#the krimson is maying again

[krimsonmay]

5 - Ruins

PROJECT UTDRIA

[ruvviks]

ok i always get a little stressed out trying to figure out what emojis to send for ocs that ppl havent sent already so please feel free to pick 5 emojis you haven't done yet that you wanna do for nathan with this ask!!! :^) <3

nathan asks!

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

nathan can play the violin! he was taught back at the jdc he had to stay in for a few years and despite hating it back then, he will occasionally pick it up again nowadays as a way to relieve stress. he's a pretty advanced player and occasionally comes up with his own stuff too, but it's not something he boasts about at all. if anything it's a hidden talent he never mentions to other people to begin with

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

nathan is a very light sleeper but he can also easily fall back asleep when woken up by something. whenever he does slip into deeper sleep he tends to have very bad nightmares or gets sleep paralysis due to the longterm effects STEM has had on his psyche. he's not all that bothered by noises or light around him and could fall asleep easily in a room full of people; he will get woken up the whole time but is not bothered by that either, and can generally get a good amount of rest with it either way

he sleeps about six hours a night on average, which is not a lot and tends to be even less when he's working on an important project. all of this generally results into him being out of commission during the weekends which he tends to spend in bed for most of the time, albeit wide awake. later on when he gets some proper medication, he starts sleeping a lot more and ends up with an average of nine hours a night

🔺 RED TRIANGLE POINTED UP — does your oc know how to use any weapons?

as a mobius operative from a pretty high rank, nathan has been taught how to use any sort of weapon, ranging from smaller melee weapons to heavy assault rifles and the like. he's been training since the age of 16 and generally prefers knives and handguns over anything else; he likes the control it gives him

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

nathan is not much of a smoker, but he did smoke for a while when working for mobius. he quit pretty quickly since he's always been a drinker and the two together made very expensive habits, and he preferred the taste of alcohol over smoking. the drinking is still a problem as of this day and it's never really occurred to him that he can try to stop; it would be very hard for him to quit drinking if he ever gets to that point, but especially when he gets his medication he has no other choice but to quit. needless to say it's gonna be an interesting first month for him

🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

nathan was born in sacramento, california, which in my canon of the tew franchise is close to krimson city. he moved to the latter when he was 16 years old and started working for mobius, since its headquarters would then be closer to his home. he doesn't like his hometown at all because of the memories of his family and hasn't been back there in a long time now, and he's not planning on ever going back; krimson city may be a shithole but he's made it his home, and he's planning on staying there for the rest of his life. however many years that may be

[xadoheandterra]

Series: Semblance Title: Patriciate Fandom: Jak and Daxter Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI Characters: Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Kid!Jak, Ashelin, Torn, Tess Tags: Worldbuilding, Accidentally King of Haven!Jak, hurt/comfort, things go wrong, things get better, things get worse again, slow build, slow burn, slow to update, cross posted, fantasy racism, canon divergence, been meaning to share this here Summary: “It’s yours,” Jak said softly. “Keep it…remember where you come from. At least one of us should remember….”

If Jak knew the consequences of that one, selfish choice…well, he’d probably have made the same decision either way.

The House of Mar has big shoes to fill.

The city moved like a living organism before Jak’s eyes. He watched, hands clasped behind his back and face carefully blank, from the windows high above the city. People—Krimson Guard and Underground alike—came and went from the building in droves. They flowed with the populace who watched outside with undisguised curiosity, broke away, and came together again before transport vehicles. Jak watched the hellcats descend and loaded up; the transport vehicles filled. Normally the KG outposts, barracks, or the prison itself would be where they received their marching orders. Each of those locations were lost or within a district that still wasn’t recovered, and so the relief efforts—and the orders they received for those efforts—began here at the palace.

The movement itself did not lean toward subtlety, but Jak didn’t quite care. This place may be hell, and definitely Jak considered it to be his hell, but he’d found himself placed in charge of it and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t take care of it. The people were his responsibility now, for better or worse, and Jak refused to leave them be. He refused to keep over half of his city in ruins, to leave more than half of its populace to face threats that they were more than capable of being defended from. The very sense of purpose burned deep within him—despite everything Jak silently swore to protect the people of this city, the home of his ancestors, and the home of his pain. He silently swore that if he had to he’d rebuild Haven from the ground up.

On his shoulder Daxter quietly mimicked Jak. He stood tall, feet planted firmly, and hands clasped behind his back at parade rest. The ottsel’s face also schooled carefully blank as they both observed the ground below. Torn and Ashelin worked quick, Jak and Daxter had to give them that. They’d gotten the Krimson Guard mobilized pretty fast, and what Underground agents were on hand shifted into the groups they were directed without a fight. Jak found himself surprised to not see any of the expected infighting between the two groups given their history, but then he and Daxter both knew how some causes were important enough to leave grudges behind.

“Torn always was good at commanding,” Samos said tiredly from a few paces over. Jak glanced to him. “It’s why I left him in charge as often as I did.”

Jak glanced back to the world below. “He’d make a good leader,” the teen noted. “Why isn’t he in charge of the Krimson Guard?”

Samos tapped his cane and hummed in thought. “You have been informed about their formation?” the elderly sage questioned. “The original purpose for the Guard?”

“You mean aside from the spelling illiterate?” Daxter snarked. The seriousness of the ottsel teen’s stance stopped Samos from actually rasping the boy with his cane as he raised his eyebrows ever higher.

“The original spelling was ‘Crimson,’,” Jak clarified. “Before they became known as the ‘Crimson Guard’ they were the ‘Red Eco Knights’ under command of the red sage’s lineage.” Jak turned toward Samos. “When Baron Praxis took command the name changed to ‘Krimson’ so as to differentiate their new, more militarized objective. Correct?”

Samos hummed in agreement.

“Traditionally the Guard has been commanded by the red sage line,” Samos said calmly. “Just as the agricultural and hospitals were cared for by the green sage.”

“The blue sage maintained the shield wall and eco stores,” Daxter continued in thought. “Yellow did…what? Ballistics? Entertainment?”

Samos snorted. “The yellow sage lines focused where they were needed. They kept a pointed, social view and worked more on infrastructure. They did set up the supply chains that flow throughout the city, and then maintained the ballistics and outfitting of the Guard in every sector, but primarily the yellow sage line kept the day-to-day moving along like a well-oiled machine.”

“And above everything stood the line of Mar,” Jak continued. He looked back over the city. “They kept an ever vigilant watch, listened to the pleas of the people, and stood as the beacon of hope…a metaphysical barrier between the people, and the suffering caused by the metal heads.” He sounded contemplative about the words he spoke. A part of Jak always found his family history something of a curiosity, even before Haven Jak wondered where he came from. Now he knew.

“You have been paying attention,” Samos sounded completely pleased with Jak’s assessment. “You are correct. House Mar stood before the people as the beacon of hope, the ones who beat back the darkness and shielded the city from the suffering of the world at large.”

Jak let a small smile slip through at Samos’ praise. Daxter chuckled from his shoulder. “Zoe’s a good teacher,” the ottsel agreed calmly.

Neither noticed Samos start in surprise at Zoe’s name.

“She did always go on about Mar,” Jak agreed. “How important House Mar always was to Haven. The things that House Mar did, how they helped people…how they kept peace and hope and light for Haven.”

If anything Samos didn’t find that too surprising. The blue sage line stood closest to Mar’s line. House Asul and House Mar built the shield wall, worked closest with the eco stores of Haven, and there’d always been some sort of comradery or respect between the two families. Why if Zoe or Vin ever had a child Damas’ age Samos doubted the coup would even have worked in the first place. House Asul would have revolted against the other Houses, Samos was certain. As it was they already looked down on the rest of the sage lines for following through with the coup.

Samos squashed down the small bit of guilt that burned through him for the actions of his foolish youth. Instead he focused onto Jak who kept silent, almost contemplative. The boy certainly had grown over the years in Haven. Samos couldn’t be sure if he could say Jak finally started growing into the man he’d always meant to be, or if it were more that the man he was finally began to mature a little. At any rate Samos found himself rather proud of who Jak slowly became, and who he would eventually become. The years might not have been kind, Samos wasn’t blind he could see the old hurts that Jak tried to hide, but Jak still came out of everything stronger for it.

“It’s almost time,” Samos spoke up, and Jak sighed. He turned from the window and surveyed the room. Samos surveyed Jak.

They were in the highest point of the palace. The room itself had rarely been used over the years for its intended purpose. Samos, nor Jak, knew what Praxis used the space for, but both were fully aware of what the room was meant to be. Surrounded by a single full wall of glass to stare down at the world below, computer systems along another wall, chairs, and a central table that practically lit up from the number of lights and screens that littered it. The room itself existed as something more like a command center—stark and utilitarian in its design, but it also stood sleek and intuitive. Jak made his way over to the seat at the head of the table. He flicked his fingers across the screen there and began to draw up maps of Haven city, the buildings, and the sewer system as well as schematics for the shield wall.

Samos calmly sat himself down into the seat typically reserved for the green sage line and followed Jak’s example. He also pulled out the reports from the council, the KG, and the Underground on the state of the city beyond the reclaimed districts. What he read made him frown; over sixty percent of the city actually remained in ruins. Eighty percent of the population wasn’t even counted for, and seventy-five percent of Haven’s forces were missing, presumed dead.

Daxter and Jak spoke without speaking while Samos read through what he could. They’d gesture and tilt their heads, twist their mouths as they worked through the schematics. Together they discussed what could be done—how best to tackle the situation at hand. Where best to deploy the forces they did have available, and what best to do to repel the metal heads that still lurked within the city walls.

It was this silence that Zoe stepped into. Jak looked up when she entered the room, offered her a small sort of grimace, and Zoe gave a nod back. She looked worse for wear, and Jak didn’t doubt that she hadn’t had any time to get cleaned up. If anything he figured she had enough time to bring Vin the rest of the way home and little else. Jak watched Zoe take her seat, watched how with a few quick gestures she turned on the holographic projector. The city maps and the reports both began to scroll, the computer working out most of the details.

The next to enter the room was Koray Aksoy of the yellow sage line. Jak glanced at him, gave a short nod, and then went back to what he was looking over. Daxter leaned toward Zoe and said something in low tones that nobody but Jak could understand. Out of the corner of his eye Jak watched as Koray took the seat for the head of House Karga and he fought down a a frown.

Logically Jak knew that Erol’s position in the government, in the Dark Warrior Program, and within the KG actually signified something far more important. He knew, somewhere, that Erol was the heir to House Karga, and as such the direct descendent of the yellow sage. Knowing, and accepting, were two different things. The fact that Koray looked almost exactly like Erol—not necessarily in coloring; Koray’s skin was a bit darker and his eyes a shade more orange, plus his hair was completely the wrong texture, but he stood like Erol and he talked like Erol—didn’t help matters.

Ashelin came into the room with Torn not long after, and Jak presumed that meant the situation on the ground had so far been handled. Koray looked up and pursed his lips into a frown when he saw Torn beside Ashelin.

“Jak,” Ashelin nodded and slipped into her seat. Torn shifted, and then took up position behind Jak. Jak glanced to him, noted how Torn stood stiff with his hands clasped behind his back, and then glanced to Koray.

“Do you feel unsafe here?” Koray questioned. He leaned forward and placed his elbows onto the table, something that made Zoe look at him sharply, a silent sort of reprimand.

“No,” Jak replied pointedly.

“Then why is your bodyguard present?” Koray sneered. “Torn is not fit to be in this meeting. He isn’t of a sage line.”

Ashelin snorted and shifted in her seat.

“Commander,” she stressed the word, “Torn is here at my, and House Hagai’s request. His knowledge will be beneficial for the purpose of this meeting.”

Koray sneered at Ashelin, and short a glance to Samos.

“And what, might I ask, is this meeting about?” Koray quarried. Samos, from his spot, harrumphed.

“We’re not all here, boy,” the elderly sage uttered sharply.

“Samos is quite right, child,” Zoe said primly. “Hold your tongue, and do have care with what you say.” She looked at Koray like he was an errant little kidchild before she calmly focused back on the screens and the holographic display before her. Ashelin from her spot began to input numbers and Jak shifted toward Torn.

“How is the ground?” Jak questioned in low tones as he kept half an eye on Koray. He didn’t want his experiences with Erol to cloud his judgement, but something about the older man rubbed him completely raw.

Torn visibly seemed to sag for a second as he muttered back, exhaustedly, “Terrible.” Jak arched an eyebrow. “More of our men are missing than anyone initially realized, those we could gather were less than thrilled to have their daily lives upset once more.” Jak raised the other eyebrow. “Yes, mostly the KG forces.”

“Any issues with your command?” Jak questioned.

“None so far,” Torn replied back. “Although Ashelin vouching for me appears to have helped a great deal.” Torn paused, then added softer, ��She might not look it but she really is grateful you’ve discovered this whole mess. It’s been dragging on her.”

Jak scrubbed his face with one hand and said under his breath, “Thank Zoe. If anyone else had their way I would’ve remained in the dark.”

Torn snorted. “Ashe wouldn’t have gone for that. She’d pushed back eventually.”

“She’d have just manipulated me into fixing the issue without telling me,” Jak grunted and by the twitch of Torn’s lips he hit the nail on the head. For a moment nobody said anything, and then Jak sighed. “Who else are we waiting on?” he asked softly. He couldn’t think of anyone off of the top of his head, but then he still felt more buzzed up on dark eco than anything.

Jak lamented the fact that he put this meeting ahead of actually getting out to waste some of the eco stores he’d built up gathering Vin’s body for a moment. He felt half ready to go off on a hair trigger as it was.

“Keira,” Samos spoke up calmly. “As well as Alyín.”

Alyín; Jak didn’t recognize that name, but given the way Koray actually jerked I surprise the other man quite obviously did.

“Alyín is dead,” Koray practically growled out.

“Alyín is perfectly alive,” Torn countered calmly. “If I understand the situation she is ensuring Lady Hagai will make it here.” He glanced to Samos, and Jak glanced between them. Something else was going on here, apparentlyapparenty, and he disliked the lack of understanding what that was.

“She has been missing presumed dead for years now,” Koray sneered. “Or have you forgotten, Commander Torn?”

Torn didn’t reply, but then again he didn’t need to. Jak’s mouth fell open slightly as he breathed out an ‘oh’ when Alyín stepped into the room with Keira, a dark look on her face. Of course the connection in retrospect was rather obvious. Jak knew she looked a lot like Erol, it unnerved him how much so in fact although the different eyes often threw him off. He felt like he looked into a weird, and skewered mirror image of Erol whenever he saw her.

“Really, Koray?” Alyín sneered back, lips curled up. “And here I thought you mistook me for Rahmi in the elevator not even a week ago.”

Koray twisted, his face pale.

“I believe you are in my seat?” Alyín continued blithely as she showed Keira to a seat next to Samos. Keira, Jak noted, kept oddly silent.

“You’re dead,” Koray said numbly.

“Not as dead as Erol wanted people to believe,” Alyín countered. “Now, my seat?”

The shuffle didn’t take long, and when everything was done Alyín calmly started the introductions. Jak knew in the end the whole affair was settled more for Keira’s sake than his own—he knew which families each person came from already thanks to a combination of Ashelin, Vin, Zoe, and Samos.

