#still working on that fic foe this concept. but lets be real it is probably no ever going to be finished lol.

[witherrosealliance]

anyway shout out to that old last life mechanic idea i had where transferring lives was literally cutting one your hearts out of your chest and having someone else eat it. that kind of fucked actually.

[thelostguardianau]

The Lost Guardian- Chapter Eight

“Heed the Silenced”

(Authors note: aha.. yknow I should probably stop making promises for this fic. Months later, w/ a chapter that doesn’t have Thomas in it, three different outlines down and i’m really just at the mercy of this fic at this point xD considering midway through writing this chapter I had to cut and rewrite an entire scene i’d spent a month on bc I’d decided that Dee had a chance at redemtion that added an actual direction and a tangable end goal to this story. So. Yeah. And!! A loud Thank You!! to @bumblebeekitten for helping me bounce ideas back & forth for this au and being my beta for this chapter!!)

Character Info & Art:

Patton | Logan | Roman | Virgil | Remy | Deceit | ??? | ???

Chapter Seven | Chapter Nine

Fandom: Thomas Sanders Sides

Pairings: Eventual Polyamsanders (LAMPR/CALMR-a.k.a LAMP/CALM + Remy ‘Sleep’ Sanders)

Warnings: THIS CHAPTER IS KINDA DIALOG HEAVY!(sorry) Currently depicted as morally grey Deceit(subject to change in future chapters), though the side of Deceit from his first appearance doesnt make an appearance in this chapter and it is explained why, mentions of past betrayal and dark descriptions of bodily concepts, curses, limitations, and changes only really explained as possible through the lore of this au. Deceit speaks in riddles because he has to, ominous warnings. Virgil still isn’t okay mentally. Mentions of indifference to death, lack of selfworth or self preservation. (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

[[MORE]]

Brown eyes flutter open at the chilly breeze of a fan, and the ravenette’s mind comes to realize that he’s been moved from resting on his stomach to laying on his back. Groggy from his much too short nap, it takes a few moments to realize there are no warm bodies near him or under him, no breathing or chatter of familiar voices to sooth him.

The room, he realizes, is empty.

The room itself is, in fact, not Remy’s bedroom at all.

Shooting straight up, Virgil’s first clear thought is that he’s back at home. At his apartment, this time in his hoodie yet still roughed up from his latest ‘adventure’. The scene is eerily familiar, and yet he knows this time that work is not where he needs to be. It’s already daylight and his mind now knows this familiar scene, he should feel alone. Yet, this time he can hear the sound of honking cars and people, his loud neighbor from upstairs stomping around.

It doesn’t make sense as he walks to his window and peers out to see vague cars and people, he can’t even seem to make out any individual faces. It’s grey and raining outside, but there is no pattering sound against the foggy window. ‘What’s happening?’ Virgil wonders.

“Life seemed so simple a week ago, even months ago, did it not..?” A familiar voice drifts from behind him. Ice cold fear shoots down the ravenette’s spine as he recognizes the voice.

“I can hardly believe you were able to leave it, your routine. It was your everything, back when you came to terms with what you had left. Am I wrong, Virgil?” Whirling around to face the voice, Virgil finds the terrifying ex-Guardian sitting on his couch looking quite at home, if a little sheepish.

“What do you care?” He spat back, stepping back against his window.

“I am only looking out for you, you know. I have been protecting you all your life. Of all people I think I would know what is best for you, don't you think? We are connected after all, you and I.” The man sighed, making a surrendering motion with his hands.

“Why would I trust you?! You tried to kill me yesterday!” Virgil growled. “Why--h-how are you even here!?”

“False, my dear Virgil. I tried to warn you. Sure,” The guardian rolled his hand as he spoke, “I am forced to have a round-about way of speaking my truths, it is just part of my consequences it seems. But how else was I going to get you to listen to me after the others fed you lies about me? I do sincerely apologize for my other half being rough, though. I cannot quite.. Control.. Him.” The guardian tilted his bowler hat down to guiltily hide his eyes, regret briefly twisting his expression.

Finally the Guardian stood, dusting himself off as if his immaculate attire had acquired dust from just existing in his apartment. “I needed my physical body to reach yours and make our soul connection strong again, so that my soul could reach yours. However.. The pain I caused you was far from my intention. I am deeply regretful that it came down to.. That awful encounter.

“To answer your question though, Virgil, I am here because I created ‘here’. A realm made to form this illusion of being home, sweet home, just on the corner of the little street you had come to live on for the past year. It is all my doing. Where you stand is simply an illusion only you and I can access, a manipulation of your dreams and memories. The only place where the real me can talk to you mostly unhindered.” The guardian gestured to his surroundings.

“It takes only one person to flip your life on it’s head, a matter of hours to make the decision of a lifetime, and a matter of days to have completely changed your life’s direction,” He turned to Virgil, and looked him straight in the eyes, feeling distant and lost.

“And only a matter of years to succumb to the depression of the lonely consequences..”

Virgil blinked at that. The sad, longing tone had him thrown for a loop; it almost felt like the Guardian wasn't even quite talking to Virgil. “I-What..? I.. I don’t understand.”

The Guardian shook his head, snapping out of it and refocusing himself. "Nevermind that. It is time I talked to you for real, if you will have me?" The Guardian held out a hand politely, though there was no real expectation for Virgil to take it.

