#mason briggs

[nytehavyn-circle]

FC: Jeffrey Dean Morgan Name: Mason Briggs Age: 52 (actually over 100) Height: 6'1" Species: Human Sexuality: Hetero Occupation: NYC Detective

Mason is over 100 years old, although he only looks around 52 years of age.

When he was 18, he joined the military. Where he met Ulysses K. Hartford. They became instant friends. At around 21 years of age, in 1954, both of them were chosen for a fairly new Special Opds unit. However, it turned out that Special Ops wasn't exactly what they were chosen for...

No, it was America's version of Russia's Red Room, the place that trained Natalia Alianovna Romanova (Natasha Romanoff), and where they brainwashed and trained James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes.

They were both given excessive, heavy, and violent training in assassination, turning them into killing machines. However, the super soldier serum that was used on both him and Ulysses not only gave them a bit of super strength, it heightened their senses, also giving them an eidetic memory, and the ability to basically see what your average person could not.

During their time in America's Red Room, they were both told of Natasha and Bucky... and were taught to hate them (and while they pretended to go along with this, neither actually hates either person.)

After a few years of using their training for special missions, they both got out, removed themselves from that type of life, and tried to use their abilities to help rather than kill.

Mason became a Detective, and a damned good one, thanks to his abilities. He has a knack for putting things together at crime scenes, sometime even better than Sherlock Holmes; he can see things that other people miss. And his eidetic memory is the perfect asset for detective work.

Mason, where Natasha is concerned, knows she's still in the business, but knows she has the final choice over her targets. And while he doesn't fear her, per see (he knows how good she is and how easily she could kill him), he does have a very healthy respect for her.

If he finds her loitering around one of his crime scenes, he will quietly bitch her out - for ' messing up' his crime scene. But if he comes across a crime scene that he knows was her work, just by piecing together clues and instances that other detectives miss, he refuses to turn her in. He knows whoever is dead deserved it. So, he'll fudge things, ignore a certain clue, anything to keep her from being questioned or caught.

And then, ver a little time, he'll quietly bury the case.

The NYPD doesn't know this part of his past. He managed to find someone to help him create a new past and new documents. As far as the NYPD knows, he did join the military, but not that long ago, and he did join special ops, but not that he was trained to be an assassin, and they sure as hell don't know about the super soldier serum, they just think he's highly talented.

At some point during his time with the NYPD, Mason became one of Terran Nytefyer's informants inside of the NYPD.

Mason grew up in a rather abusive household. That part isn't known by a lot of people.

He's been divorced twice.

He's a rather decent person and a damned good - great, actually - cop. He refuses to be the abusive asshole his father tried to raise him to be. Mason is the exact opposite of how he was raised. This included the negative, emotionless shit "America's Red Room" tried to pound into his head.

He may be crass and blunt, interrogative due to his cop nature, and a little suspicious. A bit snarky and sarcastic. Mason IS emotionally available, but he's sort of closed off, so it may take a while to get him to open up.

He's heterosexual and polyamorous.

[constant-mason24]

Security- P2

David Mason x reader (BO2)

Fem reader, she/her pronouns

(Y/n) is taken someplace safe.

PART 1

“Welcome to the U.S.S. Barrack Obama.” Harper stretched, standing from his seat. The ride was indeed very smooth, just as David had said. (Y/n) had settled into the ride easily, despite her fear of flying. 

“The admiral knows you’re here with us.” David placed a hand on her shoulder as they both stood. “We’re gonna get you set with as private quarters as we can.”

(Y/n) just nodded, grateful for anything at all. The closest she had ever been to any kind of military operation was hearing Frank tell stories of his time on the battlefield. She knew aircraft carriers were big, but setting foot on one was an entirely different story. It was immediately overwhelming. Stepping off the ramp, (Y/n) stood in awe for a moment. 

“Isn’t she a beaut?” Harper clapped a hand on her shoulder, not roughly but less gently than David had. 

