE DIALOGUE TO NOT KNOW THIS?!

[oofouchoww]

moon knight fandom stop being weird about jewish people for once.

you’ll either sit there and act like the system isn’t jewish because you forgot, or it just doesn’t matter to you as someone not in the community. or you’ll go out of your way to write the most offensive thing possible. the system being jewish is not a headcanon, its been a part of the character since the 80’s. acknowledge his faith and do your research or don’t talk about them at all.

#moon knight #jewish #steven grant #gatekeeping the system from goyim until you learn to behave #jake lockley #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine

[bakedbananners]

withholding my obligatory “I can’t fucking believe marc said ‘i don’t know’ when khonshu asked if he wanted to live or die in the tomb” bc I’m deluding myself into thinking Jake gets all the righteous lust for vengeance in season 2

#hey guess who watched mk 2022 again . me #i would like to see whether Jake killed bushman or not. that would be So fun #actually just make s2 a revenge arc. please. I’d like that #i think that Jake should get to have fun #deluding myself into also thinking Jake is the most Jewish of them and we’ll get more of the system Being Jewish then but. geh #moon knight #me talking

[jewishfalin]

How do I find posts n stuff about being jewish and plural without seeing gentiles posting their stupid moon knight opinions

#filled with dumb goyische opinions followed with 'im not jewish or a system so' then shut up bc u clearly have no idea what ur talking about #anyways i enjoy moon knight but im tired of looking at stupid fandom discourse while im just on a search for relatable shit

[fdelopera]

Moon Knight thoughts for Sukkot...

this week is Sukkot ... and naturally, thoughts have turned to MK System, and their relationship to it.

Sukkot commemorates a time during the Jewish people's wandering, after our escape from Egypt... when we left Egypt, we wandered in the desert, and G-d told the Jewish people to build and live in sukkot, or temporary huts, to shelter from the elements.

(of course, the escape from "Egypt" commemorates the escape from any oppressive system, since the Exodus story isn't literal -- it's more a Jewish cultural memory of the late Bronze Age collapse. it also relates to the Jewish people's experience of enslavement and captivity in the 500s BCE during the Babylonian Exile, right before the Persian empire conquered Babylon and allowed the Jews to return to Jerusalem to build the 2nd Temple... but that's a whole other discussion...)

perhaps Marc would connect to the impermanence of the sukkah. it echoes his rootlessness, his wandering... after all, he escaped his own "Pharaoh" when he ran from his family's abuse... maybe he would draw a parallel to the (nearly) forty years that he has been trying to find a home...

Sukkot is also a harvest festival, and Jews collect four distinct species of vegetation, and put them together.

the species are an etrog (a yellow citrus fruit that looks like a giant lemon), as well as a palm branch, myrtle branches, and willow branches (the branches are all assembled together to create the lulav).

it's traditional to stand in the sukkah and shake the lulav and etrog together, and recite the blessing: Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’tzivanu al netilat lulav.

well ... the etrog, palm, willow and myrtle each have many different meanings. you can learn more about their symbolism here.

but one of their meanings relates to the body.

specifically, the etrog relates to the heart/wisdom. also, the palm is the spine/uprightness. myrtle is the eyes/perception. and willow is the lips/speech.

but back to the etrog. the heart.

a thought came the other day, of Marc and Steven in the Duat, wrapping their hands around their heart as they finally start to communicate... as Marc recognizes their connection as their superpower... except, it's not a stone heart they're holding.

they're holding a yellow etrog.

it probably wasn't intentional ... but their heart even looks like an etrog in the "you're the only real superpower i ever had" scene.

and as they hold the etrog together, they're able to begin their personal Sh'mot -- their exodus from "Egypt" -- escaping the emotional chains of guilt and rage that have bound Marc to Khonshu.

Steven in this way feels similar to Moshe -- the unlikely, emergent leader who shows Marc that "Egypt" is holding him captive. the one who leads them out, away from that servitude.

now we just need Season 2 so that Jake, like Aaron, can let go of the false security of their old ways of protection, and connect with Steven as he leads them to a more unified future...

#just have ... so many thoughts about mk system and how they relate to jewish practice #there are some yom kippur thoughts too ... those will come soon .. but sukkot demanded to be written #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley

[otherworldsys]

Happy New Year!

Prompt: New Year - 600 words

Layla wasn’t a fan of British winter, so it was tradition for them to travel elsewhere at the end of the year.

It was the first time Steven was part of this little tradition of theirs, and also the first time they had decided to travel together and sleep on the same bed since Marc’s botched attempt at a divorce he didn’t really want.

