#spy is the sniper translator basically

[hacksawboy]

put my loadouts into one team called PNK and theyre pink because i am very normal about the color pink. also yes i did change my loadouts drastically again. whats it to ya huh. huh. (i am addicted to scrap tf someone take this fucking website away from me)

[homkamiro]

EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! I need to tell just how running blind fanfiction by @thetriggeredhappy fucked me up

I'm not joking when I say that this is my favourite fic ever made, I literally don't, everything about it is so perfect, so detailed and so emotional,, i cried a lot, i laughed a lot, and I was really amazed by some of the plot twitsts

EVERYONE needs to read it, and if you don't imma bust yo damn kneecaps

[jevilowo]

Headcanon:

How much the other Mercs can understand Pyro

Scout: Not at all. Won't even try. Literally will just pretend they're on about how cool he is. It drives Pyro insane.

Soldier: Almost every single interaction goes like "mph mph" "LITTLE TIMMY FELL DOWN THE WELL?!?". Soldier can understand them perfectly like once in a blue moon bc funny.

The Other Pyro: They understand each other perfectly and discuss my little pony lore together.

Demo: Understands them well enough but only when hes like the maximum level of drunk. The rest of the time he has to guess based on their tone and body language but how good he is at that depends on how sloshed or un-sloshed he is.

Heavy: The man struggles enough with with english when spoken normally, he's pretty useless at deciphering pyrospeak. He's definitely better at the body language and tone thing than Demo tho, due to having sisters and not being drunk.

Engie: A Sans Undertale situation where most people think he understands them perfectly but he's actually just godlike at reading tone and body language, and decent enough at deciphering the mumbling. I'm pretty sure this is somewhat canon, as the only time Engie has "understood" Pyro was when they made a "nuh-uh" sort of noise which is. Obvious.

Medic: Can't understand much beyond like Yes and No and MEDIC, and is pretty mediocre at tone and body language. Usually just gets Engie to translate. Considering getting Pyro to let him attach a mouth to the outside of the suit.

Sniper: Pretty shit at tone and body language, alright at deciphering the mumbles. One of my headcanons for him was he didn't talk for years as a small child (autism), so I can picture him teaching Pyro some basic Australian sign language.

Spy: He's a spy, and therefore pretty good at deciphering Pyrospeak and tone and body language. He's not as good as Engie, which drives him up the wall.

Miss Pauling: She hasn't really had the time to get used to Pyrospeak (busy), but I can see her getting pretty good at deciphering it over time. She'd probably learn sign language off Sniper too.

Administrator: She was somehow able to understand they wanted more weapons in Meat vs Match so she understands that much at least.

Saxton Hale: That weirdo barely understands Scout. He's probably convinced Pyro is actually just a really obscure species of wilddog that evolved to use flamethrowers.

Zhanna: Same as Heavy, but gains Soldier's ability to understand them occasionally over time.

[amazing-spiderling]

would you rather: be friends with Peter Parker or Foggy?

make me choose: greek or italian food? and what would be your favorite meal of these (including dessert.)

ask me anything: top ships at the moment? three ships in previous fandoms? what is an art idea you've been pondering over but haven't attempted yet?

Peter Parker or Foggy Nelson:

AUugh. This is a tough one?! I think for either, we'd be able to bond over nerdy things, so as far as common ground goes, I think they're both on the same level. BUttttttttttttttttt, I can get pretty annoyed when people make a habit of flaking out on me. I know it's not Peter's fault, and like, I an be sympathetic, but if I was to imagine a scenario where I was friends with both, in the end, Foggy would be the one I'd hang out with more/call first. I bet he'd be keen to try weird new restaurants and good trucks with me.

Greek or Italian food:

Damn you really have to come for me like this??? On the one hand, I have been exploring more Mediterranean cuisine lately (and making things at home). I have been consuming frightening amounts of Labneh and recently learned how to make a pretty passable version of this dip from a restaurant in a town I used to live in, which makes for a great sharable dish. BUTttTTt I think I'd probably still have to go with Italian food. There are some dishes I rely on (risotto, braised shortribs, MEATBALLS) that I love too much. I've got to love my classic love over my hot new crush. XD

Top Ships?

I am a serial monoshipper. Not that I ever say goodbye to a ship- I'm always happy to see it crop up on my timeline, but it's hard for me to split my energy between two or more. So at the moment I have to say my brain is pretty much running on pure, unleaded Mattfoggy, but I do give a big smile to the Aziracrow and Spideypool that comes across my dash these days. And once in a while someone will share some Snake/Otacon and it's just too good and makes me feel feelings all over again.

Three Ships in Previous Fandoms:

I guess to make this a little more different, I dabbled in TF2 fandom for a hot minute- this falls squarely in the "love to see it on my dash" category. I did a little bit of art just for funsies and read a lot of fic, including struggling with auto translate on a never completed one originally written in Russian. I was happy to consume basically any combination of Spy, Scout and Sniper, especially after reading the iconic comic, "Cuanta Vida". I also had a soft spot for Tentaspy, particularly with Sniper. Kinda miss those days. That was a lovely fandom that seemed to be there for good times and good vibes.

Art Idea I haven't attempted yet:

I think I've low-key promised that I will one day write a Mattfoggy doujinshi but I'm going to have to develop about 700% more guts first, lol. I also really really want to do this Murderdock animatic to a JazzEmu short but who has the TIME?

[stimpry]

i don’t know WHAT axiom’s end is but alien aus are always a banger. What’s the au about?? Like is there any plot , or is it based solely on vibes? And what does alien scout think of the others in the team? Ms Pauling?

