#moon knight canon

[traveller-of-the-knight]

[luxshine]

Ok, you know what, I'm a bit tired of the Randall Spector deification.

In the show, yes, ok, we barely knew him, and he died too young in a terrible accident. WE can tell clearly that he was favored by his mother from the get go, but we can't tell if it was so much that Marc was already being neglected then and even if he was? Not Randall's fault.

HOWEVER... in the comics? We know Randall. Oh, Boy, do we get to know Randall.

And Randall Spector? Was a HORRIBLE Human being.

He was a bully, from childhood, when he'd throw tantrums whenever Marc beat him at anything, and demanded to be treated better than his brother (And would insist that any violence he did, which was frowned upon by their father, was by MARC's example and MARC's insistence, no matter what).

In the versions where he is older than Marc (That is something that no writer agrees on), he is the one who pushes Marc to leave the army and become a Mercenary with him, and then, angry that Marc is better at the job, that he is more popular, and that he has an actual girlfriend? He betrays Marc, kills Marc's girlfriend, and tries to kill Marc.

And THEN, when he finds out that Marc is the Fist of Khonshu? Throws a tantrum that a God found Marc worthy and joins the evil cult of Khonshu to become the "True" Fist of Khonshu by, you guessed it, Killing Marc.

Forcing Marc to kill him, after paralyzing Frenchie. Oh, and killing a few nurses in the way as he was ALSO a serial killer (Who had made someone else believe he was Randall Spector, and let him go in New York... Killing women to kill Moon Knight)

But of course, bad weeds never die, and then he came back AGAIN, as a Cyclops-wanna be (yeah, eye beams as a power) to attack Marc AGAIN (even if at the time Jake was fronting), because he felt more worthy of Khonshu's attention than Marc. Oh, and he caused Marlene to have a miscarriage. And Forced Jake to kill him. AGAIN.

Seriously, if there's one name in Moon Knight comics that I hate? is Randall Spector.

THAT's your crazy killer, people. Not the Moon System, but Randall "I am a Singlet and perfectly neurotypical and thus far more worthy than my idiot brother" Spector.

And I know that Show!Randall wasn't like that, but BOY, It sure makes me wish he was so I'd stop seeing people deifying Randall while demonizing Jake.

[moondoposting]

someone draw steven grant in this fit pls pls pls

[winniethewife]

Thank you for the headcanons winnie😭❤️

You just give the best and most accurate headcanons ever!

Congratulations on the 300 followers, btw😍 You deserve more!

For the second request, I wanna throw off the boys😌

I mean what's the point of requesting if there won't be anything smutty right?!

So, gimme gimme *grabby hands* the headcanons about how our moon boys would react when they are mad and the reader gets turned on by that😃

*looks at the camera breaking the 4th wall* Y'all...Lets do this. Give Mani what she wants.

Pissed/Cross/Enojado

Moon-Knight Smut head canons (Female reader)

Warnings: Smut under the cut, Angry sex, phone sex, degradation, mild violence, general toxicity,

Marc

Marc was pissed off. He had just had a pointless fight over the phone with some guy about something. You weren't paying attention to details.

you were a little more focused on the tingling between your legs

Marc doesn't get mad very often, if ever. So you had no idea what his angry raised voice would do to you.

When he comes into the room he continues to rant and rave, trying to release some of the built up tension That's when he notices your squirming

"Baby are you...are you turned on right now?"

After you hesitantly tell him that yes you are turned on by his behavior, he's taken a back. He doesn't really know how to respond.

It isn't until the next time he's pissed off at something that it comes into play.

You heard him growl intensely as he walked through the door and before you can even ask what's wrong, your back is against the wall and his lips are on yours. His hands grabbing you like you're the answer to all his problems

There's nothing that's going to stop him from taking what he needs

Your pants torn off, his weeping cock at your entrance, as he bites at your neck.

"God...Fuck...Need this...Need you"

Steven

Steven Hardly ever gets Cross. Unless its about work, and Donna.

He was going on and on over the phone to you about how much he was done with Donna and all the shite he had to do as a giftshopist.

you couldn't help but enjoy his irate rambling. a little too much even.

your hand drifting down your body as you listen to his voice, coating your fingers in your slick as you rub your fingers between your damp folds

"And I told her that she should shove it where the light don't shine, or at least I wanted to but...Love? are you alright? it sounds like your whimpering?"

you stop in you tracks and try to figure out how to answer his question. you decide honesty is the best policy and tell him that your touching yourself.