There was some comfort for both of them in the fact that they hadn’t skipped a single New Year since they had first met, and this year wouldn’t be an exception, despite everything that happened in it.

They were sitting at a table in a tiny brazilian private beach, watching the fireworks as they started in the continent from the small island.

“I guess that means it’s midnight.” Steven remarked with a grin.

Layla chuckled. “That’s a safe assumption.” she glanced at Marc’s watch that Steven had taken off.

“My m... I mean, we’d eat pomegranates when we were children, and put seven seeds in our wallet.” Steven told her as he broke one of the fruits in half and offered the other half to her. “And grapes.”

“Marc likes jumping in the ocean when it’s midnight.” Layla told him, and Steven perked up, still eating the pomegranate and setting the seeds on a napkin.

“Oh, yeah! Do you want to, Marc?” he asked, but he felt like Marc was tired and not quite responsive. He licked his lips. “Sounds like a great idea.” he told Layla instead, a little worried she’d be bothered that Marc wasn’t there.

“Come on, then.” she was wearing a white summer dress, and Steven was in white trousers and a white short sleeved dress shirt, bought brand new for the new year. They’d gotten rid of their shoes some time when Marc and Layla were walking together on the sand earlier.

Layla pulled him by his hand and he skipped after her towards the sea. “In full clothing?” Steven chuckled.

“It’s more fun.” she grinned and pulled him in.

The water was warm, and he jumped the wave as it came. Layla jumped with him, then the next, and the next until they had jumped all the seven waves. Then Steven fell into the water and pulled Layla into his arms, so they were both chest deep into the water. Layla laughed.

“Happy new year!” Steven told her with a grin.

“Happy new year.” she grinned, and pushed his shoulders lightly. He closed his eyes and mouth and laid into the water so he’d be fully under it for a second, then resurfaced and shook his hair. Layla cried out as the water splashed her.

“Don’t get it on my hair.” she laughed.

“Too late, love. Come on.” he splashed the water on her face with his hand. Layla exclaimed, then jumped on him, and this time both of them sank under the water before sitting back up on the sand and sharing grins.

“You’ll have to wash my hair now.” she said playfully as she tried to drain some of the salt water from it.

“It’ll be my pleasure.” he murmured, and she was surprised by his tone for a moment, but then she giggled.

“After the fireworks, or do you want to do it now?” she teased. Steven studied her for a long moment, then he dunked his head under the water a last time and shook his hair before getting up and offering his hand to her.

“Can’t let the salt damage your hair.” he told her with fake innocence. Layla grinned and grabbed his hand, letting Steven pull her up.

“No, that wouldn’t be good, would it?” she smirked.

They hurried back into the small rented cottage, holding hands and laughing as they ran.

#happy new year #drabble #steven grant #layla el faouly #steven x layla #moon knight #moonscarab #fluff #sea/swimming #MK System is half brazilian in this #their mother is jewish-brazilian #our writing

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Introspection

Summary: Moon Knight Comic universe. A study of the Interpersonal relationships between Marc, Jake, Steven, Mr. Knight, and Moon Knight.

They don't always get along. Sometimes they have no choice but to hold things together while one of them seems determined to take them apart.

Pairings: Gen fic, Brief mentions of Greer and Marc.

Warnings: Dissociation

Word Count: 4715

A personal note: I started this as something else and then had a small mental health event and continued to work on this. So it didn't go where I had planned on going. But here it is for whatever it's worth. I hope it's worth something.

----

MARC

Sometimes I remember life one way and sometimes I remember it another. It’s hard to pin it all down. If you asked me what I did this morning I’d be hard pressed to tell you the fine details but I can guess the usual. 

Each awakening starts the same. I listen to just about every joint in my body pop and creak as I crawl out of bed and wait for sensation to return to my body. I imagine it much like watching someone claw their way out of a shallow grave. When I am sure that the body is mine, I chug the coffee that by now must be two days old and reheated so many times the burnt smell only makes me think it’s stronger than it is. 

It does nothing for my headache but at least the double vision blurs into one and I can do more than make further zombie sounds. This does little for the popular notion that I am a dead man that has returned from the grave so many times that I sometimes catch myself glancing in the mirror at the symbole on my forehead. Is it still a moon? Am I sure? Is it the crest of a god or the word of another? Perhaps it is the truth. 

I try not to think about it if I don’t want to spend the next hour fading in and out of that dangerous void. 

Today is a bad day. I can’t stay out of the past. It happens. The past is a long dark tunnel or a glimpse of a street light I once stood too long under. 