OK Axiom's End is a VERY good book by Lindsay Ellis that I highly reccomend, and in the TF2 au, I imagine it goes similarly to Axiom's End, with Sniper taking Cora's place in the story, and maybe Mann Co or the Admins taking the place of the US government Spy is Čefo, Scout is Ampersand etc I don't really have a good way of explaining my ideas for this AU.... But the main thing is basically what happens with Cora and Ampersand in Axiom's End, where Sniper acts as an interpretor for Scout. In Axiom's End, Ampersand basically can like transmit into Cora's mind, cause he can't speak English in a literal "speaking" sense, so he has like a translation technology, and Cora relays Ampersand to the US government and her family and whatnot, So i imagine Scout uses Sniper to talk for him, and also he dosent trust any other human than Sniper etc TLDR; read axioms end

[blackmambaboobs]

I dunno if you did this but can you do the mercs (platonic) with someone who says really weird stuff out of no where like "bro.. a dodo is a pigeon 😦" LMFAOODJSJXJ

YES, THE QUESTIONABLE CHAOTIC ENERGY WE NEED- TF2 Mercs X Gender Neutral Weirdo Reader Headcanons (Platonic): Scout: -Fucking dies laughing from the weird shit you say, full on. -Always tries to guess what you're gonna say next and hopes it's better than the last. -You're basically shower thoughts as a human being. -Wonders if you're high sometimes, NGL. Spy: -Gives you the most bewildered expression, like "???" -Literally asks Medic if you're okay and is amazed that you come up with this shit. -Finds it amusing and ridiculous. Soldier: -Yells "What?!" at the nonsense that comes from you. -Is constantly confused at some of the shit you say, honestly. -Wonders if this is normal for you- Sniper: -Just accepts it and doesn't question it the after the first time. -He might join in on asking weird shower thoughts as well. -Sometimes laughs at some of your questions. Heavy: -Also gives you a confused look and wonders if something was lost in translation since he's not fluent in English. -Asks Medic if it's a normal occurrence (and if his hearing needs to be checked). -Just accepts it even if he doesn't understand. Medic: -Doesn't question it and instead has deep convos with you on those shower thoughts like it's deep or some shit. -Wonders if some of the stuff you say could have some truth to it. -Loves to watch the confused reactions that people give to what you say. Demoman: -He looks at his alcohol wondering if someone put something in it, LMAO. -Thinks it's because of the alcohol and just decides to not question it. -Laughs to himself 'cause he'll remember one of the stupid questions you asked. Engineer: -He's working on something while you're talking to him and whatever you said makes him drop his tool out of surprise and confusion, like, he'll look at you like "What-" -"Are you okay, Partner??" -Accepts it and just shakes his head when you tell him something weird. Pyro: -Tilts their head like a dog but somehow has an answer for it afterwards?? -Answers your questions with such confidence that it's scary (even though they're muffled under the mask)- -Loves watching people's reactions, thinks it's the funniest thing-

[leorawright]

Tf2 mercs with a S/O who is a gopnik? Gopniks are russian hoodlums so they're young and spunky, their fighting style is usually made up but they fight with hand to hand combat they don't follow any rules so they'll get nasty, sometimes they'll throw sand into their enemies eyes and other times it'll be vodka who knows! Its randomized, after battles they can be found in any quiet or usually isolated corners doing their usual thing, squatting while reading comics and drinking waaaay to much Tarkhun which to them is an equivalent to BONK! But safer

Also, I bet they teach Scout some curse words in Russian just to mess with heavy, could it be platonic? S/O is basically Scout 2 electric boogaloo but Russian so Heavy has to also deal with them along with Scout sometimes at the SAME time

That's hilarious🤣 (btw making it all platonic)

Mercs with a gopnik friend

Scout

He absolutely adores being able to run around and cause chaos

You two are the best up close fighters on the battlefield

You both also enjoy annoying the heck out of the other mercs

Soldier

He's surprised by your up close and person fighting but supports it since it shows your strength

Soldier always cheers you on when you fight no matter where he is

If anyone ever says you're cheating because you threw sand in their eyes then Soldier will say there are no rules besides win

Demoman

He finds your shenanigans hilarious

You'd better teach him some Russian cuss words

You two are great fighters especially if you throw sand in someone's eyes he'll finish them off with his scrumpy bottle

Pyro

They find you hilarious and often run around with you on the battlefield

They adore reading comics with you especially if they're in Russian because you can translate them for Pyro

They're surprised by your strength since you took on a Heavy in hand to hand combat

Heavy

He definitely acts like your older brother

He'll pull you out of fights for your safety, make sure Medic always heals you, makes sure you eat proper food instead of Tarkhun etc.

He does feel a deeper connection to you since you're Russian so expect him to mainly have conversations with you in Russian

Medic

He'll always follow you and heal you after you take a Heavy in a fist fight

He totally supports your dirty fighting style like throwing sand in the enemy's eyes

He enjoys your energy much more than Scout especially if you don't always ask to be healed

Sniper

You can be very exhausting sometimes

He will avoid you sometimes simply because he needs a break

He will sometimes read comics with you

Spy

Oh dear lordy not another Scout

You annoy him to no end yet you two are still someone friends

It's definitely not related to that time you blinded a Demoman because he spotted Spy not at all😇

[tuefort-teamfort]

Heyo! Got any general headcanons for the tf2 mercs?? :D

Yes, yes I do :D These are all varying lengths.

masterlist

Scout

Ok, this boy has adhd. Basically canon. But! He didn't know he had it till an informative check-up with Medic who happened to be looking into disorders at the time.