“It’s so big.”

“That’s wha-” David whacked Harper across the chest.

(Y/n) chose to ignore him. Waiting to fall in step behind the two men. It was so incredibly busy on the carrier. People were moving every which way, much like back at the vault. It was fascinating to watch them go. It was like a colony of ants; Too much movement to perceive all at once, but each person moved with a purpose. They all had a goal in mind. Not one of them was wandering aimlessly. It was very different from the kind of busy of a shopping mall.

(Y/n) followed in behind the soldiers, the three of them moving towards two other men who were walking calmly towards them. They met in the middle, standing toe to toe. She was suddenly aware of how much taller than her they all were.

“(Y/n) (L/n), this is Admiral Tommy Briggs.” David gestured between them. “Admiral, this is the young lady we told you about.”

(Y/n) quirks an eyebrow at that. David was only a year or two older than her, wasn’t he? 

“Hello, Miss (L/n).” Briggs smiled, nodding curtly at her. “We’ll do our best to accommodate you during your stay.”

“If I may ask,” She started, nervously. “Why am I here, specifically? Shouldn’t I be put in some kind of witness protection or something?”

Briggs took a deep breath, though his overall demeanor told her he expected this question. It filled her with dread.

“I’m afraid it’s a bit more complicated than that.” He told her, turning to walk back the way he had come from. (Y/n) got the memo, quickly falling into step beside the man. “Raul Menendez is a very dangerous man. The fact that he has eyes on you puts you in grave danger.”

“There’s nothing special about me, though.” (Y/n) laughs, but it’s more from nerves than anything. “I’m just a caregiver in a retirement home.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not about you, but rather who you’re friends with,” Briggs responded. “Menendez has a vendetta against Frank Woods. And he has a history of harming people Woods is fond of. That includes you.”

Even though she knows the situation is grave, hearing someone point out the obvious- that Frank Woods is fond of her- fills (Y/n) with pride. She loved that old man, very dearly. 

“That’s why it’s important we keep you close right now,” David said, trailing just behind her. “Frank wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

And then she understands. David asked for this, for his uncle's sake, just as much as hers.

The men lead her down into the interior, immediately launching into a conversation she didn’t quite understand. A minute or two in, she began to grow suspicious they were using code. Honestly, that was fine. (Y/n) may not have met David before today, but she had heard a lot about him. And she would trust Frank Woods with her life (to a degree. He was still an old man in a wheelchair). She chose to trust that David Mason would have her best interests in mind.

“(L/n)! With me.” The unnamed man who walked up with Briggs calls her over as he comes to a stop. (Y/n) ducks out of the crowd of men, standing off to the side of a foreign hallway with him. 

“Javier Salazar,” He introduced himself. “I’m gonna take you to where you’ll be staying.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He leads her down a different hallway, to a flight of stairs, and it flashes through her mind that if she tried to navigate this carrier on her own she’d definitely get lost. The halls of the vault were just as guilty when it came to being blank and repetitive, but she had been there for so long that she knew the place like the back of her hand. The Obama is an entirely new and foreign place. The hallways looked the same and she had no clue which direction was which. Not to mention it was a ship. It moves. 

“Am I just gonna have to… stay in my spot or?” (Y/n) felt stupid for asking, but she was genuinely unsure. This was an unconventional situation.

“I don’t know,” Salazar spoke honestly. “I think Section’s gonna be lookin’ after you personally. I would recommend having someone with you at all times, just so you don’t get lost or wander into the wrong place. I’m sure he’ll handle that.”

“Alright.” (Y/n)’s face burned red. So he was aware she was already confused? If he asked her to go back the way they came right now, she’d never be able to. Then again, what could they expect from her?

“Here we go!” Salazar opened a door to the room. It looked like some kind of small office space, but the desks and equipment had been moved out, and a bunk placed instead. The only light in the room was a single dim lamp by the door. It was tiny and barren, yet somehow (Y/n) didn’t mind. “It’s no five-star hotel, but, you know.”

