(OOC: NO I'M SERIOUS, I HAVE A PLAN AND EVERYTHING OKAY-
Even on his best behavior, to put it gently, Krauser's a bit of a mess. Please peruse my prefs and warnings just in case- also a general content warning for the thought processes of a deeply jaded soldier. We're gonna say he's homoflexible for smut prompts but let's communicate, he's definitely hard mode.
Prose/brackets to your preference, I will happily match.)
1. Arrival
He never believed in Heaven or Hell. Religion's just another tool they use to keep you quiet and obedient, no different than "honor" or "glory" for soldiers. But when Major Jack Krauser awakens from beautiful, endless oblivion to find himself in a wisteria garden, he finds himself suddenly questioning that conclusion.
There's a cherubic ten-year-old girl with blonde hair in a stylized military uniform prodding him in the shoulder. Claims to be his "maid" and calls herself the Lieutenant Colonel. Drags him upstairs through the fanciest house he's ever been in, tells him he's under the purview of some Pheme woman, and says it's time to make a proper gentleman out of him.
She also knows jiu-jitsu and not only can flip him bodily, but can inescapably pin him with relative ease. She chokes him out twice before he stops trying to get past her.
For the next several hours, the massive blond soldier can be found out in the gardens at the Grand Crescent, sitting on a bench and staring coldly into the middle distance. He's still and seemingly serene, but there's a natural scowl on his scarred face and a dangerous energy about him, like the slightest of things could set him off at any second.
He's not sure what's going on, precisely. But he's starting to think this is Hell.
2. Welcome Drinks
Yeah. This is Hell.
The Lt. Col., artfully dodging the objects he throws at her, waltzes in with an armful of clothes and tells him it's time to get ready for the event at the Pleasure Gardens. When he tells her he's not wearing that goddamn monkey suit or going anywhere, she pulls rank on him. When he goes to throttle her, she puts him in a dynamic pin until he blacks out again, and when he comes to he's already dressed and in a carriage.
Apart from the godawful green suit (which he's unbuttoning and dismantling piece by piece as the evening goes on) it's just a mixer. Nothing he wasn't constantly obligated to attend back in the military. So he does the same thing he used to do back then, sticks to the edges of the crowd and avoids conversation as best he can. Gets his hands on as many drinks as he can snag, enough to dull his sobriety but not his senses.
It's inevitable, in shuffling around for a refill, he bumps into somebody. "Excuse me. Sorry." It's a raspy, quiet voice not used to polite conversation. And a giant of a man who looks unsuited for it.
3. Greenhouse Effect/Skinny Dipping? (cw: PTSD, panic attacks, a big guy who will lash out if either are acknowledged)
Expectation of refinement? Fancy clothes? Social event? Hell theory so far proving 100% correct.
Shoved into and lost in an impossibly endless rainforest? Damn near confirms it.
To say the Major is deeply sensitive to this type of environment is putting it lightly, and the moment he realizes that's where he is, dread overtakes him. It's Amparo all over again. The sweltering heat, the humidity soaking through clothes. Leaves and branches slapping bare skin, concealing the path. He can't tell if the glowing plants are real or just a new, vivid addition to scenes that have played out in his head a thousand times now. Things in the bushes, hunting them all down like prey. Lambs to the slaughter. Only this time, it's only him. The only man left standing.
Part of him's frankly impressed. They couldn't have picked a better torment for a bastard like him. It's enough to make him laugh, soft and grim, as he digs through the brush for something he can craft a weapon out of.
He is quite the surprising sight for anybody who happens along this particular path through the jungle.
4. Butterflies
He's lost about half the suit by the time he finds himself up in a tree. Coat and waistcoat were left behind ages ago, and the only thing keeping these awful high breeches on is the fact he doesn't have a knife to cut them down to a more practical size. By now he's assuming he's never getting out of here, that the rest of eternity will spent like this, so there's no harm in taking a breather. Trying to get his head on straight (enough, for Krauser.)
While he's perched up there, mind going a million miles an hour, the butterflies show up. A laughably serene image in the middle of this tempest. Several land on the branches around him, gently folding and unfolding their iridescent wings. Then one lands on his knee, bigger than the others, a brilliant shade of blue that draws out an old, painful memory.
He has no idea how long it's been, how long he's been staring at it when a noise from below makes the butterflies scatter, up and down and all around the branches of the tree. The blue one leaves last and as Krauser comes back to the present moment, he finds a calmer body, breaths steady, tension eased.
Except for his pulse. Which is racing. And his attention is fixed on the person walking below, the first person he's seen in at least an hour, watching the departing swarm of butterflies.
Somebody he needs to touch, immediately. He goes from stillness to motion, dropping down to land behind them with a graceful but heavy thud.
"You lost too, huh?"
5. Network
un: mjk
[A day after the Pleasure Gardens. Short, sweet, to the point.]
What the goddamn hell is going on here
6. Wildcard
[Happy to plan something else with you! Hit me up on PM, Discord, or theggnator and let's chat.]