I can feel the annoyance as I fade and cling at the same time. He calls me a pain as I dig my heels in. I’ve been told that I have a nasty tendency to dig my grubby mitts in so hard that it takes a considerable fight to knock me out of place. He says I have control issues. 

I don’t do it on purpose. I frankly wouldn’t know how to stay if I wanted to. I tend to come and go like a nasty habit you just can’t get rid of. Every time you think you’ve kicked it, it comes crawling back. 

Sure, I can give it up for them when we talk. When we talk. I remember the silence. Confusion and blanks written off with a shrug. Then I remember the yelling. There used to be so much yelling. Like siblings yelling from one room to the other over a barrier of invisible walls and doors that rattled on old hinges. 

We don’t yell anymore. Mostly. He calls me short sighted. The other one calls me a Schlimazel. He thinks he’s funny. I snapped and called him a Meshuggeneh once and he laughed about it for two weeks straight. He takes a special delight when I speak in that tongue. 

I think there is a popular opinion that we act like a big family full of love. Just a bunch of brothers that look out for one another. Bullshit. We are not brothers. Brothers in our situation would have probably killed each other years ago. The truth is that we are three grown men all trying to drive the same car and decide on where it’s going all at the same time. 

Sometimes we want to go to the living room and end up on the fucking roof. And it’s always anyone’s guess on how we got up there. When was the last time we ate? Did the other one go nuts on eggs again or did I have the reins and forget to eat for three days because I’m an idiot? It’s anyone’s guess. 

It has taken us a very very long time to figure out how to function. How to work as a team. How to care about one another. We certainly didn’t come into this wanting to help the other guy stop crying. It was just annoying listening to him cry all the time. We wanted him to stop. I wanted him to stop. I wanted to stop. He wanted me to stop. We were just kids. Just kids learning to share and… 

Here I go again, floating into the void and I think we’ve been staring at the same spot on the wall for ten minutes. He’s fucking yelling at me to get my shit together. 

I know what would really piss him off. I don’t want to piss him off. But I do. I piss him off by existing sometimes. He used to wish I would go away. He could put up with the other one but me? I was unacceptable. I used to wish I would go away too. I hated how much I was present. Always there. Always waiting to be angry. Waiting to punch something. Waiting to find a reason. 

They both tell me I need to stop. I needed to learn how to exist. I existed enough. It’s how we got into this mess. I existed. My name was put on a paper: Here Elias begat Marc and all the trouble that came with. 

I’m the trauma. I’m the reason. I’m the one that ran. I’m the one that made the decisions. I’m the one that lost… 

Now here’s the territory that he won’t let me near. Says I get too close and hurt myself too much. As if I can’t help but shout out “Here I am”. 

And as I sit and stare into the fire of my trauma, he finally pulls me and it feels like a relief as even the body lets out a sigh. 

STEVEN

It takes a minute. It doesn’t always. When he cooperates it’s like lightning. That’s the problem though, isn’t it? Marc Spector cooperating? The very notion of it makes me smile. 

Like the notion that Marc might actually take the moment to be more aware. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so pissed off. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not pissed at him. Not really. It’s hard to be pissed at him these days. Back at the start, though? All you had to do was imply his presence and I was pissed at the man. 

I think he still strives for that. He wants us to be angry at him. Give the man a stick and find him in the woods poking a bear for kicks. 

I’m pissed because I have to do this. I’m pissed because this is something that we still have to do. What brought it about this time? That’s always the part I hate the most. Trying to figure out why Marc had to be pulled. 

We know our places now. It wasn’t easy to figure out. There was a certain level of trust we had to reach to figure it out. When Marc was needed, we knew it was going to hurt. We hardly ever asked for his help. It was pride not to. 

Me? Needing his help? When I could just avoid the situation all together, why would I need his help? 

My denial was deep enough to drown us. My pride, the anchor that brought us down. 

Marc thinks I’d have been the perfect son. I was better. I was the one you introduced to your friends. And in this corner you see Steven Grant, poised and perfect. Just don’t ask him where his family is from. A nod and a wink and we can pretend he’s something else, right? 

Marc forgets how outright obnoxious I used to be. Forget the bruised knees and black eye. That was someone else. My creases were all pressed and my shirts were the whitest. “Yes teacher or course teacher right away teacher”. With grades and posture, I could look down my nose at the world. 

So why wasn’t I the perfect son? Because that was someone else. The real mensch. Yeah, he came a little late, but that’s the nature of him, isn’t it? While Marc and I circled the drain, he sat back with the plug yucking it up with the locals. He doesn’t know our trauma. Our pain. He shifts in and out like it’s nothing. That’s his job. 

