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romanarose · 2 years

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Seattle: Part 3

Marc Spector X Fem!OC

Chapter 2 : Chapter 4

Seattle Masterlist

Fic summary: A friend from Marc's past calls on him for help when she's trapped in an abusive relationship, but will show allow him and Steven to help?

Chapter summary: Rebecca and Marc travel from Seattle to Rebecca's new home with Marc in New York. Marc reflects on how much Becca changed and the night they spent together

WARNINGS!: Mentions of abusive relationship (not with Marc), mentions of miscarriage, smut, PIV sex, loss of virginity (m and f) fingering, Marc being a bit subby (idk why i moved it to this direction but I thought it would be a bit of a change from other loss of virginity fics)

Scenes in italics are flashbacks.

Italics are Marc, Bold is Steven. This is very Marc focused, but Steven will make appearances.

**************

Marc waited patiently outside the women's bathroom door for Rebecca to return, he heard her voice as she walked out. “Stop, listen, no, dad”

Anger surged through Marc, but not at her, never at her. Why was she talking to her dad? He knew she was back in contact, that she had been at least since the wedding, where Marc avoided him simply out of respect for her and her wedding day. Not that he had any respect for her marriage, he always hated Jack, but purely out of respect for Becca. Jack had hated him from the beginning, as did her dad.

“Yes, I’m getting divorced. I know you don’t approve, but that’s what I’m- god, I know how old I am!”

Marc, as irritated as he was, couldn’t help but smile a bit. This, this was the Rebecca he knew. Not the watered down, painfully polite, passive version. No, the version he knew was this; the version that stood up for herself, the version that stood up to her dad, no matter what happened.

“Hey dad, Marc and I are going to study in my room” She called to her dad as she dragged Marc down the hall to her room, passing the living room where Carl sat watching the game. Packers game. Of course he was a fucking Packers fan, only person in Chicago who was a fuckign Packers fan.

“Stop.” He called.

In front of him, you stopped, pausing for a moment. He could feel you prepping yourself.

“Becca, get in here.” He called again.

Rebecca turned to Marc quickly, shoulder length brown waved bobbing as she grabbed Marc’s shoulder, whispering. “Stay here, don’t. Move.” When she walked past Marc and he turned, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Don’t”

Rounding the corner, she put on a smile as she disappeared. Marc could make out some of the words her dad said, names he called her: Slut, whore, bitch. The usual. A slap. Marc clenched his fists tightly, nails digging into his palms. He wanted to go in there, to protect her. But he knew that would make things worse. She said to stay, he had to trust her.

“We’re not doing anything, dad. He’s just my friend.” a pause and her dad said something. “Maybe I’m gay” She taunted. Marc smiled, there she was, until he heard another slap.

Rebecca came flying out of the room, grabbing Marc’s hand and pulling him into the room. She called to the living room. “We’re keeping the door open!”. When they sat on the bed, Rebecca noticed Marc looking at her red face. “Don’t”

“Beccs, we can study elsewhere, it doesn’t have to be here.”

She shook her head. “Nope. This is my home. I understand he doesn’t want me getting pregnant under his roof so I’ll respect keeping the door open, but I’m not going to tip toe in my own home”

“Oh yeah, Jack talk to you huh? Jack also tell you he bruised three ribs and scalded my face with hot water?...... Ohoho of course you don’t see a problem with that…. Take a wild fucking guess who I’m with….. Yeah, you’re favorite…. I don’t have an attitude, I’m an adult! Okay, you know what? I’m gonna hang up, Marc and I have a very busy day ahead with our illicit affair, lot’s of extra marital sex to have, babies to make.” With that, she hung up.

Rebecca turned to Marc, who stared at her, mouth agape. “What?”

“Nothing.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Just happy to see you being yourself.”

Her face faltered a bit. “Was I too harsh?”

Marc groaned a bit. “No, sweetheart, not at all. C’mon, let’s find food.”

They talked together through the busy airport. Ironically, their layover was the Chicago O'hare airport. Both of them opted to not sightsee in their home city. They found a sandwich place and sat down.

“He said I’m not getting any younger.” She grumbled. “That I’m not going to find someone to marry me now.”

I would Marc thought. I love you, I love you, I love you Marc felt like it would burst out of his mouth.

“Like I even want to get married again, after that shit show.”

Marc knew this, of course. No part of him held out hope that this would make her love him. He knew his time passed. The morning after they made love, he hadn’t said anything, they never addressed it. His window closed. Now she was scared, traumatized, and lost. His job wasn’t to manipulate her into love or sex, his job was what it had always been, and what he had always failed it. Protect her.

When the waiter asked what they wanted, Marc ordered a BLT

“And for you, ma’am?”

“Same” Rebecca ordered, drinking her water as the waitress walked away. “When did I go from miss to ma’am?”

BLT. She ordered a sandwich with pork.

So? Steven questioned.

She was always observant…

She looked up at him, finding his quizzical look. “What?”

Marc didn’t falter.

Rebecca’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, you’re judging me for eating bacon!”

Marc rolled his eyes. “I’m not judging you! I literally ordered the same fucking thing.”

Rebecca didn’t back down. “Wow. Wow. You have no right to judge me.” She was only half joking, her genuine distress being covered by an overly dramatic call out.

Marc raised his hands defensively, giving a little laugh. “I’m not! I don’t care what you eat!”

With an aggressive point, she defended herself, although Marc got the feeling she was defending the sandwich to herself more than him. “I fell out of habit, that’s all”

Marc couldn’t help the dry laugh that escaped him, eyebrow raising. “You fell out of the habit? You didn’t eat pork the first 30 years of your life and you just…. Fell out of the habit?” His face slowly faded into a frown of concern.

She dodged his eyes. “What does it matter? You always ate pork. Besides, I ate it when we were homeless.”

“Beccs… I had to practically force feed you.”

Rebecca had been trying to trade food with Marc from the soup kitchen. “Give me your side and I’ll give you my hot dog.”

“No way, betukah.”

“You don’t even like corn!”

“You can have my corn, but I’m not eating your hot dog, you need protein. You’re gonna freeze to death when the cold comes.” Right now in the summer, neither Marc or Rebecca could fathom the cold, not with the sweltering heat clinging to them.

Rebecca scoffed. “Well, I’m hoping to not be homeless this winter, Marc. Besides, I don’t eat pork, you know this.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “What kind of Chicagoin doesn’t eat hotdogs.” his chicago accent making it sound more like hahtdahg.

Holding up a finger for each point, she countered him. “One, jews, for the last 100 years, two, Chicagoins isn’t a word”

Marc got more serious. “I think God will understand.”

She shook her head. “I can’t go to Shabbat, not when we’re trying to avoid everyone. I refuse to get lazy. If I start eating pork, I’m going to start slacking on other things, and I just won’t do that.”

Marc thought for a moment. “I promise you, if you eat this stupid hotdog, which, by the way, probably isn’t even real meat,” he said with a little smile. “I’ll take us to the suburbs to go to Shabbat, away from the prying eyes of the Chicago jewish population. When she still hesitated, but was clearly mulling it over. “Listen, I had an aunt who was diabetic, right? One day I caught her eating while the rest of us were fasting for Yom Kimpur. I asked my dad, and dad said that she can’t fast, God doesn’t want us to do things that harm us. And remember Rachel Rosenbaum, who went to a treatment center for anorexia? She isn’t allowed to fast either, because it might send her back to spiraling. God doesn’t want us to hurt ourselves. I think he’d rather you eat. Especially because we didn’t have lunch. Or breakfast.”

With a small frown, she agreed.

Rebecca wouldn't look at Marc.

Marc, mercifully, filled the silence. “What did he do to you, Rivkah? I noticed… he didn’t like you being Jewi-”

“He wasn’t against me being Jewish!” Rebecca raised her voice. When she noticed people glancing over, she lowered her voice, finally looking at Marc. “His religion was just very important to him, as mine is to me. We found compromises.”

“You had an entirely christian wedding, Rebecca. You didn’t even have the hurrah. It’s not a compromise if you give up everything.”

“Can you drop it? Please?”

“Why are you defending him again?”

“Marc, please drop it!”

Marc was silent.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be”

“No, Marc, I-”

“Honey.” Marc caught her brown eyes again. “Honey… it’s me.” Marc took in how much she changed. Her hair, which she always kept shorter, was long, past her chest. It was so much lighter… And straight. That stood out. She was always proud of her large hair, thick with waves. Her face was still burned, likely would be for a long time, but the doctor assured it would fade away, maybe completely by a few years. What had he done to her? How had he managed to break her down piece by piece, until not only was she physically unrecognizable, but her personality had been stripped away. “Rebecca, you can argue with me. You can disagree with me, call me out. You always have. Don’t stop now.”

“I know.”

When Marc found her exiting the doors of her college, her face lit up brightly. “MARC!” she shouted, running to him.

He hadn’t told her he was back in the city. He hadn’t intended to come, but he had nowhere else to go. Actually, that wasn’t exactly true. He could go anywhere. But nowhere called to him. Only she did. It was early November, 3 months since he left. He had intended to stay away. The deal had been that Rebecca would start school, her full tuition being paid for by scholarships and aid, and get an apartment while Marc would find his way elsewhere. Where, he didn’t know. But somewhere else. It killed him to leave her, but he needed to go, and she needed to stay. She wouldn’t leave her brother, who was still living with her dad.

“Marc, why are you here! Not that I’m not happy, but I thought you were down south?”

He was. He was busy fighting in less-than-legal fights; he was good at it. He had made a fair amount of money.

“I’m back, because you didn’t keep your promise” Marc frowned at her. “You promised me you would get an apartment for the winter, I know you have enough saved up”

Holding Marc’s hand, they began walking down the street to Rebecca’s bus stop. “I know, I tried, Marc! No one wants to rent to an 19 year old with no credit, so I’ve been couch surfing.”

Raising an eyebrow, he doubted her. “Couch surfing?”

She sighed. There were no secrets from Marc Spector. “Okay, it’s some couch surfing. Some shelters… and sometimes I stay with my dad”

“Beccs-”

“You don’t get to do that.” Rebecca stopped on the sidewalk, facing him. “You left, Marc. And that’s fine, please know that’s fine, you have to do what you need to, but so do I. And sometimes that means swallowing my pride and staying with my dad until it gets bad again”

Feeling his jaw clench and tick, he tried to not react too strongly. “Until things get bad again?” He asked.

Rebecca sighed, starting to walk again. “Yes Marc. I’ll go there, stay a few days or a few weeks until he hits me again, is that what you want to hear?”

“No! Why would I want to hear that?” He trailed after her. He knew what he had to do. As much as he hated it, as much he hated the idea of being in Chicago or even talking to his dad. But he does it. He asks his dad to cosign a lease for him and Rebecca, a short term, 6 month lease to get her through the winter safely. They split everything, as much as Marc tried to pay for it all. Rebecca had pride, and refused to let Marc pay for everything. As much as she had always let Marc help, she refused to become dependent on him, on anyone, let alone a man. How things had changed with Jack.

It was dark by the time they trudged into Marc’s apartment, the cold March of New York seeping into their bones. “It’s not much, but it’s ours” He gestured to the open studio. It wasn’t as small as their place in Chicago when they were teens. No, that place was tiny, big enough for their full sized mattress, fridge, stove, and a few plastic bins in which they kept their clothes, much of which was shared. Rebecca had preferred t-shirts and loose jeans, men’s clothing a far reach from the clothes she had now. Maybe she grew up, maybe after working professionally she found a liking for nice clothes, but Marc couldn’t help thinking Jack was changing that part of her too.

“It’s nice.” Rebecca smiles genuinely, taking it in. It was a little messy, piles of books and take out boxes, but minimally decorated. She assumed the books weren’t Marc, they must be- She gasped, turning to Marc covering her blushing face. “Oh my god!”

Marc looks panicked. “What?”

Rebecca continued covering her face. “Oh my god, I haven’t met Steven!” Rebecca had been so caught up in being back with Marc, she had forgotten about Steven. Marc had, of course, told her about Steven and Moon Knight. No secrets, not between them.

“Is that all?”

She removed the hands. “He must think I’m so rude!”

Marc laughed. “Trust me, honey, he does not think that. Would you like to meet him?”

She perked up at that. The light in her eyes that he missed so much returning, just a bit. “Can I?”

That alright Steven?

Yes! I would love to

“Hello love! So nice to finally meet you, Marc’s said so much about you, I feel like I already know you.”

Rebecca’s grin widened “It’s nice to meet you too!”

Ever hospitable, Steven showed her the bathroom. “I’m sure you’d like to shower and get settled in, Marc brought some clothes from your apartment but if you need anything, you can use ours, and use whatever is in the shower.”

Rebecca laughed a bit. “You mean Marc’s 3-in-1?”

“Well, actually, I have converted him to actual shampoo, body wash and conditioner.”

“Really.” Rebecca looked impressed. “I thought his hair looked particularly pretty”

Pretty Marc thought She thinks my hair is pretty

Steven grabbed a towel from the closet. “Here, Oh!” He got a second one. “For your hair. We can go to the store tomorrow and get you what you need, alright? After a good night's sleep? And we have a friend who said he’ll be your divorce lawyer-”

Steven

Rebecca’s eyes left Steven and her previously genuine smile changed to something estranged, an attempt at remaining polite. “Thank you Steven, but I don’t need charity. I just need a place to stay while I get on my feet. I have money saved up, and I still have access to Jack’s bank account, and the money I had from my job before he made me quit. And I can easily find a job, there’s always a need for social workers and my license is still active.”

“Oh no! Don’t even worry about that, he will do it pro bono, and we don’t mind buying things while you get on your feet, it’s no problem!” Steven, stop “And don’t even worry about work yet, we need to get you to a doctor first, get through the divorce so you don’t have to deal with him-” Steven, she doesn’t-

Her voice was strained in a distressed smile as she interrupted him. “Steven, that’s very sweet of you, but I can handle it, okay? Thank you for your hospitality, I do appreciate it.” Her eyes pleaded with him to stop. Leave it, please.

Steven nodded, nervously ringing his hands. “Okay, yeah, absolutely, whatever you need” Steven saw her wince. “Or don’t need!”

Rebecca gave him a soft smile, then headed to the shower, carrying her towels. When the door closed, Marc took the body again

What was that? Did I do something wrong?

No, no, she’s just… she doesn’t like depending on people. Never has.

But she’s here, she needs help.

It’s a little different with us. We’ve always just been… We’ve always needed each other. And right now she’s embarrassed.

She shouldn’t be, none of that was her fault

I know, I know Steven. But I also know her, and her pride is wounded. We have to let her handle herself, and just be there when she needs us. She’ll tell us what she needs.

Bullocks, this is going to be hard.

I know.

Steven was a caretaker, this went against everything in his nature.

The night was cold, colder than shit, record temps in Chicago. They had been spending way too much on heat lately and he and Rebecca were huddled together, comforters covering their heads to try and stay warm. They had spent nearly a year at this point sleeping in each other’s arms, that wasn’t new or weird. But something about this… was different. Maybe it was how they had spent the last several months playing house, essentially functioning as a couple in every sense except sex and the name. Maybe it was the fact he, completely accidentally, had turned around too fast when they were changing, and he seen her in her underwear. Maybe it was the fact Rebecca didn’t cover up, didn’t yell at him or panic. Maybe it was the fact she smiled at him as he stared like the dumb teenager he was.

Maybe it was the fact her ass was pressed right up against him.

But he felt himself getting heard. And he felt her heart pick up as she noticed.

“I’m sorry” He mumbled, scooting back and starting to remove his arms, face blushing an insanely bright red as he intended to get out of the bed.

She grabbed his arm, gluing him to her. “Stay.” she whispered. Hesitantly, she ground her ass back into him, eliciting a whimper from his mouth.

“Beccs…” With a slow hand, he moved the hand around her stomach up to just under her breasts, unable to cross the line to touch her. After everything, he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. All these years of restraint were hard to break out of.

Her back was to his chest as he spooned her. She took his hand and guided him to her chest; once there, he groped at her, thrilled beyond belief that this was happening. “Marc, I want this.” Becca interlaced her fingers with his. “Do you?”

Marc lightly kissed her neck, taking the opportunity to take in her scent. “I think that’s obvious.” He rutted his thick erection against her.

“I didn’t ask if you were horny, I asked if you want this.” Rebecca sighed out as he dipped his cold hands under the shirt to feel the soft skin of her breast.

She was everything he imagined, living up to every thought he had while touching himself in the shower. “Beccs, what are you talking about?” Everything he knew about women, which wasn’t much, came from his dad, who had taught him to make sure she wanted it, to not pressure her. And here she was checking on him.

“You’d do anything for me, you always -hmmm- you always have” A hand reached around behind her, feeling his ass in the pajama pants. “But I don’t want you to do this just for me, I need to know you want this.” Neither had ever had sex before. Their close friendship had largely kept other potential offers away in high school, and even with their short absence from each other, neither had interest in anyone else.

“I want you” Her hand moved his lower, across her stomach, hearing her breath hitched when he reached between her legs. Marc sucked on her neck, moving his lips up to where he had wanted them for years. “I’ve always wanted you, no one else, only ever you”

“Fuck” she breathed out, nails digging in through the thin material of his pants, into the skin she wanted to touch. It was too cold to fully undress, the frigid walk home still felt in their bones.

His lips were on her cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

Giggling out her reply, she turned her head to meet his. “Sweetheart, your hand in between my legs.”

He still smiled softly at her, adoration shining through, even in the darkness under their blanket. “Can. I. Kiss. You.” He punctuated each word with a kiss on the cheek, fingers beginning to strum on her clit with her guidence, making her buck against him.

Rebecca didn’t beg. Not to her dad, not to teachers, not to anyone, especially not men. But the way she looked at him, desperate and pleading, the words left her lips as she took his hand, bringing him against her entrance. “Marc, please?”

Marc obliged, taking her mouth in his, as his finger entered her.

When she emerged from the shower, she looked more tired than ever.

But something else took his notice. “Rebecca…” She was drying her hair with the towel wrapped around her. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be distracted by her body in the towel; he’d seen her in a lot less. “Your hair is still straight.” He didn’t know much about hair, but he was pretty sure that water made hair curl again.

She looked at him a bit confused for a moment, then it registered. “Oh. Yeah. I got it chemically relaxed”

Marc’s eyes widened a bit before narrowing in confusion. “Why? You loved your hair?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes, going to her bag of clothes “It’s easier to manage this way.”

Marc wasn’t dropping it, eyes following her. “That’s why you always had it short.”

Rebecca threw the clothes on the ground. “Can you drop it Marc? I’m tired. I don’t know if you remember, but my sleep was interrupted last night.” She glared. “I want to go to bed.” After a pause to look at Marc’s sad face, she softened. “Sorry, can I lay down, please?” She grabbed a throw blanket and went to the couch.

“Aht aht aht!” Marc tried to grab the blanket. “You’re my guest, you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

Putting her hands on her hips, her face reset in determination. “This is your home, I’m not taking yours and Steven’s bed while you sleep on the couch.” Despite the exhaustion clear on her face, he knew she wouldn’t budge.

“We could… I mean it’s a queen… we could share. It wouldn't be the first time.” Visions of that night they spent together nearly 20 years ago, and he quickly added “I can afford heating this time, so we can use separate blankets.” Marc tried to avoid cringing. They never talked about it, not after all this time.

She watched him, considering. “Okay. But if I get annoying, you have to kick me out. Steven okay with this?”

That’s fine. You can have the body when we go to sleep so she’s not sleeping next to a stranger

“Yeah, he said he won’t take the body at night, it’ll just be me.”

Rebecca nodded, body visibly relaxing. “Okay. You do what you want, I’m going to lay down. You know I can sleep through anything, so don’t feel like you gotta go to bed or anything.” She climbed into bed, and Marc joined her.

“I’m beat, I think an early night would be nice”

Becca eyed him like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t have any fight left.

She was warm, so warm against his finger. “Marc, I’ve touched myself before, you don’t have to- ah!” She moaned out as Marc added a second finger. His were thicker than hers, that was for sure. Rebecca could feel him move against her thigh; he liked the sounds she made. “Bring your other arm under me, baby” she coaxed, Marc did as he was told, both arms were now wrapped around her, holding her back to him. His fingers felt incredible, but she needed more, more of him.

“Show me what you need honey, I want to make you feel good.” Marc was not prideful. Rebecca knew Marc had never so much as touched a woman yet, and the fact he didn’t act like he automatically knew everything just endeared him to her even more, if that was even possible.

“Keep your fingers inside, touch me” She whispered.

“Where?”