But to be honest he's not really worried about it. It's not like it's that noticeable anyway.

...On behalf of the rest of the mercs I am here to say it is very noticeable. And they have taken to throwing a bunch of random hobbies at him to see what sticks so he'll maybe use up some of his energy.

He's a quick learner, able to pick up new skills pretty quickly.

When he first joined the mercs, he wasn't...the best cook.

He knew the basics because his momma did not raise an idiot.

But it wasn't till Misha and Dell started to tutor him did he really start to learn.

He's pretty close to Heavy, but his actually really good friends with Sniper and Engie too.

Heavy's endless patience keeps him distracted and out of the others' business for awhile, Sniper's a damn good sounding board for all of his ramblings, and Engie is just a sweetheart who looks after everyone.

Soldier

Jane 1000% learned to play the trumpet because he wanted to be a bugler at some point

Not allowed within 50 miles of any military base. No one is entirely certain why.

The raccoons all have little helmets with tiny flags on them. And there is a matching tiny flag inside of Jane's own helmet.

In his free time, he decorates helmets for the other mercs. They're of...varying quality and all have some American iconography somewhere in the designs. But the sentiment is there.

Always, always, pesters Medic about whether or not his medicine is American.

Pyro

So those helmets Jane decorates? Pyro has a shelf dedicated to every one Jane has given them.

They are such a sweetheart it's almost heartbreaking. They make portraits of their teammates all the time. It always shows them hanging out with whoever they drew in a field of flowers.

Loves finger painting

And arts and crafts in general.

Super protective of their teammates - to them, the others are the closest thing they have to family

Frequently has nightmares, can often be found in Dell's workshop late at night because of these - teddy bear and fluffy blanket in hand.

Dell is their favorite person, hands down

The Texan is always so genuine with them

Has a little unicorn nightlight made by said Texan

Heavy

Look me in the eye and tell me you don't think this man knows how to knit, crochet, and sew.

You can't, because he does in fact know how to do all of that.

Finger-knits a lot of the time when he's bored

knits sweaters for Sasha

Is very protective of his team mates, especially Medic, Engie, and Scout.

Has a soft spot for Pyro too, sees them like a little sibling.

Carries a small picture of his family in his wallet. It's a family portrait from when Zhanna was still a baby.

Knows how to sew and thus can do pretty basic repairs and hems. His mother quilts and he'd like to learn how to as well.

No one on the team expected him and Sniper to get along as well as they do but Misha thinks it's because they are both quiet and more introspective which allows them to just exist in each other's spaces pretty comfortably.

His room is full of books, mostly classics, but he's always taking recommendations from Medic, Engie, and Spy.

Has read the Hobbit and Lord of the Rings...may or may not be working on translating the books into Russian

Demoman

Loves card games - poker, blackjack, rummey, nickels, mao

Is also near unbeatable. The only person to ever beat him in any of those? Sniper

Doesn't really like to read but he doesn't mind settling in with a book of Scottish myths and folklore every now and again

He has some hidden distilleries around the base. Drink the product at your own risk.

Collects vintage bottles...refills them

Frequently works with Dell to make his explosives all the more impressive.

Also works with Ludwig to make them do more damage

Him and Heavy try different vodkas together. It's more fun for him than it is Misha but the Russian humors him.

Engineer

This man...this sweetheart

Chronically sleep-deprived (why do you think he never takes his goggles off? you could carry the team's groceries in the bags under his eyes)

Is so smart yet so dumb sometimes, has lost his helmet on his head before.

Is always fixing something. It could be his own machines but more likely he's fixing random appliances.

Shit breaks around the base all the time and he likes to be helpful

If he's not working [and not passed out in his room] he can be found in Medic's lab or hanging out with Pyro

Doesn't really play his guitar around the others but is just waiting for someone to ask him

On that note, he found out by chance that Tavish plays the piano and has played a simple duet with him

I don't know why but I'm convinced he can speak...or well...understand some Spanish. He's not fluent by any stretch of the word but he can read and even understand some spoken Spanish. Would like to actually learn the language

He's not insecure about his hand but he doesn't like to show the gunslinger off. It's one of those things where if you're observant you'll learn about it but if he likes you he'll tell you about it.

Medic

As a man of science and experimentation, he is always learning new things about the human body

And that is showcased in his random experiment of the week.

Prior to actually resurrecting Sniper, he would often just focus on keeping things that should be dead alive. Case in point, Spy's head and his teammates.

Is actively trying to create his own Frankenstein's monster, resurrecting a man was just step one - making his own from scratch and spare parts would be a crowning achievement

Is fluent in multiple languages: German, English, French, and Swedish

Is learning Russian from Misha and similar to Dell can understand, read, and write in Spanish. Difference being he can also hold a conversation.

Frequently experiments on Soldier to figure out why the man is so deranged.

Don't fall asleep around him, you'll miraculously gain five organs.

Doesn't have many hobbies because he's so focused on his work

Misha has tried to teach him to knit but Ludwig just doesn't have the patience for it. Likes to be up and moving and knitting, while stimulating, doesn't scratch the itch in his brain

All of his birds are named after famous philosophers, doctors, and mathematicians

Sniper

So, something I'd like to get straight with the fandom - the Bushman is quiet but not shy.

He's a lot like an old cat that likes to sit in the windowsill - don't touch him, let him watch the world, but feel free to talk at him. Just don't expect him to talk back.

