#One eye snake escape from new york

[natashaslesbian]

nat's adopted ex-widow daughter gets triggered and may helps her through it? :0

Girl In The Park

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N• I changed this request around a little as I’n not sure if you mean May but I don’t write for May :)

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It was a beautifully warm day, the clouds providing a soft shade in passing moments. You and your mom were visiting the avengers in New York City, a well needed city break from your rural countryside home. Natasha suggested you took a walk through Central Park, something you had never done before. There where lots of things you hadn’t done yet, you’d only been with Natasha for 8 months after she and her sister took down the red room and found you unconscious in the medical bay. You were the youngest widow in the facility, just recently turned 15. It had been the day you were due to be subjugated when Nat and Yelena arrived, a few hours later and you would’ve been under Dreykov’s control. It was days until you awoke from the sedative the doctors had given you, instantly you where alarmed at your whereabouts but Natasha was there to calm all your worries. She had supported you through your integration into society and was always there to calm you after a nightmare. You quickly formed a strong bond with the redhead and soon she decided she wanted to adopt you, you were over the moon to finally have a family of your own. Some days were still hard but your mom was so proud of how far you had come.

Central park was busy, the sun had clearly brought out lots of people looking forward to a picnic or a chance to sunbathe. You stayed close by Natasha, scanning the area for any threats. “Don’t worry sweetie” your mom said, picking up on your anxiety “he’s gone I promise, no one is going to hurt you” Nat said as she wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulder. You relaxed in her hold and let out a small breath of air, she was right there was nothing to worry about. You continued your walk for a little while, moving towards a busier part of the park. A large group of children swinging around on a jungle gym caught your attention, you longed to have had the childhood they were experiencing. “Why don’t we sit for a bit?” Natasha asked, motioning to a bench near by. You watched the children and families over the fence, laughing and enjoying the sun. You let your mind wander for a moment until you made eye contact with one little girl.

Your heart stopped. The air had completely escaped your lungs. The little girl smiled and waved at you before she went down the slide. “Y/n?” Natasha said noticing your fearful state. You rose to your feet as the girl came running around by the fence, waving at you again. It was her. It was absolutely her. Your feet started to move though your eyes stayed glued to the little girl. You soon picked up into a fast sprint down the path, weaving through the forest of people. “Y/n!” Natasha calls after you, following closely behind thanks to her stamina. You continued to run as fast as your feet could take you, people around flashed you concerned glances. You soon reached the end of the park and ran out into a busy road narrowly missing a passing taxi. “Y/n!” Natasha screamed as you ran out into the road, using her skills to jump over the bonnets of cars and snake her way around bicycles. Once on the other side of the street you found yourself sprinting down an alleyway, only stopping when you collided with the metal fencing at the end.

You fought to catch your breath as you sank to the floor. “Y/n?” Natasha said as she came running up next to you “sweetie look at me, deep breaths okay” your mom said, guiding you through your panic attack. “Lu-Lucy” you said through shaky breaths “it was Lucy I swear it was Lucy” you cried. “Easy baby” Natasha said as she pulled you into her chest “in for 4 out for 4, like this, copy mommy okay” she directed you until you had hold of your breathing again. “It was Lucy” you sobbed out “who baby?” Your mom asked “a-at the park, she looked right at me I swear it was her” you mumbled into Natasha’s chest. “Who’s Lucy?” Your mom asked, worried that you were spiralling back into your panicked state. “She-she was my first target” you cried out. “I killed her, she was only 6” you sobbed. “Oh y/n it’s okay, you didn’t have a choice” Nat said as she caressed your hair. You continued to cry softly into your mom’s embrace, focusing hard on your breathing.

Natasha rocked with you gently for a few minutes before she spoke up again. “It wasn’t her baby I promise” she said. “That’s the problem” you hiccuped “I wish it was her, because then she’d still be here and I wouldn’t have taken an innocent girls life away” you whimpered. “Y/n you did what you had to do, trust me sweetie I know” Natasha said “she wasn’t the only innocent girl who had her life taken away from her. What we had to do wasn’t our choice, we were conditioned and manipulated into following orders. We aren’t what they made us, you aren’t what they made you y/n” your mom cooed. Her words floated in the air as you tried to digest them. It had been a long journey unlearning all the things that had been ingrained into your brain and despite Natasha’s constant words of affirmation you struggled to believe you were anything more than a cold blooded killer. “How old were you?” Nat asked, keeping you talking as a distraction from falling into a flashback. “10” you said “it was my first kill” you whimpered. Natasha pulled you closer as you began to shake softly “easy baby girl, you’re okay mommy’s here” she hummed.

You leant towards your mom and listened closely to her heartbeat, gently copying the rhythm of her chest rising and falling. “Can we go home?” You quietly asked “of course sweetie” Natasha smiled, it was a rare occasion that you would tell her what you needed. “I’ll have Tony pack up our things and we’ll take the quinjet to get back a bit quicker” Nat said. “No” you coughed “I meant the tower” you whispered. You loved your little countryside house, but deep down you knew Natasha hated it. Seeing how much your mom loved the city and loved her teammates had convinced you to give it a chance. It was surprisingly easy to settle into the groove of the avengers tower, in fact you felt it was a place you connected to. You could fit in around these people, some of their stories had you itching to trust them, it already felt like home. “I wanna live at the tower” you smiled “with auntie Yelena, uncle Clint, Wanda, Bruce. And you of course mommy” you said. “Baby I…” Natasha stumbled, taken aback by your words “are you sure?” Your mom asked. You nodded as you looked up at Nat “it’s home, you’re home mama” you whispered “I love you” you said as you looked up at Natasha’s green eyes. “I love you too y/n” she said as she lent down to kiss your forehead.

The two of you stayed curled up at the end of the alleyway until Clint arrived to drive you back to the tower, Natasha having alerted him via text of your location. You felt the softness of your moms protection as she held you, cuddling as close to her as you possibly could. You knew that you still had a long way to go, but with Natasha by your side it was definite that everything would be okay.

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Taglist<3

@saraaahsstuff / @dannipotatoo / @tobiaslut / @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean / @marvelnatasha12346 / @yelenasdiary / @mousetheorist / @ashadash0904

[zepskies]

Break Me Down - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Song inspo for this one is “Caught In the Balance” by Toto!

Word Count: 5,300 Tags/Warnings: Violence, hints of past trauma, hurt/comfort, angst, and a (mean) cliffhanger...

Part 10: Caught in the Balance

“Christ on a cross,” Ben muttered. 

He was just trying to start his morning with some huevos rancheros. 

He hid behind a mask of impassiveness, while his stomach turned at the sight of the open cooler Frank had been forced to show him.

Saul’s bloody severed head was stored inside. Ben had asked for a report on the man’s reconnaissance mission, but this was a bit thorough. 

“Black Noir took out his entire unit,” Frank informed him. His tone was stoic, as usual, but his dark brown eyes betrayed his solemnity.  

Ben shook his head and peered inside. “I fucking figured…yep, that’s Noir’s handiwork all right.”

The cut was clean at the neck—sliced by a blade. 

Unfortunately, that was when you entered the kitchen in search of breakfast. Ben looked over at you, taking in your matching purple pajamas with a hint of a smile. Your hair was a bit messy, your face still tired with sleep. 

But when Frank swiftly snapped up the cooler, you still raised a perceptive brow.

“What’s that?” you asked. Ben shared a brief glance with Frank.

“Just some steaks for later,” Ben replied. You didn’t look convinced, sniffing the air with a grimace. 

“Is that why it smells like a meat locker in here?” you said. 

After you grabbed a mug of coffee, you took a seat at the far end of the kitchen island. It left an open seat between you and Ben, and he noticed the distance. 

“What’re Saul and Loco up to today? Think they’d be up for some Texas Hold’em?” you asked Frank.

He shook his head and tucked the cooler under his arm. 

“They’re on a job,” he said.

You warmed your hands around your coffee mug and nodded. “Ah, yeah. Trying to figure out how Black Noir pulled a Lazarus?” 

Both men stared back at you, confirming your assumptions. 

“You do realize this begins and ends with your buddy, Stan Edgar,” you said, turning to Ben. “Vogelbaum was his chief geneticist, the Head of R&D during your time. But Stan was the Steve Jobs to his Wozniak. Together they created Homelander.” 

Ben didn’t know who the fuck you were talking about there, but he got the gist of what you were saying.

Stan had played him from the beginning; he’d masterminded what went down Nicaragua, replacing Soldier Boy with Homelander, creating him in some petri dish with Ben’s DNA.

Now, it seemed Stan was partnering with the CIA to take him down. He’d even brought that cunt Noir back to life to do it. Also, likely, with the help of Ben’s DNA. (Well, probably Homelander’s, but that was still partly Ben’s.)

He couldn’t let that fucking stand, now could he?

His hand fisted on the counter, next to his forgotten plate. His brows fell over his eyes as he contemplated. He knew what he had to do next, just not exactly how he was going to do it.

“I’m gonna have to cut the head off the snake,” Ben mused out loud.  

You watched him wearily, hiding a measure of concern at the darker shift in him.

Ben nodded at Frank and the cooler still under his arm, dismissing him. “We’ll talk later. Take care of that.” 

Frank went with a nod, leaving you with Ben in the kitchen. You frowned. 

“If you go back to the U.S., especially to New York, they’ll have a much easier time finding you,” you pointed out. 

Though part of you kicked yourself for doing so. An idea was forming in your mind, and it could just mean your freedom…

And that was when Ben looked over at you once more. His eyes were guarded, more so than they had been with you of late. 

“Why do you care?” he asked snidely. “You’ve barely said two fucking words to me in days.”

Which was true. You’d been carrying your grudges and your anger, both at him and at yourself, and your own conflicting emotions ever since you’d arrived at this new house. 

The effects of V24 had long washed out of your system, but it still stung—that that poison had saved you. And so had these men, who had kidnapped you in the first place.

Shaking your head, you frowned at him to cover up your ongoing internal circus. 

“Because you’re about to go on a fucking warpath. With, I imagine, a lot of collateral damage in store,” you replied, maybe more sharply than you’d intended. 

Ben’s green eyes were dark and narrowed. 

“There’s that self-righteous fucking tune,” he said. But his next words cut into you like so many knives. “You’ve been a fucking lapdog your entire life. Doing whatever daddy, Vought, or the CIA tells you to do. So remind me, why the fuck do you care so much about what I do, huh?”

For a moment, you were speechless. 

Soon enough though, your shock melted into an angry glower as you tried to hide how much that actually hurt you. 

A harsh breath expelled through your nose. Maybe he expected you to blow your top, like you usually would. Because that had worked so well at getting through to him in the past. 

So instead, you tried to go with what seemed to work before.

“I didn’t used to,” you replied honestly. It seemed to make him pause, a little.

“When I joined the S.A., it was just my chance to break away from Vought,” you continued. “But…I don’t know. The more out of control supes we took off the street, the more I felt good about it. The work that I was doing.”

You let out a sigh, glancing down at your hands still wrapped around your cooling cup of coffee. 

“You were right before, about me. I was part of it too. I helped cleaned up Vought’s messes. I made their supes look good, behind the scenes,” you said. “But I’m trying to do something that matters. Something honest, that actually makes people safer. It makes my family safer.” 

That fell between you two for a while. Ben seemed to take it with his usual stoicism, but you knew him well enough by now. He’d been listening. 

And eventually, he spoke. 

“Then you should be grateful,” he said. “Noir. Stan. Vought. All those cocksuckers…I’m going to take them all out for fucking good.”

Are you, really? You couldn’t help but wonder. He’d been successful with Payback, and Homelander (with help from Butcher and Hughie). 

But Vought was a machine. It had been an institution for decades. A multibillion conglomerate with a thousand and one hydra tentacles of ways to fuck people over…but if anyone was powerful enough to try to bring it all down, it was Soldier Boy. 

Still, power isn’t everything. You thought of how he’d lost control against Noir, and how he’d blown up a hole in your bedroom ceiling and couldn’t remember much about it afterwards. Ben was still a mess. 

But you considered a world where Vought couldn’t create supes anymore, like pop tarts coming out of the damn toaster. You considered what Ben could accomplish, now that he was properly motivated to end his six-month sabbatical. 

And you considered what would happen if you helped him do it.

This is not the time to be reckless, the more rational part of your mind reminded. 

And yet, you just had to continue following the impulsive voice that had led you for weeks.  

“You can’t just run at this head on, guns blazing,” you told him. “Stan’s too smart for that.”

Ben eyed you with guarded interest. 

“You look like you’ve got something in mind,” he said. 

You nodded, though your lips pursed. You hated this idea, even though it had been growing since this conversation began. And you couldn’t even believe you were suggesting it, really. 

“We can get into Vought under the radar, if you let me make a call,” you said. Ben’s expression tightened. Yours did too, with the beginnings of anxiety.

“Who do you need to call?” he asked.

 “My father,” you replied. 

As Stan Edgar’s Chief of Security, Jon didn’t often receive calls from phone numbers he didn’t recognize. Certainly not to his personal, blacklisted cell phone. He took the call into his personal office and shut the door behind him.

He answered it with a healthy measure of suspicion, “Hello?”

The last voice he expected to greet him was his eldest daughter’s. 

“Hey. It’s me,” you replied. 

Jon’s expression slackened. He sat down heavily at his desk, and your name fell from his lips in disbelief.

“You’re alive,” he said in genuine wonderment. “I thought…I thought you were dead.”

Your response was dry. “Before or after you sent Black Noir after us?”

Jon frowned, shifting back in his chair.

“That was Stan’s call,” he said. “There was no sign of you in any of our reports.”

“Then you weren’t looking very hard,” you said. 

Your tone was matter-of-fact, unyielding. It was so like you that he had to smile. 

“If nothing else, you were ambitious going after Soldier Boy,” he said, rubbing his chin. It reminded him that he needed a shave. “I should’ve known you were still alive…it seems I taught you better than I thought.” 

On the other line, you had Ben’s cell in your hand while you spoke to your father on speaker. Ben and Frank were both in the room with you, sitting in chairs on either side. Frank suggested this conference room beside the study to conduct the call.

However, you tried not to look at either man while you tried to focus on getting through this.

“I managed to grab a phone from one of my guards,” you said into the speaker. “I can’t reach out to the CIA. They think I’m a damn turncoat at this point. But if you really want Soldier Boy, I can tell you where he’s going to be.”

“…Where?” Jon asked.

You glanced up at Ben before you replied. He gave you a nod. 

“He plans to be in New York in three days.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said wryly. “To find Black Noir. It’s all he’s been moaning on about. He’s kind of a simpleton that way. Tit for tat on the vengeance beat.”

Ben gave you a dark look for that one, but you ignored him. 

“Well, I can certainly give him a meeting with Noir,” said Jon. His voice shifted into that calculating tone you knew all too well. “That, and much more.”

