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Moon Knight: Fist of Khonshu #0 - "Khonshu: Strikefile" (2024)
#fist of khonshu#vengeance of the moon knight#new moon knight#moon knight#marc spector#marvel comics#jake lockley#stephen grant#khonshu
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#marc spector#marc spector edit#moon knight#moon knight edit#oscar isaac#oscar isaac edit#q#has this been done before? i don't know if i have new thoughts anymore of it they are just recycled#my stupid edit#(affectionate)#moon knight meme#moon knight memes#moon knight text post#moon knight text posts#moon knight mcu#khonshu#khonshu edit
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Morning, Gus, my little one-finned wonder.
@mcuchallenge: Moon Knight vs. The Falcon and the Winter Soldier
#mcuchallenge#moon knight#moonknightedit#mkedit#marvel#marveledit#mcuedit#steven grant#stevengrantedit#oscar isaac#oscarisaacedit#angelmade#sorry to betray the beautiful country of tfatws pero moon knight is a little sexier TO ME#also i got the new editor dont hmu going throughsometing
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Two years later, and we’re finally getting new Moon Knight content.
Based on the scene titles, I’m almost certain one of them is Marc confronting his mother. It's been on my mind since I heard about it two years ago.
The release date is April 30th, 2024.
You can read more here.
#oscar isaac#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#moon knight#marc spector x reader#steven grant x reader#jake lockley x reader#it’s beautiful#i just know the deleted scenes are going to be so good#god i’m so excited#i can’t believe we’re getting new content in 2024#!!!
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Haha. This is what happened right.
#I had this thought today and I could NOT NOT draw it#also GREERR aouhggh this is the best i have ever drawn her yet#she looks so good and pretty i love her so much#also the new MK suit is so nice to draw#there is an actual ref so I don't have to go digging!! Yippe!!#moon knight comics#moon knight#marc spector#moon knight fanart#moon knight art#marvel comics#greer nelson#greer grant nelson#tigra#marvel 616#marvel comics fanart#marvel shitpost#im not calling you good boy#digital art#my art
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A must watch for everyone. Please share
#trending#viral#tiktok#news#world#disney#marvel#mcu#tony stark#sports#israel#palestine#moon knight#books#movies#tv shows#marc spector#music#art
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Just a Neighbour Thing
(MarcSpector! x f!reader)
Summary: Your neighbour Marc Spector is a pain in your ass. Until he saves your life. w/c: 3.9k Warnings: a lil bit of violence but nothing too graphic. Fluff! a/n: I'll be posting a masterlist soon because I think I've got about three or four fics out now and a few to come!
Marc Spector is an elusive character. A man of very few words and an enigmatic personality - not that you know him well enough to judge his character - but from the rare occasions where your paths crossed in your apartment building, it can be summed up with a small smile from you and a smouldering glare from him. Often aloof, the opportunity to get to know him better as a neighbour never seems to present itself and it leaves you struggling to understand who’s to blame. It’s obvious personal defects are the cause; but his or yours?
There’s been many occasions where you’ve had to confront his brick-wall disposition, mostly due to the fact that his ringer on the main lobby doesn’t work, so naturally people go for the next best option which is to press the ringer directly below it: yours. You deliberately leave his mail to accumulate at your door until it becomes an unavoidable mound of tax letters, local advertisements and rent notifications and only then do you brave the trip to the apartment above to deliver his post.
It’s always the same. You knock on the door in a rhythmic pattern that’s become yours. Within seconds he answers the door with the same cold expression, wordlessly takes his mail no matter how hard you try to start up a conversation and before long, you’re staring face to face with the shabby wooden surface of his door. The only thing that changes with each encounter are the clothes that he wears. Different but fairly relative to his style. Purely functional and never dressed for any occasion.
You didn’t mind it for a while. There was some satisfaction and fulfilment to be found while doing your neighbourly duties and despite the fact that there was every possibility he wouldn’t do it for you, you weren’t someone who held a grudge or felt like they had ever been owed a favour. But the mailman had happened upon you on a very bad day and you didn’t feel like accepting his parcel. You had recently been made redundant after the company you worked for did a reshuffling of working positions and yours wasn’t to be included in the new phase they had turned over. So you wallowed at home, watched numerous brain-rotting films, ate a load of junk food and drank lots of wine.
It was nothing personal towards the mailman when he chapped on your door and demanded a signature for Marc’s parcel, but you couldn’t pretend to be the ‘lovely-neighbour-from-downstairs’ any longer.