He's also not as awkward as you'd think. Sure he's not great with people but he can hold down a conversation when he has to and is plenty observant, meaning he knows the right kind of questions to ask to keep the other person talking.

Speaking of, he's only particularly close to Misha. And Spy to an extent.

The gentle giant respects his stoicism and Spy does agree that Mick is a very capable professional. They also get along considering both of their work requires a certain level of discretion.

Vulture culture. He takes walks about the base looking for bones a lot of the time. Sometimes makes jewelry and ornaments out of them.

Also a man that can't stand stationary hobbies. He's already resident for work, let him get out and stretch his legs.

Hiking is a big hobby of his. And hunting although that's more out of necessity given his fondness for going off the grid.

Listen, he's a momma's boy. Through and through. If he's near civilization for an extended period of time guess what, he’s calling his mom.

Often talks to his dad too but he’s just not as close to him.

He does know how to play the sax and if he’s really feeling it, he’ll practice in the camper for hours. He thinks this is how spy found out he could play

Spy

Wine aficionado and unfortunately the pretentious kind.

Despite constantly wearing a balaclava he is incredibly well-groomed. He shaves the second he feels the prick of even one hair. His eyebrows are plucked, teeth whitened. He also gets his nails done pretty regularly.

Charcuterie boards are his passion.

Like Medic, he also speaks several languages: English, Arabic, French, Italian, Spanish, German, Russian, Greek, Nahuatl, you name it he can probably speak it. Or read it at least.

Is another man fond of the classics when he has time to sit and read, soft music playing in the background.

His knife collection? Vast and not just for show. He has all sorts of fine weaponry from all around the world and from different time periods too. And he knows how to use all of them.

He’ll never admit it but he does have a soft spot for his son

..…………………

Here ya go @iamobsessedwithtf2 and I’ll get to work on the romantic version shortly!

[hufflesocks]

Ok so here’s an au I thought of: Tf2 is just Miss Pauling’s daydream

Miss Pauling is the manager of one of Mann Co.’s (a big corporation that has its hands in many different things) construction firms. She also often acts as the personal assistant of one of the VPs Helen. Like in most of these types of au’s Miss Pauling’s life isn’t to exciting. She has a fairly normal and boring day job and often just wakes up, goes to work, goes home, and the goes to sleep. So she comes up with this daydream of her co-workers as mercenaries in order to help her cope with her fairly uneventful life.

The concept of the two teams comes from the fact that the construction firm that she over see’s is in an intense rivalry with one positioned nearby. Both are publicly known for their association with a specific color. Hence the formation of the RED and BLU teams.

She imagines her boss Helen as this cold and calculated Administrator who controls every little detail, due to how she controls everything from her position as VP. She also likes to imagine that the Administrator and Mann Co. own both mercenary teams due to a running joke at the firm. Some how both construction companies seem to do the same things at the exact same time, such as promotions. The public also views them as basically the same company just different colors. Therefore the firm that she manages often jokes that old man Hale secretly owns both and uses them to make money off of each other.

Saxton Hale becomes the way he is based on his jacked figure and bragging of all the insane things he’s done in his life, such as jumping out of a burning airplane. Everybody knows though that those are just exaggerations and that the only reason he is so ripped is due to some drug that he takes. Hence, the creation of Australium.

As for the mercenaries:

The annoying new intern that never shuts up, but somehow manages to get coffee ridiculously fast becomes the Scout

The older veteran who goes on and on about patriotism becomes the Soldier

The young person who has a childlike love for unicorns, is covered from head to toe in burn marks, and just seemed to appear one day(seriously nobody remembers hiring this kid),which causes people to bekind of weary of them becomes the Pyro

The man from Scotland who practically runs their demolitions department, but has a knack for getting drunk becomes the Demoman

The quiet Russian man who seems to be able to lift almost anything becomes the Heavy Weapons Guy

The southerner from a farm out in Texas who can fix any machine put in front of him becomes the Engineer with 11 phd’s

The eccentric man from Germany, who loves doves and is the only person there who knows basic first aid becomes the Medic

The quiet Australian who has amazing aim when it comes to trashketball, but always needs to use the restroom for some reason becomes the Sniper

The shady man that everyone knows basically nothing about including his purpose at the firm becomes the Spy

As for Miss Pauling she imagines herself to be this badass person who can handle any dire situation and is the one that the Administrator trusts to be in charge of all the Mercenaries. Essentially she imagines herself as everything she wishes she was

She even translates big events that happen to the company into her daydreams:

For example one time everyone got a memo saying they were going to be fired by the end of the weekend. However, it just turned out to be a draft email for if something bad with the firm were to occur that was accidentally sent by someone’s cat. Miss Pauling then reimagined this as the plot of Expiration Date

[a-dose-of-tuefort]

the mercs with a s/o who can speak a second language perfectly? and if the merc can speak a second language their s/o can also speak that language

Oooohhh alright!!!