“Alyín of House Karga,” Alyín stated calmly. “Alyín of House Karga, present,” Alyín stated calmly. She looked Jak directly in the eye as she dipped her head. “I would like to apologize on behalf of my brother’s actions against you, King Jak. “I would like to apologize on behalf of my brother’s past actions against you, King Jak. His, at the time, ignorance to who you are is not an excuse.”

Daxter twisted.

Erol was her brother?!

Yes, Dax. Obviously.

Jak breathed out through his nose and kept his voice even as he replied—although he couldn’t stop the way his ears twisted down or how his hands shook—his voice rather tight, “Any grievances against House Karga are forgiven.”

“Koray Aksoy,” Koray said smoothly, face rather pinched. “Sire,” he added at a sharp look from over half the table. Jak nodded.

“Ashelin of House Praxis,” Ashelin nodded. “I hope we get the matter resolved quickly, King Jak.”

“As do I,” Jak uttered tiredly.

“Zoe of House Asul,” Zoe nodded, and gave a smile toward Keira. “Vin would’ve loved to be in this room again, Jak…thank you for bringing him home.”

“Samos of House Hagai, with my daughter Keira,” Samos nodded. “As our guest, as well as the guest of House Praxis, we’ve included Commander Torn of the Underground and the Krimson Guard.”

Torn gave a short nod to everyone but kept a stiff stance behind Jak now that proceedings finally started.

“Thank you,” Jak said. “Listen, I’m going to toss aside pretenses here. The issue is this: Haven is in ruins and we damn well need to get it fixed.”

Zoe twittered faintly and pulled up the statistics. Koray pulled a face as Jak tossed aside the stiff formalities.

“Correct,” she said quickly. “Over half of the city still remains under threat from the metal heads. The shield wall stands to cover the Waterfront and Main Town. Everywhere else still suffers from metal head attacks or are at risk of metal head attacks despite that we’ve repelled them.” A few quick taps of her fingers highlighted the danger areas of Haven. Koray and Keira both paled at the large swath of red coloring on the map. Everyone else already had a bit of a cursory understanding of the mess they were in.

“It gets worse,” Torn said exhaustedly. He leaned around Jak and quickly pulled up the information on Haven’s forces from Jak’s terminal. From the way his lips quirked at Koray’s almost scandalized face over on the yellow sage’s side of the room, Torn did this intentionally. “Over seventy percent of the Krimson Guard remain within the danger zone, and we haven’t been capable of getting proper supplies to them for days. We’ve been holding by the thread of our teeth.” Torn paused, then added gruffly. “In some cases quite literally.”

A small part of Jak wondered what those cases were, the rest of him decided it’d be better not to know. He did exchange a glance with Daxter that surmised of how and what?

“Underground agents have been ferrying supplies from the sewer systems,” Samos agreed, “but the risk hasas made the drops hard to complete. Any air support or air drops of supplies has left the Underground numbers practically decimated.”

“Beyond that,” Zoe continued, “most of the city population is also unaccounted for. What little surveying we could do shows that more buildings are collapsed now than last week.. Corpses litter roads and are spreading disease, increasing the risk to survivors and our forces.. The amount of dark eco pooled in the very streets has become a hazard, not to mention the risk to the water supply—which affects all of Haven and not just the areas currently under attack.. Even if we can mount a successful rescue operation our hospitals will quickly become overwhelmed by the amount of sick and infirm.”

“And without that shield wall back up and running we’re basically sitting ducks for a larger attack,” Ashelin frowned in thought. “Although reports we have been able to get show that the metal heads aren’t nearly as well coordinated as they’ve been in the past.”

“Can we use that lack of coordination to our advantage?” Alyín questioned, thoughtfully.

“At first we did,” Torn agreed, a small smile flashed briefly in approval of Alyín’s tactical analysis.countered. He nodded to Zoe who pulled up the past reports on how various sections of the city had been reclaimed. “We were able to push back metal head forces here, here, and here.” He pointed to areas on the map and the lit up green. “However now their erratic movements are working against us. We’ve lost all communication with the Water Slums, and over half of the Slums themselves.” Those areas lit up a dark red, almost the color of blood. Jak grimaced. “We’ve probably honestly completely lost the Water Slumswater slums like we did Dead Town at this point, too.”

“Great,” Alyín cursed.

Jak noted how everyone grimaced at the mention of Dead Town; he hadn’t quite realize that the loss still affected such a large group of ‘nobility’ years afterward. Given the way even Koray scowled in distaste—and Daxter’s silent message in the twist of his hands—the majority of Haven’s noble lines probably still felt something over the loss.

“We can house the majority of the refugees in the Stadium,” Keira mused allowed, and then flushed when all eyes turned on her. “We have plenty of room!” she insisted. “There’s the race track itself, the under track, and then the underground garages. Damage to the Stadium was by far minimal considering the metal heads had to go through most of the city to get there. Plus the zoomer garages themselves have more than enough space, and then the courtyard….”

“Good idea, Keira,” Samos agreed.

“Even better we can handle the risk of the spread of diseases far more easily in the garages themselves too,” Alyín agreed. “The pits we use to work on zoomers can become an effective mass grave site in the interim so that we can cleanse the city more easily enough.”

“Can we spare the green eco?” Koray questioned.

“Fire cleanses just as well as green eco,” Jak mused. “It’ll stop the spread of disease in the short term.”

“Yeah!” Daxter nodded. “We only then have to perform a green eco cleanse of the pits once we’ve finished with the fires.”

“The people will object,” Koray pointed out.

Alyín disagreed. “Not if we phrase it for their safety.” She breathed out heavily. “Honestly cremation at this point is the better option. Not only will it ensure the safety of the rest of the populace but we also don’t have enough space for burials in the size we should expect given how much of Haven is still under siege.”

They bandied back and forth for a while longer, discussed various options and regards toward safety. Jak pointed out the Waterfront would be a good place for refugee’s as well, specifically those who show no sign of illness. Ideas were brought up and tossed aside rather quickly—and at one point Koray even demanded to know how they would pay for this entire operation but found himself shut down quite quickly.

Everything worked out far more smoothly than Jak expected, all things considered, and for the first time in a while Jak began to feel something like hope. Hope for the future—hope for a future. He prayed he didn’t come to regret the feeling later. 

 Torn sighed exasperatedly as he worked through the information that Zoe and the rest of the emergency council wanted to review. Nothing, ultimately, had been enacted after the whole meeting. They made plans for the eventuality—plans Torn figured Jak would go through with even if the others disagreed—and now he sloughed through notes, blueprints, and anything else Zoe and Samos deemed important for the logistics of the whole thing.

At the very least Torn’s position in keeping an eye on Jak meant he had plenty of time to review the documents. Moments like right now, outside of Haven’s walls in the forest landscape, nestled into a little out-of-the-way corner while Jak went all merry-hell on the place and the potential infestation within it. Distantly Torn could hear another roar, another crash, and scrubbed at his forehead to fight away the incoming migraine.

Daxter hadn’t felt it prudent to mention the amount of dark eco Jak just so happened to absorb on his jaunt into the Industrial District for Zoe until well after the meeting ended. Torn had no idea how the kid held things together as well as he did considering the hair trigger Jak contained when too much eco built up into his system.

“You should be thankful he didn’t destroy the palace, Torn,” the no-longer-ex-Commander grumbled. He’d born witness enough to the type of destruction Jak could get up to. He’d also born witness to the eventual fallout. Another howl, another crash, and Torn held back a wince. Daxter, hopefully, would steer Jak away from anything important along the outside wall.

Torn flicked his finger along the data tablet and tried to focus on the work before him. He had the blueprints up for the Stadium, including the amount of people they could seat, the dimensions of when the thing was built—everything and anything that Zoe could dig up on the place Torn had at his fingertips. He hadn’t known how vastly large the Stadium actually was until he’d been handed the tablet. Sure he knew the races got a good turnout—a couple hundred, sometimes just shy of half-a-thousand, attendee’s at a time. However, they needed to be certain what type of occupancy the building could withstand.

Out of the majority of the places available, the Stadium would be the forerunner for the refugee’s from the lost parts of the city. Torn noted down the probable equipment they’d have to find a temporary new home for, and he made a slight suggestion at using the forest. The metal head population would be highly decimated after today, and with proper barricades at choke points they could keep this section fairly secure.

Near silent footsteps caught Torn’s attention and with trained reflexes Torn pulled up a smaller version of Jak’s morph gun. He aimed it toward the entrance to his little section next to the wall and waited until the intruder came into his sights. When he saw orange fur Torn set the gun back down.

“Did he finally tire out?” the commander rasped, gaze once more focused on the work before him.

“Yeah,” Daxter sighed. “He’s collapsed a couple ‘a feet away, recouperatin’.” Torn nodded. “Y’know you didn’t need to follow us, right?”

“Currently my job description is to keep Jak’s ass out of trouble,” Torn snorted. He jotted down a quick note about the occupancy size and pulled up the dimensions and blueprints for the Waterfront to compare.

“Well yer doin’ a shitty job,” Daxter scowled.

“It’d be easier if he stayed put,” Torn replied.

“We ain’t gonna just sit around doin’ nothin’!” Daxter countered.

Torn arched an eyebrow and peered at the two-foot-tall rat with a look that pretty much had Daxter turning away, feet scuffed against the ground sheepishly.

“Jak’s the best at what he does,” Daxter mumbled. “That’s all I meant.”

Torn sighed, set the tablet down, and leaned forward.

“I know,” Torn said. “But even he will burn out eventually.” When Daxter didn’t reply Torn let himself have a self-satisfied smirk. “Besides, I’d never keep Jak away from the fighting if he didn’t wish me to.”

Daxter glanced over at him with a narrow eyed stare, a silent question that Torn found easier and easier to read the longer he spent in Jak and the rodent’s presence.

“He needs a break,” Torn pointed out. “Otherwise if I really wanted to I could’ve just walked into the Ottsel and dragged him back by his ear. You guys weren’t really subtle.” Daxter looked down towards his feet, chagrined. “I kept Ashelin off of his back for you two, distracted the Shadow for you both.” Torn massaged his forehead tiredly. “Mar-be-damned but I want this to go right.”

“You guys went an’ made him king,” Daxter grumbled. “Ain’t nothin’ right ‘bout that.”

Torn sighed out a, “No,” of agreement. He’d had his own doubts, concerns, but more out of a sense of care for Jak that he’d come to hold in the same way that he cared for each and every one of his men. “But it was the only choice we had at the time.” The only choice they still had.

“An’ the kid?”

“Also wasn’t my idea,” Torn pointed out. “If I could’ve had a say in that I would’ve gotten him to a good home and kept him well away from any of this…shit.” He waved his hand to imply the metaphorical shit he spoke about.

“So you’ve got a heart then,” Daxter concluded.

“I always have,” Torn replied. “I just prefer to keep it under lock and key.”

“With plenty of booze,” Daxter snarked back.

“Best way to keep things hidden,” Torn agreed, and he had the surreal thought on how this was his life now—joking and agreeing with the pet rat of the boy-king that he’d recruited on a drunken whim. Torn picked up the tablet and decided it’d be best to get back to work. “Let me know when Jak’s ready to return to the city.”

Daxter eyed him, then asked, “We gonna go back through the sewers?”

“Until we’ve got a safer passageway, yes,” Torn countered. Daxter grimaced, and then flounced back to Jak loudly lamenting that Torn planned to pull them through the sewers, again. Torn’s ears perked up when he caught the faint, exhausted laughter from Jak. His lips twitched into a small smile. 

 Torn slipped into Ashelin’s quarter’s only after he’d been assured that Jak planned to simply sleep and not sneak out in the middle of the night. The teen often did so back in the Underground headquarters that Torn felt justified in double checking. The frustrated, completely-not-amused look the teen gave him might have also been a few bonus points. Torn liked to screw around a bit with the kids—he had to get his kicks somewhere in this mess of a city; at least he didn’t screw with people in the way other ex-KG might’ve.

Of course that brought to mind Erol, and promptly any good humor Torn felt died a rather abrupt death. He fought down the melancholy that wanted to grab hold of him as he stepped further into Ashelin’s rooms. His finger’s lingered along the scar on his own neck, lips tugged a bit down, but resolutely Torn didn’t think of Erol. He didn’t think of how it hurt to breath, of the biting feel of his own knife against his neck—the feel of warm blood as it slipped down to his collarbones, the hollow scream that echoed in his own head—

“Torn.”

Torn jerked. His eyes snapped open wide, as he saw Ashelin right in his face, eyes practically shining with concern.

“Ashe?” Torn croaked, then winced when it registered just how sore his throat felt. He didn’t even bother to protest as Ashelin grabbed his hands with one hand, and the respirator with another. She knelt down in front of him and carefully tugged the device over his face and ensured that it would do its job.

“We’re good now?” Ashelin asked carefully. She let go of Torn’s hands only when he nodded, and with a sharp movement Torn grasped at the mask and pressed it a bit more firmly against his face. Ashelin seemed to slump in on erself as she rocked back onto her heels, and then fell roughly onto her ass. “Thank Mar.”

“How bad?” Torn wheezed.

Ashelin snorted and gave Torn a look that he knew all too well. He sighed exhaustedly as Ashelin gestured to the room, pointed out the overturned lamp—funny Torn didn’t feel like he’d hit the lamp—and then Torn saw the disheveled couch. Everything clicked.

“Where?” he questioned, leaned in, and tried to calculate just where Ashelin hit the lamp.

“It’s not even a bruise,” Ashelin snapped out. “I’m more worried about that knife of yours.”

Torn made a semi-strangled noise. He hadn’t even unsheathed the damn thing and she worried about his knife? Another look and Torn handed over the weapon grumpily.

“It’s not like I haven’t had a flashback before,” Torn grumbled. “I’m not going to hurt myself Ashe, for Mar’s fucking sake.” It took him a second to parse why he suddenly felt a bit weird, but when he realized it Torn pulled a bit of a face.

“Just breathe, you asshole,” Ashelin sighed.

“I’m breathing,” Torn muttered back, and from the way the mask muffled his voice it turned out fairly incomprehensible. Ashelin shifted until their knees touched, and she leaned back to stare up at the ceiling with an almost contemplative look across her face. Torn recognized the look to mean that the red headed noble girl in front of him was considering something.

“What now?” Torn asked tiredly, shoulders slumped. He might’ve nudged his knees a bit closer against hers until it was their legs pressed against one another.

Ashelin glanced at him, and then back to the ceiling. She hummed in thought, and then gave Torn a bit of a small grin.

“You know for having such a fucked up set of voice chords, you can scream pretty damn loud,” she said eventually.

Torn laughed, then winced, then coughed.

“Oh, ow,” he breathed as the coughing turned into wheezing. “Fuck. Mar. Ow.”

“Mar?” Ashelin quirked her eyebrow in the way she did when she found something he said absolutely hilarious. “Really? Hm, maybe I should use that.”

Torn blinked, then cursed. Ashelin shot him a teasing smile, got to her feet, and sauntered over to her bedroom.

“Ashe! Ashe don’t you fucking dare!” Torn yelled, and he unsteadily got to his feet. He continued to shout after the younger girl as he followed after her, mask still pressed firmly to his face. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“Why don’t you make me, Commander?” Ashelin laughed.