After a pause, Virgil gave a slight nod, still suspicious of the other's intent. The Guardian returned the nod, and his hand fell to his side.

“I am limited to the time that you rest and for now I will not be able to explain myself thoroughly, so, I ask you to understand that I do not expect you to trust me when I am done. I honestly do not expect you to ever trust me. With the mistakes I have made, I firmly believe I would not deserve it.”

Virgil blinked in surprise, not having expected his captor to admit to his faults straight off the bat.

“Okay.. Well, we’re here, might as well hear your side of the story. So.. Shoot.” Virgil said lightly, distrust and suspicion still evident in his tone and stance.

“I would assume at this point you are well aware of how the story you have been told paints me as the villain, a mastermind seeking power, immortality, and revenge? At least, that is what I am led to believe is still the story, it has been many years since I have heard the tale first hand… And... Well. Would that not be so lovely?” Virgil made a face, eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I am serious. Life would be so much easier if it was all black and white, true or false, good and bad, would it not? If those who meant well knew everything and those malicious few could not corrupt anything?” The Guardian frowned a bit, frustrated with his words that couldn’t seem to cooperate with him.

“Would it not be lovely if I could talk to you without fighting to keep from turning every honest thought into a question or theoretical statement just to let it be said? That my words could hold a meaning not forcibly disguised in the forms of fables and riddles?” The Guardian looked down lamely, his words tapering off in agitation. For a moment, Virgil waited as the Guardian was silent, contemplative. Then, the next moment the Guardian’s face scrunched up in sadness and his words were soft as he placed a hand over his golden wrist markings.

“My story is complicated, and twisted with shades of grey. One could say what I did was an attempt to keep you safe, another could say that what I did was outlandish and impulsive, and stupid. But no one will be able to tell you that what I did went according to the plan I had... at first. No one will tell you that my intention was to save you, to keep your fate safe. No one will tell you that my plan was ruined. Because there is no longer anyone who remembers what happened that night except for me,”

The Guardian’s eyes flicked up to meet the ravenette’s, a hurt look passing over his face as he continued. His steady voice now just barely trembled with uncertainty as he continued.

“No one but me and the soul who wants so desperately for everyone to forget. The soul who ripped my own in two to bury the secret, and ruin you and I both.”

“My final warning is this: Beware of the man who carries the world on his shoulders unflinchingly, he will be watching you closely. You have immunity to his power thanks to our connection, you might use this knowledge well to find the truth that lies in plain sight. However, your fate lies in the decisions you chose to make with this knowledge, I can only warn you of what might come.” The Guardian nodded solemnly, choosing to finish his cryptic warning there.

Virgil stood there, reeling with the information. Sure, he definitely wasn’t completely convinced he could trust this cryptic stranger, Guardian? Foe? Friend? Virgil wasn’t really sure what to call him anymore. But damn, his life was already so fucking crazy, this was all just fucking crazy! He could just be dreaming for all he knew.

But… Deep inside, he was hoping he wasn’t.

This was, well. This wasn’t what he’d been expecting to hear when facing the man whose, er, body? Had originally tried to strangle him? Now he’d heard his sob story and, well, Virgil wasn’t that easy to fool, but he’d also been told that it wasn’t expected that he’d trust the guy even in the end and he didn’t really want to.

He’d been on the path to death for so long, and then just two days ago everything had changed. So much was happening, it was frankly exhausting. What the fuck was he, some book protagonist? Couldn’t he get a little time to think about all this before he went crazy?

Still, something under all his incredulity begged to hear the guardian out. He vaguely wondered how Stockholm Syndrome worked before he gave in a little. What difference did a little more crazy make in his life at this point?

“Fine, I’ll heed your warning, or whatever the fuck. But only if you can tell me what you mean when you said that this guy ripped your, uh, soul? In two.” Virgil huffed, partially relaxing. It was odd how comforting he found it to be, floating in this weird feeling imaginary world, where he could interact with objects that weren’t real. It felt like he was really standing in his home, and yet it was just built from memory.

The guardian’s solemn expression formed into a grim smile, eyes distant once more before nodding. “I will do the best that my words will allow.” Virgil nodded, and waited for the now very familiar stranger to gather his words and take a breath. Then he began, his markings lightly flashing gold.

“You find yourself whole one day, as you have always been. To be whole of body, whole of mind, both human and guardian in nature. To have conscious thought and control over your whole physical being and soul..

“You find that yourself and others of the winged variety are capable of separating your soul from your being, though only the most Elite can do it well. You find out the family you made would soon be in danger. You then find yourself lost and alone when you once had a home to call your own.

“You find yourself knowing a truth, a perilous truth. Your home is in shambles now that you are gone, yet they do not know it. This truth is at fault, but the blame is not fully your own in a world built on lies.

“The source of truth tucks itself into blankets of grey, drawing itself further from discovery with each passing day. Now only you know the truth. The source of the truth finds you, it seeks to hide you too.

“You find yourself split one day, as you have never been before. Forced apart from the body, trapped within the mind. Guardian in nature, to have conscious thought and your dying soul trapped within, a false mind piloting the puppeteered confines of a broken body with a blind goal.”

“You find you cannot control what you used to, you are a prisoner to a body that is no longer your own, mostly unconscious to the world around it. Crazed by the false emotions that fuel it.”

“The you that used to be is no longer, and has not been for over a hundred years. The world that knew you knows not of what you’ve become. Knows not of the shackles that bind you.