“Everywhere, Marc. I want to feel you everywhere” And she did. Nothing existed but him, his hands, his mouth, exploring her both over and under he clothes; in turn, she rewarded him with touching his fully erect cock through his pants, giving him all the pretty little sounds he kept chasing. She felt her orgasm approaching, her breath becoming hitched and strained as the little world they had always existed in felt like it was drawing in on itself, pulling each other ever closer.

“Fuck baby” his fingers picked up speed, the wet squelch of her cunt filling the small apartment. “Are you getting tighter? Is that good or bad?”

She nodded, her poofy hair tickling his face. “It’s good, that means I’m close, don’t stop.”

Marc had no intention of stopping, if he could, he would never stop unless she said so.

When Rebecca came, he could hardly see her face, but god, if the sound she made wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Incredible. He wanted to spend the rest of his life coaxing those sounds of her, if she’d let him. He’d learn her body, learn what she liked, learn what made her sound like that.

When he climbed into the bed next to her, he fought the urge to draw her into his arms as they had done so many times before, time and time again when he stumbled back into her life and she welcomed him with open arms. Always open arms. In the years after she graduated college, she often opened the door of her apartment to find Marc. Sometimes he was beaten and bloody, sometimes wet, sometimes starving. When he had nowhere else to go, he had her. They always shared what they had, always. Rebecca would bandage him up, feed him, and he’d stay with her until that itch came back. Sometimes a few days, sometimes a few months. Sometimes he’d see his dad, sometimes he wouldn’t. Never his mom. Although they slept in each other’s arms everytime until she married Jack, they never had sex again. After half an hour, Marc turned over to look at her, surprised to find her staring at the ceiling, tears falling down to the pillow.

“Hey, hey sweetheart, what-” He almost finished that sentence.

She snorted out a small laugh. “Oh god, you were not about to ask what’s wrong, were you? After the day we had?” But she smiled at him, knowing he meant well.

Brushing a bit of hair that seemed to uncharacteristically her away from her face, Marc returned the smile. “Force of habit. Anything you want to talk about?” Marc took her hand. If she didn’t want him to touch her, she knew she could pull away. She didn’t.

“It’s stupid.” She sniffled.

“Rivkah” Marc kissed the side of her head, her straight hair unfamiliarly smooth on his lips. “You’ve been through hell, whatever it is, it isn’t stupid.”

She sighed. “I keep thinking about the pregnancy. It hur-” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before starting again. “It hurts, which doesn’t make sense, I don’t even know if I was going to keep it. I don’t have any right to be upset about the miscairrage when I might have had an abortion.”

Marc waited for a moment, making sure she was done before talking. “You always have a right to feel what you feel, Beccs. Even if you had an abortion, you’d have a right to mourn that. You always wanted kids, you just didn’t want one under these circumstances.” He played with her hair with the hand that wasn’t holding hers. “If you’d like, I can talk to my dad and see if he knows any Jewish rituals or traditions for miscaraige? I don’t have to tell him it’s you, unless you want him to pray for you or-”

She turned to face him. “Since when do you talk to your dad?”

“Rosh Hashanah, actually. Remember when you called?” Marc waited until she nodded. “I ended up uh… well I actually came to Chicago. Made it for the last night. Met him at a synagogue”

Rebecca propped herself up on her right arm. “You went to services? With your dad?” A small smile was growing on her face.

Marc nodded. “Yeah, we even got dinner after… we talked about things, just a bit.”

Eyed widening, Rebecca tried not to react too heavily. “Oh?”

“Yeah” He laughed out. “It wasn’t much but he… he said sorry. And I forgave him.”

“Marc…” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so proud of you.” Rebecca let go of his hand, to his disappointment, but that disappointment was subdued when she cupped his face to his kiss forehead. She laid back down on the pillow, and Marc did the same; faces so close, he could kiss her. “If you could talk to him, I’d appreciate that, and I’d love for him to pray for me. Thank you.”

“Do you need anything to help get to sleep? I don’t have any melatonin, I have benadryl that might help?”

Her face showed hesitation, as she weighed her answer. “Marc, I know it’s been like, 5 years, other than last night, which was a special circumstance…”

He knew what she was asking. “Always, Beccs.”

Rebecca grinned at him, planting three kisses in quick succession: forehead, nose, lips. It was so fast he didn’t process what happened until she was wrapped up again in his arms. This was right. This was what should’ve been. What could’ve been if Marc didn’t allow himself to get in the way, how it would’ve been if Marc hadn’t spent his youth as a rolling stone, a rambling man. She wouldn’t have bruised ribs he had to be careful around and her face wouldn’t be red and raw.

“We can stop, Beccs, if you want” Marc assured her, his fingers drenched in her, rubbing his slicked up hand along her thigh, under her sweatpants.

“I don’t want to stop” She turned back to kiss him, gently biting his lip. “Do you?”

Marc returned the kiss, feeling bold enough to quickly suck on her tongue, rewarding him with a moan from her mouth. “No way”

Despite this, Marc didn’t make a move to undress her, he continued rubbing her thigh, kissing her and caressing her body. Rebecca knew he was nervous; worried he’d hurt her, worried, he’d do the wrong thing. He wanted to take care of her the way he always had. She rolled over to face him, happy to see his handsome, youthful face. “Can I help you baby?”

Marc looked at her with awe and wonder, only capable of nodding. He watched as she reached back down her pants, touched herself for a moment as her free hand pulled his length from his own restraint. When her hand withdrew from between her legs, Rebecca’s come coating her hand and fingers, she wrapped that hand around his cock, a gasping Marc having to stop himself from coming right there. “Fuck, f-fuck baby”

Rebecca kissed under his jaw. “See how wet you make me?” Instead of an answer, a loud whine escaped him. He was completely at her mercy, he would do anything she asked, forever and always. She shuffled down her pants just far enough to allow him access, lining Marc up at her entrance. She lifted a leg up over his hip, giving his access. “Marc, honey, you’re shaking… are you okay?”

He nodded vigorously. “I just… I never thought I’d be this close with you.”

“Can I pull down the blanket? I wanna see your face.”

Marc nodded again. The air outside their little world was brisk and cold, but the light allowed them to see each other clearly. She didn’t want to miss a minute of this. She ran her fingers through his hair, reveling in the thick curls. “Can I ride you, baby? Would that be alright?”

Marc wondered if he was dead. She wanted to ride him? Not only did she want him, but she wanted to take care of him. “Please?” He pathetically whimpered out, all his bravado was gone. He existed completely and wholly for her.

Rebecca shucked off her pants, laying Marc on his back as she straddled him. He was so beautiful, the light of the moon bathing him, illuminating his features; he looked like he was born under it, belonged to it, was destined for it. Rebecca continued kissing him, every moonlit feature she could find. “Are you sure honey?” When Marc again begged for her, she lowered herself onto him.

A choked sob escaped Marc’s pretty little mouth as he felt her swallow him, wet and smooth and soft. He opened his eyes to see her wincing. Marc reached up to touch her face. “You alright, Beccs? I don’t want to hurt you”

When she looked down at him, she was smiling, adoration lighting her eyes, love for the man under her. “Oh sweetheart, I’m perfect.” When she sank down, feeling him buried fully in her sheath, they moaned in unison. Marc was her first, but she was no stranger to penetration and began to move on him quickly. They remained chest to chest, two layers of all-too thick clothing separating them. Their mouth’s never left each other, their hands exploring their bodies that seemed so new, yet so familiar. They knew each other, seen each other in swimsuits and underwear, bodies familiar and comfortable to their touch. Years of close friendship, codependency, and blurred lines of friendship and attraction, all came together. There was no doubt in either of their minds in this moment. It was love. Maybe it was always love, that something beautiful bloomed the moment he opened his door to find her with that terrible food. They were interconnected by their souls for the better half of their lives, it was only fitting they were connected by their bodies.

Rebecca had always believed that virginity was a silly thing to get hung up on, but she wouldn’t have had this any other way. There was no one she trusted more, no one she loved more than Marc Elias Spector. There was no one she would rather this be with. He was perfectly deep inside her, hitting that perfect spot. He was perfect. He was everything. She knew Marc was not done wandering, that when the lease was up and he knew she would be safe and warm, he would leave. There wasn’t any idea in her head that this meant they were together, that this was forever. No, that wasn’t who Marc Spector was. He had miles to before he sleeps, and miles to go before he sleeps… but this, this would always be them. One of several firsts they would only have with each other.

Marc gazed up at her, unbelieving that she had graced him like this, giving herself to him, trusting him… He couldn’t picture a better moment. Marc was so entranced, so enamored by the look of her, the feeling of her lips lavaciously kissing him as her wet cunt took him, he fooled himself into thinking this was forever, they were forever. He would never leave, he could never leave her, not after this. Not as long as she’d have him. Rebecca was everything, forever. Everything. His hands roamed her, claiming her, mine, mine, mine. He would never let anyone touch her if she gave herself to him. If she wanted, their bodies would be entwined like this the rest of their lives. Two beings, completely united as one. He would give up traveling, living in this god forsaken city, for her.

“Beccs, honey, I’m not gonna last.” His hips involuntarily bucked up to meet her.

“It’s okay baby.” Rebecca kissed him gently, lightly tugging on his hair. “I don’t want you too, come when you’re ready.”

Marc grabbed her hips, his touch still soft, he moved her along him.

This shot a spark through Rebecca, bringing her closer. “Fuck, just like that baby, take what you need, fucking take it.”

“Want you to come again, Becca. Tell me what you need, please, I’ll do whatever you need.”

“Just keep doing that, Marc” Rebecca slipped a hand between their bodies, touching herself. She spread her fingers along her lips, feeling him enter her and the wetness between them. She massaged her clit with her left hand, her right hand on Marc’s face.

“Fuck, say my name again, please” He begged.

“Marc” A kiss on the side of his head. “Marc” otherside. “Marc” Neck. “Marc” His lips. She chanted his name into his mouth as she kissed him, until it melded into a moan, swallowing the sounds of the orgasm her tightening cunt drew from him. Years latter, both would reflect on this, the stupidity of two teenagers having unprotected sex and coming inside. Neither had been taught about female birth control or plan B, and barely knew what a condom was. But right then, it felt right, they felt like the entire universe existed only in that moment, in that tiny, shitty studio, and between their two bodies.

Rebecca turned her back to him, and Marc wrapped his arm around her the way he had done for 2 decades, the way he had last night while she cried herself to sleep. She settled right in, sighing in contentment. This is how it should have always been.

Right before he fell asleep, finally able to relax, knowing she was safe, he heard her.

“Marc… Do you ever think about that night?”

“All the time, Beccs. All the time.”

When he was sure she was asleep, Marc closed his eyes. It wasn’t often he prayed, but this was a special occasion. She was safe. She was here, with him, safe. With a soft whisper, he said the words he remembered his dad praying after the safe return from a travel.

“Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, ha-gomel t’chayavim tovim she-g’malani kol tuv.”

(Blessed are You, Lord our God, ruler of the world, who rewards the undeserving with goodness, and who has rewarded me with goodness.)

Rebecca was his goodness, she always had been, and he was so blessed.

*********

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!

I hope this chapter is happier than the last one. I hope you liked the smut scene; I wanted it to be really sweet.

Special shout out to @apollo-enthusiast, it was their idea to use the prayer at the end.

I am not Jewish, I am a hopeful convert. If I said anything incorrect or offensive, please let me know!

Reblogs are the only real way to share my work, and comments mean the entire world to me.

Love y'all!

Spotify playlist: if you have song ideas, comment or send in my asks!

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories @tippycakes26

#Marc spector #marc spector fluff #marc spector smut #marc spector hurt comfort #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector jewish reader #marc spector jewish #moon knight #steven grant #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight fluff #moon knight smut

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doomfox · 2 years

Text

Goodman/Kessler. For Hire.

David Kessler tried to ignore his friend. He really tried. But Jack Goodman was nothing if not persistent, throwing his arms wide and grinning like an idiot as they walked side-by-side.

“Ah! You smell that Davy?” Jack cackled, rearing back his head and wearing an idiotic smile across his fresh young face, “you smell that in the air?? Know what that is??”

“What, Jack.”

“That’s LIFE my friend! Don’t it smell good??”

“No.”

“ahh, come on Davy-boy!” Jack gave David a hopeless look as they walked. “What the heck’s wrong with ya? you got worms or something?”

David gave his buddy a glare and accelerated his pace. “What do you think, Jack?” He growled, shooting his best friend an accusing glare, “you have any idea how cold it is??”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Ah, come on! You were ready for a trim.”

“It’s degrading!” David snapped, “I hate everything about it!”

“Well tell ya what,” Jack retorted, “next year I’ll leave you to it and you can overheat. And sleep outside because boy, you are NOT shedding all over the trailer.” Jack dived into his pocket, producing a handful of notes as he lowered to David’s level. “Take a look at this, davy-boy! one thousand dollars for a few days’ work! And half of that’s yours, buddy boy!”

David scowled at Jack, his buddy blocking his path. “Jack. Look at me.” David raised a hairy paw, gesturing to himself best he was able. “I’m a big fucking dog. What in fuck’s name am I supposed to do with money??”

Jack groaned, standing and shoving the cash back into his jacket pockets. “Christ David, you’re a hell of a buzzkill when you’re in a mood.” The two friends continued on their way, heading through the small town of Eagle’s Grove, where they had been living for the last year. They rarely went without the other, and were a local oddity, but the boys had managed to scrape a living doing odd jobs. Or, on the record at least, Jack had. Jack Goodman, and his strange dog, David. “Come on, bud! We are in the money! Let’s go get hammered, huh? You wanna go have some fun?”

“I guess...” David gave up, plodding along on all fours, the night’s breeze wafting over the light fuzz that had been left of his usual thick black coat, “at least I’ll be warm. But first round’s on you!”

“O’ course, buddy!” Jack gave David a quick ruffle over the head, “let’s celebrate our pay day!”

...

The two boys finally made their way to the local tavern, Jack pausing at the door to regard David. “Alright buddy, you know the drill. Time for the Dog Act.”

“Yeah yeah...” David grumbled resignedly, yellow eyes scanning the tavern door. Music quietly sounded inside, some kind of Country-rock. “I get it. But don’t ignore me this time! Gets lonely without anyone to talk to.”

Jack grimaced. “I’ll do my best, bud. But y’know, people think it’s a little odd when the handsome guy from New York starts chatting with his dog.”

“I’m flattered.” David nodded at the door. “Come on Goodman. Open up.”

Jack scoffed. “Of course, your Davidness...” Jack reached out and turned the knob, giving David a mock-curtsey. “After you, Fido!”

David nudged his buddy as he passed, Jack complaining as he was ‘accidentally’ knocked into the doorframe, and entered the warm, cosy interior of the small tavern.

People stared. They always did. It was five years since the full moon, David’s one and only transformation in his parents’ home in New York, and David was not quite the ferocious perpetually angry monster he’d almost become. He could be perfectly vicious and terrifying when he wanted, but when relaxed, teeth mostly hidden beneath his chops and expression at rest, he passed as a big weird wolfish hound. Just. He mooched through the tavern, followed closely by Jack, curious eyes following him as he headed for the bar.

“Mister Goodman! Good evening, son!” The tender, Carl, greeted Jack with a crooked-toothed grin as the man approached. Old eyes lowered from a wrinkled face, the bearded man now regarding David. “Hello there, David! You good there, big fella?”

“Hey Carl!” Jack grinned, joining David at the bar as his werewolf friend reared up to rest his paws against the wood, “don’t mind Davy-boy. He’s a little grouchy cuz’ he had his haircut today, ain’t ya boy?”

“Don’t push it, Goodman.” David released a grunt as Jack reached out to scratch at his back, remembering to maintain his ‘dog act’.

“So I see!” Carl chuckled, reaching behind the bar to retrieve something. “Well, I think I got a little somethin’ to cheer this big fella up!” He retrieved a tub of dried meats. “Here y’are, boy! Get that down ye!” A suddenly interested David sniffed at the treat, gently plucking it from the man’s fingers and scarfing it down.

Jack grinned. “Good boy! Very good boy!” David swore at him internally, and the man chuckled as he retrieved some notes from his coat. “Alright, Carl. Gimme a beer, and a dish o’ water for the dog.

Yellow eyes snapped to glare at him. “WHAT”

“Just kidding!” Jack grinned mischievously, enjoying David’s sudden consternation. “Usual for Davy-boy Carl.”

Carl nodded, pouring Jack’s drink and retrieving a metal dish from beneath the counter. “Never seen a hound drink like this’un. Damn peculiar, ain’t ya boy?”

“Yeah, that’s David all over.” Jack took his drink and David’s dish, “cheers Carl. C’mon David.” Jack clucked his tongue, David took another slice of jerky from the tender, and plopped to the floor to follow his buddy to a quiet corner. Jack set his dish down on the carpet. “There you go, bud. Enjoy.”

“You love this whole ‘dog thing’, don’t you?” David gave him a look, scowling tiredly at the man. “You get a kick out of demeaning me??”

Jack shrugged, raising his glass to his lips. “Always wanted a dog when I was little. You should be honoured, Davy!”

“Jack, have you ever considered not having a face?” David lapped at his beer, froth dribbling down his chin as he licked his lips. “Maybe shedding a few fingers?”

Jack gave him a strained grin as more men approached. “Doggy act, David!” David scanned around, ears raised as he recognised the men. “Hey, Art!” Jack raised his glass, greeting the passing men. “How’s the chickens?”

“Very good, Jack!” One of the men, a big rotund fellow with a flushed red face, beamed back with broken teeth. “Your boy there’s done a grand job keepin’ the varmints away!”

“Pest control is the big guy’s specialty!” Jack replied, leaning down to scratch David’s neck. “Don’t suppose you feel like loaning him for a couple days?”

“You’re doing what now??”

Jack cackled to himself as David shot him a startled look. The big farmer, Art, set his hands on his hips. “Nah, boy! Couldn’t separate a man from his hound.”

“Very kind of you, Art!” Jack judged his buddy with a boot, David grunting irritably as the contact. “David thanks you!”

“David says ‘get your foot off of me or lose it, Goodman’.” Art lowered and gave the big werewolf a scratch, before bidding jack a good night and heading off with his buddy. Jack took a slurp of his beer, David frowning into his own. “Do you enjoy degrading and annoying me, Jack?”

“Ah, get over yourself.” Jack wiped his mouth on the back of a hand. “I wouldn’t sell ya. Wouldn’t get much anyway, ya big throw rug.”

“Wow. Gee, thanks.” David grumbled, unimpressed “I’m honoured.”

Jack grinned, tapping his boot against David’s back. “That’s right, you’re a good boy!” He cackled to himself, lowering to scratch at David’s neck. “A very good boy!”

“STOP DOING THAT!! I AM NOT YOUR FREAKING PET!!!”

“Oh hey!” Jack stopped, suddenly uninterested in annoying his buddy, “take a look, David. Feast your eyes on that!”

David scowled at his friend and looked to investigate what had caught Jack’s attention. He paused. A pair of very attractive girls, apparent strangers, had entered the tavern and Jack was almost salivating as he grinned to his buddy. “Phew,” he whistled, leaning down to whisper to his friend, “fine piece o’ work, huh? Couple o’ firecrackers right there!”

“.. Jack, don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?”

“Fuck off and leave me alone to watch YOU hit on some girls!” David gave his buddy a pointed glare, very aware of his own inability to garner female attention, “I’m not dealing with that crap again, Jack! It’s not fair!”

“Sorry buddy...” Jack finished up his drink and stood from the table, “man’s gotta do what a man’ gotta do...”

“Jack. Jack?” David watched his buddy leave the table, striding across the bar to get to work, “Jack! You asshole, don’t ignore me! JACK!!!” David glared at his friend, scowling as he lowered himself to the floor to sulk. “Asshole.”

...

“So!” Carl wiped a glass, approaching the girls to fix their orders, “what can I get for you fine ladies?”

“I’ll handle it, Carl...” Jack spoke confidently, striding over to join the girls before they could make a sound. The fresh-faced young man beamed, leaning on the bar with the other hand on his hip. “Whatever they want. On me.” The girls grinned to one another as Carl took their orders, looking over Jack with interest. “So!” He said smoothly, sliding a fresh beer across the bar as Carl fixed their drinks, “you girls have names?”

“I’m Tracy!” The dark-haired girl offered, reaching out painted nails with a grin.

“Anna!” The other did the same, swishing her long blonde hair across a shoulder.

“Tracy! Anna!” Jack shook their hands, grinning like an idiot, “lovely names for lovely ladies! Name’s Goodman. Jack Goodman.”