Torn huffed, but he let a small, grimace sort of smile cross his face as he passed by the couch. She’d fallen asleep on it, covered in a blanket, surrounded by documents and updates from the troops on the ground. How terribly like her when she was focused on something; if nothing Ashelin’s dedication certainly Torn found an endearing quality.

“Well, Commander?”

Torn scowled. Unless, of course, she used it like now.

“I’m coming, you Mar-be-damned woman!”

“He went and had me damned? For shame, when shall I expect the execution then?”

“Oh fuck you!”

Ashelin just laughed, and Torn found himself somewhat grinning behind his grimace. Laughing he decided, really hurt right now.

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Hey guys. So in MCC you might have noticed that Dream got a little salty. This was a shame for me as it’s so much nicer to watch Dream whilst he’s in a good mood. For better or worse though, he’s super competitive.

Here’s a breakdown of how the event went badly for Dream and his team. It’s pretty long...

The event starts well; Skyblockle is an interesting, if stressful game, and they do pretty well for their first time. Not perfectly though and they recognise they could do better too - Dream’s already pretty hard on himself for any mistakes he makes. But it’s purely directed at himself and how he can improve - I think it’s pretty evident he holds himself to a high standard. 

Bingo is next and he kinda doesn’t know what he’d doing and wastes some time. I feel like he notes it down too much to not knowing the game but it is pretty luck-based anyway. Also this was a really quick game as so many of the items were very easy to obtain in a very short time. Anyway, they didn’t expect to do well really and Dream’s in good spirits, looking forward to the other games. 

Then Battle box comes... and it’s extremely laggy and even glitchy. The weapon choices of Wooden axes and tnt seem honestly pretty bad just in terms of gameplay and the tnt is outright gamebreaking with the lag. Despite this, Dream’s team is doing well, having won their first 4 games and they’re keen to win more. Dream’s even instructing Sylveey to wait on the wool in order to maximise kill points (you can see he’s taking this really seriously as he could sound a little nicer as she’s certainly trying to win too). 

Anyway, the game needs to be restarted - some players killed themselves outside the rounds and that’s not exactly fair. For whatever reason, reviving them is not possible. The chosen solution is to restart the entire round which regretfully seriously inconveniences Dream’s team. He’s incensed at the perceived injustices. He feels that it would be better to push on without restarting. 

The proceeding rounds don’t go nearly as well for them as the first play through. Many teams have now realised how effective rushing strats are for this map - the axe is too slow in pvp to meaningfully stop players from quickly placing down wool and the tnt is dangerous enough to scare people from the centre. It’s a legitimate strategy but feels rather unlike the traditional battle box which is usually the closest minigame to a straightforward pvp battle. While the lag is universal, it rather this strategy which goes against purple’s playstyle which includes maximised kills. Additionally, restarting gave a lot of teams the change to realise the potential of this rather cheap strategy which they may not have with only a single round of battle box as it would have been without the lag. 

It’s not really anyone’s fault that the game messed up but Dream’s ire is now directed towards the organisers and he’s lost his good spirits. 

Buildmart comes next and it’s not exactly one of Dream’s favourite games to say the least. Still, it’s long and a nice distraction from the mess that was battle box and Dream has developed some strategy with his team, even if it didn’t really work amazingly. 

But then comes the audience takeover. Dream was really looking for parkour warrior - which he’s been really keen to play. He’s extremely fond of parkour and wanted to try out the new course - he and his whole team had practiced the old course a lot and were ready to crush the game. But it wasn’t one of the the options in the poll at all. Up to this point Parkour warrior hasn’t been an option at all and it is one the team has every reason to want to play. 

Regardless, they soon settle on Hole in the wall - a gamemode they’ve played before and enjoyed. And yeah, the system messes up. Rocket spleef, which was Technoblade’s choice, narrowly lost the poll but gets selected anyway due to faultiness from the twitter poll. Needless to say, Dream is pretty annoyed. Given how the resetted Battle box earlier, he is of the opinion that they should switch in to Hole in the Wall to accurately reflect the audience vote. What he doesn’t realise is that this isn’t possible and the situation is less similar to battle box which only reset itself, not the game choice. 

This is where Dream gets outright angry, even going as far to say he feels like quitting entirely. He feels like the tournament is working against him, which it kinda is, though it’s not in fact due to human design - just errors outside anyone’s control. That said, compounded with the mess that was Battle box earlier, Dream’s in a terrible mood, especially with his competitive nature, feeling like he’s losing due to circumstances outside his control rather than his own abilities. (When fans are saying rigged, I feel like many of them simply mean that the game’s working against him rather than that someone is actively sabotaging them (an incorrect definition...). It’s a minority that kicked up a large fuss as well, not that this excuses them or anything, or Dream for not realising the effect he’s having on his audience.)

His heart is simply not in Rocket Spleef, which seems to be a pretty tough game for newcomers to pick up anyway, while the other top teams, Orange and Green, both excel at this game mode. (And Krimson too maybe? I think I missed how they were doing in this game.) It’s a shame as he can’t allow himself to enjoy the game mode at all. It is an interesting one that he’s not amazing at but isn’t terrible at either, managing to survive longer than the rest of his team, who are all also doing lacklustre. Their performance has not been helped by everything that’s going on. 

Then there’s ace race. It’s a new game and pretty different from the standard minecraft experience. It’s the first time for everyone so there’s probably a few kinks to be worked out etc. and Dream and his team find it interesting but they don’t exactly love it. It’s very different from the standard minecraft experience. Their strongpoints are definitely vanilla minecraft and they’re not too confident with elytras. I feel like if they weren’t in a dour mood they would have enjoyed it tons more. Two elytra heavy games in a row is unfortunate. Still, this game acts as a breather. The one issue is that parkour warrior is finally on the board and so they’re very keen to play it. 

As the next decision dome comes up, Parkour warrior, Hole in the Wall, TGTTOS, Survival Games and Sands of time are all available. These are all probably Dream’s favourite games aside from Battle box (which obviously didn’t work out this tournament). Dream notes beforehand that the one game he’d really like to play is Parkour Warrior and the one he’d prefer to avoid at this stage is Sands of Time. 

So naturally, Sands of Time is chosen. He’s a bit irritated. Fortunately, Sands of Time is awesome and his team is great at it. Single player survival stuff is what they excel at after all and they all perform. They take risks, make a lot of coins, get far and are among the longest teams to stay in, coming in second overall with both Dream and Sapnap doing really well. This game proves to be what finally cures Dream and his team’s mood. The game is also worth a ton of points for some reason, putting them in with a (still small but possible) chance of making the finals. 

Last game and they really want Parkour warrior of course. Yeah, it’s not chosen. Instead we get hole in the wall. Some may joke that its good that the game finally got chosen but it’s obviously not the favoured choice for this team when Parkour warrior’s an option. Oh well though! They’re disappointed to miss out on it but they do like hole in the wall and they all have fun playing it, doing decently though not nearly well enough to do better than their rivals.

By this time they’ve regained their spirits and eagerly support Green Guardians in dodgebolt. It’s an intense match and they all thoroughly enjoy watching it, especially seeing Pete team clutch out the win after being down. 

At the end, Dream finds that despite everything he’s still somehow managed to obtain 3rd overall on the individual boards, the same as last time, and he’s really happy about it. His team are pretty happy too with Sapnap also managing to get 8th place in his very first event. 

Dream closes off the stream with an apology. You can see as it goes on how the frustration slowly melts away as he begins talking. At first still obviously still annoyed but soon confessing that he seriously overreacted and that he still loves the event and the team behind it and holds them to a very high standard. He offers kind words towards Technoblade and Pete too, noting that the rivalry is for show and he greatly respects both of them and encourages all his watchers to go and subscribe to them, helping Technoblade to hit 2mil. He notes that he’s really competitive and he really wanted it to go well - especially as its the only time he’ll be allowed to play with George and Sapnap and really wanted to win it with them. His sentiments feel real and he expresses interest in playing again while noting that he could see them also not inviting him back after his behaviour during this even and understands that. 

Overall, game choices and unfortunate circumstances worked against Dream and his team and left him in a bad mood but once it ended, he did bounce back. It’s easy to see the contrast from the last event where he was annoyed he didn’t win but blamed his own performance - not the event and not his teammates - reflecting on how he can improve and do better. (He got temporarily a little annoyed at buildmart admittedly but it was purely his fans who blew that out of proportion, he quickly reassured George that it was okay and that it wasn’t his fault.) Dream is always very determined to improve and succeed or fail due to his own skills. 

This turned into a long analysis of the event, wow. Dream’s perspective wasn’t that much fun to watch and it pains me to see how it all devolved. Let’s calm down and try not to blame the event, the other competitors or Dream too hard for any of this, okay? Things went wrong and it’s mostly outside of anyone’s control. I hope he’s in better spirits if he joins next tournament. 

[meirimerens]

Some TEW questions if I may please ask. How would you like the Sebastian and Joseph reunion to play out? How do you think Tango Gameworks will approach it? If you could direct that scene how would you like to see it unfold? What direction would you take, what actions/words would transpire between the characters, if any at all? Lots of thanks :)

yes queen/king

i’ve had Many Thoughts over the past 3 years about how i would like their reunion to play out, one i have. well. [extensively written] (that’s a link btw).

warning: prolly long post so i’m putting a read more and if it don’t work. well too bad.

Now. Now. i don’t have much hope for, like, a TEW3 or a DLC and idk how much i’ve come to terms with that (would i absolutely go batshit insane at the possibility of that narrative loop being closed? bet your ass. am i also aware the francise may be dropped for real? yeah bro). however. i think the reunion could go two ways: 1. in-STEM 2. out of STEM.

Now i’ve written about an out-of-stem reunion, so i’m going to focus on an in-stem reunion, which i think 1. would be epic 2. i’m rotating it in my mind i’m seeing it. ok.

so.

it could go 2 ways and i’m going to talk about them. A. Joseph is conscious/himself B. Joseph has been “corrupted” in some way (ie. Haunted, boss, etc)

A. Joseph would have saved your ass a few times already, in the shadows. y’know? sniping enemies during close calls or having guided you in some way. you’d meet either at a safe house (à la TEW2), in a STEM-recreated Krimson City café (kinda like how you met Juli in TEW2) or in Tatiana’s little realm (TEW-like, she’s just having a fun time). I’m going to go with the Tatiana thought but know it would be more or less the same for any of the 2 others.

her: “there’s someone here who I thought you’d be glad to see, detective.” seb: “i’m not a detective anymore.” her: “you may have to tell him yourself.”

to which she steps aside and Joseph emerges from shadows. now i’d imagine he would have been a guest in STEM for all those years. he’d look rougher than last time you’ve seen him (obviously), i’m thinking no more vest over his shirt, sleeves more messily rolled up, hair less combed, stubble, likely. he’d have well-established scars on his arms, maybe his neck from fighting. he and seb would look at each other slack-jawed, trying to decipher each other. a same expression of “is it really you...?” on both of their faces. seb would try to take a step, only take a half from stumbling, joseph would flinch and recoil barely enough to be noticeable but his eye twitch in fear also (seen as the “camera” is a medium closeup/head&shoulders shot). seb would call joseph’s name first and that makes joseph “snap out of it” a bit. he would then call seb’s name. they do that back and forth for a while until seb takes a daring step, another one, grabs joseph by the arms (below the shoulders) or the hands. he’d say at some point that he’s here to get him out. joseph would look at him bewildered, still in shock, and then strength and life would animate his eye, he’d close his agape mouth, and nod firmly. “it’s good to have you back”, seb would say. and joseph would stick along until the end. (probably get a hug once they get back out of stem. maybe just a platonic, one-arm-around-the-shoulder hug, as to not scare the gamers, but they’d look at each other a bit, and I, among others, would Know. B. boss battle. boss battle. boss battle. i cannot think of a good monster/corrupted design for him, but i would like to find a way to mirror Myra’s “Matriach”‘s boss battle from TEW2, except where she was all light and white/green/grey in a sand, flat arena, Joseph would be very dark black/red/brown in a very busy arena, perhaps a crumbling building. he would have a LOT of mobilty to be a mirror of Myra’s anchored-in-her-ground monsters, and something would be done with Sight (maybe the Spotted mechanism could go wrong? maybe his monster is a lot of eyes? who knows) when you’d defeat him, make it a cinematic parallel to when Seb pulls him out of the bathtub in TEW, you know exactly the scene i’m talking about. seb would help him up. queue more or less what i’ve already mentionned for part A. ta-fucking-da.

i can’t write much more and i’m sorry i didn’t Quite reply to everything you asked, but i hope it’s sufficient. i miss these two a lot.... wanna draw them again.....

[selfdulgent-selfinsert]

Caught in the Middle. (A self-indulgent, reader insert) Chapter 25:

((AH thank you for being so patient for this chapter! I have been stuck on it for a while and finally got it to come out a way that I liked. I hope it’s worth the wait! xoxox -Kei))

The shattered cement under your feet hurt like hell. You’d only turned a corner and BOOM Joseph. He was walking around a school bus, seeming to inspect the yellow lug. Sebastian strode forwards, you in hand. “Thank god you’re alright.” Seemingly forgetting your previous encounter until you hesitated in stride. Sebastian stopped, looking back at you. Josephs' face was written with pain, yet he didn’t speak. Just looked upon you with what you couldn’t determine between sorrow and pity. “(Y/N), I…” Joseph trailed off his voice a quiet croak; he didn’t dare reach for you. Fearful of his own control, Joseph still wasn’t sure how he was able to commit such an act and honestly didn’t remember much of it.

Like a blackout, he was dead to the world but the evidence of his crime stuck out in his mind since he came to. He felt like a monster but was certain you felt much, much worse. Cowering behind Sebastian slightly, your mind unsure who exactly was in front of you. Wanting with all your heart to believe the Joseph you met would never be back. Sebastian squeezing your hand which brought you back. Taking a deep breath but still staying behind Sebastian you gave a small silent wave to Joseph. He nodded. Still unsure of what really transpired you stood quietly, leaving the men to talk amongst themselves.

“How did you get here?” Sebastian starting the conversation up again.

“It wasn’t easy… At least I haven’t had any more, uh…” A pregnant pause. “Episodes.”

Joseph holding a sorrowful tone in his words. It felt as if he wasn’t trying to skirt around it. Like he wanted to make sure he was speaking properly about what had been happening to him.

“I wish I could say the same…”

Sebastian trailing off; his statement shocking you. Really you certainly had to be wary of everyone, but part of you felt like Sebastian had more control then Joseph. At least over these episodes considering you had experienced more of Joseph succumbing to S.T.E.M. Another heavy pregnant pause before Joseph perked up slightly. His voice was brighter. “Hey, I think I may have found us some transportation. Turning the school bus behind him. Entering the bus behind the two discussing if it would run or not, you swore you could hear the growing sound of clacking. The noise soon coming onto the bus as Julie scrambled into the vehicle cursing loudly as she slid into the driver’s seat and tried to forcefully start the engine.

“What are you doing?!” Sebastian’s voice going higher in surprise. Approaching her casually.

“Answer me Kid—“

The bus jolting awake and throwing Sebastian and you forwards as the motion cut him off. Giant spider legs stomping into the earth beside the bus. You screamed loudly. Shrieking in pure terror and grabbing onto Sebastian fully. It had to be a spider. FUCK.

Like seriously you don’t jive with something that has way too many fucking eyes and TOO MANY GOD DAMN LEGS BITCH WHAT THE FUCK.