“This is for 8B upstairs. Says there.”
“I know. I can read,” the mailman grumbles, “but I tried knocking on his door but there wasn’t an answer. The parcel needs to be left with someone and you’re the nominated designee.”
“Can’t you just leave it with another neighbour?”
“No, says it needs to be left with you.”
You look at the large rectangular box and consider it. Aside from Marc’s address scribbled on the top, the box is littered with numerous stamps from various international postal services, few you recognize. It looks to be well travelled and handled with very little care yet there’s nothing to suggest what’s inside. With a sigh, you take it from the mailman. It could be important, especially if it’s gone through so many countries to get here and the fact that you would be to blame if it got stolen or damaged. “Fine, I’ll take it.”
The mailman looks to his feet where a growing pile of letters addressed to Marc starts to spill over into the threshold of your apartment, judgement washing over his features. “Do you…do you normally take all of his mail as well?”
“Do me a favour? If you ever see the guy from 8B, tell him to come collect his fucking mail.”
There’s a part of you that feels slightly bad for the mailman when you slammed the door in his face, but then you remember that if Marc stopped being so fucking immature about answering his own door to receive his mail, then you wouldn’t need to feel bad about anything. You leave the parcel sitting on your hallway table, waiting for the day Marc grows some responsibility and asks you for it.
~~~~
When you placed the parcel on the hallway table, you didn’t expect that it would be sitting there for over a week collecting dust, nor did you expect the curiosity of what’s inside to completely consume you. You walked past it every time you left or entered your apartment. It was in the corner of your eye every time you sat in the living room. It practically radiated temptation every time you took notice of it, screamed at you like it was begging to be opened and you had to force your grubby hands to keep still and not reach for it. But you so desperately wanted to know what was inside. Why was it so conspicuous? Why has it suddenly become the most interesting thing in your apartment?
Perhaps Marc was testing you, sending you a little something of no importance to experiment with your curiosity and test whether or not he could trust to leave you with his personal belongings like he does with his letters. That’s certainly what it felt like by the turn of day eight of the parcel being there and you simply refused to be a rat in his experiment.
That determination lasted for two whole days before it started to truly pester you. It was starting to get in the way and it felt as though it was getting impossibly bigger and bigger. On day nine you were ready to break it, smash it against every wall, rip every piece of cardboard that keeps it together and deliver it in that state to Marc yourself. From your sofa you stood, eyeing the parcel as if it was taunting you and with adrenaline thrumming through your veins, you stomped towards it. Hands outstretched, you were ready to throw it in any direction but something stopped you at the very last second. Something peculiar and completely out of the ordinary. You halted just centimetres out of reach from the parcel, centimetres out of reach from your door where you could hear the whispers of two or three men right outside. You could see the moulds of their bodies through the peephole.
“Look, I’m telling you he lives here-”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. All his mail is sitting here. It’s definitely the right apartment. The parcel is in there.”
The parcel. They’re here for the parcel.
“C’mon let’s get this over with. He’ll be back soon. Where’s the crowbar?”
In the very few heart-stopping, crucial seconds you have before anything happens, you quickly banish all hysteria and muster all rationality and flip over the keyless lock and quietly shuffle away from the door with the parcel in hand. You estimate you have about 15 seconds before they make any headway of getting into your apartment, not enough time for you to hide, but enough time to hide Marc’s parcel. After all, that’s what they are here for. With your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes scan over every nook and cranny of your apartment, quickly assessing each spot based on how likely the intruders are to find it and with the seconds dwindling into single digits, you make a snappy, slightly reckless decision. There’s a ledge just outside your kitchen window where you occasionally leave out some seeds for the birds and you think it’s just low enough that the parcel won’t be seen from the window. It’s risky but you’re running out of time, you have to move.
Scrambling over counter tops and at the sacrifice of knocking over a few utensils, you manage to wrestle the window open and precariously place the box on the window ledge. It’s risky. The ledge isn’t wide and it’s windy, but whatever is in the parcel is just heavy enough that it stays rooted to the spot.
Pulling back, your hand grazes the handle of a kitchen knife which, now that the intruders have made their way into your apartment, seems like a good idea to have.
They round the corner into your living room and immediately start looking for the parcel, noticing you only a few seconds into their search. You point the knife in their direction standing courageously but your wavering breath tells a different story.