You can hear his breath hitch. he couldn't help it the thought of your fingers inside of you.

"I can be at yours in half an hour. Don't move"

the phone line clicks. and you follow his orders. When he comes rushing in the door you can see the outline of his cock in his pants as he looks at you desperately.

"So...you need me that badly love? well. Let me help with that."

Jake

Jake, knew he had fucked up the second he had thrown that plate. but he was so angry.

as the plate had whizzed past your head you knew you should have been scared, but instead you found your cunt clenching around nothing and your mouth going dry.

"Dios mío, Sstás bien? I'm so sorry, I don't know...what came over me." Oh, my God, are you okay?

He rushes to hold you and be sure you are alright but wasn't expecting this reaction, the way you melted in his arms, the soft moan that escaped your lips as his hands touched your hips. at first he gets more mad, you are turned on by this? of all things?

His grip tightens on you and the way he huffs in anger before quickly bending you over the nearby counter. yanking down your pants as he starts to mutter curses under his breath.

"Putita, just want to be fucked is that it? you like this? You like me like this? well lets see how you feel after this. eh?"

he pushes two fingers into you with frustration, not caring that your not wet enough, not caring as you cry out from the stretch of your walls.

you cry out, the feeling is so good, but almost too much. As he finger fucks you he lets out all his anger on your poor little pussy. bringing you to your climax again and again and again.

"Te gusta cuando estoy enojado? Te mostraré enojado!" Do you like it when I'm angry? I'll show you angry!

~

300 follower celebration

Masterlist

[spooksier]

this bitch bites and she doesn’t let go

[afrogirl3005]

After seeing the last ep

[copingchaos]

“You’re all into that? Killing children? Maybe it’s just me but I draw a line at child murder.”

Remember when Steven Grant said this? This man was kidnapped and surrounded by a sect and even then he spoke up about the hypothetical murdering of children. He knew he was outnumbered and dared to speak up either way.

Again, for the injustice of murdering hypothetical children.

So it is my headcanon that in real life, Steven Grant would be out on the streets every chance he'd get, protesting what's happening in palestine right now.

Because this man would never condone the real life murder of the thousands of innocent palestinian children. And unlike some of the fandom accs here, he'd never stay actively disinvolved either. No matter the platform, no matter the weight of his voice.

[theduatgod]

steven: this is my mum's flat

marc: it's me, i'm the mom

[doomsdaybby]

Five Pounds & Sixty Pence (steven grant x female reader)

what to expect/warnings: switch steven (whiny subby/slightly possessive), mutual pining, steven needs to shut his dirty mouth, squirting, fingering, developing relationship.

I slightly blue balls you at the end but don’t worry about it.

word count: 3.8k

!!EXPLICIT!!

You had been on a few dates with Steven Grant over the past couple of months. The shy, charmingly awkward, beautiful man that worked in the museum gift shop encapsulated you like no other had ever done before.

“That’ll be - uhh - five pounds and sixty pence” his warm eyes glimmered, a polite smile graced his kind face, and you just about melted into a puddle on the floor. You had visited the museum for the first time with some friends early February that year, and were stupidly close to veering away from the gift shop, when the alluring man behind the till caused you to almost trip over your own feet.

“Taweret,” he exhaled a jittered chuckle as you fumbled through your purse, pointing to the small statuette of the goddess whilst his other hand twitched as if he wasn’t sure where to put it, to then clumsily settle on the counter. “Excellent choice”.

You paused and lifted your lashes to gaze at him, his expression bright although he was far from comfortable. He always lost the very little nerve he had around divine women. “She’s pretty,” you said after humming in agreement. Truth be told, you didn’t quite care, your only motivation being that you had to buy something, so that you could linger around the shelves and marvel at the enticing gentlemen behind the counter without making it too obvious.

You smiled back at him when his grin grew bigger, his tousled dark locks bouncing as he nodded eagerly, and you could have sworn his pink cheeks deepened in rouge. ‘Pretty’ maybe wasn’t the word Steven would use, but be it that it was coming from your mouth had him blindly agreeing.

You could tell from the praising comment that he was holding back from explaining why he thought you made a good choice, and if you weren’t being beckoned towards the exit by your friends, you would have enthralled him. His eagerness, the excited glimmer that lingered behind his chocolate irises drew you close, and you wished for more time.