“The you that used to be is no longer, and will never be again.” The Guardian finished, hesitant yellow eyes meeting Virgil’s carefully. Phantom goosebumps trail down Virgil's arms as the final sentence strikes a cord in him.

Virgil found he really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, the rawness in the other’s tone spoke volumes of the sore spot they’d reached.

“Your body rests, but your mind also needs time to process today. I shall see you when you next rest, though only if you wish to seek me. Rest well knowing that you will not be scooped from your safety once more, as I hope I’m never to do so again. And...” The guardian paused, considering their next words very carefully.

“I know it is selfish to ask... but, I hope and wish that Thomas is alright, after all this time... Do take care of him, would you?”

Virgil paused and stared, finding only concern and longing in the guardian’s expression. And, well, fuck. What a way to pull at a guy’s heartstrings.

“Er, yes. Yeah. I’ll try my best.” Virgil gave his signature mock salute, the Guardian tipping his hat in return.

“Trying is all I could ever ask of you, Virgil. Rest well, you will need it.” And with that final sentence, the world around Virgil gently grew dark, and he sunk into the comforting arms of sleep.

Despite it all, Virgil still found his mind vaguely conscious. Sluggish at best, but awake nonetheless.

He figured it was likely some lingering effect from the Guardian’s dream realm, but didn’t dwell on it. His life had way too much else going on to be debating the side effects gained from Guardian powers.

First, he’d been pretty damn convinced two days ago that he was going to be a goner by the end of the month. Completely resigned to die believing that his very existence was scorned by the world he’d been unwillingly born into.

Then Patton had stumbled onto his shitty apartment’s roof, found him in all of his resigned and depressed glory, and changed his life forever.

They’d mostly skipped the whole ‘Human nature is a series of life, death, and rebirth’ spiel that guardians were known to give in these situations because... Well, It wasn’t like they’d really had time to address it before the truth about his soul had come out. That he wasn’t exactly human to begin with.

Virgil didn’t think that Guardians had ever had a situation like his before. There wasn’t a protocol for comforting a kidnapped guardian soul. It’d never been a possibility before!

So it wasn’t surprising then, that Virgil didn’t have any better of a time processing it.

His whole life, all that he’d known to be true, all that he’d believed in? Everything had been uprooted and turned on its head. He’d apparently been living a life that was not supposed to be.

Perhaps for the first time in two days, Virgil realized that the thought of his death at the end of the month had not been consistently worming into his brain. It had once been something he could never seem to stop thinking about.

The death indicated by his soul timer was now perhaps the farthest thing from his mind.

Perhaps the strangest thing so far was that he wasn’t alone anymore. He’d possibly had more physical contact with other people in the short two(three?) days since this adventure started then he’d had in the past 16 years.

And wasn’t it just the cherry on top that he’d also gotten nearly choked out by the very guardian accused of kidnapping his soul in the first place? And now he was considering trusting the damn guy.

Virgil hollowly wondered why he even cared.

Why did he care about staying alive now when he’s spent his whole life believing he never would? Up until two days ago, that belief had still been true. But now? Avoiding death was the goal, Logan had stated as much.

Really, would Virgil lose anything by trusting the banished guardian? Even if the guardian was trying to trick Virgil and got him killed, what difference would it make? That’d always been the goal before. What did he, Virgil, really have to lose?

If it happened that Virgil lived past his twentieth birthday, if he became a guardian like he was supposed to be in the first place. Would he want that? Did he want that?

He wasn’t sure. Didn’t know if he ever had been.

His life had been built on resignation to the inevitable. Nothing seemed to motivate him towards liking or hating that possibility. He was just that.

Indifferent.

And wasn’t that just the greatest revelation of the night? Finding out that you’re indifferent to living or dying.

Once this was all over, if Virgil lived that long, he would make a note to see a therapist. He knew very well that this kind of mindset was unhealthy to keep. It just couldn’t be helped that the nineteen years he’d lived with this particular affliction couldn’t be fixed by a few extra hugs and comforting words.

Even if he didn’t like the fact that death sounded like the more peaceful option.

His thoughts paused, mentally sighing at the downward spiral he’d caught himself in. It was tiring, and going nowhere.

‘For now,’ he decided, ‘I’m just going to see how this plays out. The Guardian said that none of the others remember the truth, or whatever. So, It’s a ‘he said-they said’ situation right now...’

‘I’ll have to keep an eye out for the guy that he warned me about, then. Who knows if he's as dangerous as The Guardian made him out to be. It’s hard to tell with the weird way he has to talk..’

Virgil paused again, a realization striking him. If he could have groaned, he would have. Not once had he been given or even remembered to ask for the name of said Guardian. What was he supposed to call the rogue Guardian now? He couldn’t just keep calling him The Guardian!

Amidst the disbelief of such a slip up, a foreign yet familiar feeling prodded questioningly at his conscious mind. Adding confusion into the mix of emotions, he returned the feeling with a questioning thought of his own.

He briefly heard the Guardian’s whispy voice once more, now acting with permission.

“You may call me Janus”

Then all at once, Virgil woke up.

.

.

.

Chapter Nine

[chouetteffraie]

Why do you think skk is so popular 🤔🤔

This is a loaded question, dear nonnie! Coming right out of the gates with a toughie huh?