“So, mister Goodman...” Tracy said, blue eyes flashing as she sipped at her drink, “what is it you do around here?”

Jack shrugged. “Ah, bit of this, bit of that... my buddy and I are kinda the ‘odd-job guys’ round here!”

“You have a friend??” Anna seemed VERY interested in this, eyes gleaming as they scanned the bar, “where is he?”

Jack smacked his forehead. “Oh, uh... he’s around. Hey, I’ll get him for ya! David??” Jack clucked his tongue, leaning against the bar as he looked back to the table. “Come here, big guy!” The girls waited expectantly, Jack beginning to feel like an idiot as David apparently decided not to show. “Don’t mind him, he’s just shy! DAVID! Come here, boy!”

The girls frowned, watching and waiting... and released simultaneous gasps, startled as a black-furred head appeared, David loping around the table to resignedly see what Jack wanted.

Jack grinned. “There he is! Hey Davy-boy! Come say hello to the ladies!”

David briefly scanned between the girls, giving Jack a very unimpressed look as he plopped his butt on the floor. “You gonna get my drink or what, Goodman.”

Jack declined to indulge his friend’s silent request, lowering to pat David squarely on the back. “Tracy? Anna? Meet my good buddy David.”

“Oh my God!” Anna raised a hand to her mouth, the two girls gawking at the big strange wolflike creature.

“What on Earth IS he??” Tracy regarded the werewolf with astonishment, David remaining silent as he continued with his dog act.

“Kesslerian Wolfhound!” Jack replied smoothly, continuing to scratch his buddy’s back, “very rare breed! Don’t worry...” He winked, both hands clapping on hairy shoulders, “he might look scary, but he’s very friendly!”

Anna cooed in fascination, lowering to tentatively reach out a hand. “Can I...?”

Jack grinned. “Go ahead! He don’t bite!”

“Jack I WILL kill you,” David silently seethed, resisting the urge to glower at his friend, “are you doing this to piss me off or what??”

“Hey, easy...” David hissed in his ear, clutching the big wolf’s scruff, “I’m gettin’ ya some attention! C’mon, give ‘em those big ol’ eyes! Give that stubby tail a shake! Girls love dogs!”

“Awww...” He’s so SOFT!!” Jack moved aside, allowing Anna to run her hands over David’s freshly-trimmed coat, “hey, big guy! You a good boy, huh?”

“This is the most degrading experience of- oh SHIT this girl got hands”

“Enjoy yourself,” Jack smirked as David flopped to the ground with a happy rumble, content to allow Anna to fuss him some more. “See? He’s a big softie.”

Tracy looked over the big werewolf incredulously, like she wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. “That is one strange dog, if you don’t mind me saying so...”

Jack shrugged. “It’s a strange breed. But hey!” He raised his beer and winked, “he gets the job done! Been my best buddy for- uh, five years!”

She folded her arms, raising an eyebrow as she listened. “That so?”

“Yup!” Jack gestured to the floor, amused as David capsized to allow a grinning Anna to rub at his stomach, “boy’s like a brother to me. Been through everything together.”

“You make him sound like a person,” the dark haired woman said, voice tinged with curiosity. “Like he’s a human being.”

Jack scoffed, rubbing the back of his head and laughing. “Yeah... I guess I just love the big lug like that, right?”

“Oh my gosh!” Before Tracy could respond Anna gasped from below. They looked down to find the blonde woman running her hands over David’s chest, parting the thicker fur that remained there, “what happened to him?”

Jack frowned, David staring pleadingly as Anna felt at the scars... the thick, long-healed scars from that attack on the moors five years earlier.

“He got into a fight with... another dog,” Jack said quietly, hoping the questions would go no further.

“Oh, poor boy... wait...” Jack felt a stab of fear as Anna dug around his buddy’s chest, noting David tensing up as he lay on his back, “what are... what...” Anna reared back in confusion, screwing her face as she rubbed at David’s pectorals. “Are... are these his nipples??”

“Oh fuck,” David whimpered, now attempting to wriggle away from his company. “Jack, get her off me... I wanna go home now...”

“Alright!” Jack spoke loudly, knocking back his drink and setting the glass on the bar. “Lovely to meet you ladies, but David and I gotta shoot.”

“So soon?” Tracy frowned, Anna standing and staring down at David as he righted himself and stayed low.

“Yup! Busy day tomorrow! Very busy!” Jack grinned nervously, voice strained as he grabbed David’s scruff. “And Davy needs his dinner! You’re a hungry boy, ain’t ya buddy??”

“Alright, maybe see you around...” Anna said, still frowning at the werewolf.

“Yes, you and your weird dog with his nipples on his chest...” Tracy muttered, eyeing David with suspicion.

David’s response was to hang his head, all but cowering beneath the girls’ scrutiny. “Alright Davy-boy! Come on!” Jack clucked his tongue, giving the girls a casual two-fingered salute. “Later, girls!”

The two girls watched Jack nudge David on their way, yellow eyes glancing back at them from a black-furred face. Jack and his dog left, the door closing shut behind them.

Anna hissed, turning her attention to her friend. “What kind of dog WAS that?? I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“I don’t know...” Tracy said quietly, staring at the door as she leaned against the bar, “but I don’t think he’s quite... normal.”

“You girls’d be wise to leave those two alone.” Tracy and Anna turned to find the bartender, Carl, accompanying them in their appraisal of the tavern door. A grim expression occupied the man’s face, his hands spread as he leaned to speak to them quietly. “The dog. David. He ain’t any ordinary beast.”

The girls glanced to one another, leaning closer to the old man. “What do you mean?” Anna whispered, “what is he?”

The man cocked his head with a shrug. “Can’t rightly say... but when they showed up ‘bout a year back, people round here knew that creature weren’t anythin’ natural.” He scratched at his beard. “But they settled in, made ‘emselves useful, an’ people were happy ter let ‘em be. Never hurt a soul, far as I’m aware.”

Tracy frowned. “Then why do you say we should stay away? Is the... is David dangerous?”

“Oh, ‘e’s well-mannered enough. Good boy, very friendly.” He released a huff, reached out to take the girls’ now empty glasses. “But some things are jus’ best left alone. David is one of ‘em.” He sighed, giving the door another glance. “Poor boy. Whatever happened to ‘im... ain’t right.”

The girls gave one another a frightened look, and decided to move on for the night.

...

David plodded home with Jack, electing to remain silent both inwardly and outwardly. He glowered at his own front paws, ears flat, miserably tailing the man as Jack led them back to their trailer at the edge of town. Jack let himself in, stepping aside for David and allowing the perpetual werewolf to enter the hideout they called home. “Well...” Jack said, closing the door and clapping his hands, “that went well!” the young man watched as his buddy flopped onto the couch, plopping his head on a pillow. “Aw come on bud, cheer up! They can’t know anything. You’re just a big weird dog, right?”

“Yeah, that’s me all over.” David’s inner voice was bitter, dripping with sarcasm as he glowered down the length of a forelimb. “that’s David Kessler. Just a big stupid weird dog.”

“You know what I mean...” Jack passed the couch, giving David a pat on the shoulder, “you hungry buddy? You want dinner? I got pork n’ beans!”

“Oh great, pork n’ beans. Again. My favourite.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jack flicked on the small television opposite the couch, tossing the remote to his buddy. “I’ll get food goin’. You wanna beer?”

“Sure. Fuck it.”

Jack poured David a beer, setting it on the wonky table in David’s dish, and went to get dinner cooking. He hummed to himself, retrieving three cans of sausage and baked beans and emptying them into a large bowl. He chucked them in the microwave, grabbed a beer for himself, and went to accompany his friend on the couch. “Hey, come on Chewbacca. Shuffle that hairy ass a notch.” David grunted, doing as he was asked and giving Jack some space to sit, his furry black bulk still taking up most of the space. Jack snapped open his beer, resting an arm on David’s rear quarters and scratched through the buzzcut fur. “Hey, you good there buddy? Kinda quiet over there.” David grumbled wordlessly, yellow eyes glowering at the television screen. “Not what I mean, bud. Come on. Talk to me.”

David gabbled, snarling and growling in response, throat and mouth incapable of forming words.

“Don’t be an ass, Wolf-putz. I’m the only guy you can communicate with, you might as well use that.”

David’s head craned down, yellow eyes scowling at him. “You know it DOES upset me when you call me names like that?”

“Okay okay! I’m sorry!” Jack sighed, ceasing his tormenting and leaving David to sulk. “Jeez man, lighten up will ya?”

David glowered into the carpet, ignoring his dish of booze. “I’d love to, Jack. I’d really love to. But for SOME reason it’s kinda hard sometimes, you know?”

Jack stared at his friend as David flopped to the floor, huffing as he rested his chin on his forelimbs. “Sorry man... still bothers you, huh?”

“Course it does, you shmuck!” David snapped, glancing up at his buddy from his position on the couch. “Look Jack. It’s been five years. I’m mostly over it...” he worked a claw into the couch, idly picking at the material, “but sometimes I remember what I am and that I’m stuck like this and... and I can’t do anything! I gotta follow you around pretending to be a weird pet! It’s humiliating, man. And then people start figuring out what I am and... I hate it. I hate being some big, broken freak!” David paused, leaning his head out to lap at his beer, before releasing a huff and curling up. “I don’t even remember what it’s like being human any more, you know that? If I suddenly, miraculously changed back tomorrow, I don’t think I could handle it. I’m not a person any more, Jack! I lost everything...”

It wasn’t often David spilled his guts. He kept to himself, long having resigned to his new life after the boys fled New York. Eventually Jack found it in him to respond, always a little unsure how to handle these rare moments of his friend sharing his miserable thoughts. “Hey... Dave? You remember that night on the moors?”

“Oh, no. Why would I remember that?” David’s inner voice said dryly, the werewolf giving his friend a sour look. “Whatever could have happened??”

“You remember when it attacked us?” Jack gently ran his hand over David’s flank, doing what he could to soothe his buddy. “And you screamed for me to help? What did I do, David?”

David snorted. “You jumped on it and tried killing it with a flick-knife. You crazy shmuck.”

“Hey, come on! It worked, didn’t it?”

David gave him a look. “It broke your nose.”

“Still killed the bitch!”

“The guys from the Slaughtered Lamb shot it with like three double-barrels. After it broke your nose.”

“Well hey, I softened it up for them.” He lightly thumped David on a leg. “And then when we got back home, an’ you changed for that first time? And I stuck by you and helped you keep your head?”

David physically shuddered. “Not gonna lie, kinda glad I never had to go through that again. That wasn’t fun.”

“No, it wasn’t. Pain in the ass smuggling ya outta New York too, Davy-boy. You’re big, you’re hairy, and you were WAY uglier back then!”

David scowled. “What’s your point here, Jack? Am I supposed to be forever indebted to you or something?”

“The point,” Jack replied, locking eyes with David’s, “is I never gave up on you. You’re my best friend, David! I was never gonna let you down! And that’s still true. Don’t matter that I had to leave my life, hit the road and go off the grid, work crappy jobs and stay on the move just trying to keep us both fed and somewhere to live.” He waved a hand around the crappy trailer, a dry grin on his face. “Point is I’m here for you buddy.” He smacked David on the rump, giving the wolf a wink. “I got your back.”

David stared at his friend, expression softening as he lay his head back down. “Thanks, Jack. I wouldn’t be here still if it weren’t for you.”

“You know it, buddy. And hey! We have some fun, don’t we?” Jack’s tone lightened, the young man unflappably optimistic, “Goodman and Kessler against the world! Till the wheels come off!” He clacked his beer against David’s dish. “Cheers, buddy!”

David rolled his eyes, indulging Jack and taking another drink as the man downed his can. His ears raised as a ping sounded from the kitchen and he looked to Jack expectantly. “Go on then, Goodman. Plate up, I’m starved.”

Jack reared his head back in a laugh. “Oh, sure thing your Davidlyness!” He stood and padded off to fix their respective dinners, allowing David to stretch back out on the couch. “You want bread an’ butter?”

“Sure.” David rolled onto his back, head resting on his pillow, nose twitching in anticipation at the smell of the hot food. He frowned. He leaned on an elbow and scowled into the kitchen. “Hey! Did you call me ugly a minute ago??”

“Relax!” Jack’s voice called back, “you look great! Very handsome boy!”

David huffed, glowering as he rested back in his reclined position. “Dick.”

...

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overland-defender · 8 months

Text

06/06/2022 - Day 3

78 years ago today marks one of the most important campaigns of WW2 and it won’t involve too much driving today either. We were in for another potential treat providing Carl Liversage can sort something out apparently.. what that is we don’t exactly know but sounds exciting.

Todays agenda

Museum of the Battle of Normandy

Surprise

Jerusalem War Cemetery

Ver-sur-Mer (British Normandy Memorial)

Museum of the Battle of Normandy

Literally a stones throw from the Château is the Musee Memorial de la Bataille de Normandie (Museum of the battle of Normandy) and this will be the first stop of the day. Upon arrival we notice a cemetery on right (Bayeux War Cemetery) which appeared to have some big event going on with diplomat plated Mercedes parked up at the entrance and Royal British Legion tents etc… maybe this is the ‘surprise’?

We regroup and walk past a few WW2 tanks M4A1(75) Sherman tank & a Churchill Mk VII Crocodile Flamethrower Tank towards the entrance of the museum. There are others tanks but these in particular were what I consider more interesting.

The museum it without doubt is one of my favourite museums that I’ve been to, having a vast amount of exhibits with detailed descriptions of how what and why etc. I would highly recommend a visit when in Bayeux.

Bayeux War Cemetery Ceremony

I’d previously mentioned we had noticed that there was a ceremony going on in the Bayeux cemetery… well we were informed after the museum visit we’d be attending. This was honestly an honour as we were will be allowed to sit behind veterans whom served on the D-Day landings and listen to them recite poems and stories of fighting alongside their friends and servicemen, prior to this we were even fortunate enough to witness a fly over by a spitfire and hear the bellowing 1700hp V12 Merlin engine. I mean this is pretty awesome given the context of the event.

Jerusalem War Cemetery

Our last bit of green lanes of rural France leads us to the Jerusalem War Cemetery. Just another cemetery you are probably thinking reading this. But this cemetery does have some significance in fact all do but this one in particular has the youngest allied fall soldier Private Jack Banks of the Durham Light Infantry who fell on the 21st July 1944.

His regiment, the Durham Light Infantry, had advanced around 20 miles into France. After six weeks had surpassed the battalion commander required three volunteers to take out an enemy machine gun post which was situated inside a farmhouse near Caen.

One of those volunteers was Jack and of course two servicemen, sadly these men were tragically struck and killed by enemy mortar fire when attempting their objectives and are buried together.

Ver-sur-Mer (British Normandy Memorial)

Being honoured to attend the ceremony earlier there another at The British Normandy Memorial that were also attending. It stands just outside the village of Ver-sur-Mer overlooking Gold Beach, one of the two beaches where British forces landed on D-Day. The memorial which was opened in 2021 records the (22,442) names of all those under British command who lost their lives in Normandy between 6 June and 31 August 1944.

The Memorial was for the first time the focal point of the commemorations in Normandy, as a place where people could come together to remember and reflect. This was televised around the world, again there were more veterans some from earlier and a couple others who had landed on gold beach 78 years ago today. There was a military band playing Elgar - Nimrod and The Last Post among others I’m not so familiar with but build such an atmosphere.

As dark clouds close in on what has been a fantastic day, the trip was topped off with a flyover by a Douglas C-47 Skytrain (Dakota) and again to reiterate it’s a surreal experience to hear those WW2 warbirds. Now we say our goodbyes and head back to good old Blighty which is around a 9 hour journey (including ferry) to go back to normality.

The trip has been incredible, the agenda was spot on as well as the stories curated by Kieth Bowen as well as the rest of the team (Carl Liversage & Nick Gage).

Be sure to book a trip with

https://www.battlefieldsby4x4.com

#landrover #defender #landroverdefender #overlander #4x4 #defendertd5 #overland #td5 #defender110 #land rover defender #ww2 #ww2 history #second world war

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businessbois · 3 years

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“you’re the most orphan child i’ve ever met” an attempt at analysis of c!phil and c!tommy’s relationship

this is entirely an analysis of c!phil and c!tommy’s relationship. im not gonna be talking about morals or terrorism or really even wilbur or fundy because those are whole other points. just these two and the convoluted abyss of “canon”

title quote from technoblade here

manburg war- november 16th

doomsday- january 6th

butchers army day- december 16th

i mean phil’s first day, the manburg war, itself implies a lot of history and relationships with these characters. tommy shouts “philza minecraft” in joy and recognition when he sees him. phil says these two lines that confuse the hell out of me. “whatever tommy and tubbo do, i’ll follow them” and “i gotta take care of my kids.” again, “my kids” doesn’t have to mean biologically, he can just be a father figure, see them as his kids, but i suppose we retcon these? because of the relationship they imply that doesn’t really line up? “i’ll follow them” is a statement of devotion, loyalty. i’m not saying his goals couldn’t have changed from these, i’m saying that in order to have this goal of “following tommy and tubbo through whatever” in the first place, he’d have to really love and care about these kids. that doesn’t line up with how people are claiming he doesn’t know them or owe them anything. im okay with retconning these because this was when i think cc!phil still believed the family dynamic was canon.

but the thing about decanonizing something big like that, is that, okay, maybe we can get rid of the conversations and lines, but then we have physical things like friendship emeralds and tommy slippers. he visits tommy in exile and gifts him these things. a friendship emerald isn’t something you give to a random kid, it’s something gifted to ghostbur—his son—and techno—his best friend. i guess you could say he was just being nice to this strange kid? but then like, he could’ve stopped at the slippers? why the emerald? the emerald is a Big Thing, no? and we can’t decanonize or retcon, like, all of phil and tommy’s interactions, especially something with physical items involved because that’s beyond spoken lines and can’t be dismissed as easily. but then it also leaves us with this utterly confusing narrative. there’s the line from the butcher army day, “carls okay. technos okay. tommys okay. thats all i wanted to know.” do we decanonize that too?? it’s a statement of deep care “that’s all i wanted to know” and he includes tommy in it. (tommyinnit haha) with interactions and lines like this, you can’t just say “they’re not biologically related, so they don’t know each other and phil doesn’t have to care about this kid.” because he did at some point. a lot. and these lines prove it. you can’t decanonize every moment like this. (i mean, i guess you can, i cant stop you) not when tommy and phil’s interactions are littered with it. not when tommy keeps a friendship emerald in his special chest right next to phukkit (a prized gift from tubbo) to this day.

moving on to tommy.

cc!tommy is very smart and very good at what he does. he’s studying film in college, he got a 9 on his english gcse, he’s got every cc he’s come into contact with singing about how clever he is. he makes character choices deliberately. i don’t wanna write off too much of this as him just doing bits and faffing around because tommy’s literally always in character. i am down to decanonize the supposed mishap of shouting phil’s name when getting locked in prison, though honestly, it doesn’t necessarily seem like an out of character action for tommy who has a history of calling for phil when he feels upset. see: “where’s dadza?” (this instance is strange too because “dadza” is a strange slip up to make. it feels purposeful. i don’t think cc!tommyinnit calls his friend “dadza” outside of roleplay. and honestly the whole delivery and head shaking is very much in-a-character) and @/my-stupid-fandoms said some smart stuff about it here. but anyways, sorry, i’ll take what’s surely canon. in the manburg war we have “AND PHIL’S HERE,” incredibly excited from him and tubbo. familiarity. they know him. look up to him. we have the heartbroken "philza minecraft?"s from doomsday, indications that he trusted phil and feels hurt and betrayed. then, we have some lines that are very interesting coming from Big Man “i raised myself” TommyInnit which are as follows “I want to go ‘Philza Minecraft, I built that hotel.’ Even though it’s a lie, it will feel true.” “And then I get to go ‘Philza Minecraft, I made this house, I made this house. Are you impressed?’ And he’ll go ‘Yes.’ And then he’ll pat me on the back and then he’ll teach me how to ride a bike.” “TELL PHILZA” “AREN’T YOU PROUD?” tommy loves phil. wants phil to be impressed with him. wants phil to be proud of him. during his encounter with the egg, he says “it didn’t hurt any of the other boys. it didn’t hurt phil.” he wants phil to be safe. cares about his well being even if this is not reciprocated by phil. he follows his “it didn’t hurt techno” with an “not that i care about techno” but there is no such denial for philza. and now, immediately after being dead and pieced back together, tommy asks after five of his friends. phil is third after tubbo and jack who are tommy’s Boys™. phil is also called for the most, four times to tubbo’s three and everyone else’s one. it does seem like everyone got the memo about phil not being tommys father except tommy.

there’s a theory around that like, wilbur found tommy and brought him home and so tommy grows up looking up to phil but phil doesn’t reciprocate. this gets to keep the kind of found family on tommy’s end but maintains the “loosely connected strangers” thing for phil. i think maybe this holds more credence than anything else, but also, “loosely connected strangers” just doesn’t add up with the stuff i’ve mentioned before: friendship emeralds, “tommys okay,” there had to be some reciprocity to their familial-ish (or at least caring) relationship. he visited him in exile. he gave him the emerald. he said all those lines. there was a relationship there. of care. of trust. where tommy saw him as someone to look up to, to protect him. at any rate, i like the theory and since we simply have No Backstory for canon sbi at all, it works just fine even if it still just doesn’t fit.

closing

honestly i don’t know what this is. this is all the evidence, all the information i have. there’s no way they were strangers. tommy obviously definitively looks up to and cares about phil. this was reciprocated to some degree beyond “i kind of know you.” i’m a big defender of c!tommyinnit and that surely comes across here. i mostly just did this to get everything i have about c!phil and c!tommy’s out and to figure out what i actually make of it and all the confusion about it. this is here and the clips are linked, draw your own conclusions that are smarter and more concise than mine.