Trigger warnings: ask to tag

Reader pronouns: they/them

-Scout-

He's really amazed

He'll want you to teach him differnet words but he has horrible memory

He probably accidently mispronounced it terribly

He will start bragging to the others that you know a second language and he'll try and get you to show it off

Expect him to ask you to say a bunch of nonsense in the language

He will call you his smarty pants

-Soldier-

Is confused at first

He'll get random books in the language you speak and ask you to read them outloud just because he can

Anytime anyone speaks in another language he'll ask if you can understand it, even if it's clearly not one of the languages you know

He can't read so he'll probably ask you to translate things that are already in English

He'll question you on if you're speaking a real language or if you're just saying nonsense

-Pyro-

Oooo!! Pyro is very excited about this

Pyro will just lay down on its stomach and kick its legs in the air and ask you to say different things in your language

Sure, Pyro doesn't understand most of it, but Pyro likes to hear you talk anyways especially because it seems to make you happy

Pyro will probably make an attempt to learn the language a bit, even if it just comes out as muffles

Pyro will want to know words like "fire" and "I love you" and typical Pyro stuff you can expect in this new language

-Demoman-

*intrigued noises*

If you still need to practice learning it he'll gladly make you flashcards or help you practice

He sometimes forgets that you even know a second language so when you suddenly start speaking in it he gets quite startled and confused at first before he remembers

The only thing he really knows how to say in your second language is simple things like "I love you"

Please call this man sappy nicknames in a different language he'll melt over it

-Heavy-

He's surprised that you know russian, but a happy surprised

Russian is a tricky language to learn especially because of the differnet alphabet so if you need help practicing he is your go to guy

He loves to have conversations with you in russian because the rest of the team can't understand what y'all are saying

Your conversations in russian are basically the same as your normal conversations, except you might stumble a bit or blank on a word and Heavy will help you

He finds it oddly cute whenever you trip up on some funny russian word and try to decipher it in pure confusion

-Engineer-

He doesn't know what you're saying but to keep talking

He loves to hear your voice even if you're speaking some other language so if you need to study flashcards or practice saying sentences he doesn't mind trying to help out or letting you do it on your own next to him while he works

This man loves to learn, so he wouldn't certainly wouldn't mind if you wanted to teach him a few phrases or so

Sometimes when he buys you gifts he'll get it so the instructions and such are in the second language that you happen to speak

He gets second-hand excited over this and might get a little carried away but he means well

-Sniper-

You two will just be hanging out and sometimes out of the blue he'll ask "what's that in *insert language here*" and point at a random object or creature or plant or anything really

He actually does this quite often, especially if yall need something to break the silence

He's never considered really learning a new language so he's curious about the process that you're brain is going through

After asking you what so many things are in your second language he doesn't realize that he's started to 'learn' until he's looking at some object and realizes he know the translated word for it

-Medic-

Oh god he shit talks everyone to another whole level. And you get to hear all of it

The conversations you two have in german are all about stupid nonsense or things that would maybe be a little too questionable to say in a way everyone can understand

He has a book full of nicknames he can (and already has) called you except now you understand what they mean

He laughs anytime you encounter some nightmarishly long german word that you're pretty sure someone really just slapped their keyboard a bunch of times

-Spy-

Flirt

He will flatter you a bunch about learning a new language, like how carefully you say each word and he thinks you sound so lovely and smart

Your conversations in French range between flirtatious romance or both of you complaining about some recent stupid shenanigan the team had gone through

He can and will discreetly show off to everyone that you can speak French and does it with a shit eating grin too

[bonkywobble]

Bluff

Summary: Your patience wears thin while on a mission.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: Swearing, implied canon-level violence, idiocy.

Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

Word count: 870

A/N: Watched some Who’s Line Is It Anyway highlights and got inspired. As usual this is unbeta’d.

Part 2 / Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“I’m gonna go for it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Why not?”

“You know exactly why not so don’t do it.”

Covered palms are flat against the wall, your fingertips curling against crumbling brick. Peering out from the side you double, triple check the number of armed mercenaries not 50 feet away. “You’re not my mother, Barnes.”

“Do it and the mission is compromised,” the voice of the former soviet assassin crackles over the comms, firmly reminding you to not fuck this up. “A quick in and out is what we’re going for, no alarms raised.”

Were it anyone else their buttons wouldn’t be as much fun to push. Fortunately for you, it isn’t just anyone else. Unfortunately for him, no one else does it better than you.

“It’s what your dad was going for,” you snort, feeling the weight of your pistol strapped to your hip as you scuttle towards your next hiding spot. A small comfort in case your plan didn’t work out.

A heavy sigh comes through your earpiece and you’re filled with an abnormal glee as you imagine the man once known as the Winter Soldier trying not to lose his cool. If only you were the sniper of the group, the ability spy on your disgruntled teammate from a great distance and watch his attempt at keeping his military-like composure together would be yours. Alas, a tragic incident at the gun range involving both Bucky’s gun and America’s literal ass meant no more rifles for you. It’s a miracle you’re allowed to possess any sort of firearm in the field, really.

“I will murder you with my bare hands.” Oh, you can tell by the shuffling sounds coming from his end that he’s tempted to shoot your ass now. Perfect.

“If I say please do you promise to use the metal one? That shit’s so hot.”

“Need I remind you that this is an open line, agent?”

Whoops.

“Sorry Captain,” you mutter, feigning remorse. Being who you are, however, both of your teammates are well aware you’re not sorry at all.

A tired whine escapes your lips as one hand drifts towards your switchblade, “The mission won’t be compromised, I promise. C’mon, I wanna do it.”

Looking over the crates that hid your armed form you inspect the four goons you’d noticed earlier. They remain distracted, consumed with playing poker by the side door of the building which you’re responsible for sneaking into undetected.

“How about no? Stop being so damn impatient. For the last fucking time walking up to the bad guys and asking if anyone wants to start a fight is not considered a stealthy approach.”

“Maybe so, but we’d be much closer to finishing this up and going home,” you persist. 