Kiddman navigating the bus out of the tight cornered warehouse you had found yourself in. Hearing the abomination roar in a way too human way, your head whipped back. In place of your worst fear was a horrid mix of man, machine and spider barreling after you. The beast caught hold of the thin metal roof with its gross spider leg and began ripping the bus like a tuna can. Sebastian made quick work of you and had you stash away under the seats of the bus as he and Joseph readied to fill the monster with bullets. Julie trying in vain to separate the group from its grip. Watching from your hiding spot on the floor as the bus bumped and swerved about. Guessing the bus was freed until you came to a dead stop inside another building. Peeking out from under the seats as Kiddman spoke about not being safe for long.

A metal box came flying from the sky as the more common beasts filled in from the sides, aiming explosives for you while the three officers worked hard to dispatch the new offenders. Retreating under the seat hoping no explosive would make its way inside; the bullets seemed to go on forever, you had to cover your ears as the closed space was making one hell of an echo. A large explosion seemed to trigger in front of you as Joseph remarked on the situation. The combustion clearing a path in front of you.

You could already feel the new bruises forming on your beaten frame as the now truck bed platform with sheets chugged along. The huge spider monster ambushing you from the sky and sending your head cracking into the seat above you. You were really getting tired of this. It plunging its appendages into the metal of the bus and rocking the contraption from side to side. It even began producing maggot like offspring that chewed furiously at the men. Thankfully dispatching them before the horrid bugs found you. The monster becoming frantic in its attacks, jumping up onto the bus and reeling back in an attempt to strike many times as Kiddman sped through the streets. The only savior being a large, sturdy overhead tunnel which decapitated the creature and ended its terror.

The group heaving a heavy sigh of relief but the air still held baited breathe and Sebastian helped you out and onto the seat, you had previously been cowering under. Joseph across from the two of you. Holding yourself close to Sebastian and massaging your new wounds gently; he slung an arm around your shoulders. “Where are we heading, Joseph?” His voice rumbling into your chest. “I’ve got a theory. We seem to be moved around an awful lot. Almost as if by someone’s will. It’s nearly impossible to get any sense of geography around here. But the light, Beacon Mental Hospital. It’s always in the distance…”

Joseph flashed a sketch of the S.T.E.M. System. “That thing you found me in, I’ve seen it in multiple places.”

Sebastian nodded. “Yeah so have I. It seems like the exact same one every time but it’s hard to be sure. You weren’t sure when to jump in the conversation.

“Every time I run across one I seem to be closer to the lighthouse… It could be a coincidence but like I said, it seems as if there’s some intelligence behind it.” Your sigh was heavy in response.

“So we should just cut straight to the hospital?”

“Exactly.”

You were unsure if you had previously spoken of your knowledge; they were certainly speaking as if they hadn’t. Joseph stood, going up to Julie and directing her, Sebastian squeezing your shoulder. “You okay (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, just a little more beaten and battered but I’ll get by. I’m just glad it wasn’t an actual spider.” Laughing lightly, Sebastian joined in with you. Enjoying the lighter moment as the breeze ruffling your hair. But one last gunshot rang out. A sniper shot had pierced Joseph in the side as he recoiled in pain. Sebastian shouting and helping his partner to a seat; your instinct kicking in and overriding any hesitation as you vaulted to his seat and began assessing his injury. Sebastian screamed at Kiddman to get everyone out of the area. You could hear the blood in your ears pump through your veins. It was relaxing as you couldn’t hear the world around you and just focused on what needed to be done. Joseph was writhing so hard it was difficult to tell. The bus stopped and upon looking up you saw an ambulance with its lights going beyond a sea of abandoned cars. Sebastian left for it, dashing in its direction as you returned to Joseph.

It wasn’t a clean shot through, the bullet was still lodged inside. Causing more pain was inevitable as you felt around his abdomen for ruptures, shatters, fluids that didn’t belong there. From what you could feel it seemed like he ruptured a large organ. Fluid leaking from the wound was not typical and it stank of intestinal digestion. Doing your best to keep Joseph from digging into the wound himself, praying Sebastian could get there fast. You could barely hear the heavy gunfire over your rushing blood.

Finally, Sebastian returned, joining you in patching up Joseph the best you could, fishing out the bullet lodged in his body rather easily. As you were finishing packing his hole with gauze, the bus began moving again. Swerving and speeding down the street, but this was different, the bus started lifting vertically into the air to the point where you all were hanging on for dear life, rotating off an overpass and careening into a building. Being knocked off into the rubble as the bus skid ahead of you, Joseph and Sebastian. Falling off into the abyss.

The carpeting you had landed on looking awfully familiar. Head darting up to the decimated walls of your apartment building. The familiar kitsch of the halls bathed in grime and destruction. You noticed a newspaper scattered on the ground the front headline showing the Victoriano Mansion burnt to the ground. Ruviks’ house burnt to ashes the day after he went missing… You stood up, the garish red and yellow walls contrasting with the navy blue carpet you’d come to call home.

Sebastian took your hand again as you reached out for him. Peering over the ledge where Kiddman and the bus had fallen.

“There’s no way to even see her…”  Your voice was soft as it traveled into the distance.

“What on earth could have done this?” Joseph trailed off as you all took in the vast destruction of Krimson city. A distant subway train strung between two juts of the earth like a tether preventing two ships from drifting apart in the night. You knew in your heart it was Ruvik; the scope of his ability spread out before you, clear as day. If you hadn’t woken up to his malice before you sure had now. Sure this was S.T.E.M. so there couldn’t be any real people besides the handful of you that weren’t monsters… Right? You swallowed hard.

“Let’s focus on getting out of here… That subway train could potentially get us across that gap...”

“Sebastian… Assuming there’s nothing in our way to it, you’d be absolutely insane to try and cross something like that.” Your voice breaking the quiet after trailed off.

“Let’s just concentrate on getting out of here.” Joseph spoke confidently as he turned to look at you, then Sebastian. Both men turning and proceeding to scour the decimated environment for supplies and a way out. You kept fixated on the train; dangling between two the two outcroppings of buildings and torn metal. It was a taunting addition to the skyline, both becoming and threatening. You could imagine it swaying precariously in the wind as its worn joints became weaker with each passing minute.

A sudden gunshot sent you recoiling to cover your ears. Turing to see Sebastian shooting into an empty elevator shaft as he lowered his gun. “This way.” Sebastian mumbled before descending a service ladder and walking across an elevator. The contraption shifting as he picked up his pace to make it over to the lower level. Just as he made it safely the elevator screeched as its metal scraped down the wall, sliding into the darkness below. Separated from Sebastian, Joseph readied as if he was going to try and leap across the gap. “No, don’t risk it. Stay with (y/n), keep her safe.”

Joseph nodded. Stepping batch from the ledge, realizing you perhaps would have a hard time doing such a feat let alone himself. Your palms were clammy; part of you still in fear of what had happened last time the two of you were alone. Could it happen again? Ruvik would probably be so inclined to. He was vile enough to do it the first time so what would stop him now? “Hold on, I think I see another way down. We’ll meet you on a lower level, Sebastian.”

Sebastian disappearing from sight as he slipped into an air vent, you turned to Joseph. He could see the panic in your eyes as your thoughts swirled around. “Here.” Joseph presented you with the handle of his gun. His hand gripping the barrel as he held out his weapon to you. “I – I don’t know if I could…” He trailed off. HIs eyes looking down in shame as he shifted on his heels. “Just in case; I want you to be able to protect yourself from any threat. Including me.” His tone was grim but you took the pistol. It was heavy and cold in your bare hands. Joseph also handed you all his ammo, even some in boxes labeled for the shotgun strapped on his back. You shoved them into your sweater pockets. Thankful to have the garment back as this dress, like many others lacked pockets. Joseph spent a few minutes showing you how to work that gun, turning off the safety and how to reload. It was helpful, you weren’t really good at the whole point and shoot outside of videogames. It was kind of nice too, it helped you calm down a little feeling more confident in your ability to protect yourself and to see the Joseph you knew once more. You could feel your heart rate calm. Proceeding to try and find your own way out of the building led you to a doorway blocked by a heavy vending machine. There was a tiny space where it had been propped up by the wall it had caught on.

“Do you think you could squeeze through?”

You crouched down, the hole was much too small but the room on the other side looked empty enough to try and set the vending machine back upright or maybe even push it over. “You think we could push it over instead? It’s a little cramped.” Joseph nodded and extended a hand to help you up. Both readying in the small doorway to push. It moved but only slightly; a dull thud as it hit something immovable. Bending down once more, you peered further while leaning into the hole slightly. You couldn’t see anything. Joseph grunted and the venting machine lifted up. “Try – Try crawling through…” His words exasperated by the weight. Sliding forwards onto your hands and knees you carefully but quickly made your way under. You could feel a draft as your dress rode up sent your cheeks ablaze; praying that Joseph hadn’t seen. Standing on the other side, almost hitting yourself on a pipe jutting from the wall. It being the object keeping the machine from falling on its side. “You okay over there (y/n)?” gripping the bottom of the vending machine and bracing yourself. “Yeah, try and lift it Joseph. I can help from this side.”

Eventually, you both managed to get the machine upright, Joseph walking through to meet you. Offering his hand for a high five. You returned it with a loud smack, satisfying as it rang out in the hall. “Let’s keep going. We have to catch up with Sebastian.” You nodded. Your hands dropping as Joseph pulled his shotgun from his back. Continuing down the hall, guns in hand.

[agonybow]

CHARACTER SHEET repost. do not reblog.

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

FULL NAME.   sebastian castellanos NICKNAME.    seb, asshole, detective. GENDER.    cis male HEIGHT.   6′1″ age.   38 / 41 ZODIAC.    gemini. spoken languages.  english, broken bits of spanish.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬 !

HAIR COLOR.       dark brown, bordering on black. EYE COLOR.         dark brown with lighter hazel flecks. SKIN TONE.         light, faintly tanned. BODY TYPE.         mesomorph, athletic build. broad, muscular in chest and upper body, tapering down into lean well-muscled legs. ACCENT.         he has a cleaner american accent, with nothing notable to it. VOICE.       gravelly, gruff, deep. always sounds a little angry somehow. DOMINANT HAND.         right handed. POSTURE.          slightly slouched, his posture gradually fixes itself by the end of tew2. SCARS.         most notably he has a scar over his lip, and over his left eye brow. he is otherwise covered in scars from the collarbone down from his time with the police. TATTOOS.        none. BIRTHMARKS.          just the occasional mole here and there. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S).        the scarring on his face is a feature most are quick to recognize, but his perpetually disheveled hair that always manages to remain the same vague sort of dishevelment is likewise noticeable. i’m looking at YOU, bangs.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 !

PLACE OF BIRTH.     krimson city hospital. HOMETOWN.          krimson city. BIRTH WEIGHT.         this is weirdly specific BIRTH HEIGHT.         i’m too lazy to research baby size for this what even is this MANNER OF BIRTH.         his mother had a c-section. it was a very unfun experience for her and changed her mind on having a second child, as much as sebastian’s father tried to convince her otherwise.  FIRST WORDS.        no. SIBLINGS.      nope. PARENTS.       passed. PARENTAL INVOLVEMENT.        in the beginning, they were incredibly involved with him in school activities, homelife, and otherwise. however, as sebastian grew old enough to have a bit of independence and was able to be left alone at the house / wouldn’t drive the nanny up the wall, his parents dove deeper into their work in order to support their family.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 !

OCCUPATION.      krimson city crimes division detective. after being discharged for mental health reasons, he does freelance work.    CURRENT RESIDENCE.          verse-dependent. anything prior to union, he still lives in krimson. after union, he packs up and leaves town, which can vary depending on who i am interacting with. CLOSE FRIENDS.           joseph oda, the only one who stuck by him in all of his severe up’s and down’s. RELATIONSHIP STATUS.          estranged / widower. his wife vanishes to figure out the mysterious ‘death’ of their daughter, and later, he has to leave her behind in the revitalized STEM to save himself and their daughter. she presumably dies with STEM’s collapse.  FINANCIAL STATUS.         middle class / lower middle class.  DRIVER’S LICENSE.     he has a standard license and post-union, when he gets his motorcycle, he gets his motorcycle license as well. CRIMINAL RECORD.         from all of his time spent being a brat kid in juvie. most of it is from graffiti, petty theft, and generally being a menace. VICES.        pride, alcoholism, smoking, wrath.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

SEXUAL ORIENTATION.         bisexual. ROMANTIC ORIENTATION.        biromantic. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE.       submissive  |  dominant  |  switch. PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE.       submissive  |  dominant |  switch. LIBIDO.         he used to be an absolute nasty horndog that had zero shame in feeling up his wife even in a work atmosphere. after his daughter’s fabricated death, he lost complete and utter interest in sex and anything relating to it. post-union, it exists more than it did prior, but he isn’t nearly as interested as he had once been. TURN ON’S.       romantic chemistry. dirty talk. a little bit of feistiness is appreciated. biting / clawing. a loud partner is a partner he appreciates. TURN OFF’S.          anything with bodily fluids / fecal matter. anything that is Real Endangerment (you gotta talk him into bringing knives into the bedroom because are you a crazy person wtf u on). please do not call him d/addy that is weird.  LOVE LANGUAGE.  physical touch. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES.     stupid expressive in his affections. pet names may not happen, but he certainly will find ways to inform you of how absolutely smitten he is.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 !

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG.     UHHH idk man HOBBIES TO PASS TIME.        crosswords. cooking. reading. cat videos. it is less so a hobby, but he keeps a journal when lily comes back to try and help better process his trauma, whether it be writing things out and keeping track of reoccurring themes, or drawing it out. MENTAL ILLNESSES.     prior to STEM, sebastian suffers from generalized anxiety, depression, and a mild form of PTSD from the tragedy of his daughter’s death. all of this amplifies after STEM, and he likewise develops paranoia after being kicked from the force. PHYSICAL ILLNESSES.        n/a PHOBIAS.   sebastian does not have really any ‘phobias’ so much as he has new fears developed from STEM that are not as severe as a phobia, but still impact his daily life and make it a struggle to live as it once had. he develops a mild fear of fire after STEM. cannot handle the dark / sleeps with a light on for a period of time. he varies on how he can handle silence, where sometimes he prefers it so he can listen to his environment, while other times he needs white noise in the background (especially while sleeping) to drown out his own brain’s tendencies of recreating noises that terrified him in STEM. he will absolutely break at the sound of a chainsaw or anything similar. even if it is coming from the tv. even if it is nowhere near him. he cannot handle it and will snap. SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL.      sebastian will rock full on confidence one day and have zero the next. he is a swinging pendulum depending on how that day is going. VULNERABILITIES.      he has deep, profound trust issues even after getting lily back. he was betrayed over and over, and cannot handle the idea of being betrayed again. he likewise struggles with forgiving himself for things out of his control, and takes loss especially hard.

tagged by.  @grimfacedbear thank you!! 💖 tagging. @fidelicide @garrotejima @0xa00001 @fractempyreal @destructivour @apheleon @wraithelike @atrophid @vojvode @bloodheels @n7soldiered take it from me and tag me my dude i rly enjoy reading these!