#tommyinnit #c!philza critical #dream smp #mcyt #dsmp #dsmp analysis #wanted to get this out before the stream just in case #other possible titles were 'father? i hardly know him'#and 'schrodingers daddy issues'

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peachy-rambles · 3 years

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Robin Hood + A/B/O AU pt. 2 (part 1 here):

Philza.

It was Philza.

Phil, the disowned Omega of the noble House Elytrian. The same Phil who all those years ago had seen Prince Dream bullying a defenseless child and stepped in when no one else had ever bothered or dared to.

Phil, who Techno considered his first (maybe only) friend and had never forgotten about, had carried a torch for him all these years.

Phil was the outlaw, the one who had been terrorizing and robbing the upper class and nobleman. He was the "Angel of Death", as they had begun to call him, receiving the nickname after killing the last few generals sent to capture him.

Phil was the Angel of Death, and regardless of his own personal feelings, it was Techno's job to capture him and present him to Dream, so that Phil could be properly punished for his crimes.

Which was exactly the reason why Techno was now attempting to sneak back into his own estate with Phil's unconscious body in his arms, using the hidden (and mostly unknown) back entrance.

He made it past the outer walls that fortified the small estate without being seen just fine, the few servants hired to work there all inside for the day due to the pouring rain. Unfortunately, this also meant that bringing Phil into the manor wasn't an option, not without getting caught anyway. But Techno needed to find a warm, dry place where he could set Phil down and quick.

The only place that came to his mind were the stables. Techno knew they should be empty at that time of day and there were plenty of vacant stalls where he could place Phil and hide him. Not only that, but if anyone did enter the stable, Phil's Omega scent would be easily concealed underneath the smell of the horses.

Right. The stables it was.

Techno quickly made his way to the large building, pushing the heavy door open and walking inside the dimly lit building. He began to relax now that he inside and out of the rain-

-only to internally curse when he saw that the stables weren't as empty like he'd assumed they would be.

Apparently, a certain apprentice of his had decided that day to spend time in the stables.

"Sir!" Ranboo exclaimed with a smile on his face, walking out of one of the occupied stalls, closing it behind him. "You were gone for a long time, so I decided to check in on Carl-"

Ranboo stopped mid-sentence and froze where he stood, his eyes widening as they landed on the body in Techno's arms.

Techno cringed, knowing his cover had been blown.

"Is that them? The-the Angel of Death? You...you finally caught them?" Ranboo stuttered out, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, Techno considered lying before he quickly remembered that he was horrible at lying. Even if Techno was somewhat decent at it, Ranboo was fully aware that Techno's sole task at the moment was the capture the Angel of Death and knew just about everything that Techno knew about them. He would no doubt recognize the clothes Phil was wearing to be the same signature ones the Angel of Death was always seen wearing.

So, lying to Ranboo was out.

Which meant...Techno would have to tell the truth.

Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

"Yes and no," was all Techno said and walked past Ranboo, heading further into the building. He entered an empty stall towards the back, giving it a quick once over before deeming it acceptable. He crouched down, and with great care, set Phil down onto the soft pile of clean hay that lay inside the stall.

Techno glanced briefly behind him, unsurprised to see that Ranboo had followed him and was standing there in the doorway of the stall, fidgeting nervously and his scent (so light, that it was easy to mistake him for a Beta) beginning to sour with anxiety.

"Sir?" the young Alpha asked, his voice quiet and unsure.

"Ranboo, I need you to go into the manor and gather up the medical supplies in my room - bandages, potions, take all of it. Grab two extra sets of my clothes as well," Techno ordered, and lowered his voice, adding on, "Make sure you aren't seen by anyone."

Ranboo was quiet for a moment before he seemed to properly comprehend Techno's words, his eyes lighting up in understanding and he nodded, "Yes, sir!"

He walked off and out of view, the sound of the stable doors opening and closing echoing throughout the building as Ranboo left.

With Ranboo gone for the moment, Techno turned back around and focused his attention back on Phil.

Phil was a bit damp from being out in the rain, but fortunately wasn't soaked like Techno since he'd done his best to cover Phil with his cloak until they'd reached the stables. Despite that, his face was pale (probably both from blood loss and the cold) and he was beginning to shiver, so it would be best to get him into a dry set of clothes soon.

The arrow embedded in Phil's shoulder was still an issue as well, but at least it wasn't bleeding anymore and it most likely wasn't infected, so it could be easily dealt with (Techno had treated his fair share of arrow wounds back in the days of serving in the King's army).

Techno sat there, lost in his thoughts as he gazed down on Phil's unconscious form, listening to the sound of the rain still pouring outside and hitting the roof of the stables.

A few minutes passed before Techno heard the sound of the stable doors opening, Ranboo appearing a few minutes later with a old leather medical bag in his hands, several items of clothing tucked underneath it.

"Did anyone see you?" Techno asked and was relieved when Ranboo shook his head.

"Ok, good. Now come here, I'm going to need your help."

It took a bit, but together, Techno and Ranboo managed to dislodge the arrow from Phil's shoulder and clean the wound before bandaging it up in haste.

Once that was dealt with, Techno stripped Phil out his damp clothes (kicking Ranboo out for this part) and placed him in some of the dry clothing Ranboo had brought. Techno took his own soaked outfit off as well and changed into the rest of the dry clothes, before he crouched down next to Phil to check over him once more.

Even now, Phil remained unconscious and it almost appeared as though he were simply sleeping. He looked strangely vulnerable laying there, not helped at all by the fact that the clothes he was wearing (Techno's) were massive on him, making him appear smaller than he was.

Like this, Phil was such a far cry from the infamous Angel of Death, it was no wonder that no one had found out his true identity until now.

But really, if Techno was being honest with himself, he wasn't surprised.

Of course Phil was the Angel of Death. Who else would have the inside knowledge he did, who else would be clever or capable enough to successfully steal from the rich, who else would be this kind-hearted and give what he stole to the poor, even risking his own life time after time to do so?

Philza, that's who.

Techno didn't even realize that his body had decided to act on his own, so lost in his own thoughts, until his hand reached out to brush some of Phil's long golden locks back from his face. He was about to pull back, when Phil (still unconscious) turned his head and leaned into Techno's touch, a small whine escaping from him.

Techno reacted on instinct, a low pleased rumble rising in his chest as he cupped Phil's face in his hand. He couldn't help but smile when Phil nuzzled into his palm and let out a soft purr before seemingly falling back into blissful sleep.

No, no one would ever suspect that Phil was the Angel of Death.

And Techno would make sure no one would ever find out.

Techno allowed himself to sit there and hold Phil for a few more minutes before he regretfully pulled his hand away. He stood up and walked out of the stall, where Ranboo was waiting for him just outside, concern etched onto his face.

"Go on, ask," Techno said with a sigh, having known this was inevitable as soon as Ranboo had seen Techno carrying Phil into the stables.

"That's the Angel of Death, right?" Ranboo asked, glancing briefly behind Techno where Phil was.

"Yes," Techno answered.

"You're not going to turn him in, are you?"

"I think you already know the answer to that," Techno stated and narrowed his eyes at the younger Alpha. "I suppose the question is now whether you'll turn him in or not."

"I won't!" Ranboo exclaimed, startling both himself and Techno. Ranboo cleared his throat and continued in a much softer voice, "I mean, I'm not going to tell anyone. If you're not going to turn him in, you probably have a good reason and I trust you."

"I'm not sure if my reasons are good per say, but I do have reasons," Techno muttered and sighed, leaning back against the stall door.

"He's an Omega, right?" Ranboo asked. There was no judgement or surprise in his voice, merely simple curiosity.

"Yes, he is. Philza of House Elytrian. They're renowned for producing Omegas, and Phil was one of them. He was engaged to an Alpha from another noble family, but he was disowned a while back for instead bonding with an Alpha beneath his social class," Techno explained with a shrug.

Understanding seemed to dawn on Ranboo's face, "You sound like you know him. Were...were you two-"

"I knew him once, a long time ago, but it doesn't matter now," Techno said, interrupting whatever train of thought Ranboo was about to go on, "Ranboo, I appreciate all you've done to help me so far, but I'm afraid there's one more thing I must ask of you."

Ranboo hesitated for a moment before he nodded, "Whatever it is, sir, I'll try my best!"

---

It was just another day at Church Prime and Jack was doing his nightly rounds, when he heard a knock at the front door. Which wasn't terribly unusual and he thought nothing of it as he went to go open them.

There standing on the front steps was an unusually tall Beta, holding a limp body in their arms.

"I-I just found him and he seems injured and I didn't know where else to go-" the Beta began to explain, panic in their voice.

"Calm down! Come inside and lemme see them," Jack interrupted to Beta and led them inside to one of the back rooms where they kept the spare beds.

The Beta set down the body onto one of the beds and Jack leaned down, beginning to inspect the unconscious figure.

It didn't take him long to realize he recognized them - it was Philza, the Angel of Mercy!

Jack turned around to speak to the Beta and hopefully get more information out of them, but they were already walking away.

"Oi!" Jack yelled and the Beta flinched before bolting, running out the door.

Jack ran after them but by the time he reached the front doors, the Beta was long gone and nowhere to be seen.

---

Techno watched from a distance, safely hidden behind a dense thicket nearby, as Ranboo brought Phil into Church Prime.

A few minutes later, Ranboo ran out of the building and made his way to where Techno was, joining his mentor in his hiding spot.

They both saw as the friar that had greeted Ranboo walked out, glancing around, but when he didn't see Ranboo, headed back inside and closed the front doors.

"What now, sir?" Ranboo asked after a few moments had passed.

"Now, we go back home and pretend this never happened," Techno answered simply and began to walk off in the direction back towards the manor, Ranboo quick to follow him.

Of course, that wasn't completely true. Techno knew that he couldn't just pretend none of this had happened or ignore the Angel of Death's true identity.

Already, he was planning his next move and knew exactly what he needed to do next.

#techza #technophil #a/b/o dynamics #robin hood au #this took forevever asdfghjkl #i hope it's ok it's definitely different from the last part #and actually written out lmao #this is just 'techno being hopelessely in love with phil' tbh #which is v valid #peachy wrote a thing

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dreamylyfe-x · 3 years

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hello, this is the same "homophobia" anon. sorry to message again, but i also found it so... odd that they only used the 2 gay men to validate trans rights? why not have lip or carl with a trans woman or fiona with a trans man? it was just an odd choice imo. shouldn't they encourage not only the gay community, but also the straight community to be open minded? limiting those arcs to only the gay characters seemed so intentional and perhaps not as progressive as they act like it is? i don't know

Well. I don’t know that Shameless is here to encourage anyone to do anything. I’d go as far as to say that’s a good thing. For my money, one of the worst scenes in the entire series is Ian Meets Trevor’s Friends -- and that’s partly because they are trying to be didactic and this ain’t Sesame Street, I’m not here for Queer education from John Wells.

That said.

I’m increasingly interested in Trevor as a character, which is an unfortunate place to find oneself, but here is one of the reasons... Because -- again here we go with the history lesson -- the record of trans people on TV is VERY lopsided. In terms of actual population, trans men are as common as trans women, but you would never know that from watching media. So one thingI think Shameless did right? Having their trans character be a man. It’s much less trod-upon ground. Also -- thank all the Gods -- they have a trans actor in the role.

(Also, think of the poor trans women of the world and spare them Lip. Carl is surprisingly awesome with his GFs, though, so there’s some possibility there.)

But the other thing about Trevor that isn’t well-trod is the fact that he’s a trans man who is gay. I know a lot of trans people who are attracted to their own gender, but I can’t readily think of another trans person on a fictional tv show who doesn’t date the opposite gender.

(Outside of fiction, Survivor gave us Zeke Smith, and I can’t even tell you how many online fights I’ve seen where people argue about whether or not Zeke is gay, because a lot of people just don’t understand that gender and sexual orientation are not the same thing.)

The question of whether or not they succeed in being progressive is an interesting one, because I think that was probably a secondary concern. Like if I had to guess where the idea of Trevor came from I think it starts with “What are we doing with Ian in season 7?” and ends with “he’s going to date a trans man.” And if that was a case, it was always locked into being an Ian story -- partly because he’s the LGBTQ+ character, and partly because they need a story for Ian. And I imagine the second part if the biggest factor -- because the idea of doing that story with Fiona is a pretty good one. And probably could have had more legs, because Fiona doesn’t have an epic love story the fans are clamouring to see resolved, so the relationship wouldn’t be jack-knifed in episode 10.

But. One key thing for me here remains that this is a show is mostly interested in being outrageous and living up to its name and it very rarely is trying to teach us something. And if it was, I’d probably want to be hearing it from a queer voice rather over this particular show which -- while *I* primarily watch for the engrossing gay love story -- definitely tends towards a straight white male gaze.

Anyway, please don’t think there’s a reason to apologize! You sent some interesting asks and I enjoy thinking about this stuff. Also, if people are interested in hearing from trans people about trans representation they should definitely watch Disclosure on Netflix, which features both Zeke and Elliot, and doesn’t mention Shameless at all.

#asks #trevor #still no last name for that guy #shameless #Ian x trevor #shameless season 7

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the-daily-multi-fandom-post · 4 years

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Hi! Could you please write Shane x Reader where Y/n came back to the camp at quarry with Rick (she helped, the group get out of the city). Rick took her in and started treating her like his right hand, because of her amazing skills in using weapons and intelligence. Shane fell in love with her at the farm, but he started suspecting that Rick is also in love with her. Y/n confronts Shane about it and tells him that she loves him too and she treats Rick as a brother

Yes, thank you fo requesting! Here it is I hope you like it. Sorry it took so long! It deleted the one I had first wrote and then didn’t save the second one, so third times the charm!

Request still open! ☺️

posted: 7/04/20

“She likes Rick not me.” Shane mumbled to himself as he paced outside of his tent.

He liked Y/n. He like really, really liked Y/n. He liked everything about her. Her bravery, her compassion for people, her confidence, her attitude. Everything about her he liked. But he just had that feeling that she liked Rick.

He first met Y/n when she helped the group get out of the city when they were caught up in the horde of walkers. He noticed she had a few bumps and scrapes on her. But she didn’t seem to mind. It was as if she was used to it.

When she first came to the camp she didn’t stay too close to everyone else. She had her tent farthest from the rest of the group. She always had sometype of weapon on her person. She had a sharp hunting knife in her Carolina boots. She had a .45 pistol on her hip most of the time and she had a rifle and a crossbow with homemade bolts.

She was a jack of all trade, really. She seemed like she could handle herself. She would hunt for herself and always bring something back for the group. She would go on random runs grabbing something for the kids. Weather it be a Comic book or a toy. She always made sure to bring something back.

She would occasionally ask people if they needed something and she would search for it. She was a selfless person really. She was a bit introverted, she didn’t like big crowds. So when everyone was gathered together she would stand far off from the rest of them.

Shane noticed how Rick relied on Y/n. He would give her orders like an older sibling to the younger. But Shane didn’t see the two of them being just “friends.” He thought they had to be more than friends. Just by the way the two acted. Boy, he was far off.

Y/n just got back from a run when she stopped in front of Dales camper. She had a bag full of supplies she had found in her run.

A transformer she found in a abandon house. Along with a Superman comic book and a new pair of shoes.

She walked onto the Greene’s farm house knocking at the door. She waited for a reply. Not wanting to barge into the house.

Mrs. Greene opened the door for Y/n welcoming her into the house.

“Seems like someone ‘round here does have some manners.” She teased with a smile.

“I came in to check in the boy, Carl. I brought him a few things. Is he any better?” Y/n asked as she followed the older lady to the bedroom Carl was in.

“He’s awake now, but he still needs to heal.” She answered giving Y/n a soft smile.

“Is he your son?” The woman asked, she truly thought Y/n might’ve been Carl’s mom.

“Oh, no. I’m not related. He’s like a nephew to me.” Y/n explained making the woman nod.

“Here he is.” She said pointing to the boy who laid in the room all by himself.

“Thank you.”

The older woman nodded leaving Y/n with Carl.

“Hey, Superman.” She said, walkinb into the room with a big smile in her face.

“Hi.” Carl said shortly not paying much attention to her.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked as she sat beside the boy on the bloody stained bed.

“Nothing besides getting shot and not being able to do anything for a while.” He huffed while he looked at Y/n.

“Well, I brought you something. It might cheer you up.” Y/n spoke pulling the bag up from the spot she had it on the hardwooden floor.

“What is it?” Carl asks while taking the bag from Y/n.

She carefully helped him sit up without him hurting letting him open the bag.

“It’s a transformer. It looks like a car, but it unfolds into a robot type thing. It used to be in when I was a kid.”

He smiled when he noticed what else was in the bag.

“A Superman comic book and a new pair of shoes.” He said with bright smile.

Too caught up with the new things, he forgot to say thank you.

She had seen someone out of the corner of her eye at the door. She figured it was either Lori, Shane or Rick. But she was talking to Carl so she don’t turn to oook at them.

“What do you say?” Rick asks as he and Shane walk into the room to check on the young Grimes.

“Thank you.” He said with a smile. Y/n nodded, telling him your welcome.

“I’m gonna go. Give you two time to talk.” Y/n said leaving both Rick and Carl together.

Shane follows the y/e/c eyed girl out of the room and out of the farm house.

“How was the run?” He tried to make conversation. He and Y/n would talk a few times. But usually it was because they were getting orders from Rick.

“It was good. Not too many walkers around here. Any I found I killed. I made sure none followed me.” She explained with a soft smile as she looked up at the police officer.

“I Um. I wanted to talk to you about something. And I’ve been meaning to do it for a while now.” Shane started as the two of them started walking farther away from the rest of the group for privacy.

“I like you, Y/n. I don’t like you actually. I’m in love with you. I have been ever since you saved Carl from the walkers down at the highway and at the quarry. And I know you love Rick.” He continued his ramble but Y/n was trying not to laugh and gag at his assumption of her loving Rick.

“Shane, I don’t love Rick. I mean, I do. But now how your thinking. Ricks my brother. Well, he ain’t my blood brother. But you understand what I mea.” She giggles.

Man it made his knees weak.

“I love you. I have for a while I have just been too much of a sissy to tell you how I feel.” Shane had never felt anything so exciting.

But just a second later Your warm lips were landed on his. The two of you sharing a passionate kiss.

“It’s about damn time!” He heard a voice holler from across the field. He seen the group the two called a family hooting and a hollering. They were all happy to see the two finally together.

“He’s right.” Y/n said looking into Shane’s brown eyes.

“It is about damn time.” She spike making him laugh.

#the walking dead #shane walsh x reader #the walking dead x reader #request open #rick grimes x reader #carl grimes x reader #dayrl dixon x reader

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ask-dr-cimmerian · 3 years

Note

✨ have each partner describe their favourite thing about the other ! is it a physical feature or a mannerism , or something else ? all of them

I already answered it, shortly before the others showed up. Also, I suggest Carl goes last, I'm sure he has a lot to say.

Heh...

Ooooh, this one seems cute! Uhh, I like how gentle Francis is with me, he's very loving and sweet. She always wakes me up with a good morning kiss and then goes to make my favourite breakfast. They're so devoted and loving. And they're very nice to cuddle!

For me, it'd be how fiercely protective and devoted to me Mikell is. Despite everything that happened, he still loves me and didn't give up on us. He's very cuddly and cute, and just such a sweetheart. I know I can feel safe whenever I'm with him. He has this loud belly laugh that's adorable in my opinion. I think his accent is charming, and how he always hugs me from behind when I'm doing something and lays his head on my shoulder is my favourite thing. I also like it when he lays his head on my chest when we're laying together and lets me play with his long hair.