“It’s great. Really, it’ll do nicely. I’m just grateful you all are going this far to help me.”

“You can thank Section for that. Speaking of, I’ve got some stuff I gotta do, but he should be here to grab you in a bit. I’ll leave you to settle in.”

Salazar left the room, and (Y/n) moved the whole three steps to get over to the bunk. Brushing her hands slowly on her pants, she sighed. Settled in. Right. She didn’t even pick her bag up off the floor of Frank’s room back at the vault. She quite literally had nothing but the clothes on her back right now. 

With another, even deeper sigh, She let her mind wander to Frank. While (Y/n) did have a few gal pals around her age that she was friendly with, the only person that she felt connected to was Frank Woods. He would often tell her stories about his life. His time spent fighting, often alongside his best friend. He’d tell her about raising said best friend’s son as if he was his own. In return, he’d ask her about her day, and if she had anything to complain about, he’d throw in his own opinion, which was often crass and caused (Y/n) to laugh. He was the only person she would talk in depth to, and she enjoyed every moment of it. The idea of not seeing him for a while felt truly saddening, though it paled in comparison to the realization that this dangerous man who had forced her into hiding had been standing face-to-face with Frank right after she left him. She couldn’t bear to think of what he could’ve done to the man then. 

Shaking her head, (Y/n) sat on the bed, smoothing down the sheets beside her. She couldn’t spend time on the what-ifs. Frank was staying at the vault, though now with heightened security via the military. She was here, where that Menedez guy couldn't possibly touch her. 

She just had to wait here until they caught the man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, how long has Menendez been active?”

“Uhh, 1972, I think.” David’s brow furrowed in thought as he spooned more food into his mouth. “But he wasn’t really on the radar until 1986.”

(Y/n)’s face fell at that. She looked down at her tray of horribly bland-looking food. “Oh. That’s… a bummer.” She was gonna be stuck here for a while, wasn’t she?

Before she could ask David any more questions (which there had been a lot of), Harper sat down beside him with a loud sigh. 

“It is dinner time!” He cheered triumphantly. “How’s our little damsel in distress hangin’ on?”

“I’m, uh, certainly hanging in there, that’s for sure.”

“We’re supposed to be getting some supplies for you soon,” David spoke up as if he just remembered. “We’ll need your clothing sizes and such.”

“Okay, cool. Thanks.” She mouths another sad spoonful of tasteless potatoes. That seems to be all she’s done since she got here: ask questions and say thank you. As much as she genuinely means it, (Y/n) is growing tired of saying it. And she’s sure the men are tired of hearing it.

“And if there’s anything specific you want or need, let me know. I’ll try to get whatever I can, within reason.”

“Thank you.” She repeated, growing tired of her own voice.

“How come you never get me anything, Section?” Harper practically pouts, already nearly done with his plate. (Y/n)’s barely touched hers. 

“You know damn well why.” The two men start bickering in good fun, and (Y/n) feels herself zoning out. She absent-mindedly continued to eat her food, occasionally hearing something that caught her attention for a moment or two. After a while, it seemed the men were done.

“See ya tomorrow, girly.”

“Bye, Harper.” She waved politely.

“Ah, you can call me Mike, sweetheart.” He winks at her before David shoves him away with a “yeah, yeah.”

“Ignore him.” David stands as well, stretching before picking up his tray. “You ready?”

(Y/n) nodded, shoveling the last bite or two of food into her mouth and standing as well. They go to leave their trays where they belong, and (Y/n) wonders what's happening next. Her heart sinks as she realizes it’s probably just back to the room for her. It would seem her reaction was at least partly visible because David looked at her for a moment.

“You like to work out?” The question throws her off guard, and she whips to look at the man quickly. He raises his hands in surrender. “I’m not, like, trying to come onto you, I swear. I just thought maybe you’d like to use the gym. You know, give ya something to do.”