“Good. Give him a big enough distraction, and I can lose his crew,” you replied. 

There was a beat on the other line. You and your companions waited, for his agreement, for some kind of confirmation, but he didn’t give you that just yet. 

“Are you all right?” Jon asked. “How’s your sister?”

Your lips pursed. “Clearly, I’m peachy. Are you in on this?” 

“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you get out of there, don’t worry,” he said. He almost sounded like a father. It made anxiety crawl up through your lungs, into your throat. 

“It’ll be good to see you,” he added. “What’s it been, a year? More?”

You swallowed your unease. 

“Let me make this clear,” you said. “This is just business. If you want to help me, fine. But don’t make it more than that.” 

There was another pause, a heavy sigh.

“Oh, believe me. I know you wouldn’t be calling unless this was your last resort,” Jon said. 

You tried to swallow, and found resistance. 

“Good,” you said. “I’m glad we have that understanding.”

“See you soon,” he said. You ended the call afterwards. 

Both men had been monitoring you throughout the exchange, but it was Ben’s gaze you felt, hot across your profile. Even now, he watched you behind impassive eyes. You wished you knew what he was thinking. 

Regardless of things you’d said when you were angry, Ben knew too much about you now. There was no way he didn’t see it—how you were putting your all into keeping yourself together. 

You stared back at him, but he didn’t ask if you were all right. He just nodded.

“Are we done?” he asked.

You scoffed, hiding your disappointment, and maybe the beginning of tears burning in your eyes. You blinked past them with an unsettled breath. 

“Yeah,” you replied. “We’re done.” 

Ben watched you get up, and you let the cell phone clatter on the table before you left.

Late that night, Ben wandered the dark halls of this house. He was trying to familiarize himself, and remember why the hell he bought this gaudy thing. 

It was another big, empty shell that didn’t have much life in it—even less than the last place in Medellin. At least that one had character, surrounded by the mountains and wildflowers. 

This house, while beautiful, felt stale; like an old photograph in sepia tones.

He found himself stopping outside your door. It was late, and he couldn’t hear your TV on, so you were probably asleep by now. If he stood close enough to the door, his superior hearing could just make out your soft, even breaths.

He knew you were pissed at him, but really, he thought you were being a bitch about it. 

I fucking saved her, he thought sourly, and not for the first time. She should be fucking grateful I lifted a finger.

But then, he remembered just how pale you were when he found you in the helicopter, after the blast, and after he made his escape. Ben saw how wide your eyes got when you saw what had hurt you—that giant fucking piece of wood embedded in your body.

He remembered the sound of your scream, blood on his hands. He could feel your life slipping through his fingers…and for once, he wasn’t okay with letting it happen. 

So he stopped it. Or at least, he ordered Frank to do it. 

And afterwards, Ben couldn’t believe how you turned on him. That you were actually angry at him for saving your life!

What kind of idiot are you. He’d wanted to grab you and shake you until you saw good sense. 

You were stronger on V. You were powerful, almost his equal. And Ben could admit, if only to himself, that he craved that: having an equal. 

When he’d had Countess, that bitch, he thought he had his life sorted. He’d figured he had time to settle, to have a family…

But now that life was gone. His asshole team was gone. What the fuck was left?

Ben leaned against your door, as if he could brace against the depths of thoughts he hadn’t allowed himself to fall into since he left the U.S. 

Still, he couldn’t help but think…after he became a supe, he’d reveled in standing alone, in the spotlight. When did it start to get harder?

Just then, his sensitive ears picked up on something: your breath hitched. He paused, listening closely. Soon enough, he heard a whimper. 

Ben debated for a few seconds, but he decided to open the door, quietly twisting the knob and pushing it open. His eyes found you in the dark, curled in on yourself on the bed.

He drew closer until he reached your bedside, and even heard your pulse starting to race. His lips drew into a frown as he read the distress in your features. You were dreaming, and whatever it was, it didn’t look pleasant. 

Ben hesitated, but he kneeled by your bed and carefully slid your hair away from your face. You were an angry, stubborn, mouthy little thing. He could just hear your voice now.

You still haven’t even apologized!

The audacity you had, to demand shit from him.

But then, he almost sighed when he realized he was glaring down at your sleeping form.

What the fuck’re you doing, anyway? He shook his head at himself and got up to leave, but your voice stopped him. 

It was a pained whimper, a shuddering breath. Ben’s attention shifted back to you as he watched you tighten in on yourself, your hand curling into a fist that pressed against your throat. He didn’t know if you were trying to choke yourself, or fend someone off—

And then, Ben had to struggle against a firebrand of anger under his skin. 

He finally realized what you were probably dreaming about; who you were fighting, even in your sleep.

He regretted letting you call your father. Maybe he even regretted pretending he didn’t notice…how talking to your dad had clearly fucked with you. 

But he wasn’t about to show weakness. Not in front of his men…

With a quiet sigh, Ben reached out and soothed a hand over the top of your head. His fingers slid through your loose hair, stopping when they reached some tangles. Slow and careful, he repeated this. Until finally, your breathing seemed to ease up.

He unclenched your fingers out of their loosening fist, and he absently stroked his thumb over the back of your hand. You’re one deep sleeper…

You sighed and shifted in your sleep, resting your cheek easier on the pillow. Your brows were still knitted, but after a while, even your face relaxed. 

Ben placed your hand down, giving the back of it one more tentative swipe. 

And then he left, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. You never woke up to catch him.

A helicopter took you from the house to a private jet with Ben, Frank, Loco, and a few other hired men for the mission. You sat across from Ben, both seats facing one another. Your eyes were narrowed as you watched him accept a glass of whiskey. 

“Where’s Saul?” you asked. Ben gave you a side glance, and with a quiet exhale, he answered you. 

“He’s dead.”

You nodded through your sad, angry frown. You’d had a feeling that was what he and Frank had been hiding the other day, but you hadn’t wanted to face it.

“Black Noir?” you asked. 

Ben nodded and sipped at his whiskey. “Yeah.”

“Do you even care?” you asked. Ben eyed you a bit sharper, but he didn’t comment. 

“A couple of knocked banks didn’t get you this jet, on top of everything else,” you remarked, gesturing at your surroundings. “Where’s the money coming from?”

He’d bought back at least two properties from Vought, along with all the other shit he’d likely been blowing his money on for the last few months. 

Ben sipped at his drink. You imagined it was hard for him to cross his legs in his super suit, otherwise he might’ve, to complete the air of asshole-ish nonchalance. You’d decided to dress comfortable, but prepared in yoga pants, sneakers, and a matching activewear jacket. 

“Why do you think I settled in Colombia, of all places?” he asked you. His lips curved into a smirk and he shot you a wink. “Best drugs in town.”

His assets were frozen by the government, which meant he’d gotten the money from somewhere…

Your face soon fell as you realized your own stupidity. The shady characters he’d recruited, not just Frank, Saul, and Loco, but other men too that would occasionally traipse through the house. Plus the mysterious “jobs” they would routinely disappear on, sometimes for days on end. 

Ben had infiltrated a drug cartel. 

“Frank and his men were the muscle for some hot-shot kingpin, until I cut the head off the snake,” Ben revealed. “Which is what I’m about to do to good ole’ Stan.” 

You crossed your arms with a deep frown.

“Every time I think I’ve got you figured out, I discover a new scum-ridden layer,” you said. 

His lips quirked humorlessly. “Disappointed?” 

You just shook your head and looked out the window of the jet. 

“Mostly in myself,” you replied. 

Ben didn’t show how your words sunk into him. He continued drinking. 

Hours later, you all arrived at JFK Airport in New York. The jet landed far enough away from the larger commercial planes, but somehow that made you even more nervous. 

You felt like you were stepping out into the Wild West as you disembarked from the jet and landed on the concrete ground of your home city. 

Ben’s presence burned behind you, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back. Frank and Loco had the bags (and weapons). But before you could ask where to go next, Ben paused with a thoughtful frown on his face. 

You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, but then you heard it. A thin whistling in the air that couldn’t be attributed to an aircraft.

Ben pulled out his shield from its sheath on his back, and with his free hand he grabbed you, yanking you into his chest. He all but dragged you several steps away from the jet and then kneeled to cover both of you when a missile soared overhead.

It speared into the jet, destroying it with an epic explosion that seared across Ben’s back. He felt the heat, but it only singed the back of his neck without even burning his skin. His suit and helmet protected him from the rest, just as his shield and body protected you. 

You could claim to hate him all you wanted, but your hands were braced against his chest as you leaned into him. And when you looked up, your eyes were wide with shock and fear. 

“Go,” he ordered, pushing you towards Frank. You went with him, but you still looked back at Ben as worry undeniably claimed your heart. Loco and the rest of his team stood behind the supe.

Meanwhile, Butcher had appeared on the tarmac. With a rocket launcher, naturally. 

He wore a smirk along with one of his customary, glaring Hawaiian shirts and long black trench coat. The hem of it fluttered as the wind blew between the long span of distance between him and Ben. 

“So the CIA’s partnering with Vought now? How does that fucking work?” Ben remarked. 

Butcher was joined by Hughie, Kimiko, and Frenchie, and then entire units of CIA and SWAT teams piling out of several armored cars.

“I’ll admit, you’re a tricky bugger to track down,” Butcher said. “But consider this your debt to fucking society paid in full.”

He launched yet another projectile from his gun. You gasped, but even though Frank pulled you towards the airport building and away from the fight, you still craned your head back to watch Ben bat away the missile with his shield. It landed far away, spilling concrete where it hit and shaking the ground. 

Then a warning star bolt hit in front of Frank’s feet, stopping both of you short. You looked up and found Annie and M.M., the latter with an impressive gun in both hands.  

“Stop right there, motherfucker,” M.M. ordered. “Time to let her go.”

“You okay?” Annie asked you. You had to smile, despite yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s good to see you guys,” you said. Frank’s hand tightened on your arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you from leaving his side. He was stronger than usual once again, with the help of V24. He wielded his own gun trained on M.M. 

“Step aside,” he ordered.

Annie pursed her lips at shot a star bolt at him. You took your opportunity and kicked at the back of Frank’s knee. It made his grip falter just enough that when M.M. jumped in to fight him, you scrambled away and Annie took your hand. 

While the two men fought, you finally noticed the black sedan the pulled up on the tarmac behind you. The tinted driver’s window rolled down, revealing your father in black sunglasses. 

Annie followed the path of your gaze in confusion. “Who the hell’s that?”

“Annie,” you squeezed her hand. “You know I’m your friend, right?”

Her brows furrowed, especially when you let go of her. “What’s wrong? What’re you about to do?” 

“I need you to trust me,” you said. 

You knew she didn’t understand, nor did she want to let you go. But you ran away from her, towards the car. She meant to follow you, but Frank held M.M. at bay long enough to aim a few well-placed bullets between you and Annie. 

It stopped her long enough for you to climb into the black sedan before it peeled away, speeding around to the private gate of the airport. While you caught your breath, Jonathan’s gaze peered at you through the rearview mirror, after he lowered his sunglasses. The car was empty except for you and him. 

Good, you thought. That meant he was the only one you had to watch closely.  

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

“Just fine,” you breathed. “Where to now?”

“Let’s get you to safety,” Jon said. You nodded. And when his focus was back on the road, you discreetly retrieved a tracking device from your pocket and placed it on the side of your seat, hidden from view. 

Ben had given it to you before getting off the plane. 

The device was small and flat, with a smooth back that would attach to almost any surface. 

You rolled it experimentally between your fingers and looked up at Ben. His face was harder to read than ever.

“Why are you trusting me with this?” you asked. 

Ben’s lips quirked wryly, but there was little humor in it. His hand, half-covered by his glove, reached up to brush your chin. 

“I’m not,” he replied. “I expect you’ll jump at the chance to get back with Butcher and your asshole friends. But either way, I’m gonna find out if you were worth it.” 

You frowned up at him. It was hard to believe that for all you two had been through together, this was really how it was going to be from now on. 

“If I was worth saving?” you challenged. 

He didn’t answer you, but his hand fell away from your face.

The car soon made its way out of the airport and onto the open road. There you were greeted by the familiar highways and approaching skyscrapers of New York City. You would be relieved to be home (almost), if you weren’t so tense. 

“I need to see Stan Edgar,” you told your father.

Jon’s gaze met yours in the rearview. 

“I have intel that he’ll be interested in,” you said. 

“Okay, and that is?” he asked.

“About Supe Affairs, Soldier Boy, take your pick. But it’s the kind of information you don’t play Telephone with.”

“Mr. Edgar is a busy man,” Jon started to say.

“And you’re his Chief of Security,” you cut him off. “Who’s wiping his ass while you’re here with me?”

Jon sighed. “Always with that fucking mouth. Do you want me to relocate you? Put you in a safe house until we finish dealing with Soldier Boy?”

And give your father abject control over your life? I think not, you glared at the thought. 

“I want to speak to Stan. I don’t care if it’s here, or Vought HQ, or in the middle of Times fucking Square. Take me to his damn office,” you demanded. 

Maybe Ben had rubbed off on you a little. 

“Or pull over right now, and I’ll make my way to the Tower myself,” you said. Jon came to a red light and had time to regard you in disbelief.

“Jesus…all right, let’s see if Stan will see you,” he said.  

You let out a breath and finally allowed yourself to sit back in your seat. When the light turned green, Jon took the correct fork in the road that would lead you to Vought Tower.

And before you left the car, you made sure to grab the tracking device from the side of your chair, carrying it with you into your bra.

It was strange to enter this building again. You had worked here for five years, but it had been a year and a half since you’d returned. 

It was still as busy as ever in the halls. Though you noticed the ratio of employees to tourists was about 30-70. It was incredible what taking out Vought’s golden psycho could do to a company’s profits.

Now they just needed to put the final nail in the coffin. 

Jon led you to the elevator, and all the way up the Tower to Stan’s office. You had only been to this room once, when you were hired, but it was more or less how you remembered. Very spacious, minimalist furniture in a desk and a slim couch set, complete with a long glass coffee table. 

But Stan was nowhere to be found. You frowned. 

“Where is he?” you asked. Suspicion and awareness pricked at your spine. 

You turned around to face your father, just in time to slap away something metallic headed for your neck. 

It was a syringe. You watched it spin across the floor, and you glared back at him incredulously. He had enforced his will on you before, but he’d usually managed that with his hands, not with drugs. Maybe Vought had changed him too.

“All right, easy,” Jon said, raising placating hands. He drew closer as you backed away from him. 

“I had a feeling Soldier Boy let you go,” he said. “That you’d probably planned this little bait and switch with him from the beginning.”

Heat made your cheeks flush as you glared back at him. Your father quirked a smile.

“Despite what you’d like to believe, I know you better than anyone,” Jon said. 