Now I’m beyond annoyed. That spot on the wall still hasn’t moved and I’m stuck playing put the lid back on everything Marc opened up. 

I don’t tell him. He has enough to beat himself up over. I don’t tell him how it all carries over. I don’t tell him how his tears sting a little bit more when I’m the one shedding them. I don’t tell him that my hands shake just a little bit as I flush out our wounds. 

There’s a new bruise and I swear it lines up with someone’s fist perfectly. The night was long and now here we sit with ice and a fog that I can’t make go away. Images of our father float in and out and I hear something that I don’t know the words to. 

The fact that Marc does makes me angry. Angry at myself. 

Marc will never know how much he reminds me of our father. Not because he is like the man. No, they couldn’t be further from night and day. But Marc, full of vengeance and fire and bloody fists… No one worships like he does. Only our father, a Rabbi, could have more faith. 

I’d never tell him this, though. He wouldn’t understand. 

The wounds are clean and the bandages applied. My job is done and there is still so much more work to do. I do what I can. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. 

The mensch wants to know what’s going on. He doesn’t pay attention. He doesn’t have to. It’s my turn to be the stubborn ass and it isn’t till I feel the warm comfort of his embrace that I realize there’s more needed than a desperate need to make amends. 

JAKE

Bubbeleh, take a rest, eh? 

What’s going on up here? Why are we so worked up? I step out for a second and look at this mess. Stomach sounds like a grinder and I feel like we did ten rounds with that gorilla at the zoo. 

Steven makes a jab at my choice in food. What part of our life has been Kosher? Why start now? I think we’ll be forgiven if we break a few rules. Ah, there’s the issue, isn’t it? 

Memories. 

I can sit back and watch them. They play like an old flickering television with a bent antenna. 

No guess on who let these out of the box. He sulks in the back and I can feel his pain radiating across the whole void. 

Marc… If it was ever possible for someone to embody the word Schlep it would be Marc. I sit back quietly for a bit, letting the food soothe the body first. That quiets Steven down. Always worried about the body. The body relaxes and so does Steven. 

Steven settled, now comes the hard part. 

I do remember. I see the boy struggling and I see the other one rebelling in his own way. I remember stepping in more times than they know. I remember what it was to wrap ourselves in a large warm blanket and cry ourselves to sleep. 

The mustache goes on. Steven hates it. Hates what the adhesive does to our skin. I tell him to grow it out naturally; but then you’d have two problems instead of one. I’m a problem fixer. My problem can be fixed with adhesive and a hat.  

I pull my sweater closer and adjust my hat. Marc would riot if I wore the other hat. It was easier to dip into older traditions. It feels right. It feels like it holds us down and gives me the silhouette I know is right. 

Steven thinks I don’t know. I know more than he does sometimes. I never settled on denial. I just settled on acceptance. 

I whisper the right words. The ones that finish the song Steven forgot. They say there is a prayer for everything. Meditate on it long enough and there is a blessing for every situation. 

Sometimes a simple blessing is one that simply soothes the soul. It doesn’t have to make sense or even be appropriate. Just a notion that you do belong and that the good you do is truth enough to exist. 

“May it be your will that I lie down in peace and rise up in peace.” It isn’t the whole prayer. I don’t even remember the whole thing, but the whole thing isn’t what is needed now. Words are like that. Like a lullabye or a magic spell, we settle in peace. We know the truth to those words. 

And we do rise. We always rise up, but never in peace. But for now… At least we can lie down in a sort of peace. 

Cat naps, really. I close our eyes in the reclined seat of the cab as the sounds of the city soothe us into a slumber that keeps the dreams away. 

A yawn and a blinker later, we tour the city. This is my peace. Chit chat with the locals, a tip here and there from the underground. I smile to the fare and impart knowledge on the tourists. We were all dazzled by the city at one point or another. 

By the time my tour is over, we feel rested and refreshed. As much as is capable for us to feel anyways. I think if we ever really did rest we might not ever get back up again. 

Steven is quiet and back in place where he can pretend that maybe this time Marc might behave. I wish I lived in that bloke’s world. At least I know he won’t spiral for a bit. He likes to at least space out his breakdowns a bit. Adds flavor for when they really do build up. 

And a look up at the rising night sky assures me that Marc is also quiet, resting and pretending that he won’t be needed again. I don’t know how to tell him that he’ll always be needed. That he’s wanted. That I wouldn’t trust anyone else to watch my back. 

But now another bloke is stirring and asking questions. 

Yeah buddy, we got this. Just a hiccup or two. The usual. 

He relaxes and I let him stretch. He’s the shy one of the group, which is ironic considering just how flashy he is. 