[writeanapocalae]

Falling Apart Part 2

Part 1

Just some random pre steseb thing I thought up. I don’t know where it’s going yet though. Warnings for: body horror, suicidal ideation/attempt, alcohol/ism, signs of abuse, and gore

A thorn in his side. That’s what he’d said.

--Krimson had never had a serial killer before. No one knew what to do. He didn’t know what to do. All of the deaths. They felt like they were holding him back, like he couldn’t get on to other cases, not until this one was taken care of. All of the deaths were staged, the corpses propped up, made into some sort of scene. It was like the killer was playing with them. It was like the killer was a thorn in their sides, just doing enough to prick and annoy, while truly leaving terror in their wake.--

“What did he do to you?”

Stefano gave a smile and it was one of the most broken smiles that Sebastian had ever seen. He shook his head, practically waving him off. “He gave me everything I asked for. The space to create my work, the praise that I required, and power, so much power, so that I didn’t have to worry about materials or the constrictions of logic. He believed in me. He pushed me to do more, to follow my inspiration to the end.”

“And the payment?”

“The Core, for one.”

--He’d pulled a woman, covered in blood, out of her apartment. She’s been stabbed but she didn’t care. The blood seeped into him, into his clothes, into his skin, into his heart. She was screaming at him, hitting him. Her husband was a good man, he’d given her so much. Sebastian was a monster to kill him, to gun him down. He didn’t deserve it. He was a good man. She was pale and shaking from blood loss. Her ribs hadn’t even healed from the last time.--

Sebastian didn’t fight the urge to reach out again, though the reaction was much the same. He took Stefano’s chin though, forced his head at an angle that he could see him better at. His hair still covered his eye but Sebastian could see the glint of the lens from behind it.

“He give you this too?” he almost growled.

Stefano shook himself away and winced as the motion agitated his back. “Yes, of course. The perfect camera, a way to capture my pieces in all of their glory.”

Sebastian looked over his shoulder, checking how the skin was stitching back together. “And yet you rely on a camera still.” The skin was red and fresh and irritated and there was something blossoming through it, a wound that had been there before the rest of it. It looked like a brand. Sebastian thought of his face, how the cut on it had never healed, no matter what he had done with it. He wondered if this mark was like that.

--Pain, a bright flash of it, blinding him, hot and red and coating his eye. He couldn’t see. He had just taken a knife to the eye and he was reeling back, trying to focus, trying to breathe. He wiped at the blood. It wasn’t his eye. It was just above it. His face was split open and burning. He had to act quickly, before the knife worked better, before the killer put it somewhere more useful. He could still see.--

“It is a perfect camera but, alas, a perfect camera and a perfect eye rarely coexist. It is,” Stefano went silent for a moment and Sebastian could see him think, try to decide how much he wanted to give away. “It is quite painful to use. Enough about me though, are you going to take his deal?”

“No,” Sebastian shook his head, leaving Stefano where he was to go to his workbench. He was out of syringes, thanks to the messenger, and he needed some more bolts too.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“I don’t have to.” He pulled out his tools and laid them out in front of him. He had more herbs than he had space for syringes but better than too much than not enough. He was doing good on gunpowder too. It was the pipes that he was lacking in. “The man’s a psychopath, thinks he can get whatever he wants from anyone. He doesn’t seem to understand anyone saying no to him either.”

“I don’t think psychopath is the right word,” Stefano mused. But I won’t deny the rest.”

Sebastian went to work and he expected Stefano to keep pressing, keep needling him, but the man fell quiet, letting him focus. He’d gotten through his herbs before turning around, finding Stefano lying on his side, still on the table. His eye was closed and his hair had fallen to reveal the lens. He was very much asleep though, not even knowing.

--Joseph never needed help. He was too good for that. He was perfect. There was no part of the job that he needed Sebastian for, other than as a second pair of eyes. He was worthless, relying on Joseph too much. He was too drunk and too fucked up to do his job. Joseph picked up the slack. He took care of Sebastian and when he fell asleep on the couch after keeping everything together, there was no way that Sebastian would force him to wake.--

He drew close, examined the lens. The skin around it was raw and angry, torn open in places. It looked very painful and when it twitched Stefano’s muscles followed. There were angry veins mixed with nerves mixed with scar tissue and they all thrummed together. It looked hot. It looked agonizing. It wasn’t healing.

Neither was the brand on Stefano’s back. The rest of his skin had healed, but not that. It was a star, the lines crisp and clean. It was small too, almost unnoticable, but Sebastian knew what to look for. It was Mobius.

–Stars. There were stars in his eyes, in his hands, online, and on doors that he couldn’t open. A star was, to him, a solid red x. It was a lock. He couldn’t do anything with them. They were everywhere. He could do nothing about them, against them. They were holding him down. Everything was made out of stardust, he heard that somewhere, elements and cells and the like, and he wondered how much that meant that Mobius was a part of him.--

“Stefano?” Sebastian asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He woke with a snort and a start, looking around before petting his hair back into place. He looked around, almost panicked before calming down, remembering where he was, what had happened, and who he was with. “Still alive? You really are a mystery, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t planning on killing you in your sleep.” Sebastian didn’t mention that he wasn’t planning on killing Stefano at all. “What is this?”

Stefano twisted and then paused and then continued twisting, waiting a moment to make sure it wouldn’t hurt him to do so. His eye trailed down to where Sebastian was looking.

“Oh, Sebastian, you absolute neanderthal, you haven’t figured that out yet?” He turned, swinging his legs around the table so that there was one on either side of Sebastian, caging him in with his hips. His hands were soft, almost gentle, as he took Sebastian’s cheeks, and turned him, looking at the cut in his face. “We are both artist’s in our ways. He is an artist of word and I of sculpture and photography. Both of us need to put our signatures on what we’ve made and on what we own.”

Sebastian snarled and pulled away. “I’m not one of your art pieces. I’m not yours to do with either.” The rage was quick to grow but even quicker to falter. Yes, he was angry with Stefano for claiming him as something to be owned, had attempted to curate his fear into something that he could use, but Stefano was also being used, was also marked in the same way. He was telling him that Theodore owned him. Everything was clicking more and more.

“My apologies,” Stefano laughed off his anger, even as he shrank from it. He was trying to act like nothing affected him.

“What’s this deal, anyway?”

Stefano shrugged. “He is done with me, I believe. Too many disappointments, not enough obedience, take your pick. He wants you to get him the core, the power of it. He’s willing to give you more than he ever gave me. My power, he says only works in here, as long as I am tied to Union and I have no desire to leave it. You though, he would give you power both in and out of Union, whatever that means.”

He didn’t know then. Sebastian wondered if he should tell him.

--Waking and sputtering and trying to breathe and he didn’t know if he was alive or not if the world was real or not. He’d dragged himself out of the tub, onto legs that couldn’t support him, into a place that he didn’t know. He was out. He was out. He was still within and it was only destroying that lump of gray flesh that freed him.--

“You’re going to take me to him?”

“No. You’re going to kill me before I go back to him, or I’ll kill myself. I understand the intricacies of being given power, I can only imagine the agony of having it all removed. And, I have told you before, I came to you because I thought you would kill me faster.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

Stefano slumped then, kicking his leg up and over Sebastian’s head before sliding off of the table and onto his feet. He wobbled for a moment before righting himself. “Of course, completely understandable. I may not have a use to him but I do to you. You have no power here, not unless you say yes, so you must want to use mine. I do not blame you for that, not in the least.”

Stefano was fast, when he wanted to be, and he was smart. He knew how to use surprise and emotion against those around him. One hand went to Sebastian’s throat and his lips went to Sebastian’s just as fast. He was pushing as he walked, shoving Sebastian back and the kiss had Sebastian all turned around, his blood pumping, going to his head and between his legs, almost as fast as Stefano’s power, the way that the smaller man maneuvered him, slamming him up against the wall, that hand on his throat close to too much. He could hardly breathe, for one reason or the other.

Stefano’s other hand was sliding down his chest and Sebastian hadn’t been this close to anyone in such a long time. No one had touched him like this for so long. He pressed against it. It was a surprise and the who was unwelcome but he couldn’t stop his body from responding, from wanting this. It felt so good to be kissed. To be touched. To be treated like he was weak in Stefano’s hold.

--Myra was so strong. He as so strong. But she was stronger than him, in so many ways, and he loved that about her. He wanted to be weak for her. He wanted her to control him, to shove him against walls and take what she wanted from him. And she did, again and again and every time she did he felt a little bit safer and a little bit more himself.--

It wasn’t lust though, nor was it love in any stripe. It was just a trick.

Stefano pulled Sebastian’s gun from the holster and pulled back, taking off the safety and popping open the chamber, making sure it was stocked. He had it to his temple before Sebastian was on him, leaping forward, knocking him to the ground, and wrestling the gun from him. It fired once into the ceiling as they rolled on the floor together, before Sebastian could pin him to the ground, straddling his hips.

Stefano was panting on the floor, looking hollow, looking more of a mess than before. He was flushed and tense, but open and vulnerable as well, as if expecting Sebastian to do whatever he wanted, as if expecting to be hurt for what he’d done. He wanted death though and Sebastian would not give him that.

--He’d shoved Joseph out of the way of his own aim, twisting his hand, hurting his fingers, he was sure, in order to get the gun free. And then he’d been hard, a rock, not letting Joseph in. He just said that he needed him, as if that was all Joseph was good for. He didn’t let Joseph be human. He didn’t let Joseph feel anything. Because nothing was better than that and he couldn’t do anything with that. He couldn’t stop Joseph from feeling that hopeless dread, that desire, to take a last and permanent step.--

He pulled himself to his feet but Stefano didn’t move. He just lay there, as still as possible.

“You hate me that much?” Stefano whimpered as Sebastian emptied the chamber, putting the bullets in his pack.

“If that’s what you want to think of it as.” He took each of his guns and emptied them. It wasn’t safe to keep them loaded. He took out a bullet and set it on the workbench. There were all matters of tools there and he selected one, a sharpie, and he put an S on the back of the bullet.

“Look, I’ll make you deal, alright? You and Theodore seem to like those. I need you to take me to Theodore, since he’s being so gracious in letting me come to him. He’s making things very difficult for me right now and I can’t get to the Core without taking him on first, one way or the other. He’s made that pretty clear.”

Stefano pulled himself up to his feet. Sebastian wanted to frisk him, take that knife off of him, but there must have been a reason that he hadn’t pulled that out. Sebastian would have guessed that he didn’t even have it.

--Laying on the couch, his head in Joseph’s lap, shaking from his attempt to stay away from the poison. There was a bottle of it on the counter, something to ease the pain, and Joseph was patting his arm, running his fingers in his hair, telling him that it would be over soon. The pain was too much. There was nothing but the poison to quell it. So Joseph had taken it away and he’d felt all the worse and worse still for not being allowed a chance to prove that he didn’t need it.--

“This bullet is yours. It’s going to be the last one in the chamber. If he does anything; if he tries to hurt you or whatever, the first five shots are going into him. Hell, I’m probably going to put those in him regardless. The last bullet will go in you. If five bullets don’t take him down, the last shot is for you.”

“It’s a last chance,” Stefano wandered over, slow and careful. Sebastian handed him the bullet and he turned it one way and the other, examining it. “You do realize that S is for Sebastian as well.”

“You can call it a signature if that makes you happier.”

The smile that Stefano gave him was only slightly less broken than before. “I feel like I don’t have much of a choice in this deal of yours.”

Sebastian patted him on the shoulder. “You have a choice, of course you do. If you choose not to take it we can just go in circles with neither of us getting what we want forever.”

@chibi–raiden @angelicsociopath @detectivesebcas @lokis-queen-hepta-the-destroyer @ruvikkin-art @samofgallifrey27 @sebcastellanyes

[s-t-e-m-blog]

Stefano/Reader

Encounter  ; Cravings

Part 2 of ? up! Memories of an encounter. Each chapter will have these ‘flashbacks’ to add to the stories background, some may be exlusively memories. Critique, advice, ideas, etc welcome!

Previous chapter - Next chapter (TBA)     Find me on AO3 

May 2012

It was another night at the Krimson City Lounge that you were sat at the polished wood bar, although this time you were not enjoying a sweet drink, chatting up a friendly storm with a colleague, no. Tonight, your demons were catching up and this was your battle against them. Not the greatest tactic, but… war is war, and it worked.  For a time, until the cycle repeated itself. With one swift movement, the brown liquid in your tiny glass rushed down your throat and slowly warmed you up. It wasn’t packed tonight, but a few other patrons lit up the cozy establishment with some laughter and talk.

“I’m here for a good time, not a long one.” You said with a grin, pushing back the empty shot glasses across the bar table. Marcus, the bartender you have gotten to know a little too well, shook his head and scoffed, although with a smile.

“(Y/n), at least get some water in you. Or some food? It's not a good idea with the amount you drink...” A glass of icy water appeared before you faster than you could protest, and despite the original plan to get hammered quick, you accepted it. At least the hangover might be a little less… severe? You tugged at the straight neck of your wine coloured sweater, adjusting it back to its horizontal cut.

“You’ve seen me take shot after shot with barely a buzz, Marcus. I’m going to be fine. But I’ll accept your offer of some sliced bread and...cheese?” You smile at the older man, watching him laugh and disappear into the back. Your eyes moved away from him and to your glass of water. Watching the condensation form on the glass was relaxing as you felt the darkness of your mind creeping in. You’ve only had a glass of rum and five shots of your favorite, cinnamon whiskey, yet you feel nothing. Disappointing, but… you had time tonight. No gallery, no side jobs, nothing. The least you could do was enjoy it all.

The door to the bar opened with a jingle, and your head turned to see who the newest addition was. A tall man, white dress shirt and waistcoat made his way through the door. Undone, uncaring. Tired eyes, messy hair, and a darkening five o’clock shadow.. You noticed the KCPD badge peeking out of his little pocket. You quickly glanced away, although your gaze resumed as he passed you by, the smell of his cologne sending a flutter through your heart…. You weren’t drunk that fast, were you?

The plate of bread Marcus set before you startled you out of your almost… longing gaze, and the bartender laughed. “ Detective Sebastian Castellanos! The usual?” he asked the man as he sat down at a booth, already working on his usual order.

Sebastian Castellanos… you went over his name in your head, picking up one of the slices of cheesy bread and taking a bite. You chewed cautiously, watching Marcus deliver the detective his drink, barely looking up as it was placed before him, his attention deep in one of many files. As he returned, you looked at him with a sheepish look on your face. “Does he always come here to work..?” You tried to avert.

“I see that look,” Marcus said, wiping down the surface of the bar with a rag from his apron.

“I don’t,” you say with a mouthful of cheesy bread, signaling with a nod and a finger for another drink. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Marcus shook his head, pulling out a clean glass and pouring the brown colored rum into the glass, and bringing it to your awaiting person. He leaned closer to you, aimlessly wiping down the bartop again.  

“Don't kid me, (y/n). I’ve worked here 20 years, I know what I saw in that look.” he chuckled, his brown eyes falling on the detective, already finished with his glass. “He’s been coming here a lot more lately… Must be tough after losing your kid, and your marriage falling apart.”

“Oh, he’s a married man… ” You bite on your inner mouth, taking a sip of the alcohol and looking back at the detective. “Maybe we can both relish in the grief of loss and to be lost, then?”