Soukoku is a behemoth of a ship. Getting initiated into the fandom, it’s probably one of the first ships you’ll see. With soukoku fanart popping up in the bungou stray dogs tag all the time and, out of 13144 bsd fics on ao3, 5655 of them including soukoku, it’d be hard not to see the immense fanbase it has. So, we come to your question nonnie: what makes soukoku so popular?

Please note: this comes from the perspective of a relative nonshipper, and I only speak for my own opinions and observations. I’d love to hear anything you have to add!

under a read more because it got a little wordy!

1. Foe Yay

Foe yay is a term used by TV Tropes to define the shipping of two characters who are enemies, whether it’s because the operate on opposite sides of the law or they just don’t like each other. Overall it boils down to this: the hostile tension between them can be easily read as romantic or even sexual if you choose to read it as such.

Media is up to interpretation, so where one person sees bitter enemies, another sees a viscous round if flirtation. Neither are wrong interpretations, even in regards to the canon legitimacy of a ship- I hold this viewpoint because I believe canon can be anything you want it to be; it’s an open field to sow the seeds for creativity. So, in any situation where they are together, there’s automatically a possibility for that moment to be regarded as a ship.

2. Their history

Let’s be real: people love a story where two characters know each other like the back of their hand. While that may not be the case, it’s a pretty solid fact that of every character in the series (that’s still alive- sorry, oda), Chuuya is the one who knows Dazai best. Everyone in the ADA may (or may not have) heard about his time in the mafia, they may have heard him talk about his darker days, and they can see what he’s capable of, but they weren’t there with him. Chuuya was.

Chuuya is the only one that’s still around who, through being partnered with Dazai in the past, knows that darker side of him the best. Akutagawa, as his subordinate, only knows the version he saw as an underling. Chuuya saw more of the real him as an (almost?) equal. Dazai isn’t very open with his personal details; he never was. But there are certain things Chuuya doesn’t need told like others might because he was there, and that sets the foundation for a nice potential ship.

3. Their partnership

I don’t remember the exact phrasing, but soukoku was and is described as an ultimate powerhouse, an unstoppable duo. In order to be part of a team that rises to such infamy, there has to be a certain bond, one where the members can work together and trust that the half of the job that isn’t theirs will get done efficiently. 

Not only do they have that certain bond, one where they can trust the other’s strengths and play off them to emphasize their own, it’s almost like the two characters were made for each other - in a way. In terms of their abilities, Chuuya’s could legitimately kill him when he uses it, and he has no way to stop it. The only way it can be stopped is through Dazai- he’s dependent on Dazai if he wants to perform to the best of his abilities (slight pun intended). Dazai, however, would be incomplete in the team without Chuuya; where he’s tactics and intimidation, Chuuya’s more the powerhouse and action guy he needs. While capable independently, the two are better together. They allow the other to perform just a little better than they would alone.

4. Their trust

Because of this partnership, the two of them trust each other. Chuuya has literally admitted this to Dazai (yeah I see you “I used Corruption because I trusted you” squad) They know what the other is capable of- Chuuya is especially aware of Dazai’s darker habits he tries to hide- and Dazai knows how Chuuya will respond and trusts him to be loyal and dependable as he’s always been.

5. Their current bond

William Shakespeare once said (something along the lines of), 

“Love me or hate me, both are in my favor. If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart…If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.” 

What that means is that any strong emotions, whether positive or negative, towards a person will put them in the forefront of your mind. When you have a crush, you often think about them all the time, are reminded constantly of them, and have strong reactions when they are mentioned. When you hate someone, you tend to think about them all the time, are reminded constantly of them, and have strong reactions when they are mentioned. Thank you copy and paste.

Love and hate have very similar “symptoms,” so it’s easy to see why enemies could be viewed as lovers in denial. Let’s be real, denial is a sexy, sexy concept to play around with in fanfic. Who doesn’t love a good slowburn and some classic mutual pining?

Even now, in the current timeline, Dazai lives to pester Chuuya constantly, who is the perfect target with his temper and confrontational attitude towards Dazai. You know what that is? Chemistry. I’m not talking strictly romantic, either. As two characters, they go well together: they interact and bounce off each other in an entertaining and believable way.

-

Overall, soukoku is what I see as the most fundamental ship in any fandom. For Durarara, it was shizaya, for Voltron, it was klance- the whole “rivalry” thing seems to attract shippers, and for good reason. Soukoku has a few unique spins to it to help shippers make their point, and I know I’ve missed a lot of them in this quick little ask. Still, I hope this gives you an idea as to why I think it’s so popular!

[kendrixtermina]

I have a strange relationship with the concept of dimigard

 on the one hand I think it’s fairly interesting to play with from a character study, angst or idfic point of view - there’s a lot of emotional charge there that never quite gets to catharsis, on the other hand, I have strong feelings about how it would have been utterly unviable as an endgame ship. 

She may not have gotten that attached to him in the first place it he wasn’t the one person who was nice to her while she was essentially a captive in Fhirdiad (and though she acknowledges that it meant something to her at the time she’s waay over it/able to put in perspective, they were very young and had less obligations), and he’s probably only so fixated on her because the time they spent together was his last good memory before all went to hell - and because he misses (his idealized memory of) Patricia and is projecting that onto her. 

