PDF Moon Knight Zine 2022
Get a digital PDF zine containing 60 HD pages of my artworks from 2022 of characters such as Marc Spector, Steven Grant, Jake Lockley, Khonshu, Jean-Paul DuChamp, Raoul Bushman, Arthur Harrow; and ship combinations of them!
loosely inspired by this. Basically, Marc and Jean-Paul used to have something but they never really had it, you know? I love the idea of bi Marc <3 Also, I'm still on my bs so this is in the same universe as this. One day, I will write this whole thing as my take on MK season two XD
In the past, Marc and Jean-Paul had a thing but it was never the right time. Marc, he was even more emotionally closed off than what we see now. There were only two modes, pain and apathy. Sometimes Marc would have a clairvoyant moment and see that he hasn’t really felt anything in weeks. No happiness, no sadness, not even anger, just an all-encompassing numbness that filled every corner of his head, stuffed his chest and crawled into the tips of his fingers. Jean-Paul was charming, his quick wit and gorgeous smile were the only thing that could start something. A tingle. Just a little something, itmade clear that Marc’s heart was still beating.
Jean-Paul was sure that Marc was not interested even though he wished for it to happen. It was dump, really. Even if they would like each other, then what? They were fucking mercenaries, they would be hired to scare and - much less often - shoot people, and every job they took there was a good chance they would not make it out alive. Sure, they could fuck but having feelings? No way.
Jean-Paul tapped on the control stick and watched the tree line. Not a leaf had moved in the last 10 minutes, the forest lie as quiet as a tomb. His fingers stopped tapping, trying to listen for any sign of them, but over his heartbeat pounding in his ears he could not make out anything. They had been gone for too long.
"5 minutes, tops"
The words echoed in his head.
"5 minutes, my ass."
That was the cue for the gunfire to rip thought the silence of the forest.
"Shit."
Jean-Paul flipped the switch and the blades of the helicopter began spinning over his head. Marc and Bushman broke through the tree line but the most dangerous part was still ahead: the clearing. If they ran towards their escape vehicle they would be easy pray for the shooters that were hot on their tails. The old deli was built like a tank, so Jean-Paul was not concerned with their attackers cutting off their escape.
Marc hid behind a tree on the left were they came out of the woodwork and Bushman took the right. The bark of the trees was dislodged by the hail of bullets. Bushman, that crazy motherfucker, had a manic grin on his face and he started running towards the helicopter while Marc fired into the forest. Bushman yanked the door open, threw the beg into the hull and swung into the passenger seat.
"Take off!"
"What?! Marc-!"
"Take off."
"Fuck you."
Marc could not make the final approach without being shot by the unseen fuckers under the cover of the forest. Jean-Paul grabbed his rifle, opened the window and Marc knew exactly what to do, he ran. The lights of the helicopter would temporarily blind the shooters, Jean-Paul leaned out of the window and fired at the trees as Marc sprinted for the open door. He jumped into the hull and screamed for them to take off. The bullets ricocheted of the helicopter but just as Jean-Paul leaned back in a sharp pain bloomed in his shoulder.
"Fuck."
Bushman pulled the helicopter up with the heavy hand of an amateur pilot.
"Why did you do that," spat Marc as soon as the door closed behind them.
"Do what? Safe your sorry ass?"
Jean-Paul scoffed and dumbed his bag on the bed. The hotel was one of the better ones although that did not mean much. The wallpaper was stained, the carpet had thinned under the soles of thousands of feet, but at least the bed sheets looked reasonably clean.
Marc grabbed him by the shirt and Jean-Paul was too shocked by the sudden action that he let Marc back him up against the wall.
"You fucking Idiot, you could have died! Why didn’t you fucking leave me?"
"What the fuck do you mean?!! Leave you?!"
Jean-Paul’s shoulder thumping dangerously was the only reason he did not beat the shit out of the Marc in that moment. He is shorter, I can take him.
Marc’s grip on the shirt was threatening to rip the fabric and Jean-Paul was annoyed even more.
"What? Should I leave you to those fuckers to out more holes in you than in you than swiss cheese? You don’t get to fucking die on my watch."
"YES!"
Marc shoved him up the wall. He let go as suddenly as he had started. Marc took a few steps into the room, combing back his hair with both hands. Jean-Paul wanted to be angry but his partner’s posture prevented the hot wave from breaking.
"You got hurt, you could have died … because of me."
The anger in Marc’s voice had dissipated, morphed into something else.
"Marc."
He turned around, still holding his head between his hands as if it needed physical support.
"It’s just a small wound on my shoulder. I’ll be fine."
Marc reminded him of an injured cat that was hissing in the corner, trying to scare everyone off even though what it need was help from exactly the person it was trying to chase off. Jean-Paul took a step towards him and slowly lifted his hand until he gently grabbed Marc’s upper arms.
"I’m good."
Jean-Paul had expected everything: Marc punching him in the face, storming out of the hotel room to never be heard from again or screaming at him but what he had not expected was to have strong arms wrapped around his middle and Marc sobbing at his chest. Marc was not a hugger and yet…
Jean-Paul shook his surprise and hugged him back, petting Marc’s back as he cried out all his sorrows.
"It’s okay. I’m okay" Jean-Paul reassured him as he buried his nose in the dark locks.
He could not tell how long they stood there but eventually Marc’s tears dried up. Jean-Paul was sure he would just go back to being the cold mf that he had been before, but Marc was full of surprise that day. He looked up at Jean-Paul and something had shattered in his eyes, they were no longer the hard glass that pretended to be alive. The mask was shattered and Jean-Paul could feel the pull of those emotions that had hid behind it. Was it a good idea to lean in? Maybe not but their future was locked in place, inevitable. Marc’s lips brushes his. Everything that he could not say with his words he hoped would be clear in his kiss.
Marc backed him up to the bed and they fell into it, not caring about the wound in his shoulder.
Listen, I’m obsessed with the idea of Frenchie being played by Pedro Pascal, okay? Today I read something that made me go:
“I have cracked this case wide open!”
The preliminary scene under the cut UwU
in this story, Marc is depressed af and hangs out in headspace a lot more and Steven fronts a lot. Both Layla and Steven are worried, so Marc showing himself is a goose-bump-worthy scene