Well, uh, where do I start... Clef is a strong, brave person, I admire that a lot. He'd do anything for his family and us. He's a lighthearted sweetheart and he loves to surprise us with small things or outings. Kondraki is a bit rough on the outside, but a real cuddle bear when you get to it. He's basically a gentle giant. He always wants what's best for everyone, and although he sometimes fails at that he tries to be a peacemaker, it's something I can appreciate. Jack is funny and lively, he's got a golden heart and is very considerate. He was always a close friend I could rely on and a shoulder to cry on. Also, I have a weakness for large men, heh.

#asks #cimm.txt #carl.txt #sword.txt #flower.txt

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niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian · 4 years

Note

Here’s my prompt. Maddie teaches sonic yoga.

Aww yes a Preztel mom prompt! I’ve been waiting to get to this one. I’ve seen a few fics with this premise already but I’ll put my hat in to the pile.

*I literally had to look up yoga poses for this cause I honestly don’t jack squat about yoga.*

**And yes I know this took awhile to get out, school took up my time longer than I thought and I hit my first ever writing block**

Were you born without bones or are you just a living pretzel?

=======

As she combed her hair up in it’s usual ponytail, Maddie hummed a tune in preparation for her weekend ritual.

After moving the small town known as Green Hills when she married Tom, veterinary school was an incredibly stressful challenge, both financially and mentally for both her and Tom, who was working 2 extra jobs to help pay for the tuition and rent.

By taking the advice from her sister Rachel, she eventually took on the hobby of yoga. When she got the chance, she took the time to sit outside or in the den at let herself be at peace.

And since all the boys were out at the park, she had the chance to catch up on it.

As she turned on her laptop, she went to find her sneakers in the closet when she heard a whooshing sound from behind her.

Whipping her head around, she did a quick scan of the bedroom, to see that there was one else in the room.

Suspicion growing, she turned around to grab her shoes….only to find they weren’t there anymore.

‘What the?’ She hesitantly backed away from the closet, slightly confused.

Suddenly hearing the bedroom door creak open, she stopped and turned towards the sound. The door slowly swung open to the wall.

“Tom?” No reply.

‘He’s definitely not back yet from walking Ozzie, Sonic’s with him too so he’s not here.’ She shook her head.

Maybe drinking that tea Crazy Carl made for her is making her see and hear things.

Turning around she went to grab her yoga mat, only to find that it disappeared as well.

The door moved once again, but this time slamming shut.

Letting out a slight yell, Maddie grabbed her head, took a breath and tried to gather her thoughts.

While doing so, a few pillows flew off the bed, one hitting her right on the shoulder.

“Ok, what in the world is going on!?” She exasperated, throwing her hands up.

Right at that moment her ears picked up a silent snicker and through her peripheral vision, she saw a pair of eyes peeking out at the side of the bed before ducking down when she looked in it’s direction.

Rolling her eyes, she came closer to the side the bed, seeing a hint of blue quills peeking out from the top.

“Sonic, I know you’re hiding there.”

A high pitched voice replied. “Uh Sonic isn’t here.”

Smiling softly, she crossed her arms and answered back.

“Then who am I talking to?”

Silence filled the room before he spoke again.

“This is…..Sonia, I’m one of Sonic’s friends from school.”

Taking light steps towards the bed, she continued to play along. “Sonia? Oh right! You’re his little girlfriend he told us so much about.”

A faint squeak of ‘What!?’ echoed through the room before he cleared his throat and went back in a falsetto voice.

“I mean yes! Your friend Sonic is my….boyfriend.” He shuddered. “He’s very handsome and brave and heroic and-.”

Maddie quietly crept onto the bed, making sure not to rustle the sheets.

Peeking over, she saw Sonic laying on his stomach, head in his palms as he continued listing off things about him.

“Did I mention that he was so brave? And his spikes are absolutely amazing! Do you what kind of shampoo he uses?”

Reaching down, Maddie grabbed the end of one of his quills and gave it a slight tug.

Caught off guard, the hedgehog gave a sharp yelp before rolling into a ball.

“Hmm, I didn’t know you use shampoo for your quills.” She laid on the bed, watching as he peeked his eyes out from his curled form. “You might want to leave the pranks for Tom. He has much better reactions to things like this.”

Unrolling his body, his legs plopped onto the hardwood floor as he stared up at Maddie.

“What? How’d you know that?”

Chuckling, as she got up she booped him on the nose, making him go cross eyed. “I just do.”

Rising up, she walked around to where Sonic was. “Ok mister you’ve had your fun, may I have my shoes and mat back?”

Standing up, he put his hands behind his back while rocking on the balls of his feet.

“Can you say the magic words?” He said in a playful tone.

“Please may I have my stuff back?”

“Actually the word was ‘tuna’ but I’ll let it slide.” Zipping out of the room and coming back with her shoes and mat.

“Thank you.” Taking back her things and tweaked his ear as she walked passed him.

She grabbed her laptop and started to head downstairs with Sonic following close behind. “I thought you went to the park with Tom and Ozzie?”

“Eh I was, but after we got some ice cream, Tom tried to teach me the proper way on how to cross ducks across a busy street”.

“Why?”

“Beats me, we were near a duck pond and he just dropped that on me. That’s when I decided to just come back.”

He put his arms behind his back as he followed her down the steps. “But I don’t know what to do right now, Tom’s not back yet, everyone else in town is ‘busy’ and I can’t even call Jojo since she’s still in school.”

“What about Rachel?”

“What ABOUT Rachel?”

“Heh fair point.” Maddie stopped mid step and turned around to face him.

“Well since your here, you want to join me for some yoga?”

Blinking in surprise, he scratched his head.

“Hmm I thought about it when I saw you do it before, but it’s going to be hard since I have bones in my body.”

Maddie let out a confused laugh. “Sonic, everyone has bones in their body.”

“Yeah but I don’t think you do, you can literally bend you body like a pretzel.”

“Oh is that why you call me pretzel lady?”

“Yeah, pretty much”

“Well I can teach you some beginner poses if you want. You will feel sob relaxed when you do them.” heading towards the back door, Sonic nodded in agreement.

“Sure! But one question though.”

“What’s that?”

“……Is it possible that you’re a just walking talking pretzel?” He said slowly as he rubbed his chin.

“No Sonic, I’m definitely not a giant pretzel.”

“Hmm ok then.” Narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he walked past her to the deck. “I still have my theories though.”

Shaking her head she followed him as she closed the door. ‘I can see why he can drive Tom crazy sometimes.’

=======

Laying down a beach towel for Sonic, Maddie sat on her knees facing him.

“First things first, we need to stretch our limbs so they won’t get cramped up.”

“Aye aye pretzel lady ma’m!” He said while giving her a salute.

After they stretched, Maddie turned on her laptop to the yoga instruction video and took off her shoes, leaving her barefoot. Sonic followed through, leaving him in his socks.

“Alright first pose we’re going to do is called the Easy pose.” She demonstrates by sitting down and crossing her legs.

Sonic copies her. “Seems easy enough, oh! I get it”

“And then we inhale in deep and exhale it out slow.”

Sonic copied her breathing, albeit slightly louder than Maddie’s.

“Good, now we move into the butterfly pose.” She uncrossed her legs and put her feet together while sitting.

Sonic follows, moving his legs up and down like butterfly wings. “Some of these are seeming kinda literal.”

“It’s so you can remember them easily.”

“Ohhhh ok that makes sense now.”

She laughed softly before reminding him again to breath in and out deeply.

“Next pose is the tree pose.” She stood straight up, balancing on one leg with her hands up, clasped together and closing her eyes.

Raising his clasped hands up, Sonic lifted his foot to his knee, his foot shuffling as he tried to keep his balance.

“Geez how do you keep your balance like that?”

“Practice and keeping your mind clear.” She said without opening her eyes.

‘Shouldn’t have ate those 2 ice cream cones earlier then.’ He sighed as he inhaled deeply and exhaled, fixing his balance.

“Very good, you a fast learner”

“You sound really surprised considering what I’m know for.” He said with a grin.

Letting out a laugh, she continued on to the next pose.

=======

After going through about a total of 10 different poses (Sonic decided to keep track on how many he could do without getting distracted), he started to rub his eyes.

His sugar rush from the ice cream was starting to wear off. Sonic used his hand to cover his mouth to stifle a oncoming yawn.

“Are you getting tired?” Maddie asked as she saw him hide his yawn.

Hearing her, he shoot straight up and shook his head. “Nope! I’m all good! Not tired at all!

“Hmm ok.” Seeing that he was indeed getting tired, she moved on to the final stage.

“Well, we got one more to try out. It’s called final resting pose.” She laid down on her back on the mat, arms and legs out and hands on her stomach.

“It’s so we can relax both our body and our mind, the challenge is to try and be awake while being completely relaxed.”

“Oh that doesn’t sound difficult! I’m super great at being relaxed.” He exclaimed as he laid down on the towel.

“Make sure to put your hands on your stomach and to breath deeply.”

“Yep got it.”

After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and stretched out her arms, feeling calm and collected. “Are you feeling relaxed yet?”

When he didn’t reply, she looked over to where Sonic was laying.

He was no longer laying on his back, but instead he was laying on his side, curled up and breathing soundly, his feet slightly twitching as he slept

Maddie got up, turned off her laptop and made her way over to the sleeping teen, gathering him in her arms.

He automatically looped his hands around her neck in his sleep and placed his head on her shoulder, letting out a tiny yawn.

“I guess that got you too relaxed huh?” He let out a small noise in agreement, his eyes still closed.

‘Well Tom was right about one thing, he really does look adorable when he’s sleeping.’ She adjusts her grip, hugging him closer to her body.

As she entered the living room, she pick up a throw blanket and placed the sleeping hedgehog on the couch.

She tucked the blanket around his body, rubbing his head tenderly before kissing the top of his head, causing him to smile and snuggle deeper into the blanket.

‘Hopefully Tom will thank me for helping him be spared from being pranked for a few hours.’

As Maddie walked away to get their stuff from the deck, she thought about how her life changed so much in such a short time period.

From almost moving to San Francisco to have a fresh start, only to stay in Greem Hills and take in a small, adorable talking hedgehog, becoming more of a family than they realized.

“After all that’s happened to us back then, I wonder what fate will throw at us next?”

#pretzel mom #pretzel lady #maddie wachowski #sonic wachowski #sonic #sonic movie #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfic #fanfic asks #fanfiction #fanfic #aisanean #asks #asks answered #long post #Niyana writes

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silent-era-of-cinema · 4 years

Text

Lila Lee (born Augusta Wilhelmena Fredericka Appel; July 25, 1905 – November 13, 1973) was a prominent screen actress, primarily a leading lady, of the silent film and early sound film eras.

The daughter of Augusta Fredericka Appel (1875–1940) and Carl Appel (1873–1935), Lee was born Augusta Wilhelmena Fredericka Appel on July 25, 1905 in Union Hill, New Jersey (now part of Union City), into a middle-class family of German immigrants who relocated to New York City. She had an older sister, Pauline ("Peggy"), who had been born in Hamburg, Germany in 1900.

Searching for a hobby for their gregarious young daughter, the Appels enrolled Lila in Gus Edwards' kiddie review shows where she was given the nickname of "Cuddles"; a name that she would be known by for the rest of her acting career. Her stagework became so popular with the public that her parents had her educated with private tutors. Edwards would become Lee's long-term manager.

Lillian Edwards, wife of Gus Edwards, was Lee's guardian. When Lee was 15 years old, she went to court seeking an injunction to prevent Mrs. Edwards "from collecting any money for Lila's services." Mrs. Edwards countered that she had spent 10 years helping to shape Lee's career and had invested money in her.

Lee performed in vaudeville for eight years.

In 1918, she was chosen for a film contract by Hollywood film mogul Jesse Lasky for Famous Players-Lasky Corporation, which later became Paramount Pictures. Her first feature The Cruise of the Make-Believes garnered the seventeen-year-old starlet much public acclaim and Lasky quickly sent Lee on an arduous publicity campaign. Critics lauded Lila for her wholesome persona and sympathetic character parts. Lee quickly rose to the ranks of leading lady and often starred opposite such matinee heavies as Conrad Nagel, Gloria Swanson, Wallace Reid, Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuckle, and Rudolph Valentino. Lee bore more than a slight resemblance to Ann Little, a former Paramount star and frequent Reid co-star who was leaving the film business and at this stage in her career an even stronger resemblance to Marguerite Clark.

In 1922 Lee was cast as Carmen in the enormously popular film Blood and Sand, opposite matinee idol Rudolph Valentino and silent screen vamp Nita Naldi; Lee subsequently won the first WAMPAS Baby Stars award that year. Lee continued to be a highly popular leading lady throughout the 1920s and made scores of critically praised and widely watched films.

As the Roaring Twenties drew to a close, Lee's popularity began to wane and Lee positioned herself for the transition to talkies. She is one of the few leading ladies of the silent screen whose popularity did not nosedive with the coming of sound. She went back to working with the major studios and appeared, most notably, in The Unholy Three, in 1930, opposite Lon Chaney Sr. in his only talkie. However, a series of bad career choices and bouts of recurring tuberculosis and alcoholism hindered further projects and Lee was relegated to taking parts in mostly grade B-movies.

Lee was married and divorced three times. Her first husband was actor James Kirkwood, Sr., whom she married on July 26, 1923. They had met on the set of Ebb Tide in 1922. Kirkwood filed for divorce in May 1930 on grounds of her desertion; the divorce was finalized in August 1931. Lee and Kirkwood had a son in 1924, James Kirkwood, Jr., whose custody was granted to his father; he became a highly regarded playwright and screenwriter whose works include A Chorus Line and P.S. Your Cat Is Dead. Kirkwood Jr. was primarily raised by Lee's family in Elyria, Ohio.

In her autobiography, Lee revealed she lost her virginity to Kirkwood before they were married and she fell pregnant as a result. Kirkwood ultimately arranged an abortion for her, and their relationship continued after this only because Kirkwood threatened to tell Lee's mother of their premarital relations.

In June 1928, Lee began an affair with John Farrow while Kirkwood was in London.[8] Lee wrote Kirkwood stating she wanted a divorce, and in late September of that year, the two formally separated. Lee decided not to fight for custody of their son because Kirkwood threatened to kill Farrow, Lee, their son, and himself. After their divorce, Lee traveled to Arizona and stayed in a sanitarium. Lee also became engaged to John Farrow, but they separated in 1933 after Lee discovered he was being unfaithful to her. He would go on to marry Maureen O'Sullivan in 1936.

At the beginning of her career, Lee dated Charlie Chaplin.

Her second husband was broker Jack R. Peine, who she married on December 8, 1934. By July 2, 1935, the two had divorced. Lee claimed Peine was a drunk, a gambler, and a cheater. Shortly into their marriage, with Lila looking for a house for the two, Peine took off to Mexico and didn't return for a month.

In 1935, Lee began a relationship with car salesman Reid Russell. In 1936, Lee was living in California with her son, novelist Gouverneur Morris, and his wife Ruth. Lee became engaged to Russell and planned to marry him once he obtained a divorce. On September 25, 1936, Russell's dead body was discovered outside on the hammock by Kirkwood Jr. He had been shot in the head with a .32 caliber one or two days prior. The bullet had penetrated Russell's head and passed through the other side, but the bullet and empty shell were never located. The gun found in his hand was one he kept in his bureau drawer at home.

Her third husband was broker John E. Murphy. According to author Sean Egan in the James Kirkwood biography Ponies & Rainbows (2011), Murphy's will left Lee at the financial mercy of his second wife, who consequently became the manipulative character Aunt Claire in P.S. Your Cat Is Dead, written by Lee's son, James Kirkwood, Jr.

Following the discovery of Russell's body, his death was investigated and treated as a suicide, and Mr. and Mrs. Morris both said that he was suicidal and had made suicidal remarks after losing his job. Lee would later confirm he had threatened suicide on multiple occasions and that he talked about it incessantly.

On November 11, the Los Angeles Times reported that a woman had made a telephone threat towards Russell's mom, Victoria, urging her to stop pushing the investigation into her son's death. The case had recently been reopened after Victoria had a conference with the investigators. Ruth told Lila that Reid had left a suicide note, but that she wasn't going to tell anyone about it. Lee went to the District Attorney's office to say that there was no suicide note, however Morris backtracked and said that there was. Lee herself never read the note, but Morris read it to her, and then burned it in an ashtray. Later in life, James Kirkwood Jr. would confide to a friend, William Russo, that there had been three suicide notes - one in Ruth Morris' jewel box, and two within a newel post on the handrail of a set of stairs in the house. The two other notes were found after the case was closed.

Gouverneur Morris, his wife Ruth, and Lila Lee were questioned by authorities about the destruction of the suicide note. Mrs. Morris claimed she found the suicide note in a box on her dresser drawer two or three days after Russell's body was discovered. Because his death had already been declared a suicide, Morris decided to burn it. Gouverneur Morris added that neither he nor his wife heard the report of a gunshot neighbors recalled coming from the Morris home at about 9 P.M. on September 24, and that there had been no argument prior to Russell's death.

On November 17, the Los Angeles Times reported that Russell's body may be exhumed depending on the report of a ballistic expert who was trying to determine if the .32 caliber revolver found in his hand had been fired recently. The following day, it was reported that Russell's body was to be exhumed as it could not be determined if the .32 caliber had been fired recently because the gun was in such rusty condition. During this time, investigators began to doubt the suicide hypothesis, but still were not considering murder, but rather if his death had occurred somewhere else other than outside on the hammock.

That same day, the San Francisco Chronicle reported that Russell's mother Victoria claimed that four days before Russell's body was found, a woman had telephoned repeatedly asking for Russell and demanding to know where he was. Investigators were beginning to consider that Russell's death could have been a "love slaying". However, on November 19, his ex-wife told the Los Angeles Times that she believed Russell had killed himself. An entirely new theory was also introduced that day by The Examiner, who ran a story headed, "Racketeering Ring Linked to Russell Case". The source for the information was Detective Lieutenant Harry Leslie Hansen of the Georgia Street Divison, who was an old friend of Russell. The Los Angeles Times carried the story the next day, claiming that Hansen had reported to the District Attorney's office that Russell had told him that he was going to quit his automobile salesman's job to smuggle arms and ammunition to a foreign country. Russell revealed these plans to Hansen when the two had gone on a weekend party five days before his death. The same paper reported that Russell's exhumed body had led a county autopsy to declare that the results of the first autopsy still stood: the wound on Russell's temple was powder-marked and seared, indicating a self-inflicted wound, and that the wound was too small to have been made by either .45 or .38 caliber weapons and too big to have resulted from the firing of a .22, thus indicating that the .32 found in Russell's hand was indeed the cause of death.

In the 1930s she was diagnosed with tuberculosis and briefly stayed at a sanitarium in Prescott, Arizona in 1933. She then moved to Saranac Lake, New York for treatment at the Will Rogers Memorial Hospital. Lee made several uneventful appearances in stage plays in the 1940s, and starred in early television soap operas in the 1950s.

In 1973 Lee died of a stroke at Saranac Lake. She is buried at Brookdale Cemetery in Elyria, Ohio.

For her contribution as an actress in motion pictures, she was awarded a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 1716 Vine Street. It was dedicated on February 8, 1960.

#lila lee #silent era #silent hollywood #silent movie stars #classic hollywood #golden age of hollywood #classic movie stars #1910s movies #1920s hollywood #1930s hollywood

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lovemesomesurveys · 3 years

Text

Do you weigh less than 130 pounds? Yeah, quite a bit less.

Do you straighten your hair every day? No. I haven’t straightened my hair in years.

What kind of car do you drive? I don’t drive.

What’s your favorite kind of ice cream? Strawberry, mint chocolate chip, birthday cake, and cookies and cream are good. I haven’t had ice cream in quite awhile, though.

Do you wear earrings daily? No. It’s been awhile since I’ve worn earrings as well.

Do you prefer purple or green grapes? Green.

When’s the last time you got your eyebrows waxed? I only got them waxed once and I was like 14.

Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No. Talk about claustrophobia. And I have no desire to do so anyway.

Did your last kiss mean anything to you? Yeah.

How’s your hair right now? It’s up in its usual messy bun.

Have you ever wanted to go to Australia? I would love to.

What’s your favorite fast food restaurant? I’m not as into fast food as I used to be, but the ones I go to when I do have it are Chick-fil-A, Carl’s Jr, McDonald’s, and Jack in the Box.