“Thankyou-“ glancing at his name tag that sat slightly lopsided on the pocket of his navy button up, “-Steven” you smiled, handing him the array of pound coins and loose change. “With a V,” he stuttered, pointing to his name badge as if you hadn’t already looked at it. The alluring stranger was now a little less strange, and you silently cursed him for turning your legs to putty for doing virtually nothing.

Steven. How could he make such a generic name seem so endearing?

His gaze scanned your flushed face, lids sitting slightly lazy as you witnessed him slip into a visible small daze. “Oh- uh, yeah. You’re welcome” he stood up straight in a rush, stunned and a little embarrassed upon the realisation that he had drifted.

From then on, you made every excuse to visit the museum every so often, spending days off you would usually squander in your one bedroom flat stealing greedy glances at Steven from between the shelves.

In your free time, with no one there to unwillingly drag you away, you would stand head in hands propped up on your elbows on the other side of the till, listening to him with undivided attention rivet spellbindingly on about the Egyptian Gods and Goddesses.

“Starting a collection, are we?” he grinned, and you recognised that same gleeful glint behind his eyes. You had sparked the conversation once another small statuette, of Isis this time, graced his palms over the counter. “Will you tell me about her?” you requested politely, your feet rooting to the ground beneath you when he began gushing about the major Goddess.

Two months passed before you worked up the courage to ask him out, having talked yourself out of asking him sooner too many times. His reaction to the proposal of drinks after his shift made your heartbeat flutter a little faster; his face automatically brightened whilst blinking at you in almost disbelief.

“Is… that a… yes?” you prodded, unable to stifle the schoolgirl-esque giggle that wormed its way out of your chest when he was rendered mute. There he was again, swimming in that ditsy daydream that he would often visit when he was around you, a far off gaze that made his eyes twinkle.

Steven shook his head, coming to his senses quicker than he would if you had drenched him in ice water, “Oh! Yes! -“ he cleared his throat, “Yes. Absolutely! Give me uhhh…,” he glanced at his watch, “Half an hour?”.

The first date was even more wonderful than you could have imagined, never tiring of his over enthusiastic gleeful voice laced with more delight than you had ever witnessed when you prodded him more about his knowledge on ancient Egypt, surprised that he wasn’t already a tour guide.

“You’re wasted at that place, they don’t deserve you” you told him with utmost sincerity, after becoming excessively annoyed by his heavy sigh once you asked why he was still working in the gift shop. Not at him, of course, but at his stupid boss. Why did they not see how wonderful he was?

Though it settled your heart when you practically saw the sunken purple under lethargic eyes bore a healthy glow to match the warm tan of his skin, realising that he probably didn’t have somebody to tell him how great he actually was. His lips curled into a small smile, settling there as his cheeks turned to that familiar rouge.

“Will I… will I be able to see you again?” he asked apprehensively as he helped you with your coat, stumbling slightly almost as if he expected a refusal. You turned to him, enjoying the way he would evidently allow intrusive thoughts to sway his body language and facial expressions, his eyes furiously scanning your face for some sort of cue, praying to every God that the answer wasn’t no.

You straightened the collar of his shirt, resisting the urge to run your hands over his strong shoulders that were hidden underneath the oversized geometric fabric, that you quickly caught on was one of his favourites.

And like a moth to a flame, you couldn’t resist.

So now here you were, two weeks later curled up on Steven’s grey fabric couch in his dingy London flat, chowing down on some noodles from the local Chinese takeaway. It was a battle within itself to wiggle your way into his flat in the first place, stunting the tried and true trusty puppy dog eyes and pouty lip that had him practically melting in front of you.

Glancing beside you, your stomach pooled with an overwhelming warmth. “God, this is amazing!”, the delight coating his words snapped you out of a trance you didn’t realise you were in, watching how his face would twist into gleeful smiles and theatrical gasps. Who knew a movie about hobbits and wizards would have him so enthralled?

He was so innocently sublime, overwhelmingly beguiling to every degree and beyond, and somehow he was interested in you. At least that’s what you would like to think, as every time he made the smallest move he would proceed to hastily back out at the last second.

If your hands touched he would allow his fingers to linger there for a moment, before whisking it away as quickly as it appeared amidst an awkward clear of the throat.

“What?” he laughed when he noticed you staring, cheeks stuffed full of noodles and eyes glittering with wonder. You clocked the steal of a glance at your lips, which only made your smile grow wider and your cheeks flush a deeper pink. “Nothing,” you replied, returning your attention to the film, relishing in the sensation of his gaze raking across your face.