“I’ve seen a few women try their luck on him, but he hardly batted an eye at any of them... “ Marcus was interrupted by the call of a group of patrons, stuffing the rag into his apron as he answered to their call. “You can try, though. It won’t hurt….maybe.” He laughed, walking off to the rowdy group on the far side.

You sighed, shoving the last bit of your snack into your mouth and looking back at the detective. He was definitely attractive, you couldn’t deny that. Could you even talk to him? Did you want to? If he still had a wife, there was no point in trying for any romance… The detective’s face turned into a frown as he rubbed his face with his free hand, slapping the file down on the table. He looked tired. As he looked up, you quickly turned away, slumping back in your chair and closing your eyes to think. Maybe you should..  at least the company would be nice, married or not. Maybe that would be better than a hangover.

You waited for Marcus’ return, taking a swig of your own beverage, trying to force an iron will. You might as well. Your intentions may seem questionable, but above all, you just want company. As Marcus returned with empty glasses, you took one final gulp of your own drink and set the glass down, replacing it with the water and taking a long drink, to please your friend.

“Marcus, give me what he likes. And I'll take another whiskey.” you smiled,

“So two then… I see that fire in you.” Marcus laughed, quickly prepping the two drinks and setting them before you. “Good luck.”

With a deep breath, you stand up, taking the two drinks in your hand, and muster all your courage as you make your way to the detective.  

Setting the glass before him, you take your seat across from him and take a sip of your own, blood pumping from anxiety.

“You look like you could use a friend. Or another pair of eyes.”

~ U W U ~

March, 2017

Stefano and you were lounging about in your kitchen, sitting on the tall chairs surrounding the small island. You were reading a novel you’ve been meaning to finish for about a year now, while he was sorting through new photographs he had printed as samples for the gallery event later tonight you two would attend.

“Stanotte è la notte, mia dolce!” Stefano exclaimed, looking up from the file of his printed works, icy blue gaze watching you shove yet another strawberry into your mouth with your free hand. It's the second carton now. The first one you took down last night with more (homemade!) whipped cream than you have had in your life, while sobbing into your blanket watching Planet Earth. He looked at you curiously, amused. “Another night where the uneducated masses will be shown true art..”

“It’s been quite some time since we’ve gone to something this… refine, though, hasn’t it?” You reply, throwing the small bit of leaves into the designated ‘leaf bowl’ and wiping your hand of the juices on a towel. You noticed your weight gain lately, and you were not happy about going out with how self-conscious you felt.. And despite the time of day, around 4 in the afternoon now, you still felt fatigued, even with sleeping in. “I’ll admit, I’m excited to be on your arm tonight, too..” You were excited and raring to go out, but at the same time, you were feeling down today. But power on you will...

“Of course, (y/n). You are the belle of the ball, afterall. It is an honor to be showing you off as mine.” Stefano grinned, slipping over to you and grabbing your face in his hands, giving your strawberry-saturated lips attention with his own. You chuckled into his kiss, and felt yourself shiver at his gloved touch, your legs instinctively wrapping around him and bringing him closer to you.

“You hush…” you mumbled into him, flipping the book upside down on the table and bringing your arms around his neck. You felt one hand slide down to your waist, grabbing it firmly, while the other took place on your lower back. Heat rushed to your cheeks, Stefano’s lips attacking yours with need.

“Shall I mark you as mine for all to see tonight, mia cara?” He asked, pulling ever so slightly away from you to admire your blushing face with a devilish smile.

“They all know it’s look but don’t touch, Stefano..” You whisper, your (e/c) eyes looking right into his, feeling a heat building in-between your legs. “You have to be there earlier than I do, and..”

“You deny me?” He gasped, pulling away with a dramatic flourish. “You break my heart, signora!” You shake your head and laugh, unwrapping your legs and pulling stray pieces of hair out of your face. “Although.. You are correct.” Stefano glanced at the time, setting a hand on your thigh and gripping it. “But that will not stop me later, mia dolce.” He winked, pulling away from you entirely and picking up his prints. “I will see you later at the galleria, (y/n). Six at night.. Oh! Do wear the dress I have brought to you. It is on your bed.” The dark artist smiled. With that, he turned on his heel elegantly and made his way to the door, leaving you alone in your apartment again. You sighed as you watched Stefano leave, slipping out of your chair to return the strawberries to their place. Maybe a shower would wake you up..

[krimsonmay]

apologies once again for not posting,,,, lots is going on, i have things in progress but less time (and mental energy) to work on them,,, also sorry to the ppl that have sent me asks - i've seen them, i'm not ignorong them, it's just a bit jumbled lately,,,, 😭

[fidelissimum-a]

cont from here

“It’s no problem.” Honestly, he still considers it his duty. Even if he’s been promoted to the rank of detective, his obligations are still to the people of Krimson City; keeping them safe and assisting them when they need help. That sort of dedication will probably remain with him the rest of his life.

“My name is Joseph Oda, I’m a detective with the KCPD.” He’s unsure if his status will reassure her or put her on edge again-- people act very differently around cops. Still, it’s the proper thing to identify himself, especially since while the silver badge on his shoulder may go unnoticed, he’s sure the holster and gun at his side will not. That is-- unless she’s blind? He takes notice of the dog, but decides asking would be too invasive. He’s just here to help.

“Where are you looking to go?”

@gospelgraved

[croik]

At the Advent - unfinished fic

So during the stream last night I mentioned a TEW fic that I had started and didn’t finish a while back.  At this point it probably never will be finished, so I figured I might as well put it here, in case anyone’s interested.  It stops semi abruptly but the premise is fun?  Enjoy~

***

Betrayed.  Ruben should have seen it coming.

If they had corned him at the mansion he would have stood more of a chance, with traps and firearms at his disposal, but his lab at Beacon was bare of such things.  He had been careless, not preparing for this.  How sure he'd been that Mobius would value him over Jimenez, only to be wrong.

The men in their black suits approached—only two of them, but each was more than enough to handle a near invalid.  Ruben retreated several steps, a feeling much like fear at his edges, until he bumped into a supply cart.  He knew its contents without having to look, and he grabbed up a recently used scalpel.  Immediately he attacked, stabbing deep into the first man's inner thigh.  A yank of his arm severed his femoral artery with a bloody spurt.  The man cried out, but he must not have realized yet that he was dead, because he still tried to grab fistfuls of Ruben's's jacket.  The second man drew his arm back.

"Don't hit him in the head!" Jimenez shouted.

The man hesitated just enough; Ruben swung the scalpel, cutting his throat open.  He was shielded by most of the blood thanks to his hood.  Both men dropped, gripping their wounds, one with a gurgle.  Jimenez made a panicked run for the door.  There wasn't time to catch up to him, so instead Ruben wrestled the handgun from the belt of the de-throated man and opened fire.

His aim was poor, but there were enough bullets that he managed to put two in Jimenez's back.  It didn't fully occur to him what he'd done until he was standing over the man, watching him squirm and bleed and cough.  It had been years since he'd been forced to hunt his own prey, and though he was breathing hard, even a little unsteady, he was pleased with his success.

"Ru…Ruben," Jimenez croaked.  He gazed up at his killer with wild eyes.  "Wait.  Wait, you…"

"No more waiting," said Ruben, leveling the gun at his head.  "I should have done this a long time ago."  He pulled the trigger. So ended a partnership of thirty years.

Ruben remained still for a time, studying the look of shock and pain on what remained of Jimenez's face.  It wasn't until one of Mobius' men began shaking against the floor did he remember they weren't alone in the room, and he turned back to finish him off.  In the quiet of the lab, it finally came to him what he'd done, and what would come next.

Mobius would come next.  They may or may not have forced Jimenez's hand into this betrayal, but if the hand of Mobius itself descended on Beacon, a scalpel and some traps wouldn't be enough to stop them.  They would finish what their goons had attempted, make him a prisoner, probably torture him until he put STEM to their purpose.  Though a part of him was curious to know what methods they thought they could employ against him, the thought of surrendering even one inch to that weasel of an administrator made him sick.

"Not now," Ruben said to himself as he crouched down next to Jimenez and relieved him of his key card.  "Not when I'm so close to finishing it."  A plan began to form in his mind, but he would have to be swift; there was no telling how many of Mobius' spies were already inside, and how long it would take for them to find the grisly scene.  There might not even be time to attempt covering it up.

Ruben moved quickly through the hospital, into the western ward where some of the more deluded inmates were kept.  He stepped up to the bars of a particular cell and rapped loudly on the door.  "Mr. Diaz."

"You can't keep me in here!" Ivan shouted, but when he looked to the opening and saw who it was, he shrank back against the far wall. "Y-You!  Stay away from me!"

"I'm opening this door," said Ruben, showing off the handgun.  "Don't try anything."

He unlocked the cell, but when he beckoned for Ivan to come forward, the man remained stubbornly at the wall.  "I know what goes on in here," he said, trying to sound defiant. "I'd rather you shoot me than take me to that lab."

"I'm not going to do either," Ruben said impatiently, though he kept the gun at the ready.  "I'm letting you go."

Ivan eyed the blood on his hood suspiciously.  "The hell you are."

"Go."  Ruben motioned again for him to come out.  "Walk out the door.  See if anyone stops you."

Ivan crept closer, tight on his feet and ready to bolt.  As he reached the door, Ruben put his hand on his shoulder, and he startled.  "There's just one thing," said Ruben.

"Of course there is."  Ivan glanced back and forth, gauging his options.  "If you're going to tell me to keep my mouth shut, you may as well not bother."

"By all means, tell everyone what you've seen here," Ruben invited, to Ivan's shock. "It makes no difference to me. But first, go to the police."

Ivan tried to back away, but Ruben kept a heavy grip on his shoulder.  "The cops?  Why would…."  His eyes narrowed.  "You're planning something."

"There was a detective investigating this place a few weeks ago around the same time you joined us," Ruben explained coldly. "Castellanos.  Go to KCPD and tell her that if it's Mobius she's after, she'll find them here.  Understand?"

"Mobius," Ivan repeated, and despite his situation, his reporter's instinct seemed to latch onto the significance.  "So that's what they're called."

"Go," said Ruben, and he gave Ivan a shove to get him started.  "Get out of here."

Ivan didn't need to be told again.  He turned and dashed down the hall, glancing back several times to make sure that Ruben wasn't about to shoot him in the back.  As soon as he reached the far door, Ruben headed in the opposite direction, into the maximum security ward.

His second visitor wasn't any happier to see him.  Leslie was sitting on the cot in his cell, knees hugged to his chest.  He watched Ruben open the door and step inside with wide, nervous eyes focused on the gun.  "D-Doctor?" he stuttered.

"Jimenez is dead," said Ruben, and Leslie relaxed just slightly.  "Come with me, Leslie.  It's time."

He offered his hand.  Leslie regarded it with an open mix of interest and distrust.  But Ruben waited patiently, and at last, Leslie reached for him.  He led him from the cell.

"Stay close to me," Ruben said, keeping a tight grip on Leslie's hand as they headed for the central tower.  "You know I'll look after you."

Leslie bobbed his head and squeezed back.

***

When Sebastian arrived at Beacon Mental Hospital, he had no idea what to expect.  Having been born in Krimson, he'd lived his entire life in the shadow of that lighthouse, whispers of its corruptions in his ears.  He'd never had an occasion to visit, and neither had anyone he'd known or worked with.  Most people knew better than to go looking for an excuse.  But as he stepped out of the patrol car, Joseph and Kidman close behind, he tried to view it its towering silhouette with new eyes. Somewhere inside lay answers.

"Is this really a good idea?" asked Kidman, voicing her concerns not for the first time as the three of them headed for the main door. Connelly stayed behind in the car. "We don't exactly have much to go on."

"Diaz's affidavit will get us a warrant," Sebastian replied, leading the way.  "We're just taking a peek until then."

"Couldn't we just wait until the warrant actually clears?" she persisted.  "We're tipping our hand.  If they are hiding something and we show up now, they'll have time to cover up before we can get on with a thorough search."

"They could already be doing that now," Joseph reasoned.  "Mr. Diaz 'escaped' several hours ago now.  Whoever's behind this already knows we're coming."

"We don't even know what 'this' is yet.  It's not like that rag Diaz writes for is known for being reliable."

Sebastian stopped at the entrance and turned back. "Kidman, we're going in," he said firmly.  "He came to us asking for my wife.  Whatever or whoever he thinks is really in here, I need to know."  

Kidman still didn't look happy, but she nodded.  "I understand."

Sebastian put his hand on the door, but before he could open it, Joseph was at his side.  "You know I have your back, Sebastian," he said quietly. "Just keep your head in there, okay?  She has a point: we don't know what we're dealing with yet."

"I know."  Sebastian didn't want to waste any more time with reassurances and warnings; he pushed the door open.

The hospital's reception hall was broad, well furnished with plenty of benches and tables, potted plants against the pillars and walls. A few guests were sprinkled about, reading papers or conversing in quiet tones with the patients they'd come to visit, all under the watchful eye of several orderlies.  Everything looked rather normal, but as soon as the three detectives entered, all eyes turned on them.

Sebastian didn't let their attention intimidate him.  He strode purposefully to the front desk, where the receptionist was looking rather nervous.  "Good afternoon," she greeted pleasantly enough. "Can I help you?"

"Detective Castellanos, KCPD," Sebastian introduced, tugging his coat out of the way enough to show off the badge on his belt. "I need to speak with Dr. Marcelo Jimenez; I understand he's in charge here."

The receptionist glanced away, seeming to exchange a look with someone behind him.  "Is he expecting you?"

"He just might be.  Call him down here for us, would you?"

"Of course…."  She picked up the phone on her desk, clearly hesitant.  "One moment, please."

While she dialed up, Sebastian turned back toward the hall. Joseph anticipated him, nodding toward a security guard leaning up against the wall nearby.  The man had his phone out and was texting while pretending not to notice them.  The word was already out, apparently.

Sebastian's ears began to ring.  He winced, scanning the hall for a radio or a speaker system that might have been giving off feedback.  His search was cut short when the receptionist hung up her phone.

"I'm sorry, detectives," she said, "but Dr. Jimenez isn't answering his office phone.  He might be with a patient."

"Can't you page him?" asked Kidman.  "This is urgent."

"Yes, but…."

"Maybe we can spot him on the security cameras," Joseph suggested, nodding to a nearby door.  "Do you mind?"

Sebastian couldn't help a quirk of his lips.  "Good idea."

Joseph started toward it, Kidman close behind, as the receptionist stuttered over trying to talk him out of it.  Sebastian stayed at the desk, peeking at the names listed on the internal phone and trying to spy something useful or interesting.  Then the ringing in his ears got louder.  It beat against the inside of his skull like a wrecking ball, and he hissed, gripping the edge of the desk as the ground seemed to pitch under his feet.  "What the hell is that?" he growled, but when he looked to the receptionist, she was gone.  Joseph and Kidman had vanished from the security room door, and the hall had emptied of its guards, patients, and guests.  Everything swam in and out of focus as the lights ticked off once by one, leaving Sebastian in cold, dizzying black.

"You're not who I sent for," said a voice behind him.

The sound of it sent a chill down Sebastian's spine.  He turned, and just barely visible as a wisp of light in the center of the room stood the figure of a man.  A ghost.  Sebastian blinked and scrubbed his eyes, but it remained: a man of slight yet somehow imposing stature, dressed in a hooded white robe.