You begged to differ on that…but part of you knew he was right.

“You did what you had to do with Soldier Boy. I understand,” he said. “Playing both sides of the game was smart. But I’m going to make sure you’re safe.” 

“By sedating me?” you shouted. Your voice quivered, both with rage and fear. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

He knew that you’d tried to play him, but his mistake was thinking you’d been playing Ben too. 

“Later we’ll talk. When you’ve calmed down,” Jon said. 

He reached out to grab your arm, but you evaded him. He called your name in warning.

You just got into a defensive stance. And the next time he tried for your arm, you snapped back with a fist to the bridge of his nose. It sent Jon’s head back with a grunt. 

When his hand came back bloody from his nose, his demeanor shifted, from placating to stern. His cool gaze met yours, and you stared back at him stubbornly, poised for a fight. 

“You little brat,” he said, wiping his nose again. “I fucking pulled you out of the fire, and you’re being difficult. As usual.”

“You didn’t save me,” you retorted. Emotion burned in your eyes, but your anger (and a frisson of fear) allowed you to clamp it down. “You never have.” 

You shot out a preemptive strike, but your father surprised you by grabbing your wrist. And he backhanded you hard enough to make you see stars. 

AN: 🫣 Welp, we're back in the U.S. SB is storming the castle, but at what cost...

Next Time:

A moment later, Frank patched through while he struggled and fought.

“She needs help,” he said gravely.

Ben took his hand off the comm, gritting his teeth. Black Noir was still waiting on him, attuned to Ben’s every move as the other supe brandished one of his blades.

Shit, Ben thought. He needed to end this. 

Right fucking now.

Keep Reading: PART 11

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

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[miwhotep]

7 REASONS WHY MILVERTON CAN STILL BE ALIVE

Reading @diveintovortex 's recent post, I again, got inspired to make an analysis why Milverton can still be alive. I already did one like this before, related to the main antagonist of the James Bond universe, Ernst Stavro Blofeld, but today's post will rely heavily on the manga. Here, I will raise seven points why Milverton might not gone yet and we can suspect to see him again.

1, CHARACTER DESIGN

Milverton is one of the most detailed, most bothersome to draw characters of Yuumori (especially with that hair). If we look more deeply into the manga, we can see that the characters who only appeared for a few chapters - like Whiteley - are always designed in a more simple way. Milverton's character design has too much work in it, it wouldn't worth it if this was all the storytime he got. Milverton's distinct look suggests that he was meant to be much more than just a plot-device overall, he is a character on his own who still has hella lot of potential in him.

2, EYE COLOUR

Yes, I can list it under the point above as well - but I wanna focus on this a little more. Only three characters has unnatural, symbolic eye colours in the series: William, the main character, his brother, Louis - who gets important later on - and Milverton. Considering this tendency, his eye colour - beside it referencing snakes - also implies that Milverton is an important character - again: a character, not a plot-device - but Milverton was mostly just a plot-device yet, whose role was getting Sherlock and William face each other. Maybe, just like Louis, he gets important later on.

3, THE LITTLE TRIVIAS

Milverton has some, for the plot, seemingly irrelevant trivia the manga just casually drops at us - like his branch firm in New York. This New York connection gets interesting since Sherliam also ended up in New York. Was this just a coincidence? Or we will come back to this in Part 2?

4, THE RUSKIN SCENE

Ruskin, unlike Milverton was never meant to be an important character - his character design got re-used from The Adventure of One Student and we didn't even get to know his first name - but the manga still gave him a little focus at the end of Two Criminals, where we can see him searching for Milverton instead of saving himself from the burning house. He most likely survived and I'm sure there was a reason his love for Milverton got some attention in that chapter. I used to speculate that it was to forecast that he will get back to get revenge for his boss later - but again, his character design doesn't suggest he is an important character. On the other hand, that scene could be also to hint that Ruskin will save Milverton. Ruskin is not stupid - he could suspect what happened from the open door where Milverton jumped out - and that door could also provide the fastest way for Ruskin to leave the about-to-crash house. Not much time passed since Milverton got shot who could survive if Ruskin gets him out of the water in time. If he jumped into the water to escape, he might've found Milverton as well.

5, THE WATER PARALLEL

This point was suggested by @shreddedleopard during one of our talks whom I fully credit the idea to. Milverton keeps paralelling William in poses, methods - and even in "death": William "died" by falling into the water, too. If this was meant to be yet another parallel between the two, that also suggests that Milverton as well, might turn out to be alive.

6, SHERLOCK AND THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS MURDER

Milverton's body was never found what let Sherlock escape from the consequences of the murder. However, this might not be the true reason why his body never got found - Milverton's death was actually too bothersome if it was meant to be only for this. It would've been simplier if he just got shot, dying inmediately and his body getting burned with the house and Sherlock could've get away with the murder in this case, too. Milverton also didn't got shot in the heart, but suffered injuries what he could survive if he gets treated in time. If the writer truly wanted us to fully believe that Milverton is dead, it could've been done easily with a heartshot.

7, YUUMORI IS A SHERLOCK HOLMES ADAPTATION

Despite that Moriarty the Patriot gets inspiration from other places than Sherlock Holmes stories - like the James Bond universe or The Dark Knight movie - it's still a story focusing on Sherlock Holmes characters - and the most iconic Sherlock villain beside Moriarty, Irene Adler or Moran is Charles Augustus Milverton... who still has lot of potential. And beside him, who could be the next antagonist in Part 2? The other Sherlock villains who didn't get used yet aren't as much of a big names. That's another point what can suggest that Milverton's arc is still unfinished.

Milverton not getting enough attention in Part 1 despite he clearly implied to be an important character was due to putting too much focus on him could complicate or even get the attention away from the Moriarty Plan what was the main theme of the series in Part 1. Maybe what we saw about Milverton yet was just an introduction and now, that we already know how dangerous and evil he can be, we can see more of his evil in Part 2. Because I'm sure if he is alive, he is ready to commit even bigger atrocities what we could imagine.

[weird-an]

Halloween is stupid.

Steve always liked the parties, but dressing up? He spent enough time in a stupid sailor costume, thank you very much.

But...Dustin insisted Steve should put on the costume. The kids are having a party. Steve is a loser for going to it, according to Billy.

Steve stopped caring what people think about him ages ago. For some reason it still pisses him off, when Billy is the one judging him. Billy had just talked him into watching Escape From New York and well, Snake Plissken was a cool guy. So, Steve put on an eye patch and a leather jacket. Easy. He actually looks cool. Not that any of the nerds would care.

It's the first Halloween since Billy and him are a thing or whatever. Maybe that's why Billy is salty, because Steve is going to spend it with the "dorks" and not with his... guy?

Steve isn't sure what they are exactly. They fuck, they fight, they sometimes get drunk together and talk about what they aren't allowed to. About monsters lurking in the woods, about shadows in the mind, about another Hawkins.

But now Billy is here, sitting at the Byers kitchen table with a beer in his hand, glaring at a pumpkin Max had carved out and put a thin mustache on.

Steve stops dead on his tracks. Billy is wearing Steve's most expensive polo shirt. His mullet is slicked back a little, but a few curls have gotten loose, framing his face. He's even wearing Steve's cologne. He smells like Steve which is a little confusing.

"What the fuck," Steve says flatly.

Billy raises a brow. "Nice to see you, Harrington."

"Are you dressed up as me for Halloween?" Steve puts his hands in his hips. Is Billy fucking serious? "Is that my watch?"

"I knew you stole it, Billy," Max shouts from the kitchen.

Billy looks at Steve's watch like he's seeing it for the first time and then grins at Steve, batting his eyelashes at him. "C'mon, let me be King for a day, Steve."

It's kinda hot. Shit. Steve is going to fuck Billy until the bed breaks.

"Just don't try to date my sister," Mike Wheeler quips from somewhere in the living room.

Billy chokes on his beer. "That... won't happen," he coughs.

Steve snickers and sits next to him. "You wanna escape with me later?" he whispers.

Billy groans into his beer. "I hate that this works."

"I saw you stare at Kurt Russell," Steve says, voice still low. Billy knew that movie by heart. Steve caught him reciting the dialogue.

"Harrington, at least I'm not going home with myself." Billy rolls his eyes and tugs at the collar of Steve's polo.

"Like you wouldn't."

Billy's mouth snaps shut. His nose gets tinged a little pink.

"You know, that pumpkin just looks like-"

"Harrington! I swear to God if you finish that sentence-"

Steve just changed his mind. He loves Halloween.

[httpscomexe]

Swallow

Day 5 of Kink-Tober - Swallowing

Summary: You have a daily Customer at the flower shop, though he doesn't normally buy things anymore.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, oral, language, swallowing. (Lmk if I missed any)

Tags: @cellyx33 @shybluebirdninja @sammyluvsfics

Word Count: 1549 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

“Thank you, and if you have any questions or concerns about your flowers, you can give me a call from this number. Enjoy your day, and thank you for your purchase.” You smile, your rehearsed thank you feeling less and less ecstatic throughout the long day as you point down with the tip of your pen at your printed phone number on the little business card attached to a beautiful bouquet of roses and tulips, which were in the hands of a man dressed in a nice suit, his two daughters behind him in little black dresses, you assume the flowers are for a lost mother, but that’s you assuming the worst.

“Thank you ma’am, have a nice day.” He quickly leaves the store, the hand of his younger daughter in his hand as they walk out together and step into their nice car.

You look around your little flower shop. No more customers. Today wasn’t a particularly busy day, but you didn’t want it to end. You knew who was waiting outside for you. But you had to close up eventually. After all, closing time was at 9 tonight, and you were way to exhausted to work extra hours just to avoid him.

Surely he would understand too, right?

Wrong.

Your keys jingle together against the chain as you lift them from the counter and move towards the front door, flipping off all the switches before stepping out and locking the doors behind you, your hand lingering on the handle longer than it needs to, you know the second your hand left the cold metal, the man would pop up again, and you wouldn’t be able to just escape him.

Unless you fell to your death. Of course.

The second your hand drops from the door, you close your eyes and let out a sigh, the sound of wings coming from your left is enough to let you know the damned bird has been scouting you out all day.

You stand and look up, expecting him to land next to you as usual before taking you back into the shop and having his way with you, but he doesn’t slow down.

“S-Sam…?” He still doesn’t slow down, and you take a step back as he gets closer. “Sam!” Some eyes drift over as you’re the centre of attention, yelling Sam’s name like a murder victim as he swoops down and wastes no time lifting you into his arms and immediately flying back up into the sky. This asshole knows you hate flying.

“Sam what the fuck? Put me down! SAM!!” You squeal, he’s never taken you up into the sky flying before, so this was an out of fucking body experience for you. “SAM PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW!” You scream, your voice cracking from the volume and you feel it as his feet hit the ground, your face buried against his chest as you squeeze onto him in fear.

“You can look up now.” His chest vibrates as he speaks, and it’s almost comforting as you slowly look up, holding onto him tighter, the entire city looking up at you as your in the arms of the man standing on the top of one of the highest buildings in New York.

“Sam… I don’t like this…” You whisper, and you know he hears you because he sighs before taking a few steps down and putting you down on your feet, your nerves making you shake violently as you stand in front of him and you stumble slightly barely catching yourself, or rather not catching yourself at all, as his hand wraps around your waist and he pulls your back against his front, his lips and teeth attaching to your neck, making you throw your head back in anger.

“Sam!”

“Just stay still little swallow…” He groans, his arm still locking you against him as his other hand snakes between your bodies to undo his belt.

“I’m tired Sam, please…” You cry, a tear falling down your cheek in show.

“It’s okay, I’ll fly you home and to bed as soon as you’re done.” He gets his zipper down, despite your constant squirming, and you feel his hands on your shoulders as he pushes you down to your knees and moves to stand in front of you. “Haven’t seen you in forever, my swallow.” He groans, his fingers latched through your hair as he keeps you down, threatening to pull if you move.

“Sam just- Stop! Let me go…” You reach up, trying to pry his fingers out of your hair, but he doesn’t let go.

“Oh shut up.” He pulls your hair, tilting your head back just enough before grabbing his cock with his free hand and angling it towards your lips, causing you to turn your head away quickly, stinging pain shoots through your scalp as his grip tightens on your hair and he pulls you back into position. “Stay fucking still, or we’re gonna be here all night.” He growls, pulling you closer again before forcing his dick past your lips, both of his hands moving to the back of your head as he begins to pound against the back of your throat and you try leaning back but he easily overpowers you, holding you still in place on your knees.

“That’s it baby, put that little mouth to use…” He groans, the feeling of dominance and pleasure almost overpowering for him. “Feels so fucking good.”

You never expected him to be the way he was. He was just some guy who came in for flowers one day for this ‘special date’ that ended up coming back again and again, until he eventually made a move on you, buying your favourite flowers and taking you out on your first flight was so sweet. Sleeping with him that same night never even bothered you, you hadn’t even considered who all the other flowers were for, nor did you care. You wanted him to be yours, but he simply only wanted you.

It didn’t bother you at first, the occasional swoop down and fuck you in the back of the flower shop. But then it started becoming sort of a daily routine. He’d fuck you when you were closed, then he’d leave, and return the next night for more. Then something happened one night.

You were in pain, you’d had a rather long day, not particularly from selling flowers, but there was an argument with some friends, and then a bad call about your sister, and a million other things, so naturally you weren’t up for a platonic fucking session. But he didn’t care. He still brought you to the back, the session leaving bruises on your arms and shoulders from his aggression. He had expected you to fuck him. Every day from that day on, it’s been you begging him to not fuck you, and a lot of shedded tears. He didn’t want to bother with your emotional state, he simply only cared about his pleasure, and his only.

Which brings you to now. On one of the highest buildings in New York with Sam Wilson's dick down your throat as tears stream down your face in regret, and in pain.

“Good fucking girl.”

“Fuck I’m gonna come.”

“Swallow, I wanna see that pretty mouth swallow.” He groans, one of his hands still with his fingers laced through your hair, while his other hand moves down to hold your jaw at some point, and as usual, he fills your mouth. Making sure to wait a few seconds before pulling out and looking down, expecting you to swallow. But you just sit there on your knees, sure enough you would have concrete imprints on your knees when you stood. Your mascara was running down your cheeks, following the path of your tears, and you were sure he could see the hatred in your eyes, but he didn’t care anymore.

“I said swallow.” He repeats, his fingers pulling your hair a little, causing you to wince, and you finally obey, swallowing his salty seed until he is satisfied, giving you two little pats on your cheek before concealing himself. “Lets get you home, come on, you look a fucking mess.” He grabs you, pulling you back up to your feet, and as expected, your knees were red.