That’s a lot of emotional material to work with especially once that whole volatile mixture gets ignited by their becoming enemies... at the same time both their real foe was actually Thales, and there’s so much stuff that they don’t know about each other’s circumstances, but at the same time a lot of that is circumstance not genuine interest, understanding or even liking of each other as people.  I mean in the present Edelgard seems, if anything somewhat put-off by Dimitri and his continued fixation on her,  and Dimitri himself repeatedly expresses his dislike of more stoic people. (whereas Edelgard outright values that and with the exception of Dorothea, most of her closer friends are on the more reason-driven side of things) He only warms up to Byleth once he sees that they’re nice and caring “underneath” / that it’s just their natural disposition rather than a choice of attitude

I firmly believe that it would never have worked out even in a fluffy coffee shop AU with no war because their personalities and attitudes are just total opposites, not just like in terms of politics but how they handle life in general as well as their feelings, they’d just set each other off all the time. I don’t even think they could be friends, even grudging respect is a stretch, I think she best we could get is a sort of teeth-clenched cooperation for the greater good or being polite but distanced allies. 

I mean in Azure Moon they both walk into that parlay with ample goodwill, but still they can’t come to an understanding better than “lets settle this by stabbing each other”, I don’t think there has ever been a more obvious case of incompatible personalities, and if that’s what happens in an armed conflict with ppl’s life on the line, which they both ostensibly want to end as quickly and cleanly as possible,  imagine what would result if they were just arguing about whose turn it is to do the dishes. 

On the other hand it’s like despite all their differences part of the reason why they kept their distance at the academy is that they essentially felt that their lives are essentially over and that whatever remains of them no longer belong to themselves, they can’t catch up over tea because they can’t allow themselves anything other than laserfocus on Revenge or The Cause respectively - to an extent, it’s their survivor’s guilt talking. 

So I kinda want to see them realize that they actually still can and still deserve to be happy and theoretically could choose to be together and get a chance to realize that the reason they probably won’t is that they’re adults with more defined worldviews now, not that they’re the monsters they lowkey view themselves as. 

Like I very much don’t actively ship it (There are lots of far more compatible options for both of them, personally I’m fond of Marianne/Dimitri and  Byleth/Edelgard/Hubert) but I would be very interested in reading more fics that deal with the topic? 

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

TF2 Headcanon Fic - “The Strength in Tears”

@camiluna27 & I started going down the pairing list, with Pauling/Zhanna(/Soldier) at the top for various reasons. So, have this. It’s 6:30am what is sleep?

-Title: The Strength in Tears-

There had always been animosity between them; rather one-sided, if truth be told, and for no reason either could properly name. Zhanna had simply... taken a dislike to Miss Pauling when she laid eyes on her; there was some strange thought in her mind, when she saw the smaller assassin that told her to be wary.

And yet, even though she accidentally killed the Pauling woman once, it had not been held against her. Zhanna had begun to like the woman's attitude of practicality, even if she had felt it rather shameless that Pauling would dare ogle soldier's honey-coated nudity during battle. Had said so, in fact.

It had been a surprise to have the little loud one, the Scout who followed Miss Pauling like pet bear, be the one to mention the truth to her. He had come, for no reason other than to offer her a bottle of water; maybe sent by another mercenary, perhaps of his own will, who could tell his motivations?

Still, the boy saw her gaze harden as Miss Pauling spoke with Soldier... and his own expression grew annoyed. Like he wished to say something unkind, but could not do so...

How interesting. Before, when offered sex, he could not be silent for more than a second... and yet now when he clearly held something bitter to say, the Scout was quiet. They simply stared at one another for a moment, before his hands unclenched; and he eventually sighed.

"Look, I dunno why ya hate Miss P, 'cause she's super sweet and awesome and all kinds'a badass... but she... well, let's say she wasn't staring at Soldier. And yeah, I heard all about that crap when we got back, in weirdly vivid detail so don't tell me I couldn't know 'cause I wasn't there the whole time."

She raises an eyebrow.

So he adds, "She uh... y'know, can never like someone like me... even if I had a heck of a crush on her. Still do, sorta. But ya should have seen her face when she saw, uh..." he makes a gesture encompassing all of Zhanna, and impressing the concept he'd seen her naked and honey-coated but wasn't willing to say so out-loud for some reason.

It was... a different perspective.

"She... was not looking at Soldier?" she questions, to clarify.

"Heh, not in this universe, I promise. So just... maybe ease up on her, or something? The Administrator's real fucking tough on her most of the time, she barely gets to sleep or eat and only gets one day off a year... I dunno how she hasn't dropped dead of stress..." he pauses, "Though we do have respawn, and she's probably hooked into it, so it doesn't matter if she does... the Admin doesn't like to waste good employees or whatever..."

This was definitely new information, Zhanna would have to consider this further. She puts a hand on his shoulder, the only one she still has, and miles. "You have my thanks, tiny loud one. May your efforts at gaining the attention of your teammate be  successful."

She walks determinedly towards Soldier, leaving the runner spluttering denials behind her. Perhaps she was not the only one who had needed to hear the truth this day.

Indeed, the trials they had faced already seemed so paltry in comparison to what had occurred next. The loss of her hand, their deaths and the sudden return to life... none of it mattered. What the Administrator woman had unleashed on them all had been utterly... indescribable.

The only good point of the whole situation was Zhanna being able to see, for herself, the way Miss Pauling reacted when accosted by a beautiful woman. It was somehow humorous to note that a woman who could calmly lecture and degrade dying enemies... was unable to hide her shock and delight at encountering someone she was attracted to.