You want denial, just ask him who lives under that mask. 

I relax back. He does better when we aren’t watching. Maybe someday he’ll feel confident enough to etch out his own place. It’s really enough to make me want to come up with a new prayer just for him. I was never a wordsmith though. Blessings were more of Marc’s territory anyways. 

MOON KNIGHT 

He gives us the information we need. He asks if we want to know about the day. We don’t. We appreciate the offer. He has a lot to share, but these things don’t mean anything to us. He has a lot of strength to offer and we appreciate him for it… But sometimes we enjoy just sitting in silence as we feel the moon and city and justice. 

We don’t know what we did today. We don’t know how the body is doing. We don’t know how they are doing. That isn’t really our business. Our business is up here under the sky under the mask. We can feel the bandages and know the fussy one has taken care of us. We feel energy and relaxed and know the chatty one has done his part. We also feel the anger and need to punch something and know our companion is ready. 

He isn’t always there. Sometimes it’s just me and I feel like a ghost, sliding through the moonbeams and haunting the streets. I don’t know how I feel about these times. 

Our companion helps us. We help him. He pretends to be us and we let him. He can pretend that he doesn’t exist and we are blended until his needs are ours and our actions are his. 

Sometimes he bleeds through. Sometimes the mask becomes heavy on his skin and we have to assert ourselves. We act on behalf of the system. We act because it’s what he needs. When his needs hurt, we let the others take him away. 

We aren’t sure when we became me. When I became individual. We prefer him to be there. We remember a time when we were one. Now we aren’t sure who or what we are. The fussy one prods at us sometimes. Questions us and tries to find out what we know. He asks us a lot of questions. Right now he dismisses us as essential to our companion and lets it go. The chatty one spends a lot of time trying to talk with us. He does not care for the mask and often sits back and just talks. I think he thinks we are a good way to see how our Companion is doing. 

Our companion sometimes resents us. We are the job. We are the work. We are the way for him to let off steam. We are the action to what needs to be done. 

But we are only here when the sky is dark and when justice is needed. When we slip away, it is just him and that is when the mask becomes too heavy. 

That is when we aren’t sure…  There is another we. 

Mr. Knight

I am not Marc Spector. This much I know. Marc doesn’t know this. It’s a recent development. Steven calls it ‘failure to trauma process’. Marc hides behind us. It is difficult to know when he is he and I am me. He is the man under the mask that does not wish to be there. I am the mask. 

The problem was that he would not take off the mask. We became new. 

I’m not sure what I think of things. Only Marc wears the mask. Jake doesn’t care to wear us. Our style doesn’t really match his, but he’s still supportive. Steven was exasperated by us at first but now he finds a useful transfer of information through us. The actual Knight? We’re a team. Sometimes we talk. Perhaps we have the most in common. We have jobs. Our job? We protect Marc. 

The Knight is difficult to speak with sometimes. He’s a bright white light in the dark and sometimes formless. I honestly can’t tell if he is one person or many pretending to be one. Maybe he’s all of us? Maybe I’m really just Marc pretending to be someone else. 

Steven tells me I’m too self aware for that. I asked Steven about the Knight once and Steven didn’t have an answer. 

Sometimes I am Marc. When his blood boils and he walks the street in search of something to hit I very much am Marc. I’m a thin shield over him, much like gauze over a wound. I don’t have fists. I am just the gloves that soak up the grime. 

I become myself when Marc checks out. He still loses time. He won’t admit it. Staring at the far wall while he sits in his chair or waters his plants. My plants. We keep things tidy. Perhaps that is why Steven likes us. 

I keep up appearances. How would it look to find ‘Mr. Knight’ standing in the corner staring at the dust on the leaves for the past twenty minutes? 

I think the others notice. The vampire? She knows. Once she met Steven she caught on real quick. Jake and Steven? Easy. Those two idiots couldn’t ever pretend to be someone else. They fought too long and hard to be independent. She isn’t sure about the Knight. It’s hard to tell with him. Perhaps she sees him as something else completely. Maybe he is. 

Me? She watches me carefully. Jake calls me ‘auto pilot’. When Marc goes ‘space case’ someone has to drive. I think the vampire avoids me when she doesn’t sense Marc there. Maybe I am an auto pilot. A way for him to watch the world without having to take off the mask. I’m okay with that.