“Sam-”

“Shut it.” He silences you, hooking his arm behind your leg in order to lift you into his arms, and his wings take air as he heads towards your apartment, not even giving you a “Goodnight,” or “Bye,” as he puts you on your feet and flies off again, leaving you staring at your front door.

You sigh, and clear your throat a little, sniffling and wiping your cheeks, hoping to look a little more presentable before sticking your keys into your doorknob and pulling it open, two little faces immediately looking up to meet your eyes.

“Mommy, why were you crying?” Their little feet platter on the ground as they both run up and hug you.

“Baby are you okay?” Your husband's voice asks as his hand wraps around your waist and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“I’m okay.” You tell them, keeping the little smile on your face. “Just got in the way of some sprinklers.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Several Sentence Sunday

Thank you to @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @tizniz for tagging me in either Saturday or Sunday!

Here is a little snippet from the upcoming chapter of Any Other Way. I am excited to delve more into Switcheroo AU Eddie's shit in this chapter :)

---

Eddie manages to throw together a somewhat last minute costume and arrives at Shannon’s not long after dinner.

Shannon laughs when she opens the door. 

“What are you wearing?”

Eddie’s jaw drops. “Shannon! I know I made you watch Escape From New York!”

“I definitely paid attention to every movie you ever put on,” Shannon nods exaggeratedly. “You know you didn’t have to wear a costume, right? The child is the one required to dress up, in this case.”

“Oh,” Eddie looks down at himself and then lifts the Snake Plissken eyepatch over his eye so it’s resting on his forehead. “Well, I like Halloween.”

“Chris is gonna love it, anyway. You look like a G.I Joe.”

Christopher is dressed up like Wolverine, and Eddie tells him he looks super cool, when in reality, he is so adorable, Eddie’s heart feels all gooey. 

Before they head out, Shannon snaps at photo of them in the doorway, flexing both real and imaginary muscles, with Christopher’s fake claws raised in the air. Eddie realizes, a few minutes later, goofy as it may be, that this is the first photo he has with his son. He asks Shannon to send it to him. 

---

No pressure tagging @pantsaretherealheroes @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @fionaswhvre @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @mangacat201 @daughterofscotland @athenagranted @evanbegins @wildlife4life @devonwritesstuff @disasterbuckdiaz @adarkermiserablecrow @epicbuddieficrecs

[chaoticgeminate]

It's You

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x f!Reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 710

Summary: Just a meet cute with super dad

Traffic was the worst.

Returning from a work trip this late at night was more for your own mental health than necessity, you had to disconnect from work and escaping the hotel early was the best way to do it. But this was just plain awful, you had jumped onto a back road to avoid this exact scenario, it seemed you weren't the only one who wanted to avoid the holiday traffic on the highway.

The night air was filled with cicada and cricket song, the puff and rumble of cars and trucks, and the low cacophony of everyone's music melding into one sound. You huffed lightly behind the silver sedan in front of you, watching as a tiny hand emerged from the window to make a shadow puppet on the back of the 18 wheeler ahead and smiled.

The kid was probably even more bored than you were if they were resorting to shadow puppets.

Casually you reached out and matched her little dog face with a snake, since you wanted to avoid using both hands, and the shrill laugh of delight from ahead cut through the boredom as a larger -masculine- hand formed an even larger canine puppet that was protecting the smaller one.

In the glow of your headlights you smiled as the girl turned around in her seat to wave at you, the gesture returned outside of the window so she wasn't blinded trying to see through the lights, and you almost rejoiced when the traffic began to move. You shifted to the right to make a turn onto a different back road and noticed the silver car slowing just a hair.

As you turned off the road you glanced in time to see a man, a handsome man, wave at you along with his teenage daughter. You returned the gesture and focused back on the road, glad for the night being dark enough to hide the warmth on your face. You weren't one to call yourself desperate but the attention of a handsome man making you fluster this bad, a man with a daughter -and likely a wife- on top of it, should not have gotten you this bad.

“Ugh, I just need to get this out of my system.”

♡♡♡♡

Being set up for a blind date was not what he meant when he told Miracle Guy he wanted to be paid back for covering his patrol, the blond hero had taken Marcus’ advice and finally agreed to go to couple’s counseling to repair his struggling marriage. But this? Being set up with one of Heather's friends?

It was a damn shame but Marcus had hoped to run into someone else meandering around the city. But life wasn't some romance novel, and New York was a big state, he doubted he'd ever see that woman again.

Who was she? He could only believe she was kind, fun loving, if she decided to play -even briefly- with Missy. It had already been a week and his urge to see if his dash cam picked up that woman's license plate number had not disappeared at all.

He fiddled with the bouquet of flowers he brought with him, choosing one was tricky since he didn't want to being roses or carnations, it was a bit traditionalist but Marcus hadn't wanted to appear rude to his surprise date either. He picked mums and hoped she liked them, to avoid flowers with a romantic meaning.

The event was casual, an outdoor art exhibit, so he opted for a pair of black jeans with a gray plaid short sleeve, choosing to brush his hair back instead of slicking it to the sides like he did for work, and Marcus was glad he went for the glasses instead of contacts. A blend of super hero Moreno and causal dad Marcus.

“Sorry I'm late, I couldn't find the flats I keep in my car. Heather didn't tell me I'd be walking around.”

He turned toward his date and froze, her shy smile was tinged with embarrassment, and then her eyes widened slightly. His mouth moved before he could stop it, blurting out the first thing that came to mind, and so did she.

“It's you!”

“You're the one from the silver car!”

[grayishgiggles]

“No One Escapes ME!”

"No one escapes ME!" Peter 2's voice echoed throughout one of the many alleyways in New York City. It made Peter 1 and 3 shiver in their hiding place.

For context, the younger Peters had been bothering Peter 2 the whole day with the usual Peter Parker antics (memes, stupid jokes Peter 2 couldn't understand, etc.) When he threatened them with a good tickling, they didn’t think he’d act on it. They were wrong, of course. Now, Peter 1 and Peter 3 were stuck behind a dumpster on top of a brick building after out-swinging the oldest.

Peter 1 took his mask off, panting. “Holy shit we’re gonna die,” he whispered. Peter 3 already had his mask off, his eyes scanning around frantically.

“We'll be fine, we just gotta be quiet and keep moving.” He reassured in a hushed tone.

“Little brothers!!” Called out Peter 2. His voice sounded closer. Peter 1 gulped. “You can’t hide forever!”

“Yeah we need to move now. Let's crawl down the wall.” Peter 3 quietly snuck over to the building's edge. Bad move, cause Peter 2 was busy crawling up that same wall. Peter 3 smacked a hand over his mouth and scrambled back. “Other side other side!! Go go go!!”

They jumped to the adjacent skyscraper and found a shaded area under a fire escape. Thank god it was nighttime too. Peter 3 was on lookout mode, holding Peter 1 by the shoulder. “Okay...I think we lost him.”

Peter 1 sighed and let his shoulders fall down. “I thought we were dead…”

“Oh you still are.” Peter 2 was standing on the grated fire escape floor below them. Peter 3 practically screamed like a girl.

“GO PETE GO!!”

The youngest boys nervous giggles echoed between the buildings as they leaped away. Peter 2 shot a web and went swinging after them.

The chase was on.

Through alleys and across buildings, they ran. Whenever they thought they were safe, Peter 1 and 3 got spooked again with Peter 2 on their tails. After 5 minutes of escaping and fleeing, they finally seemed to have found a good place to rest: in the alleyway of Peter 1’s apartment.

Peter 3 was out of breath and smiling. “I caught him in a web back there. I think we’re okay.”

“You said that like, the last four times though. Are you sure?” Peter 1’s eyes strained upwards for any sight of the older spider. His tingle didn't go off.

“He would never suspect us h-AAAAAAAA!!” Peter 3 was yanked up by a web. Peter 1 followed just a second later. The boys threw out frantic pleas when they saw Peter 2 with his mask off and on the edge of Peter 1’s window. In each hand he held the web cables.

“The plan worked,” he sneered to himself. With some more pulling, both Peters were hanging by their shoulders next to the oldest brother's feet. “And look who I caught in my web today!"

“NONO PLEASE WE’RE SORRY!!”

“WE’LL STOP ANNOYING YOU, WE PROMISE!”

“Making promises isn’t Spider-Man’s strong suit,” Peter 2 hoisted the boys up and playfully tossed them into the apartment. Peter 1 and 3 tumbled onto the carpet and didn’t have time to recover enough before Peter 2 webbed their feet on the floor. He took his time walking to meet his two captive brothers, and then sat down in a crisscross between them. He linked an arm around each shoulder. “You guys have any last words?”

Peter 1 and 3 were shaking from their their uncontrollable giggling. The youngest Peter held his hands up to his chest. “Plehehease don’t kill us!!”

“Those are your last words?"

“H-How about uhh..” Peter 3 thought for a second, “oh! Ihi-I’m the best spider-man! And that-and that johohoke about your webs I-I made was wohohorth it!” Even in the worst position, the middle Peter held onto his sassiness.

“Okay you guys didn’t try at all.” Peter 2's resting arms snaked lower to give both brothers a good dose of side squeezes.

Peter 1 squealed and leaned into the oldest while Peter 3 was pushing the hand with his free hands. At least Peter 2 was merciful enough to not web their arms down. "AHAhaha!!"

"When will you two learn not to mess with me, hm? Is it today?" He turned to ask Peter 1. "Or is it tomorrow? Next week?"

"Wehehe're sorryyy!!" The youngest whined. "Ihit-it wahahas Peter 3's ideaha!" Peter 1 scrunched his nose up.

"HehEY you wanted to put ice ihin his milk!!"

"You gotta know Peter 3 isn't a good role model by now. I can't have you turn into a bad Spider-Man." Peter 2's fingers clawed between the kid's ribs. Peter 1 shrieked and tried to curl up. "EEEEE!!"

"Lehe-leheave the kid alo-AEE!" Peter 3's hip received a squeeze. He fell into his squeaky cackling. "HEEheheEEHEE!!"

"No, you're both in this! Both of you gigglebugs!" The oldest Peter was grinning ear to ear. God were these two adorable when tickled. "And stop being so cute, you're making me soft."

Peter 1 at this point was a blushy and giggly mess, very weakly attempting to stop the wiggly fingers from hooking on his lower ribs. Yeah, his attempts failed, and he let out a loud squeal followed by a snort. To him he couldn't believe one hand could take him out so easily. "NAHAAHAT THERE!!"

"Ribs are just the killer, aren't they?" He returned his attention to Peter 3 whose humorous laughter caused Peter 2 to chuckle. "You good, Peter 3?"

"NOHO!"

"You want what Peter 1's getting instead?" Peter 3 caught a quick glimpse of the kid who was being driven up the wall. He shook his head as if he had a choice.

"Well too bad." Peter 2's hand copied what he was doing with the youngest Peter. Now both captured Peters were squirming like worms, their high pitched cachinnation lighting up the apartment. Peter 2's heart swelled. "You two are gonna kill me. You're so adorable. I can't get over it."

"QUIHIT CALLING US THAT!!" Peter 1 spit out. He buried his face in the oldest's shoulders cause he didn't know what else to do at this point. His face was burning and his cheeks hurt from his plastered on smile.

"Awwwww...Lil Spidey's hiding." Peter 2 cooed. It made the kid squeak in embarrassment. Suddenly, Peter 2's tingle went off. He turned his head.

Peter 3 was reaching forward desperately to rip off the webbing around his legs.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Peter 2 used both of his hands (which Peter 1 thanked the almighty above for) to drill Peter 3's underarms. The middle brother fell back, wheezing loudly with a belly laugh following. "AAHAHA FAHAHACCKK!!"

"Yeah you thought you were safe, didn't you?"

Peter 1 took the chance he had now that he wasn't being tickled to tase Peter 2's side. Everything came to a halt when he flinched.

With tickles no longer being dished out, Peter 2 slowly turned to face the youngest. It was genuinely terrifying to the kid, and he covered his face in defense. "Th-thahahat wasn't mehe!!"

"You're done. You're both done!" With a few thwips Peter 1 and 3 had their arms webbed to the floor. Shit.

"PeTER 1 WHY DID YOU DO THAT!!?"

"I WAS TRYING TO SAVE YOU!!!"

"You should've thought that through." Peter 2 tutted. "Be lucky you have your suits on or I would give both of you guys a shit ton of raspberries right now." His two free hands made claws as he was on his knees, hovering over both of them. His fingers began to wiggle, prompting the two Peters to immediately melt into giggly puddles. Their tingles practically made it feel like they were being tickled already.

"Does this really get you guys this bad?" The oldest furrowed his brow, amused. He decided to have fun with it by quicky jumping his hands at the two but not making contact with them. Peter 1 and 3 screamed.

"OHMYGODDONTDOTHAHAT!!" their begging was all meshed together through their giggling.

"You guys, I just..." Peter 2 blinked in astonishment, "you're so cute. It's sickening."

He did a few more fake-out tickles with his hands, and every time the captured brothers fell for it. It was like if someone was turning the volume up and down on the radio, except that the radio was on the laughter channel. Peter 2 was just having a field day with this. "I'm not touching you and you're both just dying!"

"IHIHIT's-it's thehE TIHINGLE!" Peter 3 flinched hard at the hand over him nearly attacking his underarm. "HOLYSHIHIT STOP!" Peter 1 couldn't even bear to reply. The kid looked like he was going to explode from laughing.

"Okay okay, I'll get it over with," Peter 2 shrugged, "in three..."

Peter 3 groaned. "OHOH COME ON!"

"Two..."

"FUHUCK YOU!" he squeaked out.

"One!" Peter 2 went at them, trying to tickle every spot and keep them on their toes. He didn't stay in one place for more than a few seconds, making their spider senses flip out. The younger Peters screamed in unison. Their endearing laughter got so contagious that Peter 2 was laughing with them now. It was unbelievable to him how this much happiness and good feelings could be flowing in such a  dingy apartment such as Peter 1's (no offense to Peter 1).

[storyofmychoices]

Between Coffee & Cases: an unexpected day

[Trystan Thorne x Lilah Rose Masterlist]

Pairing: M! Trystan Thorne x Lilah Rose (F!MC) Book: Crimes of Passion II Word Count: ~800 Rating/Warning: General (no warnings)

Synopsis: Lilah is pouring over the clues they've uncovered, looking for the missing piece, when Trystan surprises her with a special offer.

Lilah's suite had become a whirlwind of organized chaos, strewn with case files and crime scene photographs. Her mind was fully absorbed in the intricacies of the two murder cases in Drakovia that had been overwhelming her life for far too long.

A soft knock on the door disrupted her concentration. She glanced up to see Trystan standing there, a warm smile on his lips. "Hi."

Lilah's eyebrows knitted together. She hadn't expected to see him. Despite herself, she suppressed her smile. "What brings you here, Your Highness? I thought you were needed for Kingly duties tonight."