Whether or not that’s true is up for debate, but it doesn’t matter to you. Having to keep watch during the shitty stakeouts in the middle of Dirty Ass Crack, Nowhere with no decent way of keeping yourself entertained seriously sucked, the lack of any recreational equipment failing to stimulate your easily bored brain. Being forced to eat even shittier food rations - it wasn’t World War 2, for fuck’s sake - for three goddamn weeks made the whole experience even less bearable. When it basically came down to it, trained agent or not you’d about McFucking had it. Desperation, thy name is -

“Agent, what’s your position?” Steve must’ve shifted from his location, having now realised that you might be more determined to follow through than he initially thought.

“30 feet from the east entrance of the building. Judging from the lack of foliage around me I should still be in Sargeant Barnes’ line of sight.” Professionalism briefly bleeds into your response, which is swiftly followed by a confirmation of your location from your still somewhat exasperated lookout.

“At least I’m giving you a head’s up, Sarge,” you quietly continued. “If I were your pal Stevaroni I’d simply rush at them without telling anyone and hope for the best. Kinda like that one mission in Moscow with the HYDRA tank and the laser.”

A short pause is swiftly followed by an exclamation of, “Are you fucking kidding me, Steve? A laser?”

---

Like an alcoholic senses a bar or a dog senses a tsunami, it’s Bucky who eventually picks up on your absence in his and Steve’s argument. Well, it wasn’t them arguing so much as it was him threatening to beat Steve with his own shield again because who the hell thinks they’re tougher than a fucking laser?

When he readjusts his rifle and finally finds you in his scope again, the sight he observes causes his body to tense and his mind to scream in pure frustration. With more confidence than a Karen during Black Friday you had swaggered up to the four men still standing - or rather, sitting - between you and your way in.

For not the first time in his life Bucky curses your stubbornness.

Blatantly ignoring his and Steve’s protests, the question that enters his ear as you begin talking to the men makes him wish he had shot you while the opportunity was there.

“Hey fellas. So, uh, you guys wanna start a fight?”

- - - -

Tagging (let me know if this isn’t your thing): @chris-evans-indian-fanfic​ @sammichonrye​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @heli0s-writes​ @captainamerica-is-bae​ @stargazingfangirl18​ @shakespeareanqueer​

[cynical-write]

Hi! Could I ask for some male! Spanish speaking s/o x the mercs, howd they react to a very flirty type of s/o that always has cute spanish nicknames for them? Ty in advance!

Scout:

He finds it extremely romantic when you speak Spanish, he doesn’t understand it but just knowing it's coming from his S/O makes it sound ten times better. His S/O could literally be talking about what’s on his shopping list and he will still swoon.

Now this man tries really hard to flirt but all he really knows is a couple of bad pick up lines but at least his heart is in the right place.

He never thought he would consider himself the mushy type but just hearing you call him one of your adorable nicknames absolutely makes him swoon, good luck getting him to admit it though.

Soldier:

now you wouldn’t really call Soldier a man of culture so it's safe to say hes not fluent in Spanish hell there’s times some people aren’t even sure he completely knows english but he still loves hearing all of your cute nicknames and just gets so dang happy knowing you love him enough to come up with so many of them.

Now be warned is his S/O wants to flirt with him it has to be extremely blunt otherwise he wont understand what exactly your implying, he’s definitely not a man of innuendos.

Pyro:

They get so giggly whenever their S/O starts flirting with them, you can’t really tell but they get major heart eyes every time their S/O tells them something sweet.

Definitely not ashamed to be a simp for him

Honestly you probably can’t understand it but they do have their own nicknames that they like to call their S/O but its just to muffled to make out what it is whenever they say it

Medic:

I wouldn’t be surprised if this man knows at least some Spanish he will just need to brush up on the basics since the majority of his knowledge involves medical jargon.

Every time his S/O flirts he just helps inflate Medics ego even more, in public he may not say anything but you bet your ass in private he will be more then happy to respond just to see if he can successfully make his S/O blush.

Just be warned this man can be a straight up tease when he wants to be.

Heavy

He's still trying to fully grasp English so sometimes when you speak in your native tongue it can kinda get lost in translation, he may stop and ask what certain words mean but don’t worry once he asks a question he’ll try not to repeat it just be patient with him he's trying his best.

He's not someone who does well with PDA of any kind so don’t expect a huge reaction if you try flirting in public, but in private you never fail to make him smile hell sometimes you even manage to make him blush.

Engineer:

If he didn’t know any Spanish before your relationship he is quick to start learning, he's always looking to learn something new but he also jumps at the opportunity to connect with you in some way so if learning your native language is one of those ways he's more than happy to learn.

God he gets so red everytime you flirt with him, everytime it just ends with him chuckling nervously and just mumbling a little “Aw shucks Darlin” while he blushes. This man is a sucker for cute nicknames everytime you come up with a new one he's pure putty in your hands

Demo:

How he handles your flirty nature depends on if he's sober or not to be honest. If sober he always laughs and flirts back and he's pretty good at being suave himself when in this state, but when he's drunk, his flirting kinda downgrades to a jumbled version of his sober flirting with a lot more “I love you”s thrown in there.

Now I don’t see him as someone with high self esteem so everytime you call him all those cute nicknames he just feels so loved like even with all of his self perceived down sides you still aren’t afraid to act so loving towards him.

Sniper:

Now he's a man that doesn’t go looking for a lot of affection so flirting is a little new to him and he’s a little awkward about it and at times he can probably rival scout when it comes to who can blush the fastest but he’ll be damned if he lets you do all the teasing so even if it’s a little awkward at first once he gets more comfortable he actually gets decent at flirting with his S/O.