The three of them turn towards you from where they stand, and given their expressions, they are just as shocked to see you here than you are to see them. You weren’t supposed to be a variable in their plan. They were supposed to be burglarizing Marc’s empty apartment. Not yours.
The two taller brown-haired men have similar features and builds, almost identical and you begin to wonder if they are twins. Brothers at the very least. But it’s the ageing stout man standing where the living room and kitchen divide who stares you down. He’s dressed smartly in a tweed suit with a golden pocket watch hanging from his waist coat, the type of man who doesn't like to get his hands dirty, because of course, that job belongs to the bulky twins behind him. This is a man who loves to watch it as it happens. He’s more business than manual labour.
His facial features morph from shock to something sinister, his lips twisting into a smile that’s as greasy as the hair on his head as if the cruellest of ideas just crossed his mind.
“I didn’t know Marc had a girlfriend,” he sneers.
“He doesn’t,” you snarl, aiming the knife directly at him with two hands. “He doesn’t even live here either.”
“Oh, so his mail just gets delivered here on a daily basis?” The man hovers over to your coffee table and picks up multiple letters addressed to Marc, the ones that were delivered last week and remained there because of your stubborn nature.
Okay, not off to a great start. “He doesn’t live here.”
He grins but it falls flat a split second later. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. Now where is he?”
“I don’t know because he doesn’t live here.”
“Bullshit. Where. Is. He?”
“Not here. I’m not afraid to use this knife.”
“Oh, not from there you won’t. Let me help you with that.” The man crosses the space between you in three long strides until you’re pressed flat against the counter and the point of the knife grazes the tip of his waist coat. The audacity of this man is staggering. “Save yourself the hassle and tell me where Marc is.”
“I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know where he is! Now get the fuck out of my apartment. Whatever it is you’re looking for isn’t here.”
“And have you call the cops on us? Not a chance, sweetheart.”
His hand reaches out to grab you, and he almost does, but with your quick reflex swinging the knife around, you knick the palm of his hand. The man stumbles backwards with a pained yelp, watching the blood seep from his hand and drip onto your kitchen tiles, enraged that you would even do such a thing. Despite your heart racing and the slightly dizzy feeling of adrenaline raging through your veins, you stand strong, holding the knife even higher in warning.
“You bitch. Boys!” He shouts and the two brothers come running to his side, sizing you up. “Tie her up. We’re not leaving without that package and I’m certain she knows where it is.”
It was easy enough to defend yourself against this puny man with a knife, but against two brutes who manhandle you as if you are lamb for slaughter, you don’t stand a chance. Relentless, you squirm and wriggle and fight to get out of their grasp, and while you had accepted that you were fighting a losing battle, there’s still some pride to be had about how hard you made it for them. Rather than tying you up unscathed, Thing 1 ties your hands with a bloody, swollen nose and Thing 2 ties your ankle with a forming black eye and a bruise developing on his ribs.
With you strapped to the chair, they stuff a gag in your mouth to dim your screams while they scramble to ransack your apartment, turning it upside down to find the fucking parcel Marc left you with. After 15 minutes passes by, your home is a riot; furniture broken, plates, mugs and bowls smashed, everything you own on the floor.
“Boss, it ain’t here. We’re searched everywhere.”
“It has to be!” The stout man shouts, eyes glaring at you enraged. He crouches down, fiery ageing eyes level with yours. He rips the gag out of your mouth and presents a new threat. A razor sharp knife, gleaning in the light as he holds it directly in front of your face. “For the last time. Where is the parcel?!”
“I am telling you. I don’t know,” you spit, trying with all your might to sound as convincing as possible. “I don’t know what parcel you’re talking about. I don’t know where Marc is--I don’t even know the guy! And he sure as shit doesn’t live here. And if any of you had half a brain to actually read the letters will realise that his address is the floor above me. He never answers his fucking door and that’s why I have all his mess at my door.”
The guy jabs the point of his knife underneath your chin, tilting your head upwards. A nauseous feeling stirs in your stomach, raising your body temperature and conjuring a little bead of sweat to drip from your hairline. Your teeth clamp down onto the inner lining of your cheek, hoping, praying, pleading for someone to burst through your door and save you.
You can’t see anything change within the man in front of you, not taking your word for gospel and the more frustrated he becomes, the more danger faces you. Temperament rising, the man grunts and knicks the skin of your chin, splicing the skin open. “Argh, fuck!”
“Marc might not live here, but we know the parcel was delivered! And if you do end up with all his mail then it should be here. Now stop lying to me, you little bitch, and tell me where the fucking parcel is or you are going end up with a lot worse than a cut to your chin.”