“Hmm.” She considers it for a moment, but using a gym where the only other patrons would be strange men… strange military men. “I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll pass for now.”

“Alright.” David nods, looking away from her as fast as possible. It almost makes her laugh.

“So, I have one last round of questions for the day.”

“Go ahead, I’m all ears.” (Y/n) is grateful for the lack of annoyance in his tone.

“Frank raised you since you were like… what seven?”

“Yeah, about.”

“How did you end up like.. This?” She gestures to him vaguely.

“What, you mean not a complete asshole like him?” David jokes.

“Yeah, exactly! And I mean it with all the love in the world for Frank.”

David chuckles at that. “I’m not so sure of that myself. But you know what they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Fair enough.” (Y/n) laughed softly as well, falling into a comfortable silence next to him as they finished the route back to where she was staying. 

“And here’s your stop.” He states, standing next to her door. She moves a hand to open it but hesitates.

“I know I’ve been saying it a lot, but thank you, David. I know all of this was your doing, and I really am grateful you’d jump through so many hoops to keep me alive. Especially considering we’ve never met before.”

“Don’t stress it.” He looked away, almost shyly. “Frank spoke very highly of you every time I visited. Honestly, I was always kind of hoping I’d get to meet you.”

That came as a surprise to (Y/n). Frank had been trying to coax her into meeting David for years, but it was always so obvious he had wanted to set them up together. The thought of it kinda pushed away any desire to meet David, just out of pure awkwardness. Now that they had met, though, in rather unfortunate circumstances, (Y/n) was kicking herself for pushing it off for so long. David really did seem just as nice as Frank had told her. 

“Well, I’m glad it finally happened.” She smiled.

“Yeah, em too.” David smiled down at her. Neither person moved for six… ten… fifteen seconds. Then, as if realizing he was just staring, David had a start. He cleared his throat, and (Y/n) felt herself leaning away as her face grew warmer. “Have a good night, (Y/n).”

“You too.” She opened the door, shutting it behind her as she entered. Quickly, she moved to flop down onto the bed.

Damn you, Frank. You were right all along, weren’t you?

[dailydccomics]

all of Bruce's teams unite! Batman Incorporated #6

[cornerdreams-txt]

This transmission may be recorded for log-keeping purposes. Thank you for understanding!

[Admr. Briggs] Doc Johnson.

[Hm. Johnson] Admiral Briggs. How's your leg?

[Admr. Briggs] It's fine. I'm here to report a concern of JSOC's to you, not a concern for myself.

[Hm. Johnson] Oh, I see.

[Hm. Johnson] Who is the concern about?

[Admr. Briggs] Commander David Mason. Section.

[Hm. Johnson] (sighs) Another mark on his record. He's already on bedrest after Haiti, what now?

[Admr. Briggs] I've had multiple of his squad report to me, starting after June nineteenth, that he's been behaving strangely.

[Hm. Johnson] Details, please, Admiral.

[Admr. Briggs] They've been reporting that he's... abnormally distracted. He keeps looking specifically to the right, supposedly, and very frequently. Never for long, but frequently enough that apparently, it's noticeable.

[Hm. Johnson] ...Admiral, just to be clear, June nineteenth? As in the day he captured Raul Menendez?

[Admr. Briggs] Yes.

[Hm. Johnson] ...Admiral Briggs. That is... also the date of death for Master Chief Petty Officer Mike Harper.

[Admr. Briggs] ....son of a bitch.

End of transmission.

[sonofcoulson]

Here, have another chapter. Don't say I'm not good to you.

Chapter 48 up. Cybil welcomes Harry to the station and resolves to get help.