You would kill to know what he was thinking at that moment. Hoping that he shared in your desire; as if he were to give you the green light, that god awful geometric shirt would be ripped from his torso and cast to the floor quicker than he could say ‘Hathor’.

But you wanted Steven to be the one to take it further, as you already felt that you had to step on his throat to even get past the first date, let alone hold grapple him in a chokehold to get through his front door.

You couldn’t be the one to hold the reins forever, and if either of you wanted there to be a forever, he would have to pluck up the courage to take it that one step forward.

There was a kindling fire behind those dark chocolate eyes that screamed for a spark; a match, a fan to the flame, anything, to transform into a raging inferno. You savoured the anticipation, relishing in the fact that at any moment, the embers would ignite.

You could cut the thick tense blanket that swallowed the atmosphere with a knife, the longer Steven stared the quicker your heart would beat, spiralling exponentially towards concaving in your chest. “You’re not watching,” you told him, pretending that you didn’t just want to pounce on him there and then.

“Yeah… yeah” he nodded dizzily, admiring the curve of your lips and the slither of collar bone that peaked out from under your cotton t-shirt. He audibly swallowed, a small shake of his head as he too returned even a morsel of attention back to the screen, having to unbutton the collar of his shirt.

And for the next two hours you sat in near complete silence, a comfortable silence at that, eventually sitting parallel knee against knee, two spoons shovelling into one bowl of raspberry ripple ice cream. You both shared the odd glance and smirk when the other gasped at the tv screen, cannily drinking in the look on Steven’s face when he was consumed with laughter.

Becoming slightly tired of dangling on the edge of expectation, you shuffled over towards Steven’s side of the couch and rested your head on his shoulder. You could call it a bold move, as his bicep clenched under your touch, but would soon relax when your arm snaked through his to curl into a comfortable link.

He smelled so good. Like coffee beans and that generic cedarwood aftershave every man on the planet would wear. But it was like new when it came from him. You found yourself leaning into him, heart fluttering and head promising sin. If your eyes could take the shape of hearts, then they would have done at this moment. It was almost too much to bear.

“This was fun,” Steven said sheepishly whilst leaning against the doorframe of his front door, another perfect example of the fact that he never knew how to place himself, always appearing so self-conscious and fuelled by unease. “I like spending time with you,” you admitted, the first time either of you had explicitly informed the other that you actually valued when you were together.

Another bashful grin, both rows of teeth on full display as he glanced at the floor. You had half expected him to lift a leg up behind him like the lead female role would do in a rom-com. “We should do something again soon, yeah?” his eyes connected with yours, and your ribcage splintered. You didn’t want to leave. Not right now.

But it was obvious he didn’t want you to stay, and you lingered there for what felt like an eternity, screaming at him in your head to let you stay with him a little while longer.

“See you soon, Steven with a V” you turned to begin your walk to the uber waiting outside of the flat block, the lack of offer to, at the very least, walk with you resonating a painful sting.

But you barely even took a step, having only turned your back before you felt a strong grip of calloused fingers along the nook of your elbow. Spinning around, you didn’t have a chance to utter a single syllable before his lips were on yours. You leant forward towards him again, hands flying to his curls whilst his glide over your sides, mesmerising every curve and dip of your padded flesh, twisting around your back.

One hand settles on the small of your back, the other pressing frightenglingy harshly between your shoulder blades. He held you there, rooting you to the ground and suddenly feeling fragile and small in his grasp, waiting to be consumed and devoured. If he pressed any harder you would surely combust under the pressure.

Every shared glance, every hover of delicate fingers on skin, and every heartfelt compliment shattered and swelled all at once within this kiss. You had wanted it from the moment you saw him, with his lopsided name tag and dishevelled brooding appearance.

Your stomach flipped, lungs knotting themselves together amongst the sheer disbelief that you finally got to touch him, possessively and obediently. From your shoulder blades his large palm skates to hook around the back of your neck, forcing you closer as your teeth chattered against one another.

As much as you could stand here forever with him, consuming his taste and touch in every way possible, you couldn’t fuck him out in the corridor. So mustering up the might to push him back, he whimpered as your lips disconnected, his pink tongue chasing your mouth in a desperate attempt to keep you sealed together.

With the fabric of his shirt wadded in the palm of your hand and his shaking breath brushing your nose, you walked him back and shut the front door, not wasting another second before tugging on his shirt to pull him right back in. Steven jolted against you, swiftly lunging himself forward as your tongues twisted together before your lips even had the chance to reconnect.