"This is where I'm supposed to be." He reassured her, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He held out a large steaming cup of coffee. "I thought you could use some fuel to keep you going."

A sarcastic smile pulled on her lips. "Thanks, I hadn't noticed the dark circles forming under my eyes after staring at these files for hours."

"You make a very beautiful raccoon," he teased. Trystan handed her the cup, his gaze lingering on her with a mix of admiration and affection. 

Lilah accepted his offering. She settled back onto the floor amid her scattered materials, taking a grateful sip of the coffee. 

Trystan sat beside her, captivated by her dedication and brilliance. She was something special. Every prospective bride his mother paraded in front of him was missing one thing. They weren't her. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, planting a gentle kiss on her temple. 

She shook her head slightly, raising an eyebrow. "I appreciate the caffeine boost, but don't get any ideas about distracting me."

He feigned innocence. "Oh, I'm focused, too." His fingers turned her chin gently toward him.

"I'm not sure we're focused on the same thing." She bit back her smile as she met his gaze. He was still there. Her Trystan. In these moments, it's all she saw. If only they could leave now, head back to New York and pretend none of this ever happened. If only, her smile faulted.

Trystan held up a small, green velvet box between them. "I have something for you." Before she could respond, he opened it to reveal a snake signet ring on a long chain. Intricate inscriptions adorned the inside of the ring, written in Drakovian. Lifting the ring from the box, Trystan draped the chain over her head, allowing it to rest around her neck.

"It's my family's ring," he explained, a softness in his voice. "Each of us has one. It signifies our family and status."

"Of course, it does." And just like that, Crown Prince Trystan flickered to light again. "Why am I wearing it?"

A gentle smile played on his lips as he watched her turn the ring over between her fingers. "Because it's important to me. This ring is believed to protect the wearer, to ward off harm as long as it's close. It's never supposed to leave my possession, but with you, I know it's safe. You have no idea what your presence in my life means to me. You are the most important thing to me."

Her guard wavered as she absorbed his words. Her eyes filled with a vulnerability she had worked hard to keep locked away. "I don't know what to say..."

"Don't say anything." He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss on her lips. "Happy Birthday," he whispered against them.

Her tender expression twisted to confusion. "It's not—Is it?" She turned away quickly, grabbing her phone, reading the date—August 27. "I didn't realize." 

Trystan's smile remained gentle as he took her hand. "I know you're not one for celebrations, Lilah. But you deserve to be remembered." His thumb brushed over her knuckles. 

A whisper of gratitude escaped her lips. "Thank you."

"I love you, Lilah."

Her reply was lost on his lips as she kissed him. "I love you, too."

As they parted to catch their breath, matching smiles on their faces, Trystan had one more surprise. "We can stay here—" He gestured to the case files before her. "I am happy to get you as much coffee as you need."

"But?" 

"If you are interested, there may be a romantic dinner for two waiting in my suite," Trystan continued, "with a triple chocolate cake... extra chocolate, just for you.... no candles. no singing. no pressure... unless you want your own very special serenade. It's up to you. I'm here for whatever you need today."

"You make a very tempting offer," she considered. 

"The dinner, cake, or the serenade?" His brow rose curiously.

"Oh, the cake for sure. Chocolate and coffee, you sure know the way to my heart... or stomach?" She smiled as she accepted the hand he offered her, lifting her off the floor. 

"Then shall we go?"

"I'd like that." She nodded softly. "And, Trystan?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

He wrapped his arm around her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "It's my pleasure." 

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this rushed attempt at a birthday fic. I saw her birthday coming, but clearly neglected it to just now. I don't feel like Lilah is big on birthdays and celebrations. It just reminds her what she's missing. I think Trystan would try to bring her joy on her special day, even if it's just the two of them.

[bihanspookies]

SHE’S HERE:

First of all thank you to @fizzygator for making my girl come to life. Y’all this girl has come a LONG way lmao. She started off as an oc in a fanfic I wrote years ago in high school and her personality and overall characterization has changed (for the better 💀).

Name: Alora De Toro

Age: 29

Birthplace: Manhattan, New York (Earthrealm)

Race: Half Edenian (Father)/Earthrealmer (Mother, Spain)

Birthday: June 23rd, Cancer

Hair: Auburn

Eyes: Gray/blue

Skin Tone: Tan

Distinguishing Features: Dark circles, long slender and sharp nose

Languages: English and Spanish

Height: 5’9

Build: Lean with muscle and flexible

Scars: Over her mouth from Mileena, under her right eye from Kano, top of right shoulder to elbow from tarkatan blade, puncture wound on left side of stomach from kytinn stinger, left thigh is mangled bc of tarkatan bite

Piercings: One on each lobe and two on each cartilage

Tattoos: None

Clothes: Wears a lot of either sleeveless or loose fitting clothing since her body temps always warm

Family: Kyro (Father deceased), Taron (Older brother alive), Elena (Mother alive)

Nicknames: Bullhead and ChAloraform (Taron), Little Love (father), Dulcita (mother), Killer (Alex @chadillacboseman), Red (Kano)

Ring Names: Herculean Bull, Crimson Snake

Likes: Gardening, her greenhouse, her hair, her pet rat Michi, winter, painting her nails dark colors, her stuffed bear that Kyro gifted her as a baby

Dislikes: Invasive bugs, onions, being talked to when she’s already upset, people chewing with their mouth open, being in debt to Kano

Flaws: Reserved, guarded, tends to prioritize missions over everything else, loner most of the time (practically lives in her greenhouse), blunt

Fighting Style: MMA/street fighting

Powers & Abilities: Enhanced strength and high pain tolerance

Personality: She’s usually blunt, straightforward but can be funny when she wants to be while also being ornery and sarcastic, mostly in a deadpan manner. She carries out her orders with little to no questions, just wanting to get it done so she can be alone. Usually level headed, hard to anger but when she is she tends to be more aggressive. The longer it goes on the more chaotic and brutal she can get, getting tunnel vision to complete her mission no matter what. She’s plagued with nightmares of being forced to fight for Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn and her dad being killed. She’s always on high alert and can be tense if she’s in an unknown environment or situation, but knows how to hide it well.

History: Her father Kyro once resided in Edenia as a guard for the Empire but left once Shao Kahn reigned terror and merged their realm with Outworld and it was too late to help. He fought until the last minute, managing to escape along with a few other Edenians and made his way to Earthrealm, specifically New York. There he found work doing odd jobs under the table and it was on one job that he met Elena, a psychiatrist from Spain who needed a new desk put together. It wasn’t long that they dated and soon enough married, with Kyro eventually telling Elena the truth of his past and where he came from. Soon she was pregnant with Taron and it was 5 years later when they had Alora.

Alora was born prematurely and had to be kept under close watch but doctors told Kyro and Elena the odds of her surviving were very slim, so Kyro in a moment of weakness decided to go back to Outworld and search for Shang Tsung to beg for his help, knowing that the sorcerer shouldn’t be trusted but Kyro was desperate to save his child. Elena pleaded with him not to go but as time went by she was running out of options and couldn’t risk it anymore. Kyro returns to Outworld and finds Shang Tsung who more than happily agrees. Kyro was so engrossed in saving his baby that he didn’t truly think about the fact that the sorcerer didn’t ask for anything in return. Once the sorcerer was finished, Shang Tsung bid them farewell but not before giving Kyro a certain look, one that struck a chord of fear in him.

As Alora grew up, her parents would notice how she had an unusual amount of strength for someone her age. How she seemed to pick up certain objects with ease that any other child would have trouble doing so, how as a baby her grip was like iron. It fully came to light when at age 7, when Alora and Taron (12) were roughhousing. They were outside in the backyard, messing around when suddenly Taron screamed out in pain, tears streaming down his eyes. Elena and Kyro ran out to find Alora holding his limp hand, arm broken in several places from her own strength.

Shang Tsung’s magic had given Alora an abnormal amount of strength to save her life. Not only that but it also gave her a high pain tolerance along with better resistance to certain elements. Her parents, figuring it had something to do with his magic, could only warn their daughter to be more careful and cautious and keep a watchful eye on her.

It’s later that same year when Alora (7) suddenly falls incredibly ill. She was in the hospital, hooked up to machines but doctors couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong with her. Eventually they were told that her heart had become weak, an unexpected decline in her health. Once again Kyro makes the gut wrenching decision to go back to Shang Tsung and ask for help. Kyro was surprised when the sorcerer was waiting for him in the hallway, a sinister smirk on his lips. It was then that Kyro realized that it was all an elaborate plan in the making, Shang Tsung purposefully having his magic run out when Alora reached a certain age. The sorcerer promised to heal her only if Kyro swore to return back to Outworld with him and serve under Shao Kahn. With a heavy heart he agrees, keeping a smile on his face as he watches Alora’s color slowly return to her. He pulls Elena to the side, explaining the situation and bids her a tearful goodbye while hugging and kissing his children for the final time. Before Elena can even get a word out, Shang Tsung pulls Kyro into a portal, leaving her alone with her children.

Later on Elena tells her children the truth of their father and where he came from, showing them a notebook that they kept full of information and knowledge that Kyro has shared.

10-16 Elena enrolls Alora in anger management and MMA classes, noticing that the leaving of her father changed her, her daughter becoming more angry. As time goes on she’s excels past her peers to the point that she enters tournaments, remaining undefeated against her opponents and most of her wins coming from K.O’s. Deciding that it wasn’t enough, she finds and starts fighting underground, gaining more money and better notoriety. It’s at a certain underground fight that Kano approaches her, who had been watching her fight for quite some time and brings up the idea of fighting more dangerous people, more thrill than this and promising more money than she could get from these tournaments. At first she brushes him off, calling him a weirdo until he brings up Outworld, and to her horror and surprise her father. Frozen in her tracks, the notebook left by Kyro burning bright in her mind as she looks at Kano. She makes the hard decision to leave with him, only leaving a note on her bed for her mother to find and then leaving with Kano the next day.

Kano brings her to the Koliseum, putting her through weeks of fighting, giving her money and thrill as promised. Every day she would ask where Kyro was, where were they keeping him, how did she even know if he was still alive. Kano would brush her off, claiming that she’d seem him soon.

She had been fighting mercilessly, absolutely beating her enemies into a pulp. She had even been in a match against Mileena who left her with the gracious gift of a deep cut across her mouth from her sai but not without the repayment of a few shattered ribs. She fought viciously, drenched in blood, exhausted but ready to fight her final opponent and get the day over with.

Her blood had stilled when her father stood across the arena from her, years of fighting aging him and battle scars adorning his body. They refused to fight each other, ready to receive the beating that usually came when denying the emperor of something. An ultimatum was given: fight until one man remained or be killed.

After a few moments of painful silence, Kyro got into his fighting stance and gave his dear daughter a fearful and sorrowful nod. At first Alora held back when they fought, wanting to savor the moment of seeing her father after 9 years, taking in his features before the end came. But eventually her father pushed her to not hold back, to fight because her life depended on it.

With hurtful eyes he lands a kick to her stomach, sending her across the arena. She collapses to her knees, claiming she is unable to fight, secretly hoping they would put a stop this. With Kyro as the winner the match is done and they think they are safe for another day until Shang Tsung and a few of his experiments appear behind Kyro. Before Alora can even speak a word out, Shang Tsung grabs Kyro by the collar of his torn shirt and Alora can only watch in horror as the sorcerer takes his soul from him, his screams of agony tearing through Alora’s ears.

When her fathers body hits the ground she goes into a blind fit of rage and lunges forth, Shao Kahn’s minions attempting to hold her back but they were no match for her strength. Alora takes down the sorcerer and beats his face in, her fists pounding him to a pulp. It isn’t until Kano is hauling her away that the bloody sorcerers body transformed into someone else, revealing that he had used his magic to create a decoy and had gotten away. Kano tells Alora that because she lost the match she owed him money, forcing her to enlist in the Black Dragon and if she refused he would go find her mother and brother. Still fueled by the image of her father dying, she lashed out against Kano who took her down and cut her under the eye, leaving a permanent scar.

Now at age 29, Alora is the silent cold hearted muscle, having paid off the debt owed but too fearful to return home for the fact that Kano could still very possibly find her and her mother and brother. With the money she gets from missions she secretly sends it to her family, along with updates on her and to not look for her.

Alora hopes to one day be free of the Black Dragon claws, dreaming of returning to her mother and brother and finally putting her dark past behind her.

Fun Facts:

- She finds solace in her greenhouse, spending most of her free time in there tending to her garden and allowing herself to forget the life she lives currently

- She has a pet rat named Michi

- Claw machine and classic arcade games are her guilty pleasure

- Whenever she’s on a mission in Outworld, she likes to spar with Reiko since they have the same fighting style

- Is a heavy drinker but can handle her liquor extremely well

- Switches in between Spanish and English when she’s going off on somebody

- As much as she loves her father, she harbors immense guilt, blaming him for everything that happened. She wishes that he would’ve just let her die as a baby rather than seeking out Shang Tsung, ultimately sealing his fate and hers years to come.

[thathomestar]

The correct order for the MGS series is Metal Gear, Metal Gear 2: Solid Snake, Metal Gear Solid up until you meet Otacon then take a break to play Policenauts and afterwards go back and finish it, Ac!d 1 and 2, Ghost Babel and The Twin Snakes simultaneously, Sons of Liberty but don’t forget to watch Titanic when you meet Rose and then Escape from New York when you meet Plissken (don’t worry, you can just have them on in the background), Konami Skateboarding Evolution, Snake Eater and be sure to play Snake’s Revenge in place of the Guy Savage minigame (which I think they removed from the later versions anyway), Peace Walker, Ground Zeros, Guns of the Patriots, Phantom Pain but every time you fail play one hour of Survive no more no less, before finally finishing with Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance. Also every time you beat a MGS1 boss you need to make them as a Mii Fighter in Smash Bros Ultimate then beat them on the Shadow Mose stage in a 1v1 match, items optional (it’s the only way to put their spirits to rest) and before you ask, Subspace Emissary is clearly a self-insert fanfic that Big Boss wrote while keeping an eye on Snake (hence why Smash Snake is a mix of Naked and Solid) so it can go pretty much anywhere between Solid and Guns of The Patriots chronologically. I haven’t figured out where World of Light goes but I’m leaning towards it being an allegory for Big Boss being dead and in Valhalla or something so probably after Guns?

can't believe you would forget to watch King Kong when Raiden and Rose bring it up in MGS2, or stopping to play Snatcher when Metal Gear Mk 2 shows up in MGS4 smh

[rwac96]

U.N.G.C.C. Incident Report: The Gryphon

U.N.G.C.C. Kaiju Subject #25: The Gryphon/Bioengineered Extraterrestrial Probe-Colonly turned Kaiju

HEIGHT: 2-30 Meters (Probe Bats) 100 Meters (Final, Definitive Form)

LENGTH: 4-30 Meters (Probe Bats)

MASS: 8,000-9,000 Metric Tons (Probe Bats)

THREAT LEVEL: 4

FOR AUTHORIZED EYES ONLY

BIO:

Subject #25, classified by Kaijuologists as "The Gryphon", originated from a meteor that impacted Utah, USA in November of 1994. Though the meteor was recovered, an extraterrestrial organism escaped and went undiscovered for three days throughout the midwestern United States, feeding on animals and one U.N.G.C.C. Agent as a bat-like colony. In Kentucky, USA, the colony settled in a forested area where it's believed they formed into a singular mass. The Gryphon slowly took on a definitive form; with the body of a cougar, the wings of a bat, and a prehensile hydra-headed tongue composed of snakes. Its frontal legs sport large clawed hands, spikes along the fingers; and its hind feet feature a mixture of talons and cloven hooves. Most notably about the Kaiju's appearance, there are three crests on the back of the beast's head. It slowly made its way to New York, USA, its presence alerting the attention of another predator which Kaijuologists learned was related to the Gojiran species.