The Tiger has noticed me but doesn’t say anything. She’s more familiar with Steven and Jake. Jake chats up anyone and everyone. Steven likes communication. Any way for him to ‘settle the system’ he takes it. The moment the Tiger officially became a part of the picture, Steven and Jake got involved. They like her. She is on edge around the Knight. Perhaps she senses something different about them. It’s hard not to. With me? She asks me to step back. She got Marc to take the mask off the other day. It was nice to step back. I’m not sure what will happen to me if Marc stops wearing the mask all the time. Maybe we become ‘Just Marc’ again. 

 I’m here as long as he needs me. 

Right now he needs me. We’re having a rough day. I say we because when Marc has a bad day, we ALL have a bad day. 

Marc is having a panic attack. 

His mask is off and he has locked himself in his room. The first line of defense steps up. 

We can all feel him assess the body. Marc digs in hard. In his worst moments it would take an act of sheer force to pry the body away from him. 

Steven is cool and collected as he looks the situation over. He talks to Marc and we all watch. It gets crowded up in the front during these times and Jake hangs back. He likes to show his support but also make sure no one else gets in the way. 

We had an incident a month back where we all tried to have opinions. Talk about loud chaos. 

Marc starts to yell and Steven shakes his head, not wanting to force it but not wanting to let it continue. 

The Knight simply watches, formless and bright. They don’t understand these things. They do understand that it can affect how they function though. 

Jake saunters in, hands in pockets as he talks to Marc and Steven. They all have history. 

Marc reaches for me. He wants to hide. I soak up the tears and cover the scars. 

Steven sighs and I can feel his pull as we wordlessly talk. I am auto pilot as Marc fades back and the body carries on. We feel tired. The information travels up the ranks and we all decide what to do with it. 

The Knight shares in his own strange way the memories of a full night. Jake shares memories of a full day. I sit in the chair and watch as the mission moves around us. 

Steven gives orders. Sleep. Short and sweet. 

Convincing Marc to sleep is a chore for the others, but not for me. 

When Marc thinks he is me, I can simply stand and move us to the sarcophagus. Climbing in, Marc settles back and we all feel the body sink in. 

We aren’t perfect, but we are a team. We have to be. 

Tomorrow Marc will wake up again. Tomorrow we will all find our places and tomorrow there might be more of us or less of us. Just gotta roll with the punches. 

Marc

Here we go again. Alarm. Awake. Headache. Confusion. Fight through. 

Fight through. 

Pain and aches and old blood and this deep fog that mutes all light and sound and color and feeling. I live here. I live in the blur. I work best in the blur. 

Muffled and soft. It lets me breathe. In and out. I can’t hear my own pounding blood rushing in my head. I can’t feel the cracks and pops as my legs bend and snap into place to lift this shell. 

I move past the room filled with plants I don’t remember buying. Past the decorations I don’t remember setting up. Hand tracing the ever breathing and changing walls of the living mission. 

I pause. 

“Good morning.” We understand one another. A haunted shell. Walls that hold nothing and too much. 

The walls breathe and I wait. I breathe with them, meditative and peaceful. A moment for me. Only for me. This is how I ground. I connect with the ghost in the walls until I too can inhabit my home. 

Good morning.

Coffee. Chatter. Energy. Noise. Movement. I’ve surrounded myself with movement. I remember a time when my life was non-stop movement. 

Come and go. Through the door as Steven, out the door as Jake, in the sky as Marc and… I try not to think too hard about that part. That time in my life is hard for me to pin down. I wasn’t the one driving most of the time. Then when I was, it was filled with pain. 

Now I’m sitting here and they move around me and I am waiting. The movement has slowed down. When I do go, it isn’t the constant shifting, changing, and rushing that it was. 

It feels… Languid. 

I gaze out the window. It’s a quiet night. I don’t trust the quiet ones. They drift slow and I’m left pacing like a caged tiger. 

“Marc. Sit.” Speaking of caged tiger… She watches me and gestures for me to join her. Calm and peaceful and domestic. 

I hesitate. Domestic was not something I could do. Domestic was his. 

They say cats can sense the switch. Maybe it’s chemical. Maybe it’s just sensing the mood. 

I try not to. I try domestic. I don’t deserve domestic. Domestic and Marc Spector do not belong together. 

It’s just sitting. 

Mr. Domestic chimes in. Of course he would. I stop and she watches. The mask hides the fade. I wonder if she can sense it because her tail starts to twitch. 

I’m grounded. I have no reason to give in. There is no danger. I have no reason to stay. All that stands before me now is the one thing Marc Spector has never been able to handle: Happiness. 

She isn’t gonna be happy if you don’t put your butt in that chair.

The other guy. Mr. Charm. As if he were a professional at making people happy. 

Take off the mask. 

We should patrol. 

Let’s go out and have a drink. 