He tasted of raspberry ice cream, so sweet, and you felt the stretch of his lips as he smiled into you. His large hands found your hips, digging fingertips into the soft flesh underneath the sheer fabric of your dress to quickly smooth over the hurt when you winced.

The awkward, sunken-so-far-down-in-his-chair-he-near-folded-in-on-himself, unimpeachable Steven had been flung out of the nearest window. This new form of himself that held you with such ferocity was uncharted territory, and you liked it.

He was desperate. And so were you.

“Oh god… is this okay?” he questioned against your lips as his fingers fumble with the hem of your dress, returning to those stuttering words and unsure wandering hands that were crying out to explore your body.

“Fuck, Steven, of course it’s okay” your voice dripped with arousal, a twinge of annoyance simmering behind your tone at his apprehensiveness. “Do whatever you want. It’s okay. This-“ you seized his hands and brought them up to harshly squeeze the tissue of your breasts, “-is okay”.

His eyes widened in a spectacular fashion as soon as his clammy palms kneaded the tender flesh, again frantic when they flickered between your chest and your face, unsure of where to look but knowing exactly what to do next.

Green light.

“‘Do whatever you want’, yeah?” his lips curled into a blood curdling grin, every cell in your body crystallising when you physically witnessed his eyes transcend darker. “Oh, darling. I will” and your heartbeat skyrocketed, much did the second one south of your hips that thumped with wicked urgent intent.

His kiss-bruised lips latched to your throat, and you felt yourself titling your head back against the door to give him easier access. As he nipped at the sensitive skin of your throat, one hand suctioned to your breast, resonating an ache that paired with the brutish force of his palming.

He wasted no time to send the other prowling up underneath your dress; nimble quick fingertips ghosting over the skin of your belly, sparking an array of goosebumps in their wake, tracing over the rolls of your sides along your ribs, settling against the cushion of your naked bosom.

Steven groaned against your neck, the rumbling adding to the multitude of sensations that had your breathing latch and heartbeat frantic. The only thing you could do was to hang onto him for dear life, your hands grasping to the roots of his curls as he had you pinned against the doorway, belligerently sucking welts of blue and purple against your skin.

“Fuck, Steven…” his name rolled off your tongue with an embarrassing simplicity, ready to fall to your knees if he commanded you to do so. You tightened your grip on his tousled curls, enough so that you winced at the mere thought of how it felt, but Steven only omitted a delighted groan in return.

He wedged himself against you, rolling his hips against your thigh where you quickly became aware of his own arousal, cock straining deliciously in his jeans. “Poor baby…” you cooed, reaching down to glide your hand over his clothed erection. He whimpered, a needy sound you had never quite heard before, fingers digging into your skin again so harshly you were bound to be bruised.

He melts against you, dragging a hand down to tease the waistband of your panties as your palm flattens along his apparent bulge. His head is buried into the crook of your neck, hot trembling moaning breaths fanning along your collarbone and chest. From this angle you could kiss along his glistening hairline, travelling towards his temple as you allowed him to drift again, savouring every little touch and squeeze in between.

“That’s it, darling” he drawled in response when you opened your legs for him, right on cue for his fingers to dip below the cloth concealing your modesty. Drawing him closer, ragged breaths seared the back of your throat as thick fingers discover how soaked you are for him. Ready and waiting, utterly dripping, for him.

“Fuck,” he runs his fingertips over the mound of your clit, breathing out a laugh of almost disbelief when you squeak. He must have felt your heart skip a beat; pulling his head back now to peer at you with a new wanderlust daze of sheer awestruck and admiration, a smirk painting his stupidly perfect face when those same fingers slid down to your slick entrance.

As if your state of arousal wasn’t obvious enough, as Steven teased your folds over and over again, the sound of it was a dead giveaway. “So fucking wet for me…” that familiar delight lingered behind his words, as if he had been presented with a professionally wrapped gift on christmas morning, satin bow and all.

“All for you…” you made sure he knew it. How devoted you were to him, how you would do anything he said at the drop of a hat. You had been hooked since the beginning. His thumb pad finally began to circle your clit, clumsily at first but he soon found his rhythm.

Now it was your turn to melt against him, fighting clawing urges to both hold his gaze and also throw your head back and squeeze your eyes shut amongst the pleasure. Just as you thought you were as close to heaven as you could get, Steven pushed a thick ring finger into your aching heat, catapulting you to a place otherworldly.