From studying the meteorite where The Gryphon originated, Kaijuologists hypothesized that Subject #25 was engineered by hostile extraterrestrials to wipe out the target planet's populace. With the probes' consumption of certain animals and the death of Agent Pike, scientists discovered that these probes collect the most dangerous lifeforms of the target planet to conquer it. This was discovered by Jill Llewellyn, widow of the late Dr. Keith Llewellyn, one of the many casualties of Godzilla's (II) 1984 rampage. Llewellyn joined U.N.G.C.C.'s American branch in hopes of assisting in the monster's destruction. G-Force quickly mobilized when The Gryphon's rampage began, but troops were decimated by blasts of electricity fired from its wings. As New York became enveloped in an unnatural storm, Subject #25 was struck by an all too familiar blast of Atomic Breath.

(source)

Titanus Gojira, a Gojiran classified as 'Titan' by Kaijuologists, was somehow aware of The Gryphon's presence. This version of Subject #1 engaged in combat against Subject #25, having the ability to fire Atomic Breath, claws, teeth, and tail as an advantage. Its combat style was strangely similar to bears and Komodo dragons. However, The Gryphon has its own claws, the ability to fly and shoot lightning from its wings, used to hold its own against Godzilla (Titanus). The two Kaiju battled in the heart of Manhattan, causing collateral damage and the death toll to rise. Ultimately, Godzilla used its dorsal spines to greatly injure The Gryphon, taking advantage to claw into its insides and tear off its head. Seeing the alien Kaiju being able to somewhat function, Godzilla spiked Subject #25's head onto the torch of the Statue of Liberty, killing the extraterrestrial.

EVENT ANALYSIS: NEW YORK CITY, USA

EVACUATION SUCCESS: 64%

CITY DESTRUCTION: 34.6%

CASUALTIES: 435,000+ (ESTIMATED)

SUBJECT(S) CAPTURED: 1 (DECEASED)

SUBJECT(S) DISCOVERED: 2 (The Gryphon, Titanus Gojira)

STATUS OF SUBJECT: Deceased, killed by Titanus Gojira, its remains gathered and held in Outpost [REDACTED].

[thegodovereverything]

TMNTober

prompt: Unlikely Pet

Gen: 2012

ao3

@tmntober-2023

----------------------------------------

It was cold today. Heavy smog snakes through tightly packed buildings, making Donnie have to squint in order to see ahead of him. He was out looking for the fallen mutagen canisters today, without his brothers. Leo had let them all know–way too loudly to be true–that he was going on a solo patrol as he hurried out of the lair. Due to the trackers Donnie had put in him–and the rest of his brothers–as Leo slept around three years ago, Donnie knew that was a blatant lie. He’s been hanging out in the same apartment complex for about an hour every week.

Honestly, Donnie was thankful for it. If Leo was home when Donnie had left a much bigger fuss would’ve been put up. Instead, he just waved to Raph and Mikey, who were in the middle of an intense pinball tournament, and went out, mutagen tracker in hand. 

Its steady beat was the only noise while Donnie walked to the manhole cover that would grant him entry to the world above. The tiny beeps of the tracker were swallowed by the hustle and bustle of New York. He seemed to have come out in the middle of some parade, as an indescribable amount of people decked out in rainbows walked forwards. Mm, he didn’t realize pride was today. It probably would work to his advantage, as so many people will be distracted by the pride. 

Using a nearby fire escape, Donnie brought himself on top of the building. He couldn’t see the parade that well from the top, the heavy smog ensured that, but entrancing flashes of colors made a stunning lightshow. 

It wouldn’t hurt to watch for a little bit, would it? The tracker indicated that the mutagen canister wasn’t far and wasn’t moving, and Donnie doubted that would change in just five minutes. So, he settled down to watch pride for a bit. 

It made him feel…something. Seeing (well, more the impression of seeing), so many people come together and proudly stand for who they were. For some odd reason it made him think of Casey. Of his ugly smile, crooked and joyful, causing a strange fluttering in Donnie’s stomach. Or how he’d listen, lounging back, as Donnie rambled. Casey putting his arm behind Donnie head on the couch like the teenager has done for April so many times before. Of Casey giving Donnie his own nickname, that nobody else used. Of–

A long tube flew at his face. It was long, and furry, and had claws that told him instantly that it was alive. The strange animal frantically tried to claw its way off Donnie, pushing his mask over his eyes. Donnie flailed his arms, trying to both toss the animal off of him and protect his eyes. He failed on both counts.

The claws were stuck in the fabric of his mask, causing the animal to freak out, wiggling and clawing. After about a minute Donnie calmed down enough to do more than scream and try and grab the animal. 

“Ok, this is completely fine. I just have a weird ferret stuck to my face…just gotta… slowly… pull him off my face. Yeah…. Oh boy.”

Carefully, Donnie grabbed the still flailing animal's claws, wincing as its frantic clawing increased. Cuts must be littering his head by now. Gently, he pulled the claw from his mask, sighing in relief when it came out without much fuss. Ok, one claw down, nineteen more to go.

He worked methodically, slowly. The parade had already passed by him by the time he got the eighth out. By the eighteenth the animal had calmed down enough for Donnie to support its butt as he removed the final claw.

It was heavy and limp in his hands. The animal curled up to Donnie on his lap, apparently exhausted from all the hard work Donnie did to free it. He took this time to observe it. The animal was like a mix between a ferret and a cat. The face was small with wide ears set on either side of its face. It was covered in dark brown fur, with only a lighter strip on the bottom of its chin. Its tail was short and fluffed up, wrapped around its tiny body. Its claws were still out, lightly poking at Donnie’s thigh. 

He tried to tell what animal it was. He didn’t recognize it from anything native to America, but he vaguely remembered when Raph was into Japanese wildlife. His brother would interrupt Donnie in the middle of something just to rant about some new species he found out lived there. Donnie would try to remember what his brother talked about (no matter what his brothers said, he did care to pay attention to their interests, thank you very much), but it always felt like Mikey was so much better at remembering that stuff than him. 

He did remember this one animal, purely because Raph and Mikey made such a big deal about it. He wasn’t able to go five minutes without them shoving a photo of it in front of his face, asking him to comment on its cuteness. At first he’d mumble an agreement, but he became assaulted so often with the animal's image that he started banning even mentioning its name in the lair. Being in charge of the Wi-Fi had some benefits…

That was years ago, however, and he struggled to recall its name. Stable? Cable? Shable? Hm. He stared at the animal, poked its side. It stared up at him in reproach for a second before laying back down.  He could remember that they were carnivores and were rare too see due to their shyness, but that was about all he remembered. Oh, and they delay development of the embryo for about eight months. He had that pleasant factoid burned into his memory for no reason. But, alas, he didn’t have a clue what the animal's name was. Just that it was a long way from home. 

Careful not to disturb the resting animal, Donnie called Raph on his shell cell. His brother would know what to do, even if he claimed to have completely lost interest in it. 

“What.” Raph’s greeting was friendly as always.

“Well, Raph, remember when you talked about those animals from Japan? One of them is on my lap right now and I could really use some assistance here.”

His brother grunted, “Fine,”

Raph got there in three minutes. Donnie passed the time waiting by lightly stroking the animal. The only noises were the distant sounds of people partying to loud music. Pride apparently continued long after the parade. He was still lightly stroking the animal when Raph arrived, launching himself onto the rooftop. 

“Oh sewer apples, how’d you get a Sable?”

[melpomeneprose]

Yorktown, 1781

Yorktown, 1781

Read here originally written as part of this much longer work.

Now or never 

September 20th, 1781. 

The British had trapped themselves, at Yorktown. General Cornwallis had barricaded himself in a Virginian swamp, the Marquis de Lafayette had explained. What’s more the French fleet was more than happy to aid in the destruction of their mutual enemy, Great Britain. Still more, a double agent, a black man by the name of James Armistead Lafayette was feeding English intelligence false information. It was now or never, now that Cornwallis had sent for reinforcements and a fleet from New York.

 “We must take Cornwallis, lest we lose all morale and the people,” Washington said. Tallmadge merely nodded, silent but never not observant holding his Dragoon helmet close. 

“It is now or never,” Lafayette said.   

These are the times that try men's souls. The summer soldier and the sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of their country; but he that stands by it now, deserves the love and thanks of man and woman. Tyranny, like hell, is not easily conquered; yet we have this consolation with us, that the harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. - Thomas Paine

The trenches 

October 11th, 1781. 

Several sleepless nights for Major Benjamin Tallmadge as the patriot and allied militias dig trenches surrounding the English enemy. The English put up a fight, of course they do, amidst the darkness sounds of cannons being fired shake the ground and would burst any unaccustomed to war’s eardrums. The smoke from the English muskets fills the air, making it more than a little difficult to breathe, great plumes of white billowing into the air made worse by the southern heat and swampy ground of Virginia and every once in awhile a great booming noise just overhead and something were it less brutal one could half deceive themselves into thinking it a blazing red comet falling to earth. 

By morning the trenches are dug, and remarkably, no American casualties, not yet Tallmadge only prayed for the least amount of life taken, and a steady and swift end to this conflict. There are a few casualties on their allies, the French side, but not enough to be noted in any war as substantive. Morale is still high, they need only push Cornwallis til he breaks. With the right poison, even a snake can take down a lion. 

Firestorm 

October 15th, 1781.

Across the York River, the sound of a French military drum echoed a steady “da-da-da-dum.” English warships held that side of the river, for the moment. Encroaching in the dead of night the navy of French Admiral Comte de Grasse, set about their cause, the one they were all to pleased to do on General Washington’s insistence. 

Raining down cannon fire which soon spread set the vast majority of the English fleet aflame. Tallmadge didn’t see it, not all of it. Truthfully, it was hard to watch, the agony of others, even the enemy, even redcoat lobsters, practically flamed alive. Cornwallis retreated in a small escape vessel but in but a manner of hours, the English fleet at Yorktown and the men who had stood through no fault of their own for their… King and Country were obliterated. 

Tallmadge sucked in his breath nervously as recollections of Sarah Livingston passed briefly before his blue eyes. It was necessary, sure, and he wouldn’t run. But… such ungodly suffering, like flames lapping up from Hell, consuming everything in it’s wake. The cannons, are like a heart beat that rips through you and tears you up. That tears the unlucky limb by limb. Worse than any bullet. 

Some talk of  Alexander and some of Hercules 

Of  Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.

But of all the world's brave heroes, there's none that can compare.

With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadiers.

Man or a monster 

October 16th, 1781. 

It had occurred to Benjamin but once before now that he might be wrong, even after all this time, Sarah’s words rang in his ears, ‘I am not ready to die for yours,’ Sarah had said, she had begged his assistance, and he had not returned it, he had killed her. As Comte de Grasse had demolished the English fleet and the man aboard those ships. It must be wrong, surely, or at least, not anything any Good God would approve of, on either side. His name was already tainted, at least to him, it was a wonder anyone could still see Good in him. 

Benjamin, son of the right hand in Hebrew, is the chosen son. Or so one in all their wisdom had explained. 

Wrong, would this be counted against him or for him, on the day he finally passes? As is most certain and unavoidable for all mankind. 

Laying in his cot in his tent Tallmadge managed a prayer. A meek one, but, a prayer nonetheless. Tallmadge would do his duty, finish his task, mount his horse with his spurs and take up his musket and pistols were it so required. But, when this is over and he, at last, can hang up his spurs and his sword– he promises never to lay a hand on a gun or such a fatalistic tool as a sabre ever again. Such destruction and what cost? Surely it is only right for God to play such drawn-out affairs with life and death. 

‘But what if perhaps God doesn’t exist?’ 

But it is surely not Benjamin’s place to question God’s design, faith and friends had kept him alive, however much he wavered and seemed ill at ease. It had been six years fighting George III’s empire, he would surely not break now. Even if it condemned his soul from thereafter.

Even if it made Benjamin no better than the demon or a Lamia the scriptures warn men about.

Redcoats redder 

October 17th, 1781. 

So the bombardment of the English began in earnest at last. Benjamin was aching for a fight and so it seemed were his colleagues Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens. Washington promised them soon enough – they must break the English defensive in its entirety first. 2,500 Patriots and 4,000 French allies… up against 8,000 English troops. But, as fate or God would have it, 8,000 unguarded, ill of malaria and dysentery and trying to hold a strategic position on land any sensible person would say was unholdable. Perhaps it was just Cornwallis’s spite for the Americans, the English always seemed to forget the collective power of her colonies, or perhaps more foolish yet, holding out for reinforcements from New York. What it was, didn’t matter. Not when the clock was ticking and in this rare instance, God seemed to favour the patriot side. They’d take the remaining redoubts by storm it is either that or the noose. Liberty or death. 

Benjamin had thought on the concept of dying now so many times, it seemed, he now had a sort of disconnect from the entire concept. That was until now. Until he could no longer deny its likelihood. Guns and strategic advantages aside, they were still outnumbered and they were still facing the worlds greatest Empire, if one could call it that. Tallmadge much preferred the concept of putting down a hungry beast, like a Mantacore of Greek legend, or… Echidna the mother of monsters from the same. Surely that was the most apt description for the thing they were fighting. Even bloodsucker or a leech was far too kind. So, into the belly of the beast they charge, it is, simply… win or the bayonet end or the noose of the hollow crown. 

Rochambeau 

October 18th, 1781. 