It’s always kinda funny seeing his reaction to his S/O’s cute nicknames because he always gets a goofy smile before responding back, he just can’t help but simp whenever he hears them.

Spy:

Now it's no doubt this man knows multiple languages spanish definitely being one of them, so this man is ready to have full conversations in spanish if it would be more comfortable for his S/O.

This is a man that has fully mastered how to flirt with a partner so be warned flirting with him will just make him want to tease his S/O until inevitably he gets them all flustered.

He's also a steady competition when it comes to romantic nicknames everytime you come up with one he will have a new one for you as well.

[lu-undy]

Request #7

The Sniper/Spy Pirate AU! Here on AO3!

Each step taken on the wooden bridge made the planks of it creak under worn-out, heeled, leather boots. The gun's strap needed adjusting, so he stopped and tied it neatly again for the long barrel to rest across his back.

He gulped down his dry throat and thought to himself that a visit to the local bar would do him some good. After all, the past few weeks at sea had been tiring. So he raised his hand and his feathery companion landed on it. 

“Hoo?”

The owl opened his eyes wide and round. In the dead of night, it could see perfectly. 

“Let’s go.” The hoarse voice said and the owl jumped to the tall man’s shoulder.

After walking in town for quite a while, being offered the favours of women in ragged dresses and men in torn out coats, the man in the long, dark brown, sleeveless coat heard the familiar racket of a pub. Perfect. He pushed the door. 

The songs of drunk men and the chatter of the way-past-tipsy were melodies that the scruffy man was used to. He entered the place and bent his head slightly, to not bump his head. Only the colourful feathers of exotic birds on his hat grazed the top of the doorframe.

He sat at a secluded table, and waited for someone to take his order. A beer, fresh and bitter, that's what he liked. 

"I swear they exist!"

"Bah…! Nonsense, I've heard the stories."

Some other poor sailing souls were chatting loudly. 

"What stories?" A young one asked as the man in the long coat paid for his beer with doubloons. The waitress bit them to check and moved away. 

"Listen, kid. There are stories out there about the Great Nine." An old man recalled.

"What are they?"

"You mean who are they? They were the best pirates over all the seas! The bounties over their heads would clean a bank dry of all of its money! Countless folks tried to best them, none of them came back to tell their stories." 

"They were? They're dead?"

"Rumour has it they're dead. But I could never believe it, nah…" The old man shook his head, his eyebrows were so bushy that he looked like he had just one going from one end of his face to the other.

"Why?"

"Cause every once in a while, you hear of them." 

"Have you ever met one?" 

"Nah, but I've heard the stories. Last somebody saw some was over in Europe! Some are here, in the colonies, and there's one that no one knows where he is."

"What's so special about him?" The young sailor asked. 

"Some say he doesn't even exist. He could be anywhere. See that tree there?" The old man pointed through the window. "He could be that very tree."

Another sailor sat at the table with a pint. The old man went on. 

"Some say he might be your mum right now!"

"Others say he might be with your mum right now!" The sailor who had just joined said and laughter boomed in the dimly lit bar. "He's a master of disguises, as loud as shadow, and so good with men and women that folks say he never sleeps alone! But he could be anywhere and anyone! He could be you, he could be me, he could even be-"

"Oh shut up! The Great Nine don't exist!" Another voice said and disturbed the peace of the man with the owl, who winced.

"Yeah, they do! I heard one of them is around these parts of the world." The old one answered. 

"Really?" The young one asked. "Which one!?" 

"They say he can see like a bird of prey, even at night, like an owl. Best eyesight on all the seas, can gun down anyone and any prey from any distance, even blindfolded, they say!"

"Bullocks!" Another one answered. "The Great Nine are the stuff of legend!"

"They aren't!"

Two groups formed in the tavern and the argument went on. 

"But what's so special about them?" The young sailor asked.

"Each of them are experts in somethin'. Folks say they invented their craft!"

"What do they do?" The young one asked.

"One's said to put mountains to shame. Muscles that pile higher than what you've ever seen."

"Another one's said to have blown up an entire island with one eye. They say his eye socket is haunted!" 

"Aye! And there's one who's said to jump so high and run so fast, you can't see him!"

"The fourth can build cannons that fire without being manned!" 

"The fifth one drinks his beer only if it's set ablaze and he's the only pirate who can sail a wooden ship on flames!"

"The sixth blasts his gun with his hat over his eyes and can jump in the air with cannons!" 

"And the last one is a healer." 

"A healer?" The young one repeated, perplexed. "How can he be a pirate then?" 

"Rumour has it he's sailing with the pile of muscles and can make him invincible with a secret potion. He also brought some folks back from the dead!"

"How would you recognise them?" The young one asked.

"Only in battle, kid. If you see one of the miracles we described to ya, then you'll know. Legend says some can also recognise each other somehow."

"And you said he was around these parts, the one with great eyesight. How do you recognise him in particular? D'you have to watch him fight?"

"He's got a gun like none other, with one very long barrel. Rumour has it he built it on his own, forged the metal and all. Besides, he's got an owl for a pet." The old sailor resumed. "They say he sees through its eyes."

"Yeah, that's why a lot of folks think they saw him. They see a man with a bird and get scared…!"

"An owl?" The young one repeated. "Like this guy?" 