Jack Krauser | Resident Evil | New
Even on his best behavior, to put it gently, Krauser's a bit of a mess. Please peruse my prefs and warnings just in case- also a general content warning for the thought processes of a deeply jaded soldier. We're gonna say he's homoflexible for smut prompts but let's communicate, he's definitely hard mode.
Prose/brackets to your preference, I will happily match.)
1. Arrival
He never believed in Heaven or Hell. Religion's just another tool they use to keep you quiet and obedient, no different than "honor" or "glory" for soldiers. But when Major Jack Krauser awakens from beautiful, endless oblivion to find himself in a wisteria garden, he finds himself suddenly questioning that conclusion.
There's a cherubic ten-year-old girl with blonde hair in a stylized military uniform prodding him in the shoulder. Claims to be his "maid" and calls herself the Lieutenant Colonel. Drags him upstairs through the fanciest house he's ever been in, tells him he's under the purview of some Pheme woman, and says it's time to make a proper gentleman out of him.
She also knows jiu-jitsu and not only can flip him bodily, but can inescapably pin him with relative ease. She chokes him out twice before he stops trying to get past her.
For the next several hours, the massive blond soldier can be found out in the gardens at the Grand Crescent, sitting on a bench and staring coldly into the middle distance. He's still and seemingly serene, but there's a natural scowl on his scarred face and a dangerous energy about him, like the slightest of things could set him off at any second.
He's not sure what's going on, precisely. But he's starting to think this is Hell.
2. Welcome Drinks
Yeah. This is Hell.
The Lt. Col., artfully dodging the objects he throws at her, waltzes in with an armful of clothes and tells him it's time to get ready for the event at the Pleasure Gardens. When he tells her he's not wearing that goddamn monkey suit or going anywhere, she pulls rank on him. When he goes to throttle her, she puts him in a dynamic pin until he blacks out again, and when he comes to he's already dressed and in a carriage.
Apart from the godawful green suit (which he's unbuttoning and dismantling piece by piece as the evening goes on) it's just a mixer. Nothing he wasn't constantly obligated to attend back in the military. So he does the same thing he used to do back then, sticks to the edges of the crowd and avoids conversation as best he can. Gets his hands on as many drinks as he can snag, enough to dull his sobriety but not his senses.
It's inevitable, in shuffling around for a refill, he bumps into somebody. "Excuse me. Sorry." It's a raspy, quiet voice not used to polite conversation. And a giant of a man who looks unsuited for it.
3. Greenhouse Effect/Skinny Dipping?
(cw: PTSD, panic attacks, a big guy who will lash out if either are acknowledged)
Expectation of refinement? Fancy clothes? Social event? Hell theory so far proving 100% correct.
Shoved into and lost in an impossibly endless rainforest? Damn near confirms it.
To say the Major is deeply sensitive to this type of environment is putting it lightly, and the moment he realizes that's where he is, dread overtakes him. It's Amparo all over again. The sweltering heat, the humidity soaking through clothes. Leaves and branches slapping bare skin, concealing the path. He can't tell if the glowing plants are real or just a new, vivid addition to scenes that have played out in his head a thousand times now. Things in the bushes, hunting them all down like prey. Lambs to the slaughter. Only this time, it's only him. The only man left standing.
Part of him's frankly impressed. They couldn't have picked a better torment for a bastard like him. It's enough to make him laugh, soft and grim, as he digs through the brush for something he can craft a weapon out of.
He is quite the surprising sight for anybody who happens along this particular path through the jungle.
4. Butterflies
He's lost about half the suit by the time he finds himself up in a tree. Coat and waistcoat were left behind ages ago, and the only thing keeping these awful high breeches on is the fact he doesn't have a knife to cut them down to a more practical size. By now he's assuming he's never getting out of here, that the rest of eternity will spent like this, so there's no harm in taking a breather. Trying to get his head on straight (enough, for Krauser.)
While he's perched up there, mind going a million miles an hour, the butterflies show up. A laughably serene image in the middle of this tempest. Several land on the branches around him, gently folding and unfolding their iridescent wings. Then one lands on his knee, bigger than the others, a brilliant shade of blue that draws out an old, painful memory.
He has no idea how long it's been, how long he's been staring at it when a noise from below makes the butterflies scatter, up and down and all around the branches of the tree. The blue one leaves last and as Krauser comes back to the present moment, he finds a calmer body, breaths steady, tension eased.
Except for his pulse. Which is racing. And his attention is fixed on the person walking below, the first person he's seen in at least an hour, watching the departing swarm of butterflies.
Somebody he needs to touch, immediately. He goes from stillness to motion, dropping down to land behind them with a graceful but heavy thud.
"You lost too, huh?"
5. Network
un: mjk
[A day after the Pleasure Gardens. Short, sweet, to the point.]
What the goddamn hell is going on here
6. Wildcard
[Happy to plan something else with you! Hit me up on PM, Discord, or