When’s the last time you washed your hands? A few hours ago.

Who were you with the last time you were drunk and where were you? I was with a group of friends in a hotel room I rented for my birthday back in 2013.

What is one thing within the last year that if it had gone differently you feel might have changed things now? If I had done some things I should have been doing and managing things better regarding some of my health related issues.

What is something that you associate with summer? The miserable heat.

Have you ever ran around outside completely naked? Uh, no. Absolutely not.

When you’re hungry, does your stomach hurt? Sometimes. My body is super dramatic like that. I’ll feel weak sometimes and it’s like omg stop acting like you haven’t ate in days.

Would you say that you have a nice smile? No.

Have you ever walked in on your parents doing something kinky? Ahhhh, no.

Do you use mouthwash? No.

Do you eat anything out of a box? Yeah.

When’s the last time the fire alarm in your house went off? It’s never gone off. The only time it has made noise is when the batteries need to be replaced.

Can you be trusted with secrets? Yes.

Pill to make you braver or one to make you smarter? Braver. I’d be able to get some things taken care of that I’ve put off because I’m anxious and scared.

Are you in a hurry to grow up? I am grown up at 31 I guess, but I’m in no hurry to get older. I was never in any hurry.

When was the last time you used a bar of soap? Yesterday when I showered.

Do you keep notes, drawings or letters that people give you? Yes. I’m big on that.

Have you ever been locked in a car with a bf/gf? No. How would we be locked in the car?

Have you had a bf/gf that you never kissed? No.

How many true best friends are present in your life? No friends, but I have my family.

Do you currently have a significant other? Nope.

Do your parents approve of the people you hang out with? They never had an issue with any of my friends.

Would you be able to stand being in the same room as someone you hate? I don’t hate anyone, so.

Have you ever lost a close friend? Yes.

Think of your current or last bf/gf. Do you/did you love them? I did.

Has anybody criticized the way your significant other looked like? I’m single, but no one said anything about the way my exes looked.

Have you ever stayed up late talking to a bf/gf on the phone or online? Yes.

Do your friends like the people you date? Do their friends like you? They had an issue with Joseph because they saw what I didn’t want to see, which was that he was using and playing me and wasn’t treating me right. I haven’t had an issue with their friends.

Do your parents let you date, or do you sneak around? I’m 31 years old. I can’t blame my non-existent dating life on that haha.

Have you ever felt backstabbed by a close friend? Yes.

Do you have any handshakes with anybody? No.

Do you feel you can rely on anybody to always be there for you? I know my family will always be there.

Have you ever regretted ignoring anybody? I’ve pushed people away and messed up good things. :/

What has been the stupidest reason someone has broken up with you? Joseph just didn’t want to commit. He wanted me when it was convenient and when he felt like it.

Have you ever kissed someone in their bedroom, or in yours? No.

Has a friend of yours ever confessed their love to you? No.

Have you gone out with someone, then ruined the friendship you had before? My first boyfriend and I were good friends before we started dating and yeah it definitely changed things after.

Can you trust any of your friends at full capacity? No friends. I trust my family, though.

Is the word 'love' even in your vocabulary? Yes.

Who do you think is more confusing, males or females? People are confusing.

Have you written or drawn anything for somebody else? No.

Do you have any pictures of yourself with a bf/gf? I have photos of myself and my exes.

Do your friends know how to make you smile in tough times? My family does. My doggo always can.

Has anybody said they loved you, but you didn't love them back? Yes.

Is there anyone you don't like that always seems to be everywhere you are? No.

Is there anyone you care about more than you care for yourself? My family.

What/who do you take the most pictures of? My doggo.

How long did you spend in a vehicle today? I’m not going anywhere today.

When you make a mess are you more likely to clean it up right away, or do you get to it later? I clean it up right away.

Who do you blame for your bad mood today? I’m just annoyed because yesterday I slept until 6PM and today I’ve hardly slept at all, I kept getting up like every hour. It’s 10AM now and I first fell asleep around 6, so yeah not much sleep going on. :/

By what age would you like to be married? I don’t plan on getting married.

What are you looking forward to right now? Nothing at this moment.

Do you have any split ends? Yes.

Is there a book you're currently reading? Yeah, I’m finishing up this book called, “Anything for You” by Marissa Finch.

Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No.

When was the last time you went to the dentist? It’s been awhile. :/

The last time you cried, what was wrong? Oh ya know, life.

Do you sleep with a fan on? Yes, even now in the winter.

What's the last video game you played? Animal Crossing: New Horizons.

What do you usually drink at meals? Coffee or water.

Are you going to a library tomorrow? No.

Do you sleep better during thunderstorms? No, but I do enjoy them.

Has anyone pissed you off based on their actions recently? Yes.

What language did you take up in high school? I took Spanish all 4 years.

You’re single, correct? Yep.

Is the last person you texted good looking? My mom is beautiful.

At this very moment, what exactly are you doing? Besides the obvious I’m listening to an ASMR video.

How do you feel about girls smoking? I don’t care what gender is doing it, I personally don’t like it.

Have you ever been in a perfect relationship? No. Perfect relationships don’t exist.

Is the person you last texted in a relationship? Yeah, my mom is with my dad.

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Nope.

Do you like “good morning” texts? I don’t get those.

Last movie you watched? Wonder Woman 1984.

Name something you like about winter: I love Christmastime, the weather, the clothes, the colors, the smells, the coziness...all of it.

What’s your favorite color? Pastels, rose gold, sea foam green, coral, and yellow.

Would you rather be called hun or baby? I don’t really care for either one.

Is there someone that you miss being close with? Yes.

Have you ever fallen asleep in someone’s arms? When I was little.

Does anyone completely understand you? I don’t think completely. I certainly don’t completely understand myself.

In the last 12 months can you say you truly cared about someone? My family.

You were single last month, why? Uhh, because I’m not interested in or talking to anyone in that way. Like, there’s literally no one right now. No one is interested in me either.

Would you rather get 1, 12, or 24 roses? I’d appreciate any amount.

What is something you like to do when you’re down? Cry and one of my go-to activities I do normally as a distraction.

Do you believe teenagers can fall in love? Sure.

Have you ever received a text message that made you cry? Yes.

Did you enjoy your summer? Last summer was even worse because I wasn’t able to go to the beach, which is the only thing I like about summer.

When you watch movies at home, do you like the lights on or off? I tend to just keep ‘em on.

Do you think relationships are even worth it? Yes.

Is any part of you sad at all? All of me.

Do you like your first name? Sure.

What’s most stressing right now? Health and life stuff.

What are you listening to currently? An ASMR video.

Have you done anything embarrassing lately? Not recently.

Dark hair or light hair in the opposite sex? Whichever.

Do you judge people you don’t know? Not to the point that I don't want to get to know them, but yeah. <<< That’s a good way of putting it. Like, I think we all judge people to some extent and that’s normal and not always a bad thing, but some people are judgmental people and they make up their own assumptions and opinions without getting to know a person. They have their mind made up and it stops them from getting to know someone.

Would you date a boy/girl if you knew they were capable of cheating on you? I guess anyone is capable of doing so, so it’s something that could possibly happen in any relationship. However, if I knew someone had in fact cheated before or was known for that, then no I would not. Even if they had cheated once it would be something I’d worry about happening to me.

Did you sleep alone last night? I always do.

If you could have one thing right now what would it be? I’m kinda hungry, but meh.

Would you rather have ten kids, or none? None, hands down. I don’t even want one kid, let alone TEN.

Do you tell your mom or dad everything? I tell my mom a lot.

Does it matter to you if your boyfriend or girlfriend smokes? It would absolutely matter to me if they smoked cigarettes.

Have you ever been hurt by someone you never thought would hurt you? Yes.

Do you have siblings? I have two brothers.

#personal #text #survey #surveys #long survey

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horrorkingdom · 3 years

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First Published: “The Corpse in Coffee Creek-Secrets of Ohio’s Tragic Triangle,” by Detective Otto H. Diskowski, Homicide Squad, Cleveland Police Department, as told to R. Rodgers, True Detective Mysteries, May, 1938.

Want to read this story later on your tablet?

Download PDF File of The Corpse in Coffee Creek

CHARLES SALWAY SLOWLY MADE HIS way home across the small culvert over Coffee Creek. His farm was just outside Mesopotamia, Ohio, and almost daily he walked down State Road 57 and crossed the creek to get to his field.

This afternoon of September 24th, 1936, there was an autumn tang in the air. It would not be long before frost would be on the ground and farming would be over for the season. He, his wife and his father had put in a good day’s work out there—the sort of work that gave a man an appetite and made him think longingly of his fireside and slippers.

Salway leaned for a moment on the rail, waiting for the others to catch up to him. Maybe next day he would bring out his fishing tackle and try his luck. Sometimes a man could get a pretty good string out of Coffee Creek.

The farmer’s eyes focused sharply. Directly underneath was an odd looking object. As the man’s family joined him at the railing, he pointed, wordlessly, to the bobbing horror in the water. Mrs. Salway gasped.

“What is it, Charles?” she asked.

Her husband was still staring. “It looks like a man,” he whispered.

Mrs. Salway shuddered. “A man? But where is the rest of him?”

The farmer gulped. “It looks like it’s just his head down there.”

His father nodded. “Yes, I don’t see anybody.”

The trio noted the closed eyes, and the purple, blotched face. Leaving the older man to keep watch at the culvert; young Salway raced for a telephone. “There’s a dead man out near my farm on Route 57,” he told the police. “I’ll wait there until you come out. He’s in the creek.”

Charles Salway returned to the grim vigil. He studied the face of the man in the water. Folks in that section of the country all knew each other. But neither Salway nor his father had ever seen the dead man before.

Sheriff Roy Hardman and Captain George C. Salen of the Warren police, lost no time getting to the scene. Accompanying them were several officers and Coroner J. C. Renshaw of Trumbull County. The farmer flagged them to a stop and excitedly pointed to his find.

“First we thought it was just a head, Sheriff,” he said, “but now I can see where the body is weighted down with something, so that just the head sticks out

It was a grotesque sight that greeted the officials. The water lapped gently against the dead face, tossing it from side to side. Releasing the body from what held it might prove to be a task.

In a short time, dozens of people flocked to see what the excitement was.

The officers, assisted by bystanders, finally extricated the body and laid it out on the ground for the Coroner’s inspection. While he went about his work, Sheriff Hardman and Captain Salen examined the wire with which the victim had been trussed and the heavy concrete slab attached to the corpse.

“Whoever did it,” the Sheriff remarked, “must have felt pretty sure it would be a long time before this thing rose to the surface. But the weight slipped down around the feet and there was enough buoyancy in the body to let the head float to the surface. No wonder it looked like a head without a body.”

“Looks like the fellow was pretty well beaten before being tossed into the creek,” Salen commented. “It’s the kind of beating gangsters give their double-crossers.”

The Sheriff shrugged. There might be some truth in that theory. The spot where the body was found is not far from Youngstown and only about forty miles out of Cleveland. Perhaps some rival city gangsters had been warring. Or maybe the killing was the outcome of strike trouble in the Youngstown steel area.

Coroner Henshaw estimated that the corpse had been in the water a week. There was not much else he could discover without a thorough examination, and the body was taken to the morgue at West Farmington.

After questioning the neighboring farmers and failing to find anyone who had heard or noticed anything unusual during the past week or ten days, the officers went to the morgue to search for a clue to the man’s identity.

Preliminary examination of his clothing revealed little—a few cents and the usual odds and ends. In a hidden inside coat pocket, apparently overlooked by the killers, the officers found a worn leather wallet.

Eagerly the contents were spilled on the table. The clue they seized upon was an identification card of a common type. Unless the murderers had been clever enough ‘to put it there to throw the police off the trail, it should reveal the identity of the dead man. It bore the name of Charles Steffes, Jr., and an address in Cleveland.

There was a space on the card classified “In Case of Accident Notify . . .” And next to it were the words, “Catherine Bunjevac, 1144 East 76th Street, Cleveland, Ohio.”

“Well, boys, that gives us something to start with,” Captain Salen announced. “We’d better get in touch with the Cleveland police and see what they know of Steffes.” The report of the murder came into Cleveland Headquarters over the wire that evening and Detective Lieutenant Jack Zeman took down the details.

He called in Detectives Carl Ziccarelli and Ralph McNeil, who were working on the four-to-midnight shift. “Just had word of a body being found in Coffee Creek,” he told them. “Check up on Charles Steffes, Jr., at 1328 East 53rd Street. And see what you can learn from a girl named Catherine Bunjevac at 1144 East 76th Street.”

Things began to hum. A quick check with the files revealed a record on Steffes. He had been arrested and charged with auto theft about a year before. He had pleaded guilty and, since it was his first offense, had been placed on probation. Further details disclosed he was an auto mechanic and twenty-six years old.

It was hardly the record of a person who might be involved in gang wars, but in the Police Department we learn to expect anything and consider everything a possibility until proved otherwise.

If he were a Clevelander and had been dead a week, perhaps someone had reported his disappearance to the Bureau of Missing Persons. A check-up here disclosed that on Sunday, September 20th, a call had come into the Bureau. A worried feminine voice had reported a disappearance.

“I’m worried about my friend, Charles Steffes, Jr.,” the caller said over the telephone. “I had a date with him last Thursday night and he said then that he’d telephone me the next day.

“He didn’t call and I thought maybe he was sick.” Her voice broke a little. “Charlie always kept his word with me. And when I found out he hadn’t been at work since Thursday and that no one had seen him at all, I got frightened.”

The officer tried to calm her. People, he told her, particularly men, often dropped out of sight for a time. Ninety-nine out of a hundred turned up again in their own good time. But this girl, who gave her name as Catherine Bunjevac, was sure Charlie Steffes had come to some harm.

“He’d never go away without telling me,” she insisted.

The report had been investigated at the time, but no trace of Charlie Steffes had been found. There was no accident victim who answered his description in the hospitals or the morgue.

That is, no one, until Charles Salway had seen the “body-less” corpse in Coffee Creek. It began to look as if woman’s intuition as to trouble had again proven correct. What Catherine Bunjevac had feared had apparently come true.

But supposing the corpse was that of young Steffes, the identification was just the beginning of the job. All we knew was that a girl named Catherine Bunjevac was to be notified in case of accident and that this same girl had reported him missing.

The department began to get busy in earnest. Detectives Ziccarelli and McNeil went out to check on Steffes, at the address in his wallet. This turned out to be a rooming house, run by Rudolph Zupanic. Here, Steffes had lived with his brother.

Both Zupanic and the victim’s brother, when interviewed, insisted they knew nothing of the garage mechanic’s whereabouts. The proprietor of the rooming house eagerly told the meager facts he knew about his lodger.

“Steffes left the house last Thursday night and we haven’t seen him since. He was rather close-mouthed about his affairs and never said where he was going or when he’d be back.”

Steffes’ brother confirmed this statement. “I haven’t any idea where Charlie could be. He just went out and didn’t come back. Several people have been asking for him since he left.” He shrugged. “He might be anywhere.”

His brother seemed to take his absence rather lightly, apparently confident that in due time he would turn up again. At the garage where Steffes was employed, the proprietor had the same attitude.

“He hasn’t been around for a week. Guess maybe he just decided to quit. A little guy came around a couple of times looking for him. Don’t know who he was.”

Was this “little guy” one of those who had called at the rooming house to inquire about the missing man? That was another angle to be investigated.

The garage owner gave the boy a good send-off. “He was a conscientious worker. Seemed serious-minded and said he was saving his money.”

When a young man who has had a previous brush with the law, settles down and talks about saving his money, experience has taught us there’s usually one reason—a woman. “Find the woman” is the detective’s old adage, and often a very successful one. In this case, the name of the woman had providentially been delivered into our hands.

But, before questioning Catherine Bunjevac, the detectives sought Steffes’ sister, whose address they had obtained at the rooming house. She had new information to give.

“Charlie and Catherine were at my house last Thursday evening (Sept. 17, 1936). We had a lot of fun kidding around, but they had to leave early, as Charlie complained he didn’t feel well. I didn’t think it was anything serious, but it did seem that he was worried about something. Usually Charlie was very happy-go-lucky, but that night he was different—acted a little as if he were afraid of something.

“I thought it was my imagination,” she continued, “but when Kate—that’s what we call Catherine—came over here on Saturday, looking for him, I got kind of worried. It wasn’t like Charlie to miss a date. He was crazy about her. Talked about getting married.”

So the girl, whose name appeared on Steffes’ identification card, was more than just an acquaintance.

Catherine Bunjevac’s parents told the detectives that their daughter was out with her fiancé, a Mr. Miller. The officers concealed the surprise they felt at this announcement. Steffes had talked to his sister about marrying Kate, but she apparently had other plans, or at least, that’s the way it looked.

“Do you know Charles Steffes, Jr.?” they asked the Bunjevacs.

Instantly there seemed to be a chill in the atmosphere. “Yes, we know him. He frequently called on our daughter.”

“Was he in love with her?”

“Perhaps. She’s a very pretty girl. Lots of men have liked her. But we didn’t want her to go with that Steffes. He isn’t dependable. He hasn’t any money. Mr. Miller can give Catherine a nice home and an automobile. He’s the kind of suitor for our girl.”

“Well, when she comes in, tell her the police want to talk to her.”

The parents’ faces showed no emotion at the knowledge that police wished to question their daughter. If there were fear there, it was well hidden.

Very early the next morning, Miss Bunjevac appeared at Headquarters. Her parents had been right when they said their daughter was pretty. It was not hard to imagine several young men in love with her at the same time.

As Sergeant James Hogan questioned her, he noted that she seemed greatly worried about her missing friend.

“The last time I had a date with Charlie, he seemed quite upset,” she said. “I asked him to tell me what was bothering him, but he wouldn’t say.”

As the girl talked on, the background of the case became clear. Here was a fun-loving young girl, torn between duty to her parents and her own heart. Steffes appealed to her romantic tastes, but her family frowned upon him.

Miller, she explained, was a name Joseph Csonka sometimes used for business reasons. He was a wall paper hanger whom she had known for a long time, and her parents thought he would make an ideal husband for her. He was the old-fashioned type, the sort who would never give a girl any worries—nor any thrills.

But Catherine Bunjevac had liked young Steffes. He was full of fun, liked to dance and have a good time. He made Csonka seem old and dull. A common enough tragedy, up to that point. But it didn’t tell us what had been worrying Steffes that last night he was seen alive. Could he have been involved in some racket and forced to “take a ride?” Or was it perhaps another woman, whose jealous fury had spent itself on her betrayer?

We discarded the latter theory at once. The very facts of the crime told us it had to be the work of a man. Women do not transport their victims forty miles, and then dump them overboard, with a slab of concrete to weigh them down.

Detective Gordon Shibley and I went to West Farmington to verify the identification of the victim. We questioned several of the near-by residents, but could find no one who knew anything about the mysterious happenings at Coffee Creek. The killer had taken pains to cover his tracks well, and no doubt darkness had hidden his sinister work.

Delve as we would, we could find nothing to tie the victim with any gang machinations. He had, to all intents and purposes, been paying strict attention to business and behaving himself. It looked as if the explanation would have to be found closer to home.

Officers returned to question Miss Bunjevac once more. Over and over she repeated her story of her friendship with Steffes and the last time she had seen him.

“He left me at my house early Thursday evening, as he said he didn’t feel well. I thought maybe he had another date, but then I felt sure he wouldn’t go with any girl but me. He said he’d call me Friday and when he didn’t I was annoyed. Joe asked me to go out with him that night and since I hadn’t heard from Charlie, I went.”

“Did you tell Csonka about Steffes?” the girl was asked.

“Yes, I mentioned it and said I was worried as that was the first time he had ever disappointed me. Joe said not to worry about it; that he’d probably be able to explain when I saw him.”

“Did you often discuss Steffes with your other suitor?”

“Quite often. He asked me, a couple of times to give up Charlie.”

The detectives’ eyes betrayed no particular interest. “Did the boys ever fight about your attentions?”

“Of course not,” was the quick reply. “Why, Joe helped me try to find Charlie. He went to his rooming house and the garage where he worked to discover what had happened to him.”

The little thin man who had “been making such anxious inquiries for the victim, as described by Steffes’ brother and the garage owner, was Csonka, evidently. He had been trying to find the man who had cat him out, in order to set the girl’s mind at rest.

“It was Joe who made me come right down to Headquarters, when we found out you were looking for me,” Miss Bunjevac continued. “He said it was best for me to go right away.”

“How did Joe act the Friday night after Steffes’ disappearance? Was he nervous or excited?”