All the eyes turned to that one man with the long, dark brown coat and the hat with two exotic feathers on it. He stood up and took his leave, his owl firmly perched on his shoulder. He had heard enough.

A few days later, the man with the owl looked for a contract again. As a hunter, he was a patient man and could have waited more but he missed the sea. He looked around in town to find something suitable for him. He knew the basics of sailing but that wasn't his strongest asset. He much preferred being hired as an assassin. 

In the past, he had had contracts to protect convoys or attack some. He also had hunting contracts for exotic and rare species. As he had spent a lot of time with the wildlife of the colonies, he had become quite the expert with the fauna. 

"Hoo." 

The owl flew from his shoulder to a sign where people pin letters, advertisements for jobs. The man took a closer look. He eliminated a lot of them until one caught his attention. He tore the paper out of the sign and shoved it in his pocket before heading to the address mentioned on it. 

"Sir, a gentleman to see you, for business."

"Let him in."

The house wasn't a house. It was a bloody palace and a half. The governor of that area sure was well-off. 

The old, heeled boots clicked and clacked with every step on the immaculate, white tiled floor, as the man with the contract in his pocket followed the butler. They eventually arrived in a spacious and luxuriously decorated room at the end of which was a desk and the governor sitting at it.

"Faites vite." 

The man in the ragged clothes didn't move. Ah, yes, that was French territory and the governor was of course, French. 

"I said to make it quick." The governor translated himself and one could hear the accent even though he could speak in perfect English.

The man raised a finger and his pet owl flew to it. He looked the governor in the eye and removed his peculiar long gun from his back, holding it firmly in his palm.

"Ah, I see you are here for the job?" 

He nodded, the feathers on the hat brushed the air.

"Well, you are hired." 

The butler's eyebrows jumped. The governor didn't even ask anything about that vagabond and just hired him? 

"Let me give you some details. Pray take a seat." 

The man with the long gun obeyed. 

"My ship will transport some gold and sugar from this island to further up North. From there, the cargo will be transferred to a group of ships and transported back to Europe. Your job is to make sure that the first step of the plan goes smoothly. Namely, that all the cargo makes it up North. Am I clear?"

"Any particular risk of attack?" The man had finally spoken and his voice was deep and hoarse. 

"Pirates." The governor said. "They are growing more and more numerous by the minute, reproducing like rats. The English are of course to be distrusted, and some reports tell us that even some Spanish ships were seen to roam around these coasts."

The feathers on the hat nodded slowly. 

"Payment?" The hoarse voice asked. 

"As promised on contract, and only when I have received a letter from France saying that they received all of it."

Again, the couple of exotic feathers bowed and bounced back up. 

"Will I be alone on the job?" 

"No, of course not. A group of my guards will be there."

"Why hire me then? Don't trust them?" 

"A pile of gold can make a man's oath for service swing." The governor answered. "Any more questions?" 

The man under the hat shook his head. 

"Then I have one for you. What is your name?"

"M."

The governor's eyebrows twitched but he then promptly nodded. 

"Fine then, Mister M. The ship will depart tonight, the crew will expect you." 

M nodded and rose to his feet before turning away. 

"M?"

He turned back to the governor. 

"Here, take this letter with you. My crew will let you on board if you show it." 

M took the letter and nodded before leaving. 

It was still early in the day and when M exited the governor's palace, he decided to spend some time on his own, walking around town. 

M wasn't a man of many friends. The owl he had, Hootsy, was his longest one. He had rescued it as it was but a young chick and raised it until it became a proud and grown up owl. M wasn't very talkative either. Some people would even say that his owl would speak more than him. But it didn't matter much to him. He was living for Hootsy and himself, he had no family either. 

He had his parents back home but when he had come back to them with mountains of money, they had kicked him out. That was a mistake on M's part. Of course a beginner sailor couldn't make that much. He had tried to make them believe that it was all honest money, but of course, they didn't believe him and had guessed that he had joined some pirates. 

So much for family and friends. He had none left. And what about love interests, hm? Wanting to start a family? Wave goodbye to the seas and stay on land with a woman and a few kids? 

Nah. He liked the sea too much and the women so little.

The truth was that anytime he wanted a night to be less lonely, he would rarely go to women. It happened, sometimes, that he would try a woman again. But there was nothing that got to him more than a man's attention. Somehow, it was more honest, more true, and even if at the end of the day it was but a transaction - a service in exchange for doubloons - it never failed to make a spark in his heart.

And that spark, he had learnt to put it off, bury it and move on. M was cursed, not because he liked men - many pirates were like him - but because he had stepped a foot in a type of life that wouldn’t allow him to exit it. Being at sea, the salt floating in the air, the seagulls chanting the land and men chanting the waves, the bobbing of the ship, the thrill of a chase, of a fight, and emerging victorious against the authorities, against forces that deemed your job illegal and your whole purpose void; yeah, that was what M had developed an addiction to. Of course men would fall and die, people he would call “mate” for a trip, a voyage, they would leave him. And it seemed to him that however big the number of people he called “mate”, the number of dead men would always rise higher and death would swallow them all eventually like a gigantic hungry shark.

And the curse did not end there. M had to hide. He did not want people to call him “mate”. He let them do it, just for the purpose of the job and because it would seem unusual if he asked other crewmates to treat him differently. But the truth was that he was different, he wasn’t like any odd pirate. No, God had to make him special and on top of pushing away any semblance of friendship, the cruel one high above had to make M do the heart-breaking job of actively pushing people away himself. Why? Because if they knew who he was, they would try to kill him.

M looked at the sun and it barely started