Zhanna had been briefly concerned the other was liable to pass out in shock, when the Engineer and Administrator entered their temporary shelter. The surprise of all the mercenaries, her dear Soldier included, was tangible; but Miss Pauling was clearly most affected.

She also seemed quite distressed by this turn of events; the reality of why had not become apparent to Zhanna until after all had come to its natural,m hardwon, conclusion. When all debts had been settled, their enemies lay lifeless around them... and the Administrator took her final breath in a life that had lasted far, far longer than any mortal's should.

It was then she knew, and understood why... the fear and loss etched into the young face of Miss Pauling upon first sighting the Administrator. Though Zhanna had not seen her before, it was understood she had been elderly, ancient, and her appearance suitably similar to match. This new, youthful, beautiful face... it was as much a warning as the pretty colourings of poisonous frogs or sea creatures.

It was then, that Zhanna understood her own self, more fully. That is to say, her heart ached oddly to see the tear-stained expression Miss Pauling wore on that day... the strong desire to comfort her surged through her veins.

Miss Pauling excused herself, leaving the solemn mercenaries to riefly glance after her, before returning to their odd little groupings. The Scout looked like he would go after her, but the masked father restrained such an action with a hand; shaking his head to advise the action would be unwelcome.

He did not chase after, at least; though he looked directly across the room to Zhanna. Their eyes met, and she felt him plead with her... because they both knew that Zhanna would be far more welcome than he, at such an emotionally delicate time. Though, in truth, Zhanna hesitated.

Emotions, comforting... these were things Misha did; even now 'Heavy' was checking with the other smaller men, ascertaining all was well. She had envied that, when they were younger; but also mocked him in the way siblings did, for being so sensitive about everyone's needs and thoughts.

The value of such a personality is lost on children, but everything to the more mature. Only now did Zhanna wish to be more like Misha in that area; though they were closely matched in all else, from strength and size to brutality and loyalty.

She glanced to Soldier, beside her. He was half-listening to Demo and Engineer speaking; but turned his head her way at her movement. Many would not credit her Jane as a smart man, for he yelled and showed such reckless enthusiasm about many things; but Zhanna knew different.

Soldier said many things, and some were odd but many tended to be meaningful. He simply communicated differently, as one would expect after the life he had led; she never tired of his stories, and always matched them with her own. Jane liked the one about her first bear hunt, at age five, the most; said it was 'adorable'.

He was clever, exciting and passionate in the bedroom, too; she had never regretted her choice. Sometimes she did wonder how things would have changed if the loud Scout had managed to keep quiet long enough... but, that was a problem for an alternate version of herself, in another universe.

The Zhanna in this one, here and now, tilted her head at Soldier; expressing to him, without words, her intentions. And he, in response, nodded curtly; with a pat on her arm to signify that he understood.

She flashed a brief smile, and turned away. Striding past the other gathered men and after Miss Pauling; whose trail was not the most difficult to follow, despite the many twisting corridors and staircases of this metallic base.

Eventually, they all converged on a cavernous room half-filled with consoles and monitors. all blinking various scenes in black-and-white, some reading 'Error' in stark lettering. None showed any signs of life, save one in the far right-hand corner, which recorded the room they were just in...

In the centre of the room stood a large black chair, with a large oak desk to the side by some filing cabinets. A small microphone sprung up from the wooden surface... Zhanna only noticed because a slender, pale arm half-clad in purple was beside it.

She moved forwards to find Miss Pauling curled into the large leather throne, half-slumped on the desk before it. Sobbing quietly, desolately; like the heart-broken... or the grief-stricken.

Zhanna felt her heart... ache? The pit of her stomach felt hollow, yet roiling; as if she wanted to fight whoever had caused this woman's pain, remove her anguish with her fists. It worked with most problems Zhanna and her family had faced. 'Many fists make short work of a foe'  her mamushka always said with a smile.

She takes a step towards the other, and the sound of her footfall registers with Miss Pauling; the purple-clad woman jerks upright, sniffing and hastily scrubbing at the tears trailing furrows down her far-too-pale face.

"I'm-... I'm alright Scout, thanks for coming after me but I don't want to... talk..." she trails off, realising her quiet grieving had not been interrupted by the concerned runner, but rather... by an unexpected person altogether.

"I am not the loud little one, Pauling... but I share his concerns for you." Zhanna bridges the silence, moving closer. She crouches by the chair, placing them at eye-height, with what she hoped was a comforting smile...

"Wh-what are you...?" Miss Pauling questions, not having realised the animosity between them had cooled, been replaced with something far more positive.

Zhanna placed her hand on the other's arm, feeling pleased when the other didn't jerk away. "You have lost someone dear to you, and do not need to hide your tears. Even if I did not feel the way I do for you, I would still come..."

Miss Pauling didn't seem to know how to respond to that statement. She just stared, occasionally sniffling, clearly trying to regulate her breathing and stem the tears that she couldn't seem to stop.

Zhanna continued, trying her best to be soothing. "When someone you care for is gone, it hurts us inside where no one can see... if you do not let it out in the right way, you will stay hurt and I do not wish this for you Little Pauling. You do too much alone, and I want to... help you, listen to the things that make you cry..."

She's fumbling slightly, her words could be so eloquent in Russian, and yet in English they came out so bland. "I mean to say, that I have feelings for you... they make me want to tell you everything will be alright, and kill anyone who dares to infringe on that promise. Your smile... makes my heart glow, like when Soldier shouts sweet things at me, or when he uses his tongue to-..."