You watch in horror as he presses the edge of the knife over your wrist tied to the armrest of the chair and no amount of squirming can break the ties. Fuck, please tell me that I’m not going to lose a limb over a fucking parcel…
Tears pool in the corner of your eyes, your brave facade failing. You’re absolutely terrified
“I’ll give you some context then. That parcel contains something I want, an ancient Egyptian artefact that contains unimaginable power and would bring me a lot of wealth, and Marc Spector has no business taking it from me--” So that’s Marc’s surname. “And unless you want to keep your thieving hands, you’ll tell me where it is.”
As he begins to press the knife’s sharp edge down onto your skin, you start to consider the depravity of the situation, the truth finding its way to your lips. There’s nothing more you want than for this to all be over, to be wrapped up warm and safe in your bed but you can’t shake the arrogance of this guy and his stooges, busting in here like he is entitled to, making a mess of your home, harming you, all to take something that was clearly meant for Marc, all because he thought it would be better with him than with Marc.
No. Fuck that.
“I. Don’t. Know.” A glob of saliva gathers on your tongue and you spit it into the face of your capture, because if your words can’t send the message, hopefully that will.
“You should believe her, by the way.” A voice emerges from behind you and simultaneously, all three men turn towards your front door in stupor. You try to twist your head over your shoulder as far as you can to catch a glance but he’s just out of your sight, however you don’t need to wait long before you get confirmation of who is standing at your door.
“Marc Spector,” your captur states. “Finally.”
“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my neighbour’s apartment?”
“For the very same reason why you’re here, Marc. The parcel. Our parcel. The one you stole.”
Marc snickers. Having gone so long without seeing what a smile looks like on his face, you’re itching to turn around and see him, but you only get as far as Thing 2 who stands with your back to you, blocking your view. “Torturing women for information? Tsk, tsk, that’s a little beneath your remit Donald, is it not? You’re wasting your time. I have the parcel locked up in storage.” An obvious lie, but not obvious enough to them. “She’s got nothing to do with it. In fact, I don’t even know her.”
“I don’t care who I have to go through to get what is mine, whether it’s her or you, I will have it by the time the day is up. Boys!”
“Your mistake.”
In the space of a second, the three men in front of you disappear and you’re left to stare at the vast emptiness of your white walls as chaos erupts behind you. Grunts and groans of pain are spliced in between the sounds of punches and kicks being thrown, furniture breaking, bones crunching and bodies thumping to the ground, all of which you try to drown out by hunching your shoulders over your ears and closing your eyes.
After suspenseful minutes of fighting, it’s clear one man stands victorious. Who? You don’t know. Aside from worrying about what kind of state of your apartment would be left in, you have no idea who you’ve been left in the apartment with and the likelihood of Marc succeeding against three men is slim and the anticipation is killing you.
At last, when a fully mummified figure with white glowing eyes kneels in front of you, you’re taken aback.
“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” His hand comes to tilt your head gently, inspecting the small cut to your chin with a small tut.
“...Marc?”
The mask that covers his face dissipates to reveal the Marc you recognise, looking more worried than you had ever thought he was capable of. He begins to make quick work of your bounds, easily ripping through them with a single fingertip where all the strength in your arms couldn’t.
“What the…”
“It’s a lot to explain. I promise, I’ll explain later. Are you hurt? Are you alright? They didn’t do anything terrible to you, did they? Fuck. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry-”
“Marc, hey, I’m okay. Just a little shaken up I think.” Now free, you come to stand in front of Marc who, weirdly enough, seems to don this mummified Egyptian regalia as a suit of armour. You remember this ‘Donald’ guy mentioning something about an ancient Egyptian artefact and you assume it has to be related to whatever Marc is wearing. You even try to mention it, but you can’t seem to get a word in with Marc fussing over your safety and blaming himself for any harm that Donald and his men have caused you as he gently dabs the blood away from your chin. After futile attempts, you decide to leave it be, marvelling over the new Marc as he carefully handles you with care despite having treated you with such indifference up until a few minutes ago.
Donald and his two bodyguards lie unconscious (...or dead?) on your apartment floor and you look over them with satisfaction, Marc’s unparalleled strength no match for them. Marc quietly lingers behind you, observing them over your shoulder with a similar resolve until he notices the complete disarray surrounding them.
“Sorry about the mess.”