Story: Silent Hill

[puppypackquotes]

Harlan Briggs

[boasamishipper]

can’t believe hbo let shea whigham hook up with a guy this year and it wasn’t perry mason

[bornforastorm]

a thing i hate about me is i have like 10 wips i really really want to be making progress on, but instead i wrote 5000 words of something totally unrelated and brand new

[janeeyreheresy]

The Secret Wife

The mad wife entered the public consciousness as the "madwoman in the attic" but, if you want to get technical, it was not the attic she was locked up in, it was a room on the third floor. However, it doesn't matter a hoot. It was a confined space and she was kept under a lock. Thornfield could have been a castle and she could have been locked up in a tower, and it would have amounted to the same thing. Additionally, a noun followed by "in the attic" flows so well and makes for punchy title. E.g. The (in)famous series Flowers in the Attic, (technically the children were not in the attic either, they lived in a bedroom on the top floor and played in the attic). There's the film Aliens in the Attic. And book titled The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and The Nineteenth Century Literary Imagination, a literary criticism by Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar, which examines the works of female 19th century writers. Madwoman in the Attic is also a TV Trope. I personally use the expression for anything related to women and madness, or anger, in a patriarchal society. I have a tag for it on my main. In my fanfics, I refer to the attic as well, for no other reason than that it sounds better.

Okay, so... this is the part of the book where I claim unreliable narrator. I did so before, but that was just to explore various options the narrative offers. Now, don't get me wrong, I do trust Jane. She's not someone who lies. She wouldn't be so virtuous if she lied. But it is also true that she is very young and very inexperienced. See item 8 on my list in the Enter Mr Rochester post. She couldn't even learn much from reading books because she's not read many and those she did read were not learned. It's not her fault. When it came to the merry company, I think a lot of the stuff from her could have been just plain misunderstanding. She doesn't know anything about people of society. (For the record, she doesn't describe them all in a negative light, it's just Lady Ingram, Lady Lynn and Blanche she paints as bad, the rest were okay, she even mentions Mrs Eshton and Mrs Dent were nice to her.) Take it with a pinch of salt, or not, it's up to you.

But the secret mad wife is something else.

The door to the hidden room is opened and they step in. Jane gives a quick description of the room--it has no windows, there is a fender with a fire burning in it, a lamp hangs from the ceiling. Grace Poole is cooking something in a saucepan. And then comes her description of Edward Rochester's lawfully wedded wife.

In the deep shade, at the farther end of the room, a figure ran backwards and forwards. What it was, whether beast or human being, one could not, at first sight, tell: it grovelled, seemingly, on all fours; it snatched and growled like some strange wild animal: but it was covered with clothing, and a quantity of dark, grizzled hair, wild as a mane, hid its head and face.

Rochester cheerfully greets Mrs Poole and asks how her charge is today. Grace answers that she's tolerable, and then warns him to take care.

The maniac bellowed: she parted her shaggy locks from her visage, and gazed wildly at her visitors. I recognised well that purple face,—those bloated features. 

Why Jane changes the pronouns from "it" to "she", I don't know. Why she uses the pronoun "it" in the first place, I don't know.

Rochester warns everyone to keep away. He says he supposes his wife has no knife now. Grace responds that:

“One never knows what she has, sir: she is so cunning: it is not in mortal discretion to fathom her craft.”

Richard Mason suggests they'd better leave her. Rochester snaps at him:

“Go to the devil!”

Why? Why should Richard go to the devil? He made a perfectly reasonable suggestion, for everyone's safety.

Bertha springs at Rochester and they fight. Jane in her description of the fight lets the reader know that Rochester could have struck her with one blow but didn't.

Speaking of Rochester striking people. Earlier, in the church, according to Jane, Rochester raised his arm to strike Richard. He didn't, because Richard shrank away. Then, a moment later, as he's trying to defend himself, Rochester says this:

"Cheer up, Dick!—never fear me!—I’d almost as soon strike a woman as you."

But he did attempt to strike him, at least that's what Jane's narration says. So either Jane is not telling the truth, or Rochester is denying an action he carried out only a minute or two ago. An action witnessed by a solicitor and a clergyman. Plus a third man, a clerk, who was also present. So yeah.