Am I hallucinating? Sebastian looked again for his partners, but he was alone.  "Who are you?" he demanded.  "What's going on?"

"Who are you?" the ghost retorted, taking a step forward.  Sebastian instinctively took a step back, into the receptionist's desk, his hand at his gun.  "I sent Ivan to retrieve Detective Castellanos."

Sebastian straightened up, as did the hairs on the back of his neck. He's the one Diaz was talking about, he thought.  Ruben Victoriano.  The cause of Beacon's disappearing patients.  But that mattered very little to him then.  "You know Myra?"

"No matter.  I suppose you'll do."  Ruben stopped in front of him.  Though he seemed to be formed entirely of glowing mist, Sebastian could make out the scars covering most of his exposed skin.  "Since you've come, I assume you have as much interest in finding Mobius as she did."

"Do you know Myra?" Sebastian asked again. "Where is she?  You have to tell me!"

He reached out, but his hand slid right through Ruben's chest, the light rippling like disturbed water.  It was warmer than he would have expected of a ghost.  "What is this?  What the hell is going on?"

"I could explain," Ruben said, "but I suspect this will be faster."

He put his hand to Sebastian's chest.  Despite being incorporeal only seconds before, Sebastian clearly felt the press of five rough fingers, the heat of them searing through his vest, his shirt, even his skin and muscle down to the bone.  It spread through him like a lightning strike and his ears clanged with wailing sirens.  What remained of the hospital fell apart.  The black reversed into blinding light, the pain to numbness, until he felt entirely separated from his own body.  It seemed to take hours for feeling to return to his tingling limbs, and when it did, it was no longer his body he occupied.

He was a scar-covered stranger in a lab, burning with intellectual curiosity.  All around him were machines of his own making, and he was proud in his accomplishments, thrilled at the prospect of impending success.  The exact nature of that success, Sebastian could not comprehend, but it was close, so close, and so distant from the whiskey-addled failure he'd become accustomed to.  But then men in black suits came, led by a snake, and he was betrayed.  He watched himself stab a man through his thigh and felt the impact resonate up his arm, swift and deep like fear itself.

Then everything changed, and he was a young man at a piano, his fingers aching over every key.  He'd done something—he didn't know what—that changed everything, granting him an empty freedom he didn't yet know what to do with.  Possibilities lay ahead, almost infinite ones, and then the snake came again, and again offered threats where there had once been tithes.

He was a boy lying in bed.  Every inch of his body was agony, his skin hot and stiff like oven walls, his organs baking like veal.  His father watched him from the door to the small room; Sebastian couldn't see him, but he knew the presence.  There were swift footsteps, and then a pillow covered his face, his head, smothering him. Sebastian fought back with what little strength he had, but his arms would barely obey him, and his father was on his chest.  He screamed for survival.  And just when his lungs couldn't take any more, the pillow was gone, and his father lifted him into his arms, crying and apologizing.  He would never trust again.

And at last, he was a child playing in a barn, straw scratching his ankles.  A beautiful young girl in a red dress wrapped him in her arms and made him feel safe. The tender affection of her embrace made up the entire world and almost ripped away all the betrayals and tortures to come. Then the fire came.  It coursed up the dry walls and leapt from bale to bale.  It dragged at the hem of the girl's dress and gnawed up her calves. Sebastian couldn't watch.  The girl's panicked cries shook his foundations, and as the blazed consumed them, the seams of the nightmare began to tear.  

This isn't me, Sebastian thought, wrenching himself out of the horrific scene.  It fled from him, until he was watching the building burn not from inside, but at the base of a driveway, his partner gripping him tight as smoke billowed and swayed.  That's not my sister—that's not my daughter—this isn't real!

Sebastian opened his eyes.  He was shaking, his breath heaving and skull aching, and someone was touching his shoulder.  It took a moment for his vision to clear, but when it did, smears sharpened into potted plants and his very concerned partner.

"Sebastian?"  Joseph leaned back to give him space.  "Can you hear me?"

Sebastian rubbed his chest as his breathing came gradually under control; he could still feel the burn from five scarred fingers reaching all the way through him.  A few blinks later and he realized that he had been stretched out onto one of the reception hall benches, Joseph and a pair of nurses nearby.  Patients and their guests watched curiously from other ends of the room.  

Sebastian sat up, waving off Joseph's attempts to help. "What happened?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," said Joseph, pushing to his feet.  "You passed out all of a sudden.  Go slow—you hit your head on the desk."

Sebastian rubbed the side of his head, and when an orderly approached offering a cold can of soda, he gladly pressed it to the growing knot. Then, it wasn't a hallucination, it was a dream?  But it felt so real.  A lifetime of bitterness seethed along his nervous system, as potent as if the memories had been his own, and he felt like destroying something.  "How long was I out?"

"Three minutes, about."

No, it had to have been longer than that.  Sebastian frowned to himself as he tried to make sense of it all.  He even looked around the room, half expecting to spot a ghost hiding behind a pillar or in a doorway.  Instead, he found an absence.  "Where's Kidman?"

"She went to find Dr. Wheeler," said one of the nurses. "She's with a patient just down the hall; she can take a look at you."

"I'm fine," Sebastian said quickly.  He nudged Joseph, who helped him to his feet. "I don't need anyone to look at me."

"But you just—"

"I don't need any of your doctors looking at me," Sebastian corrected himself, visions of a snake in a lab coat still pulsing behind his eyes.  He turned to Joseph.  "We need to find Kidman.  There's something very wrong with this place."

***

Ruben lived through Sebastian's history in much the same way.

He lived through a normal childhood, with poor but caring parents; he went to school surrounded by peers, by friends, by lovers; he celebrated graduations and promotions, formed partnerships, fell in love.  He held a child in his arms, its weight soft against his chest.  

And in the fire, their paths converged.  Ruben had no defense against the heat slicking his wide eyes, his sister's voice echoing out of a home he had made.  Their connection shattered and he woke up screaming.

Within minutes, Ruben had calmed, and he pressed a hand to his throbbing chest as he sat up in the tub.  Leslie was watching him from the next tub over, only eyes and up visible over the edge.  "I'm all right," Ruben told him, even if Leslie might have been happier thinking he wasn't.  He took in a deep breath and held it, tasting ash at the back of his throat.

It worked.  The knowledge of his triumph outweighed even the terror of relived tragedy, and Ruben grinned openly to himself.  The wireless transmitter works. I can connect to anyone, anywhere. They can all be mine.  He dragged the nearby computer station closer so he could check on the outputs and monitored data.  The signal can reach just about to the edge of the grounds.  It's enough. Enough that I can hold off Mobius for a time, when they come.

The main terminal bleated an incoming call, and a few keystrokes transferred it to the station Ruben was at.  "Ruben, are you in there?" a woman asked as soon as they were connected.  It was Nurse Tatiana.  "The STEM isn't active, is it?"

"That's beyond your concern now," Ruben replied. He opened a new command window and connected himself to the hospital's security system, cycling through camera feeds until he found a view of Tatiana behind her desk.  Another woman was with her, with short brown hair and a gun in her shoulder holster.  Ruben recognized her from his trip through the detective's mind.  "Is that Juli Kidman?" he asked.  "One of Mobius' plants, perhaps?"

Tatiana nodded to Kidman and then turned to stare directly into the camera.  "What are you doing, Ruben?" she asked in the cold monotone she was known for.

"You'll see soon enough."  Ruben disconnected the call and then switched the camera view, tracking Kidman as she left Tatiana's ward and headed toward the central elevator. She's coming here, he realized.  He began the STEM startup process again.  Once Tatiana alerts headquarters, they'll send more.  But they won't have me.  Not when I've finally completed this masterpiece.

The STEM began to hum and whine, and Leslie cringed deeper into the tub.  "Ruben?"

Ruben entered the final sequence and sank into the water again. "Just relax, Leslie," he called. "I won't let them take you."

He let his mind fan out through the machine once more, and Leslie was soon to follow.  As the signal expanded and intensified he felt the other souls within the hospital come into him one by one, their brains tingling with each successful connection. Their histories opened to him like film reels and he consumed one after the other, delighting in every point of commonality they shared with him: their isolation, their anger, their torment. Beacon's halls pulsed like living veins, and each patient and worker became cells in his ever-growing body.  This is what power feels like, he thought as they writhed in the grip of his nightmare.  This is what God feels like.

And then, Detective Castellanos, an unexpected but potentially useful intrusion.  Within him lied a thirst for vengeance that could be cultivated, maybe even made to match Ruben's own.   A healthy and competent adult, already estranged from all but his closest confederate—conveniently already within Beacon's walls—but established in the world. If only their frequencies would match…he might not have to sacrifice dear Leslie after all.

Ruben relaxed amidst the chaos, letting a world of his own creation swallow him whole.

***

One by one, everyone in the reception hall collapsed.  Sebastian could see whatever was causing it spread over the room like a wave, and when the two nurses that had come to his aid fainted, he braced himself.  Joseph went first.  Sebastian caught him as best he could, but then he felt the burning hand on his chest again, and his knees gave out.  His consciousness followed.

When Sebastian woke up, he was no longer in the reception hall, or anyplace else he recognized.  His head was pounding dizzily, and he realized his entire body was swaying, strung up by his ankles.  He wasn't alone.  The dark, grisly space around him was occupied by a collection of bodies similarly hung from the ceiling, bloodied and cold.  The stench of rotten meat nauseated him, but any sound of complaint stuck in his throat when he realized that the corpses weren't his only companions: a brute of a man was in the next room, cleaver in hand, carving up yet another body.  

Where the fuck am I? Sebastian tugged at his pant legs, trying to pull himself up to reach the rope around his ankles, but the blood rushing to his head made everything feel so heavy.  Is this still the hospital? Christ, Diaz was more right than even he knew.  As he weakly struggled he caught a glimpse of light reflecting off metal, and he spotted a long hunting knife stabbed into the closest of the bodies.  I have to find Joseph and Kidman.  And Victoriano….  He swung back and forth, reaching desperately for the knife.  He'll know what's really going on here, and what Myra has to do with it.

Sebastian grabbed the knife and heaved himself upwards, cutting the line holding him.  He hit the ground with a wet thud and grimaced at the slop oozing through the fabric of his shirt.  But at least the brute hadn't seen him.

He pushed to his feet and made his way, slow and soundless, toward the exit….

***

Ruben followed the dective's progress with a keen interest. He had gone through quite an impressive number of subjects over the years, but he had yet to find one as indomitable as Sebastian Castellanos.  No challenge seemed enough to dilute his resolve, even with a hundred nightmares at his heels.  Even with as much access to his mind as he had, Ruben wasn't sure he could properly comprehend it.  Not until Sebastian rediscovered his weary partner within the grassy foundation of an equally weary castle on the edge of Ruben's imagination.

"Maybe I turned again," said Joseph, and he pitched forward, grimacing; he was very close to being swept up in Ruben's whirlwind, so much so that Ruben paying them especially close attention made his mind wail in complaint.  Somehow, it was Sebastian's firm hand on his shoulder that kept him rooted and himself. "My head wouldn't stop buzzing, like it was about to crack open, but now it's like…I'm starting to get used to it."

You're not getting used to it, Ruben wanted to taunt him.  You're only become more mine.  He was tempted to seize full control right then and there, made eager by the dozens of successful integrations he's already performed in such a short time, but then Sebastian spoke.

"We need to get you out of here," Sebastian said as he helped drag Joseph upright.  "And Kidman, and Victoriano."

Joseph blinked at him owlishly; even Ruben himself was given pause. "Ruben Victoriano?" Joseph said.   "You really think he's here somewhere?  Wherever 'here' really is?"

"He's here," Sebastian replied confidently.  He turned in a circle as if expecting to see him, and Ruben tingled with curiosity.  "It's hard to explain, but I feel like…he's right here, watching us.  I've felt him the entire time."

Ruben was there; Ruben made up the grass and the stones, the sky and the bay, and he was watching Sebastian as closely as he'd ever watched anything, studying him from every angle.  Joseph glanced around in paranoia.  "That's probably true," he said.  "Diaz did say that Ruben Victoriano is behind the recent disappearances. He might be the cause of all this somehow."

But Sebastian said, "I'm not sure sure.  Before everything went completely bat-shit, I saw him, Joseph.  I saw…it's hard to explain."  He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to put his thoughts into words, but Ruben was already preying on those precious answers, tugging them directly from his mind. "I think I saw his memories. Like my life was flashing before my eyes, but it wasn't mine.  Christ, the things that have been done to him…."

"You think he's just another of Mobius' victims?" Joseph asked, and Ruben wasn't sure how he felt about that assessment.  

"I don't know.  But I have to find him."  Sebastian gave Joseph a tug to start them onward.  "Someone has to help the poor bastard."

Ruben left them to fend off his monsters.  As ever, Sebastian was unrelenting, surging with survival instinct. Having his partner at his side to look after only heightened his awareness for his surrounding enemies, and Ruben took some enjoyment in watching them struggle together.  In a way, he was stalling.  He didn't know how to answer Sebastian's declared intentions, except with more creatures, more traps, more suffering.  It was all he knew how to bestow.

***

After hours of struggle, and gunpowder, and viscera, Sebastian stumbled down an overgrown driveway, through a pair of heavy oak doors, and into the Victoriano mansion.

He had seen photos of it on the news when the fire happened. It hadn't meant anything to him at the time—what did he care about some rich, backwoods weirdoes going up in smoke—but as he stepped into the front hall, he regretted ever regarding another's tragedy with such flippancy.  He knew what fire tasted like.  He well remembered the speed and cruel efficiency with which it could destroy anything in its path.  When he looked up and down the old staircases, the curtains and portraits, the chandeliers, all he could see was a burned out shell waiting to take over. He couldn't smell the ash or coals but he could feel them nestled in his throat.

Ruben Victoriano lived here, Sebastian thought as he followed a map in his mind through the east foyer.  He and his sister were burned alive in the barn.  His own father tried to kill him.  The memories that weren't his welled up through his chest, bringing with them the bitter agony of many years of abuse and betrayal.  If he really is the devil in the last circle of this Hell, it's easy to see where he came from.

Sebastian heard music, and he followed it to a far room, where a ghost was seated at the piano.  It was Ruben, as pale and ethereal as ever, his scars hidden beneath strips of wrapped gauze.  His fingers tapped heavily against each key and Sebastian wondered if they ached. "Ruben Victoriano?"

"Detective Castellanos," Ruben greeted in turn. "I'm impressed you've made it this far."

"What the hell is going on?"  Sebastian moved closer, trying to get a clearer look at the man's face. "Are you behind all of this? Have we all gone crazy?"

"Some have gone mad," Ruben replied, continuing to play. "But it wouldn't be accurate to say 'all.'"  His eyes flickered to Sebastian.  "Not when you're still here."

"Not for your lack of trying."  Sebastian touched the piano, half expecting it to dissolve beneath his fingers, but the wood was sturdy, humming with each struck key.  "This is your doing, isn't it?  All of it?"

"Yes," Ruben said.  "This is my machine—this is my mind.  Surely you've figured that out by now."

Sebastian looked around them, letting the mansion's gloomy atmosphere seep into his pores.  "I remember this room," he said, mystified.  "Never played a piano in my life, but I remember sitting at that bench."  He pointed. "Playing that same song you're playing now.  What the fuck did you do to me?"