You chuckle lightheartedly. “I’m just glad you came when you did. They got what they deserved.”
“Look,” he pulls you away from them to lock eyes, sincerity twinkling in his irises, “I really am sorry. I thought I was careful enough to not get anyone involved in my mess, but I guess I was wrong.”
You crunch your eyebrows together, recollecting every instance of Marc giving you the cold shoulder. You always thought he was just an unfriendly neighbour, someone who had no interest in anyone but himself, who viewed everyone as an inconvenience. But it was his safeguard, his way of not letting anyone he knew or cared about come into harm. “So you being an asshole was on purpose?”
“Completely. It was nothing personal.”
“I see,” you sigh, but with a gentle bump of shoulders, you add “I could’ve helped you, you know. You just needed to ask.”
He shakes his head dejectedly. “It would’ve been too much of a risk.”
“More of a risk than not asking me? I still got caught up in the crossfire anyway, if I had known why, or at least expected it, I could’ve been better prepared. I don’t need to know what trouble you got yourself into or what shady business you run, but I’m not just your neighbour, I could’ve been a friend if you had allowed me.”
“It had never worked out for me in the past. I didn’t want to make the same mistake again.”
“Okay, I get it. You’re forgiven. But Marc? A word of advice for the future? Just answer your fucking mail then maybe, just maybe, I won’t need to be dragged into all of this again, yeah? They thought you lived here.” You pick up a handful of unopened letters addressed to him and bluntly shove them against his chest with an appointed look and smirk.
He reciprocates the smile with less enthusiasm and turns his attention to your door. “Speaking of, I’ve got a very important parcel I need to track down. I actually have no idea where it is. I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands.”
“About that.” You don’t say another word as you lead him to your kitchen window, awkwardly mounting your counter to reach for the parcel lying just outside your window. As soon as you bring it into view, Marc’s face lights up like you’ve never seen before.
“You had it?! This whole time?! I heard you tell them you didn’t have it!”
“I’ve had it for weeks, actually. Those clowns didn’t exactly take the quiet approach when breaking into my flat so I knew what they were here for. I just had enough time to hide it before they came in. And I can be quite the convincing liar when I need to be.”
Marc quickly discards the parcel, throwing it onto the kitchen counter before throwing his arms around you, knocking the air out of you and squeezing tightly like his life depended on it. “You…are an angel. I can’t thank you enough.”
The two of you embrace for longer than what’s normal between two neighbours, partly in Marc’s resounding appreciation and partly because it feels nice.
“In all honesty, I was two seconds from opening the parcel myself. The curiosity was killing me.” Marc’s laughter shakes his body, his warmth slowly leaving you as he draws back.
“I can show you if you want. I figure you’ll be needing a place to stay while we get your apartment cleaned up. It’s the least I can offer for all the trouble I’ve put you through.”
“Yeah. That would be nice.”
#moon knight fic#moon knight#jake lockley#marc spector#steven grant#marc spector x reader#marc spector fluff#marc spector fic#marc spector fanfic#marc spector x you#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac fic#oscar isaac#oscar isaac characters#fluff#moon knight x reader#new fic
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Some sad news to share - Seiyuu Emi Shinohara has passed away at the age of 61. While she's probably best known for her role as Makoto Kino/Sailor Jupiter from Sailor Moon, she's been a fixture in anime for years--some other roles you might have heard her in include B-ko in the Project A-ko movie series, Presea in Magic Knight Rayearth, Kagerou in Ninja Scroll, Mokuren in Please Save My Earth, Arashi in the X movie, Kaho Mizuki in CardCaptor Sakura, and Angel in The Big O, just to name a few. She passed away in Japan on Sunday, September 8th 2024 from an undisclosed illness. Rest in peace to a magical girl icon, and a true talent gone too soon.