Miss Pauling cuts her off with a quick, "Thank you for y-your concerns Zhanna, but I'm f-f-fine..."

Zhanna laughs, not unkindly, but clearly in contest of the statement. "You are crying, alone and away from comfort. That is not fine by any standard, Miss Pauling... so I have come to you, to listen and take the pain from your heart. I am strong, I can help you carry this burden until this has passed, da?"

Miss Pauling looked exhausted, but oddly grateful if not a little bit confused. "You... you want to hear me cry over the Administrator's death? Wh-why? I mean, I kn-know she wasn't the nicest, especially not to m-me but she was all I knew f-for so long..." the purple-clad assassin stutters out, around wheezy sobs, looking all the more frustrated by this uncontrollable display of emotion.

"I was the assistant f-for so long... n-now what am I? And h-how pathetic is it that she's dead, b-but all I can th-think about is mys-self? And I can't st-stop crying, this is so stupid..." she slams her hands on the table, frustrated. "I'm so-... s-so stupid, I've killed and buried s-so many people... and yet, this one d-death has brought me to th-this?"

She laughed in such a hollow, self-deprecating way, that it almost physically pained Zhanna to hear it. She wanted to smack the sound right out of Miss Pauling's mouth, stamp it into the ground and carry the woman away from such incorrect ideologies. But still, she stayed firmly in her place; letting the other speak her mind for the moment. This was necessary, catharsis.

"The Administrator... was the closest thing I h-had to family... even if it got a little weird a-at the end because she used the aust-Australium to become... young and b-beautiful again..." Miss Pauling's fervour is starting to drain, and she's slumping back in the chair, leaning more weight onto the comforting grip of Zhanna's hand. "A-and now she's gone... and wh-what am I but some crying w-weakling? J-just sitting here s-sobbing like a child, in th-the only place that feels s-safe? F-familiar?"

Then Miss Pauling fell silent, with only the few strangled sobs she couldn't prevent from escaping, echoing in the room between them. After a moment, realising all had been said and done, that Miss Pauling's dark thoughts had finally been freed, Zhanna stood up.

She did not ask, but instead picked up the other; holding her carefully, in a grip both gentle and firm, but close. The other was either too stunned, or too worn out to protest; but Zhanna took it as a hopeful sign when the small, delicate death-dealing hands tentatively clutched onto the fabric of her top.

Like a... the Australian bear babies, yes? She could not think of the word just now...

It felt right, to have the smaller so close; where Zhanna knew she was safe, in her arms. With a slight hesitation, the Russian stroked Miss Pauling's dark hair; it was slightly tangled from their trials, but still soft enough.

"Hush now, little (Fioletovyy/Violet), things will be alright in the days to come... but you must let the hurt go, now, in whatever way works for you. Tears, words, sparring, anything that helps you move through them; to know pain, understand and move past it... that is true strength."

Zhanna gently places a kiss on the top of Miss Pauling's head. "You are not weak, little Pauling... you are very strong, always have been. But you have been brave for such a long time, it can be hard to realise it is okay to let someone else in, to let them carry burden with you until you feel better, da?"

Miss Pauling had looked up at her in surprise the minute the other woman's gentle kiss had registered. Eyes wide, a little shocked; and a faint flush on her face that was unlikely to be based in her grief over the loss of the Administrator and, to an extent, her identity.

"R-really?" she asked, then scrunched up her face, wrinkling her nose cutely, as if horrified to have asked something so childish. "I mean, Zhanna I-... I just feel so... I don't know... lost or empty or... like nothing is real?"

"Do you feel me holding you, little Fioletovyy? My arms are real, the warmth between us is real... and my concern that you have lost your smile, is real. The affection I feel, is real, even though I know it does not cancel out the loss you are experiencing..." Zhanna soothes, rubbing the other upon the back as the last of her stuttered sobs peter out.

Miss Pauling's expression is hard to describe; the trail of tears upon her face shimmered in the dim light, and yet, underneath that, something had changed. The grief was there... but something approaching a shy, tentative hope, a longing was beneath that, plain in her eyes.

"You... really mean that, don't you?" she sniffs, the beginnings of a smile gracing her wan features. "I thought you... d-didn't like me because you assumed I liked Soldier..."

"Indeed, I did not. But, I have been wrong before... I misunderstood, until someone pointed it out; though it pained them to do so." Zhanna admits. "No matter, the past is completed and we cannot return there... the here and now is most important. I am hopeful that both my present and future will have you in them, Miss Pauling... though I will understand if you feel otherwise about this as I have been curt."

"But... what about Soldier, aren't you t-two...?" queries Miss Pauling, expression closing off as reality begins to seep back in.

"Da, I love soldier and will not leave him... but it does not mean I cannot love you too, little Pauling. Jane does not mind, and will not ask anything of you..." Zhanna reassures, knowing Soldier well enough to promise this. "I have enough love for two people, and you are welcome to be part of such if you wish it... my actions in the past were due to confusion over my feelings, my... fear of losing Soldier to you. As you are pretty and merciless, which are traits he finds endearing... as do I."

She laughs, "I see now I have been foolish... but no matter. Let me be your strength for now, and you can make a decision when you are settled... when your thoughts are not clouded by grief."