Grace hands Rochester a cord, with which he ties his wife's hands and then ties her to a chair. This he does among Bertha's yells and plunges. 

Would you believe it. She won't be tied quietly!

Rochester is in his element. He turns to his audience and declares:

“That is my wife,” said he. “Such is the sole conjugal embrace I am ever to know—such are the endearments which are to solace my leisure hours! And this is what I wished to have” (laying his hand on my shoulder): “this young girl, who stands so grave and quiet at the mouth of hell, looking collectedly at the gambols of a demon, I wanted her just as a change after that fierce ragout. Wood and Briggs, look at the difference! Compare these clear eyes with the red balls yonder—this face with that mask—this form with that bulk; then judge me, priest of the gospel and man of the law, and remember with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged! Off with you now. I must shut up my prize.” 

(Wo)Man of the law:

Priest of the gospel:

(Wrong denomination, but it's all I could find.)

And remember with what judgment ye judge ye shall be judged.

Fuck off, Edward.

May I remind you that this is the same guy who appointed himself an authority to judge a woman for wanting to marry a man with money. 

There are people who are full of shit. And then there's Edward Rochester.

[violettesiren]

The sleet was blowing: where was any sign Of greening valley, call of mating bird? Yet, close beside my ear, a voice I heard— A whisper—"Sweet, choose now your valentine!" "Nay, wait till skies are softer, airs more fine." But still, impetuous, fell that whispered word, "Choose, choose your valentine!" What was it stirred, Like breath of June, this yielding heart of mine? Sudden, the bleak earth blossomed into bowers Of bridal beauty: for its wreathing snows, Wide banks of creamy jessamine and rose,— While on the pane bloomed out great passionflowers. And I,—so subtle-sweet Love's whispers are!— Be sure for choice I did not wander far.

St. Valentine by Caroline Atherton Briggs Mason

[nytehavyn-circle]

I wanna do something with my muses:

Eileen Coombs Lannik Embree RaDean "Dean" Harriman Ulysses K. Hartford Mason Briggs Rachel Marie Evans King At'Ele'gun

And, as always, Tolaas Bluue

If you'd like to do anything with any of these muses, please let me know. Read over their bios and such, pick a muse, and tell me. Let's get some threads going.

[emilyisemotionals-fangan-account]

Oh! These are great! Thank you!! ❤️❤️

@emilyisemotionals-fangan-account i fw your characters heavily

[dailydccomics]

SIX FIGHTERS FOR OUR TROUBLED AGE Outsiders #1

[sonofcoulson]

Skipped chapter 7 yesterday...

Harry relives the crash and hopes for news of Cheryl. Story: Silent Hill

[eightyonekilograms]

One reason the Five Factor personality test is better than Myers-Briggs is that it doesn't bother flattering you with "everyone's a winner!". It just goes, "yeah, you're neurotic and low openness", because the universe isn't obligated to put actual orthogonal personality traits on a spectrum where both sides seem kinda good.

This is also why I like "which Hive would you be in?" better than most fictional Sorting Hat style questions, it seems to do a better job at making you be honest with yourself. Like, I don't think I'm driven enough for either the Humanists or the Mitsubishi, I don't think I'm idealistic (or talented) enough for the Utopians*, and I don't think I'm emotionally-attuned enough for the Cousins. I'm not nearly iconoclastic enough to be Hiveless. If I'm being totally honest, I'd probably be a Mason: even though I'm very cynical about their nonsensical justification of power, I'd probably go along with it for the sake of stability and convince myself that it's fine because secretly everyone else is just as cynical about it.

* although it depends on the specifics in-universe. Sometimes I feel like I want to join a cult but none of the ones in the real world live up to my standards. The Utopians actually might though.

[boasamishipper]

we’re geniuses actually

I need lane to come back in dead reckoning part two, mostly because I want to see how he reacts to Ilsa being dead

But also because I’d like to see him interact with Briggs because he would absolutely hate Briggs