We need to take a day off. 

The people need to see us. 

I’m so tired.

Needless to say we all have opinions. More than I would think there would be. Some that come softly and others that rock through us like a megaphone to the brain. 

I sit with her. She rolls up the mask just enough to touch the face. Our face. My face. 

Slowly. Like peeling back layers of grime and sand and blood and pain and trauma I let her take the mask away. She places it just in reach of me. As if she knows something I don’t. Something that makes my fingers twitch towards it, longing to touch it. To press it to my heart and keep it safe like a gentle friend. 

I take a breath. Let the air fill my lungs. Let the fog fade. Let the world settle. Let the Me I am becoming fight the Me I have been back and into submissive silence. 

There will be days. Days where that me wins. Days where I do not sit with her. Days where I flinch away and pull the mask back down. Days where the past pierces through me and I am lost again. 

“It’s quiet.” I close my eyes and lean back. 

“Quiet?” She gently curls into me. Warm and soft and heavy at my side. 

“For now.” I relax and feel my foundation shift, letting these old walls settle as they continue to hold it all up. The body sighs and I look at her. Me and him and the other and they and them and us. “Here I am.” 

We rise in peace. 

I let us be at peace. 

#Moon Knight #Moon Knight fic #Moon Knight comics #Marc Spector #Jake Lockley #Steven Grant #Mr. Knight #The system is Jewish #The system is bigger than three #dissociation #I promised I'd post it by Saturday and it's only 11:45pm so yay

[representativecharacters]

Character: Moon Knight

From: Marvel (Comics + Show) 

Representation: Jewish, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Abuse Survivor, Autistic (Steven Grant), Latino (show only)

Their Importance: In superhero comics, an unfortunate recurring trope is that a character with a known mental illness or disorder will typically be a villainous character. Moon Knight is unique, then, for being a superhero with an explicit diagnosis of DID, having at least three distinct alters. While he will occasionally cross the line into being an "anti-hero", overall he's consistently portrayed as a noble and good person.

Many of the comics that feature Moon Knight provide an empathetic look at the experiences of someone with DID. The comics discuss difficulties with medications, with therapists, and Moon Knight's various struggles with how to manage his alters.

Moon Knight's Jewish identity isn't discussed as frequently but is still depicted as being very important to him. He is the son of a Rabbi and is shown to observe Jewish holidays. Additionally, Moon Knight practices a religion based on Egyptian mythology and discusses with other characters how being Jewish and practicing other religions is not mutually exclusive.

In the show, Oscar Isaac also stated that the alter Steven Grant is autistic, something that Isaac intentionally played in his portrayal of Steven. We get to learn more about Marc and Steven, and see them both in romantic interactions with Marc’s wife, Layla - who initially insists that Steven is Marc, but after learning about them having the disorder, acknowledges both Steven and Marc as their own individual selves. We get to see Steven and Marc becoming more of a cohesive unit and growing closer to each other, and by the end of the season, the two have excellent communication and are co-conscious with one another, and have accepted each other as important and needed parts of their system.

Issues: It's only been within the past decade that writers have finally settled on Moon Knight having specifically DID. In the decades preceding, much of the language discussing his disorder had been either outdated (like calling his disorder "Multiple Personality Disorder") or incorrect (such as conflating DID with schizophrenia despite them being completely separate disorders). 

Additionally, how competently the subject of DID is handled depends on the creative team that's writing the character, often leading to many wildly different and occasionally unflattering approaches to the subject of disorders. 

There is also another alter, Jake Lockley, who has at times been incorrectly portrayed or viewed as an “evil” alter, depending on the writer. It is unclear right now where a continuation of Moon Knight would go with his portrayal in the live action, but some fans have expressed concern on his introduction to the show, and how it could potentially add to negative stigmas about DID.  

Also, just as a general note,  episode 1x05 delves into their mother’s physical and emotional abuse, which is obviously very triggering for some people to watch.

Thanks to @silver-stargazing​ and anon for the write-up!

#moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight system #submitted #representation: religious #representation: jewish #representation: racial #representation: latinx #representation: survivor #representation: abuse survivor #representation: mental illness #representation: disorder #representation: DID #representation: autistic #representation: neurodivergent #representation: physical abuse survivor #issues: ableism #issues: writing #issues: stereotypes #issues: content

[mahalshairyballs]

A Jake and Steven scene this time, with some talk about Jake

We know Steven and Marc are Jewish, because they share the same childhood memories of before Steven's 'birth' (minus Randall...). Jake on the other hand is uh, well nothing. He has no faith.

