#zoldier arc

[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

Soldier sits alone in the respawn room on a bench, his posture straight, his shoulders jutted up high, a content and confident smile on his face. So sure of himself, for a moment, that he was brave, and fearless, and there was nothing he couldn't overcome by himself. Nothing could hold him down, not the enemy, not God, not his crushing loneliness and desperation for companionship, nothing.

...

After a moment, he hunched forward and weeped into his hands, the motion too quick for the tears to catch up with him. The weeping turned into sobbing, the sobbing into screaming, the screaming into whimpering. The whimpering, into silence.

"Why is this so hard?" He sniveled, wiping his face. His emotions were far more intense in this little corner of purgatory, it was unlike him to cry over this sort of thing. As if he were a fragment of himself. "It's never usually this hard. I don't need help. I'm not weak. I can do this."

He hesitated, before hanging his head.

"It's not fair."

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

He covers his face with his hands, tossing aside his helmet. Ruffling up his hair. Gripping at his face, rubbing his nose, anything, anything to get him to fucking snap out of it. But nothing works. Nothing is working and he can't stop fucking crying and he's sick of it and he's sick of himself.

"And there it is," the voice sounds off again. "That, right there. That is pathetic."

"SHUT UP!" He screams in rage, cowering into himself further.

"You can't admit it. You can't admit you want help. You need help. You can't even let people save you from rotting outside-in. You have to do everything yourself."

"I'm not weak." Jane spat. "I can. I can do this. I'm capable."

"Are they weak? Weak and incapable?"

"No-- No, I..."

"Is that how you see your friends, Jane? Weaker than you? Lesser than you?"

"No!"

"Then what are you so AFRAID OF?"

He felt a hand grip his neck and yank him up from his seat, stopping the air right there in his throat. When his dizzied eyes finally looked for the source of the agony, lo, he stared at a pale-skinned, rotting visage of himself. Black blood poured down its face and nose and mouth, and it bared its bloodied teeth with a seething rage unkempt.

"Get--" He stammered, clawing at the phantom's arm.

"This emptiness will consume you." The other spat, tightening his grip. "You know what you need to do. So do it."

"I WON'T!" Soldier screamed, struggling against it with all his might, to no earthly avail. "You- You can't-"

His voice caught in his chest as it gripped tighter again, scowling. It held him over a gnawing pit, seeping into the floor, and laughed as it watched him squirm for his life. Make me.

"It's that easy."

"It's not easy! Shut up! You know nothing about easy!"

"You're a brave man, Doe." It huffed. "Do it."

"Please--" His voice softened. "Please just- Just give me time- I-I can do this by myself I just need time-!"

His vision was beginning to blacken, his hands shaking in desperation. "Please-- Please just give me some d- amn time!"

"It's out." The corpse said, festering disease pooling at its voice. "Now make your choice."

He felt himself slip.

Everything inside of him knew it would all be over if he did, he might die, or worse, he would be stuck here forever because he couldn't fight for himself. He was a coward, he was scum. If he couldn't do it himself, what was he worth? But still, the searing pain began to seep into his skin, into his eyes, blinding him, his head pounding from the rushing, gushing blood. Ears ringing, mind numbing, body growing weaker.

His lips parted, and he finally whispered,

"Help."

"I need help."

Suddenly, all at once, the pain stopped, but a new fear took him over as he found himself plummeting into the gaping pit he was suspended over, flying past wooden stakes and skeletons and ghosts and green flits of ash and ember. The closer he came to the bottom, the closer a roaring green fire came to him, and he screamed and shielded his eyes as it swallowed him up, eating away at him, coarsing through him --

He gasped, laying on his back, staring at a ceiling he knew all too well. The mess hall. He held his hands and arms in front of his face, skin paler than he'd ever seen it, hands coated with dried blood. He attempted to sit up, a sickening crunch sounding off as he yelped in pain. Someone, anyone, please, make it stop. Help me. He heard his thoughts yell, biting his tongue in fear. Saying it was the worst part. He knew his punishment wasn't over yet, so again, through a trembling voice, he cried, "HHh- Help! I c-- I can't move!"

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[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

ATTEEEEN-TION!

The name's Sgt. Jane J. Doe. I'm the best damn killer America's got! 48 years young, transmasc, bisexual polyamorous. War vet and amputee (my left hand). I've been a mercenary for going on a decade now and I don't intend to stop now! Welcome to my damn blog!