"No." Miss Pauling interjects, and Zhanna felt her heart drop. It must have shown on her face because Miss Pauling immediately follows it with, "I-I mean, no... I don't need time... I've wanted-... that is to say, I've liked-... yes, please. Just don't... let go of me yet, please..."

She pauses, and laughs before saying, "I know it sounds so corny b-but the world doesn't feel so big, so empty, when you're holding me... and I-... thank you. For coming after me, and knowing what to... say or do or whatever this it... I needed it."

Zhanna smiles, "I will always be there, when you need it... little Fioletovyy..." Zhanna reassures.

"What does that mean?" Miss Pauling queries, suddenly aware of how close they were, how easy it would be to just move closer a fraction and... press their lips against the other's.

"Hmmm, it is Russian for... I believe the word is Violet in English? It is what I think of when I see you... and so, I could not help it. If it bothers you, I can choose another-..." Zhanna pauses because Miss Pauling is laughing.

"Oh, oh no, I like it.... it's just, you-..." she pauses to giggle, "you wouldn't believe this but my... my name is actually... Violet Pauling."

Zhanna beams, "Then it must be fate, then..."

"Y...Yes, I suppose it must be." Miss Pauling smiles back. She looks tired, exhausted by the trials and tribulations of the day, the last week, the entire years since Team Fortress disbanded... but somehow, radiant as well.

Without another word, Miss Pauling closes the gap between them, and it is even more delightful a moment than Zhanna could have ever anticipated. Different to Jane, and yet, just as right.

Perfect.

Miss Pauling moves away first, resting her head on the broad Russian shoulders before her. She didn't seem in a hurry to do anything, much less leave the careful embrace Zhanna held her in.

"Thank you." whispers Miss Pauling, but then lifts her head to look at Zhanna more clearly. A thought worrying at her. "And... you're sure Soldier is fine with... us? I don't like... I mean, he's lovely but I'm not attracted to-..."

"Miss Pauling, you are not required to find my person physically attractive nor do anything involving it, should you choose not to." Soldier says, as he moves inside the room. Clearly having been worried about the extended absence of the pair, and followed them; waiting outside the door until it was appropriate to interject. "You are a superior officer, and I will follow your directions to the letter. As long as you are fine with sharing this glorious creature with me, have had all your shots, and don't mind sharing household duties amongst us... or the occasional visit from Merasmus, then we will be a highly successful tactical unit!"

Miss Pauling was staring at him, questioning how he'd appeared so suddenly, as if saying his name three times had summoned him.

Then her formidable mind caught up with the flurry of words she'd just weathered. "As long as you're okay with it too, Soldier, I'm fine with i-... wait, why do I need all my vaccinations?"

"Raccoons." Zhanna deadpans into her ear, the warm breath making her shiver. Soldier flushed under his helmet as Miss Pauling shuddered, and he averted his gaze.

"Ah, if you two have completed your emotional mission debrief, the others wish me to inform you that we are planning to go back to basecamp at teufort, to formulate our next move forward." Soldier adds, standing there stock still until Zhanna gestures with an arm for him to come closer.

With an arm supporting Miss Pauling's entire weight, she wraps the other around Soldier; Jane clearly hesitates, until he sees Miss Pauling isn't trying to get away, before reciprocating and accidentally partially-squishing her in the middle. Zhanna kisses him, then Miss Pauling once more, and laughs.

"Today has been a good day of many victories," she says, smiling down at Miss Pauling, as Soldier releases the pair. The purple-clad woman slips down from her previous position, and stands, wobbling slightly, on the floor between the pair.

Each place an arm on her back to steady her, not wanting to remove her autonomy, but rather support it. A lot of their trials had hit the woman pretty hard, and even the love Zhanna felt for her, and the admiration Soldier had always shown towards Miss Pauling would not heal it automatically.

They followed Miss Pauling as she walked out of the room, maintaining contact even a she paused to look back; to let her eyes wander over the familiar, metallic room, for the last time. She took a deep breath, placed a hand on each of the supporting arms, and continued forwards. Ready for the unknown, to find out what the future held.

- - - -

The End

- - - -

Bonus:

Zhanna felt, as the days grew long at the new base and all 'planning' tended to end up in circuitous arguments over who had to do what chore that week, that she was quite content.

Miss Pauling was excellent in many ways, and Soldier was also magnificent in his own way. They coexisted well, for her.

Yet she felt... a burden, a debt unpaid, so to speak. She could feel it on the one who had helped them become this unit, who still sometimes looked upon her little Fioletovyy with distant longing. Though, Zhanna felt it was more for what the woman had, than the lingering remnants of a past crush.

She decided, as was fair, to even things out.

One night, without warning, she seized the tiny loud one; he squirmed but she held fast, hushing him. Zhanna carried him outside, wrenched open the door of the van, and tossed the Scout in...

"What the bloody hell?" yelled the occupant.

"Zhanna, what-...? Snipes, I-..." Scout shouted back.

Zhanna briefly placed herself in the doorway, looking at the pile of limbs on the floor and simply stated, "Little loud one has strong feelings for you, and would very much like to do the sex with you... please discuss this and be happy."

She looked directly at Scout, "My debt to you has been repaid. I wish you joy."

And so saying, she slammed the door shut, pushing a nearby boulder over the entrance, as chaos erupted inside. Let them take the time to work it out...

When she smugly removed the boulder in the morning, both appeared rather dishevelled and wouldn't meet her eyes. Her debt had been repaid, indeed.