☾†

yo, there’s a little (lol) blurb bio underneath the cut! i’m taking bits and pieces from lots of different canon, so if you’re unsure of what exactly, take a sneak peek. i’ll post a real bio at some point.

tw: mental illness, death, nazi’s

“Oh, Hello. Thanks for the warning. Don’t worry, I’m not about to fall.” His tone was confident and with a non-regional American accent– He called it his News Anchor Super Hero Voice. It only came out when he was in his costume and around normal citizens. Something he learned from his parents. 

His red cape fluttered in the wind as he took a few steps to the side, looking the white-hooded man over carefully… but in a way that was also respectful. There was a moon crescent on the guy’s chest. In his mind, Jon was already calling the man Moon Hood.

“Looks like you’re ‘anyone’. Does that make you dangerous?” His tone was light even as he circled around the hooded figure, taking him in and also trying to determine if there was any threat he should be aware of– up close as well as anywhere else on the roof and above, his super hearing helping in that respect. 

Even in the dark of the night Jon was clearly quite tall and good-looking, with his father’s jaw and friendly blue eyes. His suit was red, blue, with black, with the very recognizable Superman “S” across his broad, muscular chest. He hadn’t been interviewed on TV like Superman had, but there were photos of him online and sometimes in the printed news. Despite no longer being a child, he told the press and citizens to call him Superboy.

.

Tilting his head curiously, Marc watched the young man with a calculating stare from behind his mask. Obviously, considering the flying, and the face, and the symbol, and the cape, the guy was a hero. While not one he recognized immediately, Marc could sniff out someone so hyper-hero from a mile away.

“I’m definitely dangerous,” He remarked in his own Moon Knight voice, crossing muscled arms over an equally muscled chest, blinking as his head swiveled to follow the hero’s position surrounding him. “I don’t think you’re the sort of person who needs to worry about it, though,” His Marc voice is much more meek, tired. Typically he had boundless energy, but after kicking in the skulls of some severely over-confident baddies all day, the vigilante was feeling a little drained. “Moon Knight,” he stated.

[📱to Moon Knight ] and when you clean a vacuum cleaner, /you/ become the vacuum cleaner [📱to Moon Knight ] have you ever watched Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? you might like it [📱to Moon Knight ] if I hadn’t been to space multiple times, I might wonder about mice

( ✉️→ 🌙 ⚔️  ): why would i possibly want that ( ✉️→ 🌙 ⚔️  ): truly in what world would that be a conscious choice ( ✉️→ 🌙 ⚔️  ): for you, though, i think that’s what we call aging gracefully ( ✉️→ 🌙 ⚔️  ): i’m hoping i don’t have to deal with it for a very long time  ( ✉️→ 🌙 ⚔️  ): but at the rate things are going i think i’m already starting to find some greys [unsent] ( ✉️→ 🌙 ⚔️  ): do i also have to give you the baby powder in the suit talk i feel like i’ve given it to every hero this side of the hudson

You don’t have to wear an “S” or a bat on your chest to be a hero, Son. Just be one when it counts. 

His father’s words echoed through Jon’s thoughts as he flew through the air between high rise buildings, his red cape billowing behind. Earlier that day, while crossing the street, he was forced to run after a dog that got loose from a woman’s leash. While grabbing the fluffy pup, Jon had been hit by a car. Of course, he took no damage, and he quickly jumped up and handed the dog off to its owner before apologizing and then running off. He wasn’t sure if someone nearby was filming or not, but from what he could make out with his super-hearing the whole thing happened so fast no one had time to yank out their cell phones to record. 

Sometimes it was easier to do good in the costume. The one with the S on his chest. Damian had once told him it was called a uniform– not a costume!  Hiding behind the S meant he didn’t have to be wary of people knowing who he was. He could swoop in and assist and think only of one thing– helping others. Jon strove for this in many ways during his normal life as a human. Going to school for Environmental Science to try and save the Earth! Working at a local business that only used fair-trade goods. Even small things like helping his downstairs neighbor bring in groceries once a week. But some deeds could only be done by a superhero. By Superboy. 

New York had its own set of heroes roaming at night, and Jon always kept an eye out. He was very interested in catching sight of the infamous Spider-Man that the Daily Bugle was always writing articles on. Jon didn’t think the guy was a menace or bad. It seemed like what he did was help people– by dressing up as a spider?