The code word, Alexander Hamilton informed him: Rochambeau. We face them now, staring into the whites of their eyes, so the enemy cannot run. Alexander Hamiton and his Achilles, to his Patroclus to his Achilles, John Laurens would lead infantry. Benjamin would, such as his rank of 2nd continental light dragoon said, was to cut them off as calvary give little room for them to hold ground, or fight back. It would be brutal, Hamilton bluntly said to Tallmadge, but necessary. Tallmadge nodded, despite himself and gave Hamilton a friendly and determined smile, this is what Benjamin’s been fighting for since 1776. He was not about to give these men in red an inch. For Nathan, for how he couldn’t spare Major Andre, or Sarah, to end the conflict Miss Shippen was running from. For Anna Strong’s revenge, for Caleb and the ring, for their America. 

Not charging into the frey not yet. Alexander and Laurens move silently in the dead of night removing the bullets from their guns until absolutely necessary. With the British defences pummelled to the ground, they take the redoubts with comparative ease. Until the English answer with their remaining cannons and the fog and fumes of war. Laurens and Hamilton stay their ground. Try as men might atop his horse, the men in red are easy targets. He cuts them down hacking and slashing with all his rage and all his might, like Achilles at Troy. They attempt to fire upon him and the calvary he is missed. One man’s horse is shot from under him and he hears the screams of an injured or dying animal, still, they keep fighting. Cannon fire shoots back in response, a last-ditch attempt by the English to hold their position. By 4 am it is decided in the end the total casualties amounted to 857, for both sides. But, outgunned, outplayed, exhausted and ill the English now as weary as their patriot enemies surrender.

The world turned upside down 

October 19th, 1781. 

A young redcoat stands atop the defences with a white handkerchief, and a drummer accompanies him. By 10:30 am the English offer sufficient terms of surrender. Humiliated, or ill, Cornwallis neglects to be present. Benjamin cannot help but scoff but he suppresses it if only out of politeness and civility to the now-defeated enemy. 

A line is formed and sure enough, Washington receives the sword of the enemy, a symbol of surrender and a remarkably civil surrender at that. Save for poor Banastre Tarleton, not with his reputation for brutality. However, the English refuse to look at the Patriots, to whom the French and English are subordinate. 

The Marquis de Lafayette merely sighed softly. “Yankee doodle,” he commanded, as the British drummer and fifer played the folk song, ‘The world turned upside down.’ There is a look of disbelief on the faces of the English, but, Tallmadge cannot help but return it with a grin, smug perhaps, but, this is what he had spent six years fighting for! What is more, he had survived.

[violentdesires]

they knew , they knew , they knew the whole time that i was onto something . the family , the pure greed , the christian chorus line . they all said nothing . blood's thick , but nothing like a payroll . bet they never spared a prayer for my soul . you can mark my words that i said it first , in a mourning warning no one heard . not a single word was heard .

𝐈 , application .

( hande erçel / 2000+ / she, her ) — it’s been a while since we’ve seen talia aydin in the shadow world. the whitelighter resides in new york and reminds us of rosy cheeks, iced coffee and pearl necklaces. rumor has it that they might have a connection to no one, but only time will tell where their loyalties really lie. until then, only one thing is certain : the descent into hell will be easy for the soiled dove.

𝐈𝐈 , basic information .

name . . . talia aydin .

nicknames . . . none .

species . . . whitelighter , formerly dragon .

age . . . 2000+ .

date of birth . . . unknown .

place of birth . . . a spanish island .

pronouns . . . she , her .

sexuality . . . bisexual .

residence . . . new york city .

languages . . . english , spanish .

𝐈𝐈𝐈 , personality .

zodiac sign . . . unknown .

negative traits . . . impatient , melancholic , perfectionistic .

positive traits . . . compassionate , creative , enduring .

hobbies . . . reading , floristics , travelling .

𝐈𝐕 , appearances .

faceclaim . . . hande erçel .

height . . . 1,75 cm .

hair color . . . dark brown .

eye color . . . brown .

notable facts . . . talia never leaves the house without her enchanted snake bracelet , which cosimo gifted to her .

𝐕 , relatives .

parents . . . vasilkaera de' medici and an unknown father .

siblings . . . lacey florencia aydin .

familiar connections . . . aurora de' medici ( cousin ) , ayana tesfaye ( grandmother ) , cosimo de' medici ( uncle ) , violet de' medici ( aunt ) .

pets . . . lychee and clementine , a white and an orange cat .

𝐕𝐈 , biography .

The former dragon’s past is a difficult subject, one that she attempts to avoid at all costs. Whenever she is forced to look back, she remembers a happy childhood, a loving family, a strong union - but these images are followed by the utmost betrayal. Thinking about her family means thinking about the person that she used to call her mother, the person that killed her two thousand years ago: Aspasia, the witch that raised her and her siblings. Who wants to speak of the past when all joy was destroyed with unspeakable actions? Aspasia’s decision to end her life sent Talia to purgatory, the afterlife that was created for those that god calls monsters. The concept is simple enough: Stay alive or face the eternal destruction of your very soul. With little to no knowledge in combat, the dragon relied on the resources that were available to her: She used herbs and plants to poison those that came after her and at some point - whether it took weeks or centuries - she managed to stay hidden away from other souls, taking shelter in a small cottage that she covered in poisonous plants. Her existence was not worth living, but the hope that she would get to see her loved ones again kept her going. Even if hope kept her soul alive, Talia never thought that she would be freed and Vasilkaera’s arrival in purgatory certainly frightened her. While she always longed to see her again, this was the last place she wanted the other to be stuck in - but the dragon did not arrive on her own. It was the archangel, Cosimo de’ Medici, that allowed her to enter the realm and it was him who ensured their safe escape from it, letting Talia leave the countless centuries of suffering behind. While Cosimo had the power to resurrect her, the damage that had been done to her original body prevented him from bringing her back inside of it, but they came prepared: Vasilkaera and the angel came across Talia Aydin - a young woman that visited Hungary on her own, hoping to enjoy a beautiful vacation. There was something about her that seemed familiar, something that offered comfort to the older dragon and so the two of them did not hesitate to tie her soul to Miss Aydin’s body, making it her vessel on earth. To honor the sacrifice that has been made for her, Talia chose to take her name as her own, wanting to feel as if some part of her survived the - otherwise fatal - action. Shortly after her resurrection, Talia received the opportunity to become a whitelighter. An opportunity that she could not pass up on, even if the change continues to scare her, even now. The modern world came as a shock. It seemed like the world that she used to know died with her, but her time in purgatory taught her to become adaptive. She began to blend into New York City as if she never left the mortal plane and while she struggles from time to time, most people would not guess what happened to her. While her nightmares are far from over and it can be rather difficult to get used to feeling like a whole new person, she finds courage and strength in her reunion with Vasilkaera. Being close to the person that she loves most in the world is all that truly matters to her, even if that contentment could be threatened by people recognizing Talia as the person they used to know…

𝐕𝐈𝐈 , wanted connections .

familiar . . . relatives of talia's vessel .

romantic . . . ex partners of the vessel .

platonic . . . the witch that becomes her charge , the witch or warlock that mentors her , etc .

credits : psd , template .

[chasingshadowsblog]

"A man of contradictions. A man of many moods." - An analysis of three characters brought to you by Kurt Russell and John Carpenter.

Throughout their long careers and friendship, John Carpenter and Kurt Russell have collaborated no more than five times together. Those five times, however, produced an array of memorable films and performances, turning Kurt Russell into an iconic cult hero and solidifying John Carpenter as one of the most unique and influential directors of his time. Such was their stamp on the movie world that the characters they created together remain among the most beloved of film-goers both old and new, and their films the subjects of frequent re-watches and special screenings. This essay focuses on the strongest of those collaborations and analyses three of their most iconic characters - Snake Plissken, Jack Burton, and RJ Macready. The analysis will be based on a trilogy of factors: their competence in their environments, their likability to other characters and the audience, and their arc throughout their films. After which they will be scored by an arbitrary scale based on their success in each factor and, let's be honest, vibes. What will the results conclude? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I had a good time doing it.

(Disclaimer: I opted not to include Elvis or Escape From LA because the first is about a real person and the second is a sequel and I didn't want Snake Plissken to have an edge.)

Snake Plissken

"SD Plissken, American Lieutenant. Special Forces Unit, Black Flight. Two Purple Hearts, Leningrad and Siberia. Youngest man to be decorated by the President." After establishing that Manhattan island has been turned into the most tightly secured prison in the country, Snake Plissken is introduced to us as one of its prisoners and with crime rates up 400% in this version of 1997 New York, you'd have to be a special kind of person to end up here.

Competence: "They sent in their best man…" In his first conversation with commissioner Bob Haulk, Snake's military background is revealed showing just how highly skilled he already was before turning into a criminal. This conversation also reveals to Snake what we witnessed at the beginning of the movie: after an emergency landing the President has been kidnapped and is being kept somewhere in the city while in possession of a tape that holds the key to international peace negotiations and the government needs Snake Plissken to get him back. This decision isn't so much using a criminal to catch a criminal as it is based on Snake's history as a highly skilled and decorated military man. For this world, and this task, Snake Plissken is the best option and he has ample opportunity throughout the movie to display his skills. The first stage of his mission is to fly into New York and land on top of the World Trade Centre without being detected - a feat made all the more impessive by the fact that he only has one good eye. He lands successfully and, using a tracker, follows the President's trail to an old theatre. It turns out the tracker was attached to someone else, but here Snake meets Cabbie, a denizen of the city who is excited to see him and wants to help out. Snake leaves the theatre on his own but ends up meeting Cabbie again while being pursued by a gang of the "crazies" that roam the streets and sewers. He jumps into Cabbie's cab and watches the old man toss a Molotov cocktail out the window at the coming horde (without missing a beat of their conversation - a great scene). Cabbie tells Snake that the President is being held hostage by the "Duke of New York". Cabbie takes him to the Duke's headquarters where they meet Maggie and Brain, who eventually agree to bring Snake to the President after he threatens to kill them both. Snake easily infiltrates the base and finds the President, killing one of the guards with a knife throw to the head (it's all in the reflexes), but gets shot in the leg in the process. As the two men try to sneak away they are captured again by the Duke. After being knocked out, Snake wakes up at the Duke's base and is forced into a gladiator-like wrestling match while Brain and Maggie rescue the President. As they do so, Snake, on his injured leg, wins the fight and the admiration of the crowd and leaves to find Maggie, Brain and the President. Following Brain's map, they attempt to leave the city, pursued closely by the Duke. After losing Maggie, Brain and Cabbie in the chase, Snake and the President make it to the perimeter of the city; from the top of the wall, the President shoots the Duke, allowing Snake to climb up after him, mission accomplished. For the nature of the world and the task involved, Snake Plissken is undoubtedly competent. Although there are times when he couldn't have moved forward without the help of Brain, Maggie or Cabbie, these moments by no means belittle his own capabilities. With their help, Snake completes the mission assigned to him, while frequently proving himself capable of surviving in both worlds. 10/10 for competence.

Likability: "God, I hate that guy." Snake may be skilled and capable but when he jumps into to Cabbie's cab to escape the crazies, he ignores the fact that the man wants to help him and that he might need that help, "Why didn't you ask me? I know everybody." Cabbie tells him something he didn't know - that the President was being held hostage by the Duke - and shows that he isn't all that well-informed about the politics of this world; in this territory, he may sometimes need the locals to guide him. Snake is begrudging in his times of need and responds to these situations by threatening those he asks for help, like holding a gun to Cabbie's head even though he was willing to help without being asked, "You don't have to put a gun to my head, I'll tell ya", and threatening to kill Brain and Maggie if they don't bring him where he wants to go. Snake is a loner by nature and it is difficult for him to accept help, so when he does, it needs to seem as if he's ordering it rather than accepting it. Of course, being a loner doesn't make a person unlikable, it is Snake's rejection of people that makes me wonder why so many were excited to see him. Snake Plissken is something of a legend in New York, though it is never specified how. Everyone he runs into is happy to see him so we can assume they think of him as a hero especially since they ask him for help each time. Cutting to the bone, Snake's appeal to these people is his usefulness. The only person Snake knows in New York is Brain and after meeting him for the first time in four years, he immediately throws the man's past betrayal in his face. We know Brain doesn't like Snake either and only helps him to ensure his and Maggie's escape, later calling Snake an asshole after he drives over the mine that causes Cabbie's death, "I said jog left, you asshole". The only time Snake really engages with another person is when Brain himself steps on a mine and Maggie can only stare at his mangled body. Snake tries to get her to move but Maggie only silently stares back at him, then lifts her hand. Sensing her resolve, he hands her his gun and leaves. Snake doesn't exactly offer her compassion in her silent grief, but he does offer her understanding and when he realises that she isn't going to move he doesn't push her to go on; he hands her a gun so she can shoot at the Duke's car in a futile attempt to avenge her husband. In this world, among these people, that's about all they can give each other. So, Snake Plissken is likable by convention. Watching a character be good at the things they're supposed to be good at is very attractive to a viewer. As well as that, he dislikes the right people; the President proves at the end that he is as uncaring of the lives lost as the criminals that roam the streets of New York, "A lot of people died in the process, I just wondered how you felt about it." Right after this, Haulk offers him a job which Snake refuses. By referencing the deaths of Maggie, Brain and Cabbie, then rejecting the advances of the cold, manipulative authority figures, Snake shows that, while he is still for himself, he is for himself on the right side, the side of the characters we do like. It doesn't hurt that he's the lead character of the movie, the first person we are programmed to root for, and that he's played by someone as charismatic as Kurt Russell, who can channel the fun bravado of characters like Snake rather than their arrogance and apathy. Snake gets 4/10 for likability.

Progress: "It's about the survival of the human race, Plissken. Something you don't give a shit about." Snake's character changes very little from beginning to end. The most notable difference is how he refers to himself in the presence of Haulk. In their first scene, Haulk refers to him as ''Plissken'' and Snake insists on "Snake"; at the end, Haulk calls him by his first name and Snake says "Plissken" instead. At the start, he doesn't want to be talked down to by the likes of Haulk, someone he doesn't like or respect, and insists on his first name being used; by the end, possibly even more disillusioned, Snake doesn't want to be spoken to familiarly by these people. If anything this shows a small change in Snake's feelings towards others. He may not have shown it when they were working together, but Snake was, ultimately, loyal to those who helped him. The fact that he sabotaged the President's speech by giving him the wrong tape shows a sense of solidarity to Brain, Maggie and Cabbie and their memories. Had the President responded some other way to Snake's question, it's possible he might have handed over the correct tape. As it was, after the things he experienced in New York and the callous treatment by the President of the people who died helping him, Snake chooses instead to give the world the middle finger in their honour. 2/10 for character progression (he basically just focuses his dislike for other people from 'everybody' to 'particularly these ones').

RJ MacReady

"I know I'm human. And if you were all these things, then you'd just attack me right now, so some of you are still human. This thing doesn't want to show itself, it wants to hide inside an imitation. It'll fight if it has to, but it's vulnerable out in the open." I would argue that nobody could be prepared for what happened to Outpost 31 in The Thing, so, unlike Snake, who is built for his world, and Jack, whose modus operandi is that he's the bumbling sidekick, MacReady really shines in the group as a normal guy surviving an absurd situation.