“Why, no,” the girl answered, surprised. “He never talks a lot, but I didn’t notice him acting nervous or anything. Why should he?”

That’s what we were asking ourselves at the moment. We had two men in love with the same girl. One brash and forward; the other, from Catherine’s description, shy, meek and self-effacing. And the brash and forward one was now dead, his head battered in. I was convinced from what I could learn around Coffee Creek, that Steffes had been killed elsewhere and his body brought out to the lonesome farm area, probably by automobile.

The body had been returned to Cleveland from the West Farmington morgue and County Pathologist Dr. Reuben Strauss went to work to determine what had caused death. What we primarily wanted to know was whether the victim was alive when tossed into the water, or whether it was his corpse that was weighted down and shoved under the culvert.

On Friday night a detail of officers was sent to Csonka’s home on East 88th Street, to question him. It was destined to be quite a wait, as he was not at home. It was five-thirty in the morning before a short, slight man mounted the steps, to be met by a group of detectives.

Csonka evidenced no surprise. He acted as if it were not at all unusual for a couple of officers to be waiting to take him down to Headquarters. He showed no curiosity as to why he must go. He offered no protest, when the men went through his personal belongings. He evinced no embarrassment when he saw his personal letters being read. These included several written, but never mailed, to Catherine Bunjevac.

Those letters seemed to coincide with the man’s colorless personality. He was admittedly in love with the girl, but there was no hint of passion in his letters. They, too, were shy and bashful.

Downstairs in the basement, Csonka showed the same lack of interest, as officers went through his storage closet. The only thing found of any possible importance was a small amount of old wire.

And when Sergeant Hogan began asking him questions that Saturday morning, he realized he was facing a man who was able to conceal every emotion. He presented a bland, expressionless face and carefully deliberated before replying. We had a suspect, it is true, but we had little more on him than any man we might pick up in the street. He was in love with the same girl as the dead man had been—but that was his only connection, thus far, with the case.

The Sergeant, however, continued his investigation. A couple of detectives went out to find Csonka’s car. While they were gone, the report of Dr. Strauss came in and with it, the first ray of light. Steffes had been struck a hard blow on the head, but that had not caused his death. Water in his lungs indicated that he had been alive when tossed into the creek. He had died from drowning. That meant that the murderer, if and when we caught him, would be tried in the district in which the victim died—and those country juries are tough.

We decided to use a little old-fashioned psychology on Csonka. Detective Shibley and I brought him to the garage, and, with Sergeant Hogan and Coroner Arthur J. Pearse of Cuyahoga County, in which Cleveland is located, we started out on the ride to Mesopotamia and Coffee Creek. We were heading for the spot where Steffes’ battered body had been found. We had a little plan in mind and were eager to find out if it would work. The coolest, the calmest, the most collected criminal will often go to pieces when he is forced to revisit the scene of his crime. Dreams often will hound a guilty man into clearing his conscience, but a compulsory viewing of the spot will usually do it more quickly.

We did not do a lot of talking on that ride. Csonka continued to answer politely all questions put to him. Sergeant Hogan encouraged him to talk about himself. He nodded sympathetically when Csonka complained of business being slow. Csonka mentioned that he usually carried his tools—brushes and pails—in his car. Was he in love with Catherine Bunjevac? Sure, sure.

“You know, Sergeant,” he said to Hogan, “I think some gangsters got after Steffes. Probably took him for a ride. You know he was mixed up in some bad company for a while there.”

We did not answer. We were waiting for the psychological moment to outline to him what we thought had happened. But that time had not arrived as yet.

Coffee Creek looked far from sinister in the bright daylight. The foliage was just beginning to turn and the countryside was rich in autumnal hues. Everything spoke of peace, and quiet, restful living. It seemed hardly the spot for violence and death. Yet a man’s badly beaten body had been tossed into that creek and its calm water had taken his dying breath.

I took Csonka over toward the east rail and waited with him while the Coroner and Sergeant Hogan talked things over. I knew what was coming and encouraged the man’s nervousness by a complete silence and apparent indifference as to what was going on.

As the two officers conversed, their voices carried clearly on the still air. Hogan was outlining to Pearse what had happened. Csonka was the only one there who didn’t know that the Sergeant was putting on a little dramatic act.

“I think we’ve got this fellow,” Hogan was saying. “It all links up. Two of my men found his car, took a look in it and what do you suppose they found?”

“What ?” asked Pearse, all interest.

“Blood on the upholstery.”

“No!”

“Yes! And one of the windows was smashed. I think that happened when this bird Csonka swung at him with the brush and missed.”

“Brush?” asked Pearse.

“Didn’t you know we found a heavy paste brush in his car with blood on it? He hit Steffes over the head with his paste brush,” the Sergeant went on. “Again and again he struck him. Then when he thought he was dead, he drove out into the country and tossed the body overboard. He weighted it down to make sure it wouldn’t be discovered.”

Hogan paused dramatically as they came over to where we were standing. “Is that the way it happened, Csonka?” he asked suddenly.

I watched the man who was standing so close to me. I had thought of him as meek and mild—hardly the type to become involved in a murder case. But before my eyes I saw an amazing change take place. As he listened to Hogan’s outline of what might have happened that fatal September 17th, Csonka s eyes glittered. It was almost as if he were reliving the crime, and enjoying it. The meekness was gone and replaced by an expression of burning hate.

Abruptly he turned and faced us. “Sure, I killed him. I did it.”

The confession, unexpected as it was, did not give us all we wanted. We had to have details—proof to stand up in a trial. It was not a Cleveland case, but it was up to us to get Csonka talking.

Once he had started, the paperhanger seemed eager to tell the whole story and get it off his mind. I marveled at this shy little man, who, for more than a week had gone about his affairs as usual, but with a horrible secret hidden behind his meek, colorless face. He had even joined in the search for his victim, apparently seeing this would ingratiate him into the favor of Miss Bunjevac. And all the time he had known that the man she loved and waited for was lying in the cold waters of Coffee Creek, a heavy slab weighting him down.

Csonka opened up in earnest on the ride back to Cleveland. The story was even more grim and cold-blooded than we had conceived.

“I was ready to marry the girl. I wanted her. I was getting along fine and had a good business and good prospects. I could have given her things. I was in love with her and she seemed to like me well enough,” Csonka added, “until that Steffes fellow came along last April. Then things changed.”

I could picture this little paperhanger paying his court more to the parents than the daughter, much as they did in the old country. He loved the girl, in his fashion, and a great rage began working in his slow mind, when he found himself being cut out.

“That Steffes was just a no-good, a bum. I used to follow the two of them around and spy on them. A couple of times I met him and begged him to give up the girl. But always he just laughed and told me to beat it.

“And once,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “he told me Catherine wanted to marry a man. He insulted me.”

Steffes, knowing that the girl preferred him, and with the confidence of youth, had laughed tormentingly at the other man. And with that laugh he had sealed his doom.

“I met Steffes early in the week and told him I knew he had been in jail,” the paperhanger went on. “I threatened to tell the Bunjevacs what I knew, so they’d make Kate give him up.

“Steffes tried to laugh it off, but I told him it was time for a showdown. I told him to meet me Thursday night and he said he’d try to get away early enough to make it.”

That meeting, then, was what the garage mechanic had on his mind the last night his sister and his sweetheart had seen him. The story of feeling ill had been invented to make sure he would get away in time for the meeting he dreaded. The girl’s intuition that something was worrying him had been correct.

The men met by appointment at a beer parlor on East 53rd Street. Csonka began pleading with him to step out of the picture. Steffes drank stein after stein of beer and quickly lost his former dread. The oddly matched couple moved on from one beer place to another. At each they consumed several drinks, Steffes switching to liquor as the night wore on.

Once again in Csonka’s car, they continued the discussion, the murderer said.

“Sitting in the car at East 70th and Quincy. I told Steffes he’d have to give up the girl. He got mad at that, and took out a whisky bottle he had in his pocket. He swung it at me and I got scared. He was bigger than me and I reached in back of the car for my paste brush. I grabbed hold of it and hit him over the head.”

Csonka stopped a moment, as if remembering. A shudder shook his slight frame. He was thinking perhaps of the sickening thud each blow had made on the victim’s head. Then he continued:

“I had to hit him a lot of times before he became quiet. Then I got panicky and pushed his body into the back seat.”

It was evident that Csonka had believed his victim dead after the first blows. He even stopped to change a tire on his car before driving into his own garage.

“I stayed in the garage a while, not knowing just what I ought to do. I was scared someone might come’ in while he was there. And then—” his eyes widened with horror—”Steffes came to life again and started to fight some more.”

I could visualize the terror of the man, as his victim suddenly showed signs of life, when he believed him dead.

“This time I hit him with a heavy iron clamp and he lay still.”

Poor Charlie Steffes. His vitality must have been great, indeed, to withstand a series of such blows. The report showed without any question that he had been still breathing when tossed into the creek.

“I went around the corner to my house and got some wire and a big chunk -of concrete from under our garbage can. I tied him up and then started out to find some place to dump the body.”

And then came the most amazing part of this gruesome story. The killer had driven nearly fifty miles through the night, with the trussed-up body of his victim in the back of his car. And at each bridge and culvert he had stopped. With his flashlight he had peered into the water, trying to determine its depth. Joe Csonka was looking for water deep enough to-cover all evidence of his crime.

#horror #creepy #horror community #creepy photo

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r-ate-9 · 3 years

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Three Can Keep a Secret (if two of them are dead) - Ch. 2

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human Chapter 2 of 2 Characters: Connor, Cole, minor-OC's Warnings: Ref-rape (non-explicit), Drug abuse, homelessness. Summary: During a home-invasion gone wrong, Connor tries to protect his brothers using the gun his father keeps locked away. Disaster strikes and Connor runs away... Read on AO3 | Fanfiction.net

“Missing Person!” The signs yelled at Connor as he walked through the streets. “Inform local Police if you see him!” They pled. The face stared imploringly at Connor – he turned away. Not his problem, he had stopped drugs ages ago, what happened in that realm was not his concern, dammit.

Hey Connor, the boy said slipping him a baggy, see you later. A crooked smile tinged in sadness. A cracked interior so like Connor’s own.

“Missing Person!” Another sign blared in Connor’s ears, begged for help. “Please call with information!”

Thanks, champ. The boy took a drag of the cigarette and closed his eyes.

“Anytime.” Connor whispered to the poster; eyes locked with the face pictured. The boy was less broken here, a sparkle glittered his eyes, cheeks flushed from laughter or cold or pure joy – Connor liked to think all three.

He imagined.

A day in the snow, with forts towering high and laughter dancing on the breeze.

Three boys darting from cover to cover, no sides chosen, a free-for-all.

Calling each other’s names and bursting with happiness.

Going inside with cheeks nipped by frost and chattering to their parents a million thoughts.

Hot cocoa and marshmallows.

Yes. Connor liked to think the boy was happy in this picture. His inside warm and full of cocoa and happy thoughts.

“Please call!” The writing begged; numbers listed with points of contact. The name and description of the boy, his age.

Thanks, champ. The boy whispered, words tinged in sadness but eyes soft and open.

“Okay.” Connor said. He rubbed his arms. “Okay, Cole.”

⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗⌗

Connor returned to the alley he first met Cole. He didn’t think to find much, but he knew more than the cops did. Cole sold here; Cole spent enough time here to leave his imprint. Connor could see it in the cracks of the walls, could smell it in the air.

There was no trash here. There were no roaches to scitter underfoot, or startling stains in jagged shadows. Cole was soft and new and broken. But Cole was not of Connor’s kind. They – Greg and Dan and Connor – hadn’t thought he would last, too naïve for their world.

Dan. Connor needed to find Dan. He knew he’d gone underground since Greg overdosed after rehab. But Dan was a rat and he left a trail – Connor could find him. Then from there, Connor didn’t know, but he had to keep going.

Don’t stop running. Why why whywhy Connor why did you run? Hands clutched his coat tight.

He had to keep going. Connor didn’t look down.

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Dan was easy to spot in the room. Connor knew how to find him.

In a hole-in-the-wall bar in the dirtier streets of Detroit, Connor found his old druggie buddy snorting a line off the counter. Dan looked about the same as he had three years ago. More wraithlike. His eyes were hollowed out and glassy. His bones were brittle and nearly pierced his paper-y skin.

Connor slid onto the stool beside him and gestured for a drink. He rested his chin on his fist and studied the next line Dan was setting up. “Got a light?” He asked.

Dan wobbled and turned to face him. He squinted his eyes. “Connor? Yeah, man that is you!” He slapped Connor on the shoulder. “Fuck. It’s been a fucking hot minute, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah man. How’s dealin’ going for you?” Connor replied, thinking back to what he last remembered had changed.

“Fucking-a.” Dan replied. He crouched over the counter and inhaled. “Business is booming right now. ‘pparantly the last exam at the college wiped its ass with half the student body. They’re fucking lining up right now for a hit.”

“Good. Good.” Connor couldn’t hold Dan’s self-destructive against him. He’d been there right alongside him, after all. It was almost surreal, catching up like this. If he really focused on the drugs and let himself linger, he could imagine Greg was seated in the chair beside Dan, cursing about tests. He could ignore the flicker by the lamps and the why why Connor why that followed him everywhere.

“So, what’s got you hanging out with me, anyway, man?” Dan asked, rolling his shoulders and sighing at a satisfying crick. “I’d be happy to give you a freebie, but you’re free and I’ve seen you out there in the workforce.”

“Yeah. No.” Connor smiled sadly at Dan. “If I wasn’t worried ‘bout completely fucking myself in the ass again, I’d take you up on that. Nah.” He continued, thinking of soft brown eyes and a cracked smile. “You remember Cole?”

“The kid with the cheap shit? Yeah, I heard he up and vanished. What about him?”

Connor picked at his fingernails, wincing at the feeling of stickiness. “I- I saw something.”

Dan placed his hand on Connor’s, halted his nervousness and forced their eyes to meet. “Fuck Connor. What?”

“I saw-” He thought, eyes wound shut.

Glass shattering. The bags falling and groceries scattering across the sidewalk. A figure passing the stoop, pushing another along “Keep your head down and keep walking.”

“N-no!” A cracked whimper.

Groceries spilled and liquid leaking across the pavement.

Red seeping into cracks.

Sticky hands and sticky fingers.

“Do what I say.” Dark, cold steel; hands raising high and clutching

sticky hair and sticky hands and burning knees from

“O-okay-y. I-I will j-just don’t…” A wet smack. A gasp for air. A moan.

“I saw his kidnapping. I saw him get- he got- fuck Dan.” Connor buried his sticky hands and sticky fingers hands in his hair and tugged. “I saw.”

“Okay. Okay. Shit.” Dan rubbed Connor’s arms. “Okay, fucking obviously, you can’t go to the cops. But he was just a kid and we’re just kids, Con.”

“Yes.” Connor agreed. “But he wasn’t one of ours. He was- he was alone Dan. I saw him, Dan. I saw. I can’t go to the cops, but I know what happened.”

“Yeah Con, you and your fucking bleeding heart.” Dan smacked the table, gestured for another round. “Okay man. I know what you’re gonna say – we gotta find the brat. He sold good shit, kept us out of the ditches for months until I figured out the business. He fucking saved our asses. You resold his shit and got yourself out of this fucking hole. Yeah, we fucking owe him.” Dan shoved Connor’s glass before him and downed his own. “Drink the liquid courage. Wish you’d snort the line, but I know you better. We’ve gotta go deep to find him.”

Connor raked his nails through his hair and relaxed his posture. He downed both the glass he’d ordered, and the one Dan got him. “Okay, Dan. I was hoping you’d help.”

“Yeah. Cheers, man.”

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Looking for Cole was hard, to say the least. With enough cash, Connor knew he could find just about anything talking to the right people. But Connor was low on money. He was always low on money. A few months ago, he’d scraped enough together to buy a new blanket and backpack. He paid for a postal box every month, so his job had somewhere to write in as a place of residence. Aside from that, Connor needed to eat.

But Connor couldn’t ignore Cole. He didn’t know jack shit about his old dealer other than his dad was a cop and he’d lasted longer in the business than anyone would have guessed.

Dan had cash, not that Connor was going to spend his friend’s money on this expedition. Just having Dan’s support and open ears was enough.

So, Connor couldn’t grease mouths with cash. He had another option; one he didn’t like to think about. It was an option, but it could wait. Connor could snoop first.

Connor knew what the men who- who stole Cole looked like. He couldn’t go to the cops, like Dan said fucking obviously. But word on the street was that Markus Manfred, son of the famous Carl Manfred, liked to hang out at the Caribou Coffee Shop with his little gang of friends. And if Connor could pay him to do a small sketch then he could ask others about those two thugs.

Connor stood outside the Caribou Coffee, a pricey hipster coffee shop if there ever was one. But it was bright, warm lights danced inside. Connor couldn’t see any shadows and for a second, he thought maybe he would come back. But then he saw the coffee prices and laughed. Never mind.

Besides, the sticky hands and sticky fingers tugging him pushing him flickers were inside his mind. He’d never escape.

Connor clutched his bag and scooted to the counter, ordered a small coffee and camped out by the window. He hoped he could just ask and pay and run away.

He tapped his fingers along the mug and pulled out a small notebook and looked over the list of Cole, as he waited.

An hour later, Connor ordered another coffee and cringed at the cost. He needed every penny for the sketch, not his cover. As he was dropping the old mug back on the counter, he turned and saw Markus, exactly as the google images Connor had found at the library showed him. Finally.

He waited until Markus settled in a booth, not too far from Connor’s own. Then, hesitatingly, Connor settled in the seat across from Markus. “Hello.” He said quietly. “I’m Connor, mind if I sit here?”

Markus glanced up from his phone and nodded, smile confused. “Yeah, sure. Can I help you?”

“I- yeah. Yes, please.” Connor placed the mug down. “I know who you are.” Markus’ smile soured slightly, a tinge of falseness coming out. “I need a sketch and I don’t know anyone who might be able to draw someone from descriptors only. I- I’m no artist.” Connor laughed bitterly.

The other glanced at the phone, typed something quickly and placed it face-up on the table. “Look, Connor was it?” Connor nodded. “I’m not in the business for random jobs right now. If you want something sketched, you can go to my website and enter the contest and maybe you’ll win.” He raised his hands. “Who knows?”

Connor couldn’t run away run away run run run Connor run just give up. “No.” He said. Frowning. “I’m sorry but I really need this, and I don’t care if you’re some amazing artist I just need a person’s face sketched and I’ll pay you and get out of your hair, okay?” He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Connor scrabbled through his backpack and pulled out his lockbox. All his money was inside. He bit his lip and stared fixedly at the box. When he looked up, he saw Markus’ lips twisted crookedly and was holding the phone in the middle of a message. “Here.” He opened the box and pulled out half he owned. “I’ll give this to you. All of it. Just help me. Please.”

Markus put his phone down again, this time the screen was down. “Okay. Connor?” He pulled out a scrap of paper. “Tell me about this person.”

Connor did.

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Connor settled beside Dan at the bar and pulled out the drawing. Together they looked down.

“Shit.” Dan whistled. “You found yourself a fucking tough guy. You sure you want to go after him?” Connor nodded. “Alrighty. Fucking-A.” Dan bought them each a shot. “Liquid courage.”

They tapped glasses and drank.

Fucking-A indeed.

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With Dan’s contacts and the remains of Connor’s belongings, Connor bought a drug.

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Connor snuck into the house. Dan had opted out of this, saying he couldn’t get mixed up in another dealer’s shit. That was okay, Connor understood. Dan interfering would be starting a turf war and as much as their friendship was absolute shit, the last Connor wanted was Dan’s ghost haunting his dreams too.

Connor didn’t need to survive this. Cole did.

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Inside, Connor could hear a cacophony of noise, shouts of laughter and varied music. The air was foggy and hard to see through – only an ex-druggy could navigate through the blurred lighting and flashing sounds. The atmosphere was to increase user’s enjoyment of their drug-of-choice. Connor had visited a few houses like this himself. There’d be guards, bright-eyed and hidden beneath the smoke, ready to throw out trouble-makers or scatter at the sign of cops. There’d be users dancing and thrashing and passing out. There’d be others, testing the waters and seeing who were ripe for taking. Connor needed to pretend he was. Connor needed to be taken to Cole and then they could run run run Connor run leave together.

Connor didn’t want to snort. So, Connor had brought a date-drug and slipped a little into his own drink. Enough to get loose and floppy and easy. Connor sipped and relaxed and waited.

He giggled at the lights and the dancing shadows and why why why Connor why he cried at his brothers hiding in the shadows. Their eyes so sad so lonely Connor why why why Connor.