Seeing a quiet spot on top of a high rise, Jon flew down and then landed on the edge of a parapet before moving to sit down on it. With his enhanced vision, he could see all sorts of things from this height, and he took a few moments to scan the streets below. The wind was strong and blew his dark hair back from his forehead, his cape flapping to the side. Sirens blared in the distance, but Jon could see that it was just for a minor car wreck uptown.  It was a dull evening (for New York at least), but Jon decided to stay out for a few more hours– it was a rare night where he had no homework or studying to do, and he could sleep in the next day. 

Marc was fairly used to living a double (quadruple?) life at this point. The only things that remained a constant for him were the city streets in which he worked on and the people he put away for misdeeds. Well, ‘put away’ was subjective, Marc thought as he rose above buildings on his crescent glider. It all depended on whether or not jail and a never-ending-slumber were objectively the same thing in your opinion.

Eyes catching on something a few rooftops over, Marc silently made his way to the person ever-so-casually reclining hundreds of feet in the air like it was nothing. His glider went stationary with a push of a button, and Marc gracefully plunked down onto the concrete surface below. He did not recognize the boy (Man? How old did you have to be to be a man?)

‘𝚆𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚝 𝟷𝟹, 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛,’ Came Steven’s voice in his head, and Marc rolled his eyes despite Steven’s lack of sarcasm. He was always adding little comments here or there, and opposite of Marc, Steven was a very genuine person. Probably why so many people liked him more. 

Heroes, villains, and vigilantes alike - it was difficult for each of them not to cross paths in a place like New York, so densely populated that people brushed shoulders with someone new every day. Marc felt it was safe to say he’d met most of them, and befriended (he hoped) some of them too, at this point. He’d been cycling between New York and Chicago for years, at the beck and call of whichever city called to the moon at that time.

While he was technically an Avenger and Defender first, Marc was a hero before anything else (he was a hero, Khonshu told him he was a hero, he did good, he saved lives). Which was why he did not feel guilty after his first meeting with members of X-Men, nor did he feel badly for slowly becoming acquaintances, then perhaps unlikely friends with one.

Shadowcat was something of an enigma. She was open in a way Marc had never been, even before his journey as Moon Knight. She was charismatic, easygoing, and abundantly herself. Marc envied her in a direction that he had never really looked too closely at. Pointedly, a few voices in his head gave their opinions, but Marc was getting better at ignoring the unhelpful commentary more and more every day. 

Every now and again, when both of them found themselves with free time, Marc often suggested they catch up in their ‘secret hideout.’ It felt a bit childish to have something of a hideout when Marc was a billionaire and could easily invite the woman to his mansion or his penthouse apartment, but it was nice to have a little place no one else knew of but them. 

A little base built into the side of a hill, measured with a secret door that only opened to a very, very secure 4-digit code (6-6-6-6), that was just for Moon Knight and his super-friends. Marc had gotten there early, decked out in his full Moon Knight costume, a pressed, white suit and tie, mask firmly in place, and waited patiently for Shadowcat to arrive. When the oh-so-secret door shuttered open with a click, Marc couldn’t help but feel a bit like a labrador, his tail wagging happily behind him at seeing his friend again.

Marc was not unfamiliar with crossing paths with strong women. Call it intuition or call it psychosis, but he could just feel when he passed by a woman who could break his neck with a swift kick to the head. It was a blessing and a curse, he supposed, as he came into step with a young blonde. He did not know her, he recognized immediately, but she reminded him strongly of someone he’d crossed paths with before.

‘𝔖𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩, 𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔫 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫?’ Came Khonshu’s voice inside of his head, Marc glaring narrowly at the words. “Real, thanks,” He huffed, shoving his hands into pressed dress-pants. Marc rarely wanted to iron his clothes, but Steven constantly poked at his cerebral cortex until Marc gave in and did it anyway. Now, it had become something of a habit, a way for the four of them to pass over thoughts while Marc idly erased lines from his clothing. 

He started when Jake’s voice hissed to him too, ‘𝐇𝐞𝐲'𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧' 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐚.’

Head snapping up uncomfortably, Marc threw a hand to the back of his neck with a whine, feeling the immediate pull of muscle. “Ah, shit.”

Meeting the blonde’s eyes, Marc recognized where he’d seen that look before.

[ text ] Don’t let the demons drag your soul to hell and devour your soul // @holyspector

(  ✉️ → 🌚  ): that’s… grim (  ✉️ → 🌚  ): can’t say i was planning on it but good note (  ✉️ → 🌚  ): can’t you just say “don’t die” like a normal person?