“Jesus! Steven!”, although you were more than prepared for him, the sudden sensation of becoming so full by just a finger was a jolting surprise within itself. He stared at you slack jawed, running his tongue absentmindedly over his bottom lip, watching you spurred with sacrilegious intent.

You ground down against him in a stupor, silently begging for more. Of course, Steven wouldn’t leave you hanging, as much as the thought of you pleading for him danced in his head, he wasn’t about to deprive this sweet sweet Goddess of the pleasure she deserved. There was plenty of time to practice those fantasies he pushed to the back of his mind.

He slips in another finger with ease, the initial shock of his presence within you settling, the familiar warmth pooling at the pit of your stomach. “That’s it, angel. Such a good girl” he cooed in your ear, returning his lips that glimmered with saliva to your reddened throat, purring buttery sweet nothings against your skin.

“Oh my fucking god,” you squirmed away from his touch, the firecrackers rippling along your spine teetering on the edge of too much to bear. But in this position, trapped between a wooden door and a man that was built as if chiselled from polished marble, you had nowhere to go.

And jesus fuck, you were glad to be caged.

Steven pulled his fingers back out of you again, and this time you whimpered in the same desperate tone he adorned only minutes ago. But with a shift of his posture and a curve of his wrist, he curled his fingers up into you at a new unrelenting angle that had you chanting with no cohesion.

He suckled at your flesh, the bulging arteries that pumped mercilessly with hot blood beckoning him like a siren call. “Oh god, Steven. Steven!” your whimpers became cries, cries became muffled screams that were stunted by the weight of his free hand that clasped rapidly over your mouth. The last thing he needed was a noise complaint from his shitty neighbours.

“Are you going to cum for me, angel? Such a pretty baby, falling apart all because of my fingers? You have no idea what my cock can do to you” the filth that stringed from his lips were enough to tip you over that edge, his voice as sweet as honey yet cold as ice. You never imagined such vulgarity to bubble from the throat of someone so… well, someone like Steven.

Your throat splintered under the weight of your cries, moan after moan ripping from your chest as you flooded the palm of his hands. You faintly heard what can only be described as rain in a thunderstorm hammering down south of your hips, head fuzzy and brain buzzing.

You noticed Steven’s bewildered and exhilterated expression as his focus dipped to his fingers that ploughed you through your high, slowing to a steady pace as your cries dwindled into soft moans. “Bloody hell, can you do that again?!“ his boyish pitch had returned, and it was when you fully came to your senses that you realised what had happened.

Titling your head down to follow his wide eyes, your chest began to cave in once again through the panic of realisation. You saw the front of Steven’s jeans first, splashed with the result of your orgasm, then; the tips of his fingers still aligned with your entrance, his palm and wrist dripping with your cum.

And the floor. God. The floor had become puddled with more arousal than you had ever seen. You knew you were capable, but goddamn, you had never squirted this much before.

“Oh jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t-“ but you were cut off by his lips sealing with yours in a flurry, quickly shutting you up and snuffing out any doubt that has risen in your head. “Don’t you dare apologise,” he warned, tone so buttery and genuine as he kissed away any shame or uncertainty.

“I'm going to make you do that again”.

—————————————————————————

woohoo! my first moon knight fic.

feedback is always appreciated! 💖

should I do a second part? I think that’s fair lmao.

[milkhorns]

Can’t wait til these guys meet 😭😭

[stupidbeemeen]

⚠️NSFW: OC x Cannon⚠️

Arthur Harrow x OC

.

.

.

My first NSFW work 🥺✨

Full pic:👇👇👇

[traveller-of-the-knight]

Ladies, Gentlemen and everyone in between:

✨ Oscar Isaac ✨

I love the fact that if you hide the middle image you just see two different characters.

But if you hide the last you just see two Stevens!

And if you hide the first you just see two Marcs!!

~Also we can see how their relationship evolves through out the show in the switches. We went from a harsh "black out" switch to smooth one.

AND THEN JAKE FRONTS

Just like when they were filming, Oscar didn't shoot any scenes as a different alter in the same day at first. But as they progressed he was able to "switch" between the two with ease.~

Just- I love when actors evolve and understand better and get into their characters more and more as they spend more time on set.