"I'm still learning myself," Ruben admitted. "It's no simple task, after all, joining two hundred minds with your own.  But you and I seem to be especially connected."  At last he stopped playing, and he lifted his head, watching Sebastian with a piercing intensity.  "I know you feel it."

Sebastian leaned back; what he felt was heat wafting off an inferno. What he heard was his daughter's voice echoing inexplicably out of a burning barn.  "I remember the fire," he said cautiously.  For months he had fought with every inch of his being to put that horrific scene out of his mind, but now it was closer to him than ever—it was under his skin, blackening him.  "My fire...and yours."

"I remember yours, too," Ruben said..  "Now we both know what it means to burn, from the inside as well as out."

Sebastian shuddered with the thought.  He stared at the charred skin visible between Ruben's bandages—the ragged scars around his eyes, his nostrils, his lips.  He imagined his daughter as a grown woman wrapped in a gauze cocoon, pain and anger eating her up until she was just as twisted and bitter as the creature before him.  All those nights he had spent berating God for taking her from him, and he'd never considered the gruesome alternative.  He reeled with nausea and guilt.

"You...."  Sebastian dug his nails into his palms, reminding himself of the more present horrors he had been subjected to, along with his partner who even then was struggling for sanity beyond his reach.  "Why are you doing this?" he asked angrily.  "What do you want from me?"

"I want your help," Ruben said, so unexpectedly that Sebastian took another step back.  "Mobius is coming.  They'll take me, exploit me, and finally kill me.  I'm in no position to face them myself, but within this machine...." He stood, the piano bench scraping back. "With your help, there's a chance that both of us can get the revenge on them we seek."

Sebastian pushed aside his regrets and faced Ruben seriously. "Mobius.  Diaz said they're some kind of shadow organization that does fucked up science experiments.  They own this hospital."

"They'll own more than that if they get what they want from me," said Ruben.  He turned toward Sebastian and suddenly his image changed; the bandages fell away, revealing the full, gruesome spectacle that was his body for a few short seconds until a white robe took their place.  "They took your wife, Sebastian," he continued, and Sebastian's heart skipped.  "It's likely they're responsible for your daughter's death as well.  They betrayed and tried to murder me—you saw it yourself.  Those memories were real."

He took a step forward, and Sebastian instinctually stepped back, even though the words were boiling in the pit of him.  "You're one of them," he retorted.  "I saw that, too.  This nightmare you've made—it's sick because you're sick."

"I'm one of their victims," Ruben corrected him.  "Just like you, and Joseph.  If it's their accomplices you hope to blame, look no further than your newest partner Agent Kidman."  Sebastian startled again, but Ruben continued.  "But Mobius itself will be here soon.  You can either stand against the ones that destroyed your family, or you can try to destroy me and fail."  Ruben glared at him from beneath his hood.  "It's your choice."

[gregellner]

Cover by Andrea Olimpieri.

 Here’s a review of a newer property, “The Evil Within: The Interlude,” an interquel between The Evil Within and The Evil Within 2 by Bethesda Softworks and directed by Shinji Mikami. The writer of this interquel is Ryan O’Sullivan. The artwork credit goes to Szymon Kudranski and Damien Worm, with additional coloring by Guy Major. The letterer on this tie-in is Simon Bowland. The publisher behind this miniseries is Titan Comics.

 As a note first off, this review comes from someone who is a big fan of the game The Evil Within, and someone who has been waiting for more of the series since its inception (pun about mental worlds intended). As such, it will have a bit of bias, and that goes both ways.

 First, let’s be absolutely clear for people hoping to have closure on the cliffhanger at the end of the original game: there isn’t any. This miniseries, known as “The Interlude,” is meant to lead people into Sebastian Castellanos’ attempt to find his daughter Lily with the likely use of the resources of the mysterious MOBIUS organization that created the mind-connecting “STEM” network in the first place. As disappointing as this discrepancy may be, hopefully something will come of the goings on with Leslie Withers et cetera in the game of The Evil Within 2.

 The use of flashbacks is very well done in this issue. O’Sullivan mixes in the early months since Lily Castellanos’ disappearance with Sebastian’s current investigation into the nursery rhyme serial killer in such a way that the reader can be as disoriented as the protagonist, putting them into his perspective with the mix between his alcoholism and his post-traumatic stress disorder after the truly nightmarish hellscape of Ruben “Ruvik” Victoriano’s control of the STEM network. His since-separated wife, Myra Hanson, has inconsistent personalities between scenes, but that is an intentional cue that he is remembering things in weird orders, especially since he speaks of his current case while she speaks of Lily’s disappearance as if it happened only a few months ago, rather than several years.

Sebastian’s summary of the STEM system to the police shrink is obviously bizarre, but it more or less sums up the game’s ideas without giving too much away. The two-page analysis is well thought out, with slivers of memory coming through in thin panels in the background to the two walking on a panel-less foreground of white, indicating that the memories are the important parts, not their current location. The imagery itself is also handled well, shifting between the more abstract ones such as the glowing stained glass, an image of a Haunted (zombie) with its glowing eyes, foreboding scenery such as the dark forest and a snippet of one of the mental towns, and, most disturbingly, photorealistic interpretations of the gore of the place, with several eyes spread out amongst a mass of bloody meat.

However, two things stick out in the discussion: Sebastian doesn’t mention the eventual fate of Juli Kidman at all, and also believes that Joseph Oda is dead. The former is easily explained as him either not knowing what happened to her or him not wanting to hear from her or speak to her at all after his (to a certain degree irrational) hatred of her actions. The latter is somewhat odder, but perhaps can be identified as him truly not knowing that Oda might not be dead, just a captive or otherwise victim of MOBIUS. Or is his role in the game being retconned? It’s unclear, but perhaps will be expanded upon in either later issues or the game to come.

Sebastian’s tendency to “lose time” plays into how scenes pan out over the course of his investigation. Aside from the aforementioned flashbacks, he also falls into various degrees of hallucination, each of which are given their own types of illustration.

When Sebastian hallucinates being a part of the video tape he is watching within his flashback to his argument with Myra, the artwork turns to a primarily grayscale, grainy, and at times blurry filter, akin to an old video, including a timestamp in the bottom right corner of each panel. Furthermore, the linework on Sebastian in this scene is much leaner, giving him a gaunt visage. The fact that he actually can’t see color in this scene further enhances the reader-protagonist immersion, especially when the killer has red on his shirt, shocking readers to distraction by its sudden nature.

On the other hand, when searching the house of Jill, one of the killer’s victims, a type of incense (likely taken from MOBIUS) also changes the scene significantly from Sebastian’s perspective. Again, he is much leaner, to the point of almost unhealthily gaunt with the shading, but the coloring is very different. The orange colors bring to mind the artwork on “Gotham by Midnight,” an ethereal glow that gives impressions of a flame, not unlike the Ruvik’s STEM and its focus on flames. Furthermore, the lettering changes significantly in this hallucination, with a more stable white background and black lettering giving way to a black background, white lettering, and a more shakily drawn speech bubble. Even the writing on the walls is creepier in this light, fading out on the walls, with Jill looking not unlike the monstrous version of “Laura” from the first game, and the likely post-traumatic stress triggered appearance of the “Keeper” monster. Even the doors change in this hallucination, from normal wooden ones to those of metal and barbed wire seen in the indoor sections of the STEM network.

In all, the use of these elements makes Sebastian Castellanos into a far more sympathetic figure than some saw him as in the first game, by moving away from his more insensitive or otherwise skewed behaviors (such as insulting people for suggesting he should concentrate on keeping everyone safe, as is his job, or blaming other people for doing things that he did far worse than in the same situations) and concentrating on his trauma as a source of flaws instead.

 On the other hand, Juli Kidman’s part of the story is a lot more stable, harkening back to how she knows full well of MOBIUS on account of being one of their agents. Her portion is written as more of an after-action report, complete with a lettering scheme that is not unlike that of a typewriter, in addition to having classified information such as parts of coded identifier or surnames of agents stricken out with a black mark across them. There isn’t any dialogue at all in her portion, focusing instead on what was really happening in the various crime scenes as she visits them. In a sense, her use in this story seems to be a way to give a solid framework from which to view Sebastian’s instability. To a degree, the calmness of her writing helps to ease the reader into the idea of the story being one of a conspiracy rather than a serial killer, widening the reader’s view beyond that of a Krimson City police officer.

As an antagonist, Samuel Dista works very well. As a rogue MOBIUS agent who is also engaging in serial killing, he fits into the purview of both Castellanos and Kidman. His general appearance is one that could be misidentified as that of the Keeper under certain hallucinogens, but also different enough to make people think of him as some kind of cultist given his obsession with certain marks (seen as likely MOBIUS marks from Beacon Mental Hospital in the first game). However, he is far more intelligent than someone with some random compulsion, and is actually seeking out MOBIUS agents who happen to have names fitting into a nursery rhyme scheme, such as the two victims seen in this issue, Jack and Jill.

The cool blue coloring, limited action, and lack of dialogue work well together, making the last image of this issue particularly shocking. The corpse, whose identity seems to be a character from earlier in the issue (difficult to tell as it is), definitely sends the message that this won’t just be a trip down a horrific memory lane.

Looking forward to the second issue of this miniseries, coming October 4, as well as the game of The Evil Within 2, coming October 13 (Friday the 13th).

[demonisxd]

contd [x] @youngbxker

Joseph felt terrible tearing the young girl away from his colleagues’ fascinating stories, but his stomach was telling him to do otherwise; the only form of breakfast he had was a slice of toast, and even that had been without butter. The detective was an early-morning person, usually, but his phone had run out of battery during the night. No alarm meant a very panicked Joseph, and he was beginning to regret not double-checking his phone last night; he was far too tired from the previous shift to remember to charge it. Ultimately, by 10am, the detective was more than ready for his first break. All the paperwork that had been dumped on his desk certainly built up his appetite, any way. 

He found Lillian surrounded by most of the investigation team, happily chatting away as they congregated within the second floor offices. It didn’t take Joseph long to locate the sound of his colleagues’ cheerful laughter, their noise carrying down the hallway. A quick glance at one of the desks had him noticing the plate of M&M cookies she’d made; they were all attracted to her baking like moths to a flame. Joseph didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but even he couldn’t deny the treats; he commended her baking skills, and often indulged whenever there were some left over. If any were left over, that was.

An amused smile appeared on Joseph’s face at Lillian’s reaction, her embarrassment causing another eruption of laughter from his colleagues. It was all good fun, however. With a soft chuckle, the detective placed his hand upon the young girl’s shoulder, “You’re an awful influence, Lillian,” he commented, tutting lightly, “distracting them from their work with your baking. I think we need to ban it.” A chorus of booing came from the others, making Joseph laugh, “Okay, okay. I’ll let her off.” He would never suggest such an outrageous act; it was the one nicety that gave them a break from morbid cases. Introducing Lillian to the KCPD may have been the best decision ever. Whenever a particularly messy case came about, and everyone was feeling low that week, the blonde instantly lifted their moods with her enthusiastic attitude; it was something they all desperately needed sometimes. 

“Are you ready to go, then?” Joseph asked, letting Lillian say her farewells to the others, before doing the same. With the tug on his sleeve, they were off. It was a lovely day with hardly a cloud in sight, so the detective suggested that they walked to the diner around the corner. The establishment had always been Joseph’s favourite place as a child whenever they visited relatives in Krimson City, speaking animatedly about them serving up the best milkshakes. Since growing up, his main choice of drink was green tea, but there was nothing wrong with treating himself every now and again. Milkshakes could certainly be enjoyed at ten in the morning.

[thexsisters]

The Hunt ♰ Ivory & Erai

@krimson-pandas

This was happening. This was really happening. She was going to make it. The princess Ivory had successfully escaped her parents. It had been one hell of a fight but she had done it. It took obliterating her parent’s army but she had done it. Not something she was proud of. Because she was sure it was exactly what her two cruel parents wanted. They wanted her to destroy to get what she wanted. Even if it meant finally breaking from their clutches. They just wanted to see her be the weapon that they had been training her to be. Sick twisted vampires.

Now that the vampire army was no longer on her tail, she took a moment to rest by the river. Just to try and gather her thoughts. Since the only thing that would give her strength would be....well....blood. The thought made her shiver. There would be time for that later. She had to find the evil queen Regina and this mage called Ember. Regina had made a deal with the three of them to time travel to a place that would be better than their own. But she had to get to Regina first in order to make that happen.

And so she was off again. The princess couldn’t be too careful so she still made sure to keep a fast pace just in case her parents would decide to try and send out more of their army after her. But the entire time she was traveling to the queen’s castle, she couldn’t help but feel as if she were being followed by some kind of presence. But she couldn’t see anything. How odd.

Soon enough, the three girls had gathered and they watched as the evil queen had a scroll in her hands along with a couple chests full of things she wanted to take with her to this new world. All Ivory herself had was a pair of bracelets.....She had made two bracelets that were identical in appearance. Wanting to be able to give the other one to someone special. Someone who wouldn’t fear her or run from her screaming in terror. She wanted a companion who wouldn’t hate her.

In the blink of an eye, Regina was reading from the scroll, casting the spell. And perhaps it was just her mind and senses playing tricks on her, but she could have swore that presence she sensed earlier was getting stronger. And what was that smell? It smelled like....fish or something. So weird. But soon enough the area was engulfed in smoke and fog. The spell was working. They’d be in a whole new world where nothing could hurt them.

1 Month Later...

“Thank you for your sacrifice, little one. Please forgive me. And may your soul rest in peace.”

The vampire stared sadly down at the no longer snow white bunny rabbit she had just fed from. As she always did when she fed, she had made a little burial for the rabbit and after all the dirt was covered up, she stood and rubbed her ruby red eyes. She had been in the forest and knew it was safe to leave her colored contacts out. Yes. This new world.....she had to try and act human in this world. And it was her greatest challenge yet.

But ever since she started living in this new world.....that odd presence was still lingering around. Why? Was it something about this forest? She didn’t know. It was the oddest thing ever.

[agonybow]

one of the few things i haven’t quite figured out for my post-game verse is what work sebastian dives into. through the course of tew2, he finds out that MOBIUS paid off his coworkers and superiors to play off the events of beacon, even enlisting a fake psychiatrist to come and try to gaslight him into believing it was nothing more than a traumatic reaction to seeing his colleagues get killed in action. this, obviously, puts an incredibly foul taste in his mouth when it comes to ever considering returning to any police force to resume his work as a detective.

they are corrupt, easily bribed, and not to be trusted. this is what he learns, and while his heart had always been set on helping his city and his people, he’ll frankly sooner die than place himself in that position again. the KCPD failed not only him, but krimson city, for they allowed a corporation like MOBIUS to continue operating STEM and lure in vulnerable citizens into what would become their surefire death.

i imagine he could do freelance work, putting his skills to good use. i don’t see him helping out much in terms of assisting kidman in eliminating any stray branches of MOBIUS somehow still in existence, or smothering any other group that may seek to take their place.

he has lily, and cannot risk dying and leaving her truly an orphan by running off to play hero.

tbh given how good he is with his hands and how crafty he is, i guess i could see him becoming a mechanic. at the end of the day, his primary focus is keeping the lights on and food on the table for his family, so long as the job is not truly unable to be stomached.