I have this idea that their brain has been very cruel to Jake in more than one way. Jake doesn't share a lot of memories with them because he 'didn't need them' for what his role was supposed to be.

I don't even know if he got any of their early school memories, and even if he did - he might have forgotten all about them. Contrary to Steven who often fronted in school for Marc (see previous Steven headcanon), Jake barely ever went to school.

So Jake might not even be aware they're Jewish, and might not even know or remember anything from their school days *

.

Little fic scenes time

As stated in my previous metas about Jake, Jake never fronted continously for that long, at most a couple days if even. So he never really had the luxury of figuring out who he was. He just knew he wasn't Marc. So he didn't disrupt Marc's life that much, or change anything about the body, he didn't see the point of doing that.

.

Now that they were letting him front for longer, he could figure out what his aesthetics were. In addition to that hat, he tried to grow a mustache. Both Steven and Marc were against it. So he had to get a fake one. It looked real enough.

There was this necklace the body was often wearing. Jake looked at it in the mirror. It reminded him too much of Marc, he didn't really like it. So he took it off in one tug and left it on the drawer.

.

** A day or so later, Steven is fronting **

Steven : 'Layla, do you know what happened to our star of David necklace ?'

Layla, coming into the bedroom : 'No, what happened?'

Steven: 'It's broken !'

Steven showed her the necklace in his hand, it was indeed broken.

Steven : 'Did Marc break it ?'

Layla : 'I don't remember if he did, maybe ? Wouldn't he have told you ?'

Steven : ' He would, he knows we both care about it, he wouldn't just pretend nothing happened to it...'

Layla : 'Then if it's neither of you...maybe it's Jake? He did front yesterday.'

Steven : 'I'll ask him.'

Steven manipulated the golden chain one last time with saddened eyes.

Layla : 'It can be repaired I'm sure', she said rubbing Steven's back for comfort.

.

** Later that day in their innerspace **

Steven : 'Jake, did you break our necklace?'

Jake : 'What necklace?'

Steven : 'The star of David one !'

Jake : '???'

Steven : 'this one !' Steven showed an exact replica which appeared in his hand.

Jake : 'Oh! Hm, I took it off.'

Steven : 'By breaking it !?'

Jake : '...yeah, sorry'

Steven : 'Look, this necklace is important to Marc and I. If you don't want to wear it it's fine, but next time can you take it off normally ? I'll get it repaired.'

Jake : 'Sure, no problem. Sorry again, I didn't think it would upset you.'

Steven : 'Just don't break our stuff again okay ?'

Jake : 'Got it.'

.

** Another day, in their bedroom **

Jake : 'Layla! Can you take this off ?'

Layla got out of her sitting position on the bed and walked to him. Jake pointed at the golden necklace on his neck.

Layla : 'gimme a few seconds', she opened the chain's lock, 'here you go'.

Jake : 'thanks'

Layla was about to delicately place the necklace on the nightstand when a thought crossed her mind.

Layla : 'Do you know how to take off a necklace?'

Jake : 'yeah...sure...I...do'

Layla giggled : 'you don't know how !'

Jake : 'Look, it's not like it's in my job description okay. I had other stuff to think about.'

Layla : 'relax, I'm poking fun', she said still giggling, 'here let me show you.'

.

Tl;dr Jake pulled on the chain because he didn't know how to take off a necklace.

Jake is quite an interesting character, he's very knowledgeable in some stuff, but then isn't aware of very basic things. He's rarely a dick on purpose (except to Marc just for the fun of annoying him) he just has a lot left to learn.

If Jake doesn't know/remember much about basic schooling, Steven will teach him. Steven will also happily teach him about Judaism. I think Steven would make a good teacher, and he'd enjoy it.

.

* putting this part at the end for cw abuse

There's a way more crushing aspect of it too. I think Jake might not even have been aware who that woman torturing him was, until Marc told him, the only time they spoke when they were children. And then Marc completely forgot about that interaction. But Jake didn't. As Steven was who got Marc to keep going, Marc was the one who got Jake to keep going. What he was going through wasn't completely senseless anymore - it was still completely unjustified evil and cruel - but Jake wasn't completely lost about it anymore.

#moon knight #more meta + fic snippet #moon knight meta #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fic #moon knight essay #moon knight headcanon #jake Lockley #nobody expects the spanish lockley #steven grant #we love our neuroatypical british nerd angel here #marc spector #marc spector deserves everything #canon jewish characters #sorry if it's sacrilegious Jakr didn't know any better but now he knows how important it is to them #cw child abuse #cw physical abuse #hugging the marc system forever #layla el faouly #jake lockley isn't unreasonable