Competence: "Mac's really taking it up, huh?" "He knows what he's doing." MacReady is also different in that among a team of scientists researching in Antartica, he is the helicopter pilot. Which is still no mean feat in the face of Antartic weather, and Mac is always willing and able to take his helicopter out even when warned otherwise. Mac, as a pilot, must be cool under pressure, have the ability to think himself out of a situation, be adaptable, and confident in a position of control. Early scenes try to set Mac up as the callous dumbass of the group; our introduction to him shows him losing to a computer at chess then pouring whiskey into the drive to kill it, "cheatin' bitch,", and not long after this he frequently refers to the Norwegians as Swedes despite being corrected twice. In great contrast to this image, Mac ends up being the figure that the others look to. When the shit hits the fan, MacReady keeps his cool while the rest of the group grow angry and paranoid. Although Blair figures out what the Thing is trying to do it is Mac who takes action; he calls for the flamethrower when the Thing erupts from the dog; he organises the group to take out Blair and locks him in the cabin afterwards; he comes up with the blood test when their first method is destroyed; he burns Bennings' assimilated body with no hesitation. None of these things are pleasant and he certainly doesn't want to do them but they are necessary tasks and, as proven by that first trip to the Norwegian base, when there's a job no one else wants to do, Mac can be relied upon to do it. As soon as the Thing makes itself known he only wants to come up with ideas to stop it, even if it means they won't get out alive, "We're not gettin' outta here alive. But neither is that thing." Blair, faced with his discovery, lost his mind; Garry, after the loss of his friend and the trust of the team, cedes his position willingly; Childs reacts in anger, and the rest of the group in fear. Only MacReady is able to deal with the situation by applying to it every skill he already has from his normal life and adding a flamethrower. He only grows reactive when other characters accuse him of being an imitation. He is so confident in himself that this is the only thing that can get a rise out of him and he is beyond unwilling to put up with such nonsense. MacReady rules the roost with a steady hand and comes out on the end as one of two survivors. The other is Childs, his opposite in many ways yet the only other character that could have matched his competency. Mac recognises Childs' power when he asks him to take the lead in taking down Blair, showing another smart quality in Mac's leadership abilities. Still, despite recognising Childs as an equal, only he could be the stand-in leader. When Garry offers his gun, Childs jumps at the chance before anyone else can and must be stopped by MacReady who points out the need for a less reactive candidate. Whatever the nature of this research trip was before, it must be believable that Mac is the only man who can get them out of this mess and the story does a good job of letting him prove himself even without the other characters already deferring to him. 6/10 for competence, he did his absolute best with the skills and resources he had.

Likability: "Yeah, fuck you, too." This is another aspect of Mac I find fascinating because at no point do we ever see him wanting to be liked, trying to be liked or being likable, but almost everyone in this movie really likes Mac. We don't get to see the relationships build between these men only what is already established followed swiftly by the fallout as the alien invades their base and the group turns on each other. In the midst of this we see Mac approached by members of the team with their concerns, we see them trust him and follow his orders even when there are higher ranking members around. Mac cuts an impressive figure - he's cool and confident and this group of nerds flock to him like moths to a flame. He appears to have some rapport with Blair, "How you doin', old boy?", is trusted enough by Fuchs that he confides in Mac, and is commanding enough that they all agree to be tied up as he carries out the blood test. Mac strikes a good balance between the silent assuredness of Snake Plissken and the over-eager chattiness of Jack Burton. Mac is never quiet but never wastes his words. He doesn't speak to fill silences or to narrate whatever comes to mind, when he speaks it is to communicate information. The more Mac tries to get them out of the nightmare they're all stuck in the more we believe him to be the reliable guy the scientists already know. Up to a a certain point (Bennings' immolation) the film has only exuded fear and confusion, Mac's emotionless handling of events anchors us and provides us a character we know we can look to as leader. Once the Thing gets loose, Mac cuts off his emotional ties with the group, locking Blair in a cabin, not having time for Garry's emotion after Bennings dies, nor having any inhibitions about tying people up and possibly needing to burn them alive. His lack of emotions is what keeps him alive in the end, of course, but wins him no points on the likability meter. 2/10 for being played by Kurt Russell.

Progress: "Anyone messes with me… and the whole camp goes." The events of this movie offer limited space for character progression and unfortunately MacReady is going to suffer for that. Based on his introduction, I wouldn't think of him as the stupid hot-head of the group but nor would I have expected him to take the lead; MacReady exudes an air of I don't care, which acts in contrast to his active desire to rid the base of the Thing. He frequently seperates himself from the group - when he's playing chess at the beginning, getting a beer in the kitchen while the rest are in the rec room and his cabin is separate from the main building, while the others appear to share rooms - and when Fuchs wants to have a private talk with him Mac initially turns him down, "I'm tired of talking, Fuchs, I just wanna get up to my shack and get drunk." So, it's somewhat of a surprise that Mac takes the lead so swiftly and confidently; it seems to go against our initial impression of him that he would be so willing to take control and keep the group together (this is the same guy who didn't drop his bottle of whiskey when they were being shot at by the Norwegian). It is only when they decide to take a trip to the Norwegian base that Mac begins to show what he's capable of. Despite being well-liked by most of the group, Mac prefers his own company; the fact that he had the skills in him the whole time to fight the Thing as best as anyone could does not necessarily indicate character progression, it's just another part of him. The minimal amount of progression we get from Mac comes from the fact that he goes against his solitary nature to take up the lead in this situation. 1/10 for character progression.

Jack Burton

"You leave Jack Burton alone. We are in his debt. He showed great courage." Jack Burton is a great one to analyse for this piece as he was never the intended lead of the movie - that role belongs to Denis Dun's Wang Chi - so his strengths fall into different categories than the other two. The first scene, in which Egg Shen is interrogated by the FBI, was added at the end of filming at the insistence of the studio to make Jack Burton appear more heroic. There's no doubting Jack's bravery, but I do wonder how much the people of Chinatown really owe him. Don't get me wrong, I love Jack Burton; he has a lot of heart and he tries to help his friend, but Carpenter always intended for him to be the side-kick in his partnership with Wang Chi and, comparing the actions and motivations of the two men, that isn't difficult to see. Wang is more proactive, his motivation is love; Jack wants his truck back. His truck is the thing that keeps him focused and, despite some amount of care for his friends, he really sticks to these guns until the very end. Jack as the hero doesn't make sense; Jack as a reactive side-kick who regularly freaks out and needs everything explained to him is perfect.

Competence: "You know what Jack Burton always says at a time like this?" "Who?" "Jack Burton. Me!" In terms of competence, Jack falls short. Brave? Certainly. Successful in his efforts? Not so much. Jack talks a big game and he does fancy himself a heroic figure as seen when he tries takes the lead in infiltrating the White Tiger and David Lo Pan's headquarters even though Wang, Egg and the rest of the group are clearly more capable and usually the ones who get things done. During these moments he ends up falling back, standing ready with his knife, as in the funeral duel in Chinatown, or trying to get his gun to work while Wang fights Lo Pan's henchmen. He knocks himself out in the final battle and, after waking up and stabbing a guy with his knife, gets himself stuck under that same guy. Jack can take out one guy while Wang is taking out six or seven. Jack's actual skills are more down to earth compared to the likes of Wang and Egg Shen - you can't deny he's a good truck driver as you watch him navigate the narrow streets of Chinatown in the humongous Pork-Chop Express. Unfortunately, in a quest to get his truck back from the people who stole it from him, Jack doesn't get to show off this skill for more than a few minutes. He's also good at poker, being the last one standing in the game he plays with Wang and his other friends at the start of the movie, winning at least a thousand dollars from Wang. Not to mention his reflexes, which he gets to showcase at the very end when he takes down David Lo Pan. Jack might be a competent human being under normal circumstances but in this situation he is entirely unequipped. 2/10 because his heart was in it.

Likability: "What does that mean, huh? China is here. I don't even know what the hell that means." While he isn't often successful in his attempts at heroics, there is a bravery and selflessness in Jack's actions throughout the movie that win him the admiration of the other characters and the audience. Egg was telling the truth when he said that Jack showed great courage. It's pretty much all he does in these situations and one of the best things about Jack is that he keeps trying. The fact that he sticks by Wang even though he doesn't understand all of the Chinatown magic and politics is enough. In this world of kung fu, elemental villains, and underground headquarters, Jack is the everyman - he is us. As such, it's very easy to like Jack. As an outsider he needs things explained to him at every turn and like any audience member who dreams of being an action hero, he dives headfirst into the fray despite his lack of knowledge and capabilities. And then he fails. Often. Another credit in his favour: Jack is a good friend. "As two. I said I was coming." While Jack initially joins Wang first to make sure he gets his money, then later to get his truck back, there are many points throughout the action where Jack puts his friend, and other characters he's just met, first. The poker game at the beginning shows us that Jack and Wang have been friends for some time now and that Jack has a history with all of these people, "Is this going to get ugly, huh? 'Cause what I thought we were here, racial differences notwithstanding, was just a couple of old friends, you know, both of us just Californians." When Wang attempts to win back his money, "nothing or double" Jack thinks he's crazy but appears to be enjoying the challenge, "You're out of your mind, Wang. God bless you." Even though he only insists on driving Wang to the airport to make sure he gets his money, Jack listens to him talking fondly about Miao Yin though he clearly isn't interested. After the altercation with Lo Pan's henchmen at the airport Jack volunteers to bring Wang to their headquarters before he's even had a chance to ask, "I can't ask you to-" "Where is it?" "Thank you, Jack" - at this point Jack has no other investment in the situation other than helping his friend. Although Jack's resolve tends to waver when he gets spooked and it's never exactly clear when he is being motivated by his truck or a need to help his friends, there are many moments in which he shows great courage and selflessness. He tries to intervene when Lo Pan's henchmen grab the woman in the airport; when the Storms arrive at the brothel he tries to fight them; while Wang and Eddie are fighting the guards, Jack sneaks past them to free Margot and the captured women "Are you gonna spring us?" "I have no idea!"; as the group tries to escape, he offers to stay behind to distract the guards while the rest of them leave, "Hide! They only saw me." When they get caught he takes the beating from Thunder and actively turns their attention from Wang; facing David Lo Pan for the first time, Jack isn't afraid to talk smack to him. For all of these reasons, Jack is a likable guy and it doesn't hurt that he is played so well by Kurt Russell, who knew exactly what Carpenter was attempting with the dynamic of Wang and Jack. Jack deserves a full 10/10 here for being a good friend and an excellent sidekick.

Progress: "This is Jack Burton of the Pork-Chop Express and I'm talking to anyone who's listening. It's like I said to my first wife, I said, 'Honey, I never drive faster than I can see and besides, it's all in the reflexes'." Jack is introduced to us driving his truck, The Pork-Chop Express, and doling out advice on his radio, and this is also what he's doing the last time we see him. Although his friends take priority for him from time to time, Jack's motivation throughout the movie remains firmly in his desire to retrieve his stolen truck. After those moments when it seems like he's changed his tune he will mention his truck again in case someone gets the wrong idea. When Margot suggests that he's helping them because of his feelings for Gracie, he insists he only wants his truck back. When he and Wang are captured by the Lords of Death and facing David Lo Pan for the first time, he asks about his truck. At the very end, with everything resolved, Jack leaves his friends and heads off by himself, even denying the attention of Gracie, who he had been trying to impress since he first saw her in the airport. As well as this, those times when Jack voluntarily follows Wang (even though he's scared and doesn't understand what's going on) still feel in character for him, as we have seen him be the good friend from the beginning. It isn't here that his progression lies. The little of Jack's character progression that we see has less to do with his actions and motivations than his scepticism about the goings-on in the world of "Little China". The other white characters in the film, Margot and Gracie, both have an idea of who David Lo Pan is and what might be going on, but Jack needs everything explained to him and after it is, he is still disbelieving. Really, he doesn't want to believe, as all of the magic and old curses are too much for him. He just wants to get his truck and get out of there, "I'm a reasonable guy, but I've just experienced some very unreasonable things." When Lo Pan explains his curse and his reason for wanting Miao Yin, Jack makes fun of him and vocalises his scepticism, "You can go off and rule the universe from beyond the grave…Or check into a psycho ward, whichever comes first." It's only when Wang Chi explains the history and the curse to him that Jack starts to believe, "No horst shit, Wang?" After everything he's seen so far, Jack can't but begin to believe. Once he's flipped this switch in his brain, he is able to face all of the odd things he meets with the same unfounded bravado he's displayed thus far, like attempting to shoot the freaky flying eyeball thing, "Hey, you never know until you try." In his final moment with Wang, he is proud of what they've accomplished and salutes him with the gesture only Wang and his friends had been using throughout the film, "We really shook the pillars of heaven, didn't we, Wang?" "No horse shit, Jack." "No horse shit." Jack's worldview is shaken in the few days he spends with Wang, but he still only changes incrementally. His final scene in the Pork-Chop Express mirrors his first one, except now, having gone through what he's gone through, he has more of a right to be giving advice. As he talks the camera pans to the back of the truck where the hairy arm of one of the creatures from Lo Pan's dungeons reaches out menacingly letting us know that even if Jack Burton is finished with adventures, adventures aren't finished with Jack Burton. And now, with his final line, "Jack Burton just looks that big old storm right square in the eye and he says, 'Gimme your best shot pal, I can take it," we know he's ready for it. In terms of character progression Jack stays true to his nature and motivations but still manages to change enough along the way that he's not exactly the same person we met at the beginning. 4/10 for having your world-view completely altered and turning out okay in the end.

Lightning Round!

Because how could we do a deep dive into these characters and not look at their iconic looks.

Snake Plissken

Brown leather jacket. Black tank top. White and grey camoflage trousers. Knee-high black boots. Unexplained eye-patch. Magnificent mane of hair. Suggestive snake tattoo. Exceptional. 10/10 for practicality and commitment to the bit.

RJ MacReady

A hat so lame he's the coolest person in the room. RJ MacReady does not care about how he looks or what people think of him. 10/10 effortlessly cool.

Jack Burton

Double denim combo with a tank top plus shin-high mocassin boots and mullet. Iconic. 10/10.

Conclusion

In Escape From New York, Carpenter launched Russell from Disney star to cult action hero; a year later he pulled him into the horror genre and made him deal with The Thing. In Big Trouble in Little China, they took Russell's leading-man good-looks and charm and applied them to a bumbling sidekick. Together, the two men took the opportunity to stretch their creative legs and trusted each other to try new things. Such is the strength of their work together that they have remained firmly embedded in movie culture despite not having made a film together in almost 30 years. It may be a testament to their friendship that they haven't needed to.