[luxshine]

Moon Knight Primer part 3

Moon Knight (1980) #25 – 38, Marvel Fanfare (1982) #30

Prologue

Part I

Part II

In the last thirteen issues of his first series, Moon Knight went through a lot of changes but in the middle of it we had a very interesting short story in Marvel Fanfare which sort of put everything in perspective, especially when it came to the relationship of the Alters. Unfortunately it was not the status quo set in stone for the time being, as later writers would go back and forth on exactly how much the System relied on each other, and, given the knowledge of the era on Systems and DiD in general, there were writers who wanted Marc to be the only one, and thus wrote the others as mere voices in his head. But we will have to talk about that later, when we get to those issues.

Again, here I am not going to go issue by issue since what we want is the general points, not a chronological step by step.

One very interesting thing is that in this first volume most, if not all of Moon Knight villains are one shot and usually, gang members and drug addicts. More importantly, it is always pointed out that the REAL culprits are the drug dealers and the gang leaders, usually drug dealers, rather than the gang members or addicts themselves. This run of Moon Knight is quite deep in social issues, and it’s one of the reasons why Jake fronts so often -when he will sadly be very absent in future runs for a while. There is, for example, a story about a man who, triggered by the death of his abusive father, starts punching out everyone in his path to the funeral home and when Moon Knight faces him… he doesn’t want to fight him because he understands that violence only brings more violence. In another, he is willing to give a gang a second chance as they’re all young men and convinces the older men in the neighborhood not to form a vigilante group. It backfires as one of the gang accidentally kills a store owner, but the attempt is there.  There’s yet another villain, the Black Spectre, who was a ‘Nam vet whom after being pushed and pushed and pushed after coming back from the war snapped and decided to destroy New York. But while yes, he’s evil and we’re happy he’s defeated, the message that he wouldn’t have reached that low point had he had ANY support is not missing.

Anyway, to what we are really interested in: The Alters’ relationship to each other, how they relate to people in the System’s life, and, of course, if we get confirmation about Khonshu being real or not! (Spoiler alert? Not yet). Oh! And we finally get to meet Marc’s dad!

Marlene’s slow decent into Marvel Universe’s worst Girlfriend EVER continues as she starts issue #25 telling Steven -when Jake is fronting, but she doesn’t really care- that she’s leaving him because even if Moon Knight is “a better man than Marc Spector ever was”, he’s still a monster and she can’t live with him. She stays, of course, but from there on there’s like, only one issue in which we don’t have a panel of her telling Steven that she wants him fronting all the time, that he needs to stop being the others, and preferably stop being Moon Knight too. This DOESN’T stop her from also calling the statue of Khonshu “my love” and, when she and the Moon System find themselves back at Seti’s Tomb, claim that of course Moon Knight must be stronger when he is in the literal hands of Khonshu (a giant statue previously undiscovered). 

As Steven starts accepting Marc more and more, even after “putting him away”, Marlene complains even more, as she wants only Steven and is not shy about it. This comes to a head in Marvel Fanfare #30, when Steven all but accuses her of being a gold digger. And here, Steven also points out that they can’t go to therapy in part because “I am a superhero who is also four people” (again, this is when Moon Knight was his own Alter) would be a one way ticket to a psychiatric hospital, and in part because they has researched on his situation, and they know that the only therapy of the time is Integration therapy, and they don’t want that. They don’t want to lose any part of themselves (Marlene assumes they only mean the Moon Knight part). This is something that a lot of future writers will forget, unfortunately, but I believe is one of the most important parts that the Series brought back: The Moon System doesn’t need “Fixing” because they’re not “broken”. What they need is understanding and support, so they can co-exist more easily.

That is not to say there aren’t conflicts within the system, of course. In issue #27, Steven openly says that he doesn’t want Marc fronting in the mansion at all, and we get confirmation that Marc is the alter we’ve seen the least as the body is usually controlled by either Jake or Steven.  More over, at some point when Marc is fronting, he thinks that the world needs more good men, like “The Grants, the Lockleys”, which again brings the question of who the hell decided Jake was a psychopath instead of a down to earth man.

And then there’s Thosbi, high priest of Khonshu. But to explain Thosbi, we need to talk about how the Moon System’s belief in Khonshu changes in these issues.

Because it zig-zags a lot. On one hand, when he’s defeated by Black Spectre, he prays to him, begging for one last burst of strength. On the other, when fighting satanist at the side of Russell Brand, werewolf by night, he claims that he doesn’t believe in the supernatural! I mean, this after facing real zombies when helping Brother Voodoo!