#news#Emi Shinohara#death#seiyuu#80s anime#90s anime#sailor moon#project a-ko#Magic Knight Rayearth#X/1999#card captor sakura#please save my earth#the big o#links out
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HOW WE FEELING ABOUT THE UPCOMING NEWSS 👹👹👹
man, it's a good thing they stopped doing the episode 7 SSRs, because I'm really low on keys and gems right now and --
OH NO
#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 chapter 6 spoilers#IT'S MY BOY#MY BEAUTIFUL ELECTRIC BOY#LOOK AT HIM! HE'S A BIG BRAVE KNIGHT!!!!!!!#but in a good way or a bad way. IS IT IN A GOOD WAY OR A BAD WAY TWST?!#'armor of the eternal night' that's not ominous at all NOPE#malleus is nightmare moon confirmed#wait. wait. hold on. armor of the eternal KNIGHT. ha ha i'm sorry i'm losing my mind a little#me zooming in to the banner as if that's going to tell me anything new: is that a crocodile mask. is he wearing baul's mask.#they did the half mask thing in lilia's card too so i think it's just to show his face in the card art. but it could also be a Thing.#I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING#god this is cerberus ortho all over again. what could it possibly MEAN#someone on the twst pr team really loves seeing us lose our goddamn minds huh#okay okay okay i'm cool i'm good i'm calm#let me just arrange my red thread on my corkboard here#unified exams end on the 11th so we're looking at >2 weeks here#eeeeek#sorry jamil your kelkkarotu card looks lovely but we'll have to catch up later#(do love that they straight-up were like 'kelkkarotu rerun featuring jamil as sir not appearing in this story')#man i'm so glad my horrible shrieky son is getting a big fancy story card#i hope this means silver gets one too#i hope this means EVERYONE gets one too#YOU GET A FANCY STORY SSR! AND YOU GET A FANCY STORY SSR!#DECADENTLY-ILLUSTRATED PLOT TWISTS FOR EVERYONE
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Actual footage of Steven in the headspace watching Jake front
GIF FROM THE AMAZING @nowritingonthewall
Where did you even find this footage??
#this is my new favourite gif#this is amazing#poor steven#moon knight#steven grant#jake lockley#moon knight bloopers#marvel bloopers#moon knight system#moon knight disney+#moon knight series#moon knight show#moon knight 2022#moon knight tv#moon knight memes#moon knight meme#moon knight funny#funny moon knight#marvel memes#marvel meme
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Knight of Swords, Shin Hati
#bc shin was giving goth joan of arc episode 7#hyperfixating SO HARD#words in the moon translates to shin hati and the white wolf#meaning behind the knight of swords card is very fitting for shin#wip: sabine for the moon tarot card#i eventually want to create tarot cards with ahsoka characters#my new lockscreen lol#shin hati#ahsoka#star wars#my art
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Don't exactly know what's going on in this therapy session but it will be intriguing to hear....
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Gods and Monsters
#steven grant#steven grant edit#moon knight#moon knight edit#oscar isaac#oscar isaac edit#q#has this been done before? i don't know if i have new thoughts anymore of it they are just recycled#my stupid edit#(affectionate)#moon knight meme#moon knight memes#moon knight text post#moon knight text posts#moon knight mcu#marc spector#marc spector edit#jake lockley#jake lockley edit#layla el faouly#layla el faouly edit#may calamawy#may calamawy edit#khonshu#khonshu edit
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#this is my new favorite drawing meme#comfort characters#moon knight#tigger#winnie the pooh#steven grant#marc spector#jake lockley#drawing#draw meme#tumblr meme#digital art#fan art#we're gonna have to kill this guy
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The Moon Knight comics are funny bc in one run one of the idiots lose all their wealth but in the next run the money is back and this implies that Steven has to keep getting millions of dollars back over and over again like it's his personal Sisyphus hell
#is it the classic comic book continuity error? obviously#but I like to imagine one of the idiots coming into headspace all embarrassed saying 'guys I have bad news'#and Steven immediately understands without needing any kind of context as he looks at him in disappointment#moon knight
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“Mini Marvels,” Phases of the Moon Knight (Vol. 1/2024), #3.
Writer and Artist: Chris Giarrusso; Letterer: Cory Petit
#Marvel#Marvel comics#Phases of the Moon Knight#Moon Knight comics#latest release#Moon Knight#Marc Spector#Maximillian Coleridge#Tigra#Greer Grant#Reese Williams#Hunter’s Moon#Yahya Badr#Soldier#Khonshu#very in-character for Dr. Badr seeing as throttling those he feels aren’t holding up the Fist of Khonshu title is pretty much#how he was introduced hahaha#also like the touch that the imposter has the red eyes and gold accents of the vol 2 MK costume (that was a fun time)#also Super Moon’s got me MESSED UP hahaha I probably snorted a little too hard at that one#and lastly….heck yeah pizza delivery people aren’t only the premier travelers of the night but people working customer service are#braver than any US Marine (sorry Marc)#out here straight up asking Khonshu for money#…do you think it was Dracula who ordered the pizzas and now owes Khonshu’s new champion $138.62?
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