Gentle hands lifted him up and carried him away and Connor cried no no that’s my brother don’t take my brother Caleb no no no you killed my brother.

Connor cracked his eyes open to a sad smile and cracked eyes. Cole.

Cole.

Connor rolled over and pushed himself up. Carpet burns burns all down his arms scraped against his palms. “Cole!” He whispered and stared in wonder at the boy, alive before him.

Thanks, champ.

“You too, huh?” Cole whispered back. Soft brown eyes. A cracked interior so familiar and oh so broken.

“For you.” Connor smiled back, broken. “For you, Cole, for you.

Cole’s brow furrowed. “What?”

Connor glanced around. They were in a back room; he knew the type. He’d wandered back into them before during a drug-induced haze with Greg. The windows were barred outside, but the metal would be rusted and easy to escape through. It was daytime, the dealers were out and the others, the traffickers, would be planning another party for pickings. “I’m taking you home, Cole.”

Cole frowned. “Why?” He pulled his hands to his chest and rocked back on his heels. “I- I’m- I was just your dealer, Connor. I’m nothing. I’m just- alone.” Broken glass fell from his teeth and tinkled on the ground. Jagged shadows threatened his eyes and Connor wondered.

A cracked interior so familiar. Broken words, cracked smiles and shattered glass.

Crying crying boys with sticky fingers and sticky hands why why Connor why?

Connor running running always running.

“I’m taking you home – you have a home and a family, and they miss you, Cole. I don’t- I don’t know who they are but everywhere I walked.” Connor sighed raggedly. “You’re everywhere, Cole. I don’t have a– You need to go home.” He smiled, teeth jagged and sharp and eyebrows just a little too high. Smiling was wrong for him. Connor didn’t smile.

“Okay.” Cole said. He took Connor’s hand. “Okay Connor.”

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Connor wrapped Cole in the blanket, trying to collect all the shattered pieces together. He tried to tuck Cole back together again. He- it was his blanket. His blanket so new and so old and so full of skewed memories.

Connor tucked Cole together and took him to his little bridge and together they huddled close and hid. Connor didn’t want to say goodbye. Connor wanted a friend, just for tonight. Just tonight before he said goodbye and Cole went home and Connor went.

Cole shuddered and shivered and whimpered and cried.

Connor held him and stared down his shadows and said no no no not tonight go away go away.

Connor leaned against the brick wall and watched Cole approach the police station “Dad works here.” He said. “He’s going to be so mad.”

“He’s going to love you and hug you and be so happy.” Connor replied.

Cole turned, raised one hand to Connor, and stepped into the station. Connor sighed.

Sticky hands and sticky fingers clutching tight holding tight, Connor Connor Connor. The wind sighed, pulled him away. Run away run run runaway Connor.

Connor didn’t want to run.

Not anymore.

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Connor settled under his bridge and shivered. He had no money for food, he’d spent the last bit on Cole and Cole and Cole.

Cole Cole Cole Cole

Connor’s toes were numb, and his stomach ached, and he wondered.

He hadn’t shown for work and they’d said no don’t come back where were you to go.

Dan was not answering. Shadows flickered and hey man, how’s life hands clutched him tight.

Connor didn’t want to wonder anymore. Connor wanted to sleep.

Sticky hands and sticky fingers and running running – no that’s my brother don’t kill my brother why why why connor why did you hurt my brother no no Niles! No Caleb no stop don’t hurt my brothers no no no run Connor run run away you hurt them why why why Connor why did you hurt my brother-

Hot cocoa and smiles and marshmallows and little boys laughing.

Coughing and blood speckling snow and little hands holding hurting tummies and scared eyes saying no no Connor no look out Connor don’t no that’s my brother don’t hurt my brother

And Caleb looking behind Connor saying stop stop why did you hurt my brother no Connor are you okay Connor Connor Connor run away Connor run run run run

And Niles coughing and crying and Noah scared with wide eyes peeking from around the door seeing everything open-mouth

And Connor saying no no no Noah look away yelling at the man distracting him look at me look at me look at me running running

Chase me chase me hurt me I hurt you I shot you hurt me not them

Distracting distracting them and the babysitter was there – the babysitter called police and and and

Connor stilled.

Connor slept.

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Cozy blankets and warm cocoa and four little boys playing in the snow with laughter and shouts of joy and happy parents with cocoa and happy smiles and laughter and snow and laughter.

Chapter 1

#dbh connor #connor rk800 #dbh #dbh fanfic #kangarooney work #dbh fanfic connor #warnings #r-ate-9 work #my work #dont steal

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eagles-translated · 4 years

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Q&A answers from creator and producer Stefan H. Lindén!

Here are the answered questions that all you guys sent in to Stefan. I’d like to thank all of you who sent in questions, and I’d also like to thank Stefan for being the one who offered to do a Q&A and taking the time to answer all the fans’ questions. This post got really long (almost 5000 words including your questions haha) so I put a keep reading line on this. Anyway, Stefan’s answers were super interesting to read, so enjoy! 🥅🏒

Thanks for your question. My idea has always been that Ludde was blown away by Felicia and that he really likes her but that they both initially interacted and met to go swimming because Felicia knew it would piss her dad off and Ludde knew that it might throw Elias off, since they were competing for the same position in the team. However after that, they really fell for each other. So he is very interested in her and so is she – however as of now in Season 2, Felicia’s behavior has thrown Ludde off since Felicia is still very angry with him due to Halloween and the reveal at Christmas.

Without telling to much on what’s ahead, the build up of Elias and Amies potential relationship from season 1 does matter and will play a role down the line of the series. But with that said Eagles has always, in my vision for the series been a 4-5 season concept. I did answer the question regarding Amie and Elias below in a longer format – it contains a little more info on the matter.

Will try to avoid potential spoilers but I can confirm that from the beginning of development of the series and the first version of the storyline a triangle drama was at some point intended for season 1 but later removed – however when creating the characters, Ludvigs skill in music and arts was always there from the beginning so by knowing that, we always knew that interactions would appear between them. When looking back at Season 1, in the first scene by the lockers when Amie tells Felicia who Ludvig is, she does know exactly who he is and she is well aware of that his friend Tobias is a music guy that Amie wants to get to know. Also when looking at it, when I was the same age as Ludvig and Amie I, and I am sure a lot of people can relate to it, fact is that we never really knew if it was love or friendship in the beginning.

Actually my favorite NHL-team is the Boston Bruins and when writing the first version of the pilot episode for the show Boston was my choice of team. Back when I graduated high school my girlfriend, now my wife was an Au-pair outside of Boston so I visited the city for a couple of months. Later when I studied in Los Angeles I had a friend playing hockey in New Hampshire, where me and my wife spend one Christmas and paid regular visits to Boston. So it’s a town that I share a special connection with and that have a hockey team that I really love.

Thanks for your question, hope you watch season 2 soon. In my opinion her storyline is clearer this season than it was in the previous season and since Yandeh Sallah, who plays Amie is such an excellent actress I always wish for more scenes with her but I also do wish for that with all of our main characters – it’s time to fit them all in sometimes because our format is so short.

Bringing Jack in was actually originally not my idea, it came from my writer colleagues after that they revised my storyline notes for Season 2, while I was still down in Oskarshamn shooting Season 1.

We had always intended for a character to come in and raise the stakes but I never imagined it to be Jack. When we started to develop the character, we all started liking him so he was kept in the story. Like with any new character we never really know who they are and what point of them for coming in is, so to not spoil anything I will let your question be unanswered, sorry.

But what I can say is that Jack does have a backstory and a character arch that will answer a lot of questions about him and who is, it may not all be explained in Season 2, but hopefully if we get commissioned for a Season 3, you will get to know more about him.

I would say many of the storyline bits are loosely inspired on things/events that were in my surroundings when growing up, mainly I would say that the characters all have bits and pieces from friends or people I knew, but would definitely not say that the main storyline or the characters’ lives are based on my life or me growing up. When we started to work with the series in a writer’s room after having it commissioned and when summarizing the research, the original storyline was revised, updated and changed a lot in terms of drama and conflict. When me, Anton, Michaela, Fanny and season 1 director Amanda all came together we shared a lot of similar stories, experiences and of course some unique stories that were later all kind of built in to our characters and the show’s storyline. Same thing happened when our season 2 director Carl-Petter entered the Writers Room. To summarize I’d say that some things that could definitely be recognized from my teenage years, only that they are a wee bit heightened in order for it to be a good dramaturgy. But it is fun to think that there actually is a combination of people out there, that I knew or know that laid the basic foundation for Ludvig, Felicia, Amie, Elias, Klara, Andreas, Tobbe and the parents.

I will not spoil anything but let me put it like this and like I said above. Eagles will always have room for more than just one love saga and the things established in season 1 is not something that we will ever just throw away. However, in the storyline as it evolves some things may take longer than other and some things may happen faster than others. When working with such a short format as 8 or 10x20 minute episodes our job as a creative team has always been having to cut away pieces and push them forward in our story archs – with that said Eagles have according to my vision for the series always been a 4 to 5 season concept. In the Marvel Cinematic Universe it took about 21 films before Cap got Agent Carter – so even if you see things that you unlike that happens now, don’t forget that I and our team always follow our fans’ thoughts and that everything will hopefully make sense in the end. Also saying if everything just happened straight away – it wouldn’t be as exciting to watch. But to give one spoiler, there’s a thought-out path for them down the line, but can’t tell you more than that at the moment.

Thanks for your question and wow, what a tough one to answer. To me it’s a little like answering which one of your children you love the most. I have always been very protective of Ludvig and Felicia and it was quite tough for me to let other creatives come in and have opinions there – but I believe when letting my guard down and having to change a certain way that I had imagined them to be, act and behave, it changed my opinion a lot for the better.

Having had all these characters in my head for so many years then having actors coming in, claiming them, changing them, making them their own was quite scary for me – however they all kind of blew my mind away which was one of the most amazing feelings I have ever experienced, and that goes for all of them. I feel so fortunate to get to work with such a talented cast and they still blow my mind with their talent every day on set.

Thanks for your question, have received a few of these questions and answered one with quite a long answer but eventually, yes. It might take a while due to all the things that has happened to the characters with Felicia and Amie and since Elias has developed feelings for Klara – but nothing in Season 1 was for nothing and like said above – there’s a thought-out path for them down the line.

I have answered the question regarding Amie and Elias and their potential romance and well, we are aware that many of you are rooting for them but we will always try to make choices that effect all of characters in the greater story arch and what in the storylines and the archs that make sense for them for the time being in their lives, in the series. I will not tell what the future plans for the characters are since SVT would probably kill me if I did – but if we get renewed for a season 3 and if we’re lucky enough to get to make a season 4 and that the actors still want to play their characters in the series, our intention will be to have Amie and Elias remain in the show up until the grand finale.

In addition, our plan for all of the characters in the series will always be to have them evolve within themselves and not only in their relationship with or to another character. Love and friendship will be always be the most important themes of Eagles but our goal is to show that no character or person is 1-dimensional being, but rather 3-dimensional and have different sides to their personalities that make them act the way they do.

Thanks for your questions and love that you share potential theories. Unfortunately I cannot reveal what is about to happen and what role they all play or how things evolve – what I can say is that most of your questions and raised concerns will be answered or dealt with in the course of this season and the ones that don’t won’t be forgotten and will eventually come to a resolution or maybe end up in an even bigger conflict.

The answer to the question in short is, yes, it’s super difficult.

The reason why it’s difficult is because hockey in real life and hockey in storytelling is a lot different and to me working out the esthetics of the hockey was very important when pitching the show. I come from Oskarshamn myself and have a lot friend who plays or have played ice-hockey growing up – to me the goal was to make them feel like they could recognize themselves in the universe of the hockey and that it would feel real enough – also my goal was that people with a hockey interest would like the hockey action sequences. Meanwhile we also had to make sure that we created a hockey universe on the rink that people who doesn’t like hockey could understand and grasp and that the hockey action sequences would be interesting for someone who doesn’t like hockey as well. So it was quite difficult where to start.

Before even being commissioned I had a long dialogue with one of my good friend and colleague Simon Ekbäck Nordström who is a former hockey player, and had played at junior elite level, who also work as a Technical Director and 1:st AD in the industry, to have him on the show and to build this universe together with him if the show would go into production. When we did and when season 1 director Amanda came in our biggest task was to find a cinematographer who could film on ice. When meeting with Gabriel Mkrttchian who I had worked with before he introduced a camera rig set up called a DJI Ronin that would be able to make us follow players on the ice as Gabriel would be able to skate with them. We tested it, and we loved it! That and an combined research where I and writer Anton met with players between the ages of 15-35, really gave us an understanding of what things in the culture of ice hockey that people had in common and what was more local to Oskarshamn. In the process we even met with former NHL-players, only to understand how Mats would feel having ended a successful career and how it was to leave the sport behind him to move back to Sweden.

After that followed a long work of preparing how to film the scenes in the shortest amount of time and make them as visually astonishing as possible. Simon and Gabriel worked long hours to do maps of plays that the players would do and how we would capture it, also with the account that we had to have images shot when the actors are seen combined with scenes that are done by bodydoubles – believe me it was a puzzle, but a fun one to lay out. When going into season 2 our goal was to take what we had created and expand it, something that both me and Simon feel that we did, especially with the end scene of Episode 5.

This might be a very long answer to your question but yes, its difficult but it’s also extremely fun. Like Simon told me before we shot the hockey scenes for the first season: “Let’s go out and invent the wheel”. In Season 2, we tried to improve that wheel and for a hopeful season 3 we hope to perfect it.

Yes, they do know that, which we tried to portray by having Klara being quite lonely in the start of season 2, she and Amie doesn’t talk, Felicia’s look angry at a nervous Klara when she returns to school – Amie also says after having had food thrown on her by Felicia, and Klara asks if she’s fine: “Are you happy now” as an indicator that this is all Klara’s fault. One might feel that she didn’t get to pay the consequences yet, maybe she will, maybe she won’t – can’t tell what will happen but we as a creative team has always said that Klara wasn’t really the worst person in that specific plot point, Ludvig and Amie, not telling Felicia was a lot worse. With that said Klara could’ve definitely had done it nicer.

Yes, I would say it was. To me it was obvious that having the Kroons separated from each other was inevitable when Elias signed for another team and in order for the story to include all of our main characters and to be able to move forward in our storyline without being stuck in the aftermath of season 1 for to long with so few episodes in a season, we felt that we did needed for some time to pass in order to get story going again.

I think if you went into the writers room of Eagles and asked all of us what really happened in that room we would all have different answers. I know what happened, but I’m not sure we will ever truly know for sure, unless Ludvig or Amie eventually are open enough to admit to anyone what really happened.

He does and so does Felicia. As we know Felicia doesn’t like Klara, but what we do know is that she hates Ludvig and Amie even more now. Like the old saying goes: Don’t kill the messenger.

Regarding if Klara is going to become a better person. Klara is and has always been thought of to be quite a complex person – when we did our research and met with teenagers during the development of season 1 and when started to develop Klara, me and my colleagues all had known or did know a Klara kind of person. When growing up I knew a lot of people that were kind of like Klara and I didn’t like them but when getting to know them later on in life it always showed out that these people came from carrying quite heavy loads and came from complicated lives – when they grew older some of them changed some of them didn’t. Klara however is a mirror of a person that my goal as creator and that I share with my colleagues, is to be more than what meets the eye. In the end she is, just like everyone around her , trying to find a way to be – she was raised to be a certain way, the way she is and hopefully she will understand that there’s other ways to be, that are nicer and better. But like I said, some learn, some don’t. Some react different to the fear of losing a friend, Klara’s reacted like she did. Some react on being betrayed by throwing food on them – what is right what is wrong is a very individual thing. The thing is we know why Felicia did embarrass Amie – but we might not know all that we need to know about Klara to fully understand why she is like she is yet.

Our initial goal was to connect the IG to the show, however a tight budget and regulations from SVT since they’re a public broadcaster has not made it possible for us to do as much as we wanted. Hopefully though as the series evolve, we will be able to connect the two. It would be amazing if that could happen.

Well they all kind of had a great conflict that lead to quite complicated relationships to each other in the end of season 1 and now slowly interactions will start coming to life, some mending will be done and some will wait – but eventually down the line we will have them all together, under whatever circumstances that forces them to be together – but that is a spoiler for a much longer arch.

The answer is there will be scenes with them – they might not be like you all thought they would be – but I can tell you that the story of Amie and Elias in Eagles is far from over.

Well, I have answered most of the questions and there is a plan, maybe sooner, maybe later. Will use a Swedish saying: Den som väntar på något gott, väntar aldrig för länge which means ”The one who waits for something good, does never wait for too long” – I have always rephrased it to say “The one who waits for something good, always wait for too long” and with that said we have not seen the last of Amie and Elias.

Thank you so much for this question. I am very happy you asked about this scene, because to me it’s a very personal scene. In one of the questions above I was asked if there’s anything in the storyline that is inspired by my own time growing up in Oskarshamn and I answered that there are bits and pieces. This is one of those bits and pieces.

To answer your question as clearly as possible before broadening my view on the meaning of the scene I’d like to say that the scene could mean both. To me that’s the beauty of creating stories and having an audience view it - because our intention for a scene does not always have to match the way you as an auditor view or interpret it.

So for the long answer with trivial content for the one who has an extra minute :P.

According to my personal relationship to the scene and what our intention was, I’d say that is connected to her parents' situation. The basic foundation for this scene was actually born outside of the writers room when we had just finished the storyline for Season 2. I was sitting with our Technical Director and 1:st AD, Simon Ekbäck at his home as we started to lay out a possible shooting schedule for the season. Together we imagined the scenes together and tried to envision them in front of our eyes and how they would cut together. I remember shutting my eyes and telling Simon that the episode should end with Leila and Felicia pulling the car aside by the water and that Leila wouldn't be able to hold her tears in anymore - and that Felicia would witness this, try to hold her tears back and then fail at holding it in. The original scene as it had been discussed in the writers room was that they would cry in the car on the driveway, but I felt like they needed to get out of there and that this was a scene needed to take place somewhere else, somewhere more private. When later watching the final scene one could have copied my imagination of how the scene would look and pasted it in - that happens very rarely, that something becomes just like you imagined it. But for this scene it did happen, much thanks to Simon, Kristoffer, Carl-Petter and of course Alva and Charlotta.

My personal attachment to the scene and what it really means doesn’t have directly to do with Felicia being sad over her parents' situation, because it would be too soon for her to truly realize what Leilas decision means. When I was 21, a bit older than Felicia, my parents seperated and I remember talking to my mother alot, watching her crying, having to comfort her and carry her weight and that made me feel very uneasy. When later talking about this with friends and processing it, I was told and have come to the realisation that we as children in the best of worlds should never have to carry the weight of comforting our parents in a divorce - which so many of us are forced to do. This has been a lesson and realization that I’ve taken in as something to carry with me, since I have just become a father myself.

I mean even if our parents when we’re growing up are looked upon by us, their children as superheroes, they are only human in the end. Growing up makes us realize this and that has always been an important theme of Eagles, to see the true colors of our parents.

Comforting my mother during my parents' separation was tough, because I felt sad as well but had no room to express it - even though that I might have needed it. I was old enough to handle it, but many teenagers are a lot younger than I was, and for many children these situations can be very tough.

To summarize, the idea of the scene has always been that Felicia is forced to be the comfort to her mother's pain. When her mother shows her vulnerability in front of Felicia Felcia tries to remain strong and hold her tears in - but eventually the situation gets too personal and she can’t, but she tries to hide it from her mom, thus looking the other way, out from the window so that Leila won’t see her crying.

To me the scene is not meant to be a critique towards parents but rather a depiction of when it happens and is as important for the young and older audience to see and reflect about - because divorces happen all the time, and way to often children are forced to carry their parents when according to me, parents should remain strong and carry the weight for their children instead.

Long answer to a short question, but yet again thank you for bringing this scene up. I hope you are satisfied with the story of the scene and my view of its meaning.

Thank you so much for all of your questions - hope that my answers will make you happy. Since we’re in the middle of a season it’s hard for me to answer some of them since they would contain spoilers. I also want to thank director Carl-Petter Montell who added a few notes in my answers.

Last but not least I wanna thank Eagles-translated for all the great work that is done in gathering fans for the series - I also wanna thank all of you, fans who follow the series. To me as a creator producer of a series I always say that without you, we as a creative team and we as a series would be nothing. A series without an audience is no series - so thank you again for watching, sharing and caring about our work!

#svt eagles #eagles svt #stefan h lindén #i'd love to do more q&a's since this was really interesting!

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