This “I don’t believe completely in Khonshu or the Supernatural” continues even as on one hand, after losing the use of his legs “possibly permanently”, he manages to get inspired by a dancer -murdered by a mutant named Bora in front of his eyes- but only gets up -and completely healed- from his wheelchair… At night, under the full moon.  And then, Dr. Strange shows up to tell him that, well, he’s got the spirit of an ancient mystical priest within him! Yes, Thosbi, who ends up fighting the ancient spirit of one of the first necromancers, the evil Amutef, who was at the time possessing Marlene.

Fortunately for those having trouble keeping count of just how many people are in the Moon System, Thosbi doesn’t actually has a voice, and Marc sort of decides that he probably came back to life through Thosbi’s powers, not that he is Thosbi’s reincarnation nor that Thosbi is part of the System. Still, food for thought for those fic writers wanting to do reincarnation.

And yet… even with all this? We STILL have no confirmation that Khonshu himself is real and in the middle of things. Which is why Marc worries about his own sanity regarding the Moon.

Finally, these issues hammer down not only that Marc is jewish and he can speak Hebrew -we don’t know if Jake and Steven can, but we can assume they do- and that he had a horrible falling out with his father, Rabbi Elias Spector.  The back story, as it was then, mentions that the family is Czechosovakian in origin, as Mr. and Mrs. Spector left their home country to escape Hitler -let’s remember, Moon Knight as a character? Is pushing 73 years old!-, but ended up living in near poverty in New York, where people harassed them for being jewish; still, Rabbi Spector never turned against his bullies, as he was a pacifist at heart and tried to instill this on Marc who… didn’t like it that much. The tension between both increased after Mrs. Spector’s death when Marc was a child, and come to an end when Rabbi Spector found Marc in a boxing ring and tried to get him to stop fighting even for sport. As a response, Marc punched his father, and got himself run out of the house. This prompted Marc to join the marines and never see his father again. (This would, of course, get retconned later, as now the story is that Rabbi Spector died when Marc was 18, the system was already in place, and it was his death and an argument with their mom what prompted Jake to enroll them in the Marines, but I am getting WAY ahead of ourselves).

Before he dies, Rabbi Spector wants to make things better with his son, but Marc refuses to go. It’s not until he dies that Steven agrees to go to the funeral (Much to Worst Girlfriend of the Year annoyance, as she is angry that this makes Marc front again, and she was hoping that Steven would front forever and she’d be able to become “Marlene Grant Arlune”. Oh, and she’s angry that Marc and Steven are “too emotional” about their father’s death… and even more when they find his grave desecrated and his body stolen! Again, Marlene would be a very interesting character, if she wasn’t so bad as a girlfriend). And then we get to one of the most emotionally heavy moments of the series, just as it’s coming to an end: Marc faces his father, revived as a golem and, instead of fighting? He is ready to die before fighting his dad again.  (Yes, Marlene saves him, which is one good point for her, but she’s now in the negative so it really doesn’t help)

With this, Volume one of Moon Knight is over. The next time we’ll see the guys will be in the mini series titled “Moon Knight: Fist of Khonsu”, and then he’ll have a stint on West Coast Avengers that completely changed the status quo of the Moon System for a long time, but, well, well talk about that when we hit part 4 because man, it’s going to be a doozy!

(Yes, I know this part was short, but unfortunately we do need to tackle Fist of Khonshu and the 20+ odd West Coast Avenger  issues together and putting them here would make this part terribly long.  I will try to hurry with the next part, promise)

Part 4

[loonymeowny]

they're boyfriends 😍😍

happy Valentine's day from moondevil boys🦯🌙

[winniethewife]

Most Valentine-y blorbo??

Trying to decide who would be most into the day.

What do you think?

Hope you had a great day!

Hm. I want to say that its probably...this man

Steven is just, He is all about Love and a whole day he gets to love and pamper you? That's his favorite day! It'll start with breakfast in bed. He's planned out every minute of the day and filled it with surprise after surprise. Taking you to your favorite bookstore, and cafe. go to the park to have a picnic lunch. finishing the day with a home cooked meal and snuggling on the couch.

Thats what I hope for anyway.

Birthday Ask Game

[heiressofdoodles]

Um um hi I saw your oc x canon event thingy and wanted to sumbit mine :3

This is Celeernyx and she’s shipped with Galacta knight <3

Celeernyx and Galacta Knight!

Celeernyx was so fun to draw! I couldn't get all the details of her cloak, but I hope that she still looks lovely! Maybe when I get some more time, I'll draw her again in the future!