I'll give you a warning right now, son, I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. To win. I ain't friendly, never have been and I never will be.

When you're a merc, you have to be real adaptable to bullshit. I've kept a combat log of everything that goes on here:

#soldier's radio - Talking. Rambling. Cussing. The like.

#incoming signal - Got a question? I keep 'em here. Come to visit? I also keep those here. You are under constant surveillance, maggot!

#teleported bread - Reblogs. They're my posts now. You will act like they're original!

#zoldier arc - A log I kept of that time I turned into a zombie.

#tacitus traumas arc - ...

#awol arc - I'm not proud of what I've done. But I would lay down on train tracks for them.

That's all you're getting out of me. You want more answers? Pry 'em out of me!

Here's my old intro. Do with it what you will.

ooc/ boundaries and more info below

here is his ref:

other info about jane: he's autistic, he's an amnesiac, and he suffers from ptsd (primarily the robot wars, as you'll see brought up on this blog a lot) and schizophrenia.

despite his tough talk, he's not all that hot. he's a big softie when he lets his guard down - if he lets his guard down.

he mainly stays in his dorm, or if not there, the mess hall. he has a trainee under his wing at the moment (@mentally-anarchistic-private) and he stole his prosthetic from a sentient soldierbot (@spiritually-divine-soldierbot).

my name is box btw! i go by they/them and my tag is #box's lockbox. i'm 21 years old and i love to draw !!

i'm not straight-forward with my writing. you have to read between the lines. i'm not gonna just give you answers, you have to work for em ;3

BOUNDARIES:

don't godmod, please. (ie write yourself or your ocs into jane's backstory, write jane for me, etc).

no ableism, sexism, racism, etc. i will not take any nonsense about jane being any of these things either.

do NOT send jane weird fucking asks, such as implied nsfw, intense gore, or anything else under that vein of things. you WILL be publicly shamed. just because i'm an adult doesn't mean i want your shitty gross "jokes" or "angst prompts" in my inbox.

this blog is run and maintained by @angelcovesys. any and all drawn art is done by @mxboxlocks.

[emotionally-clumsy-soldier]

/ooc

please feel free to ask him questions or interact with him!! a little more about him i didn't list:

this is soldier from the comics and shorts, just my headcanoned version of him.

his lieutenant bites is a racoon plushie

he collects music boxes

he's in a relationship with his team's spy and engineer

he's transferred back and forth between RED and BLU occasionally

he knows nothing about actual politics and kind of just says whatever. he's an anarchist if anything else

he has two guinea pigs named Smith and Wesson, both are girls and he loves them with his whole heart

relations:

arthur/spybot sys (nephews) @emotionally-anxious-spybot - arthur calls him "Jamison"

anne/bloodhound (best friend) @spiritually-stupid-bloodhound - tries to make him a hippie

kolten and hans (colleagues, in-character account manager) @emotionally-inept-medics - keep him under wraps

dr.humboldt (friend, confidant) @physically-vampiric-medic - comforting

illusionist (friend) @emotionally-helpful-illusionist - also very comforting

dexx (friend) @emotionally-creative-rogue - also incites chaos

otto (nephew) @physically-robotic-medic - calls him "Janie"

dell (colleague) @emotionally-enervated-conagher - romantic partner

spy (colleague) @emotionally-composed-spy - rather... close

demo (colleague and best friend) @emotionally-explosive-demoman - a bond thicker than any soup money can buy

talking tag: #soldier's radio

asks tag: #incoming signal

in-character reblog tag: #teleported bread

admin tag: #box's lockbox

arc tags: #zoldier arc, #an old debt, #tacitus traumas arc

here's his references!

info about admin:

hi!! my name is box. i'm 20 years old, nonbinary (they/them), and i've been in the tf2 fandom for six years now. this soldier interpretation is very much based on myself, as i do kin him, and he's very near and dear to my heart!

i ask that you please do not do any ship content with him as i and a few rp partners are working on a relationship between our muses.

my asks and dms are always open though i ask that you please keep the topic relating to this blog or tf2 in general

text in italics and with proper grammar indicates my traditional roleplaying style, anything otherwise is supposed to be in-character as if soldier himself were posting it.

welcome to my little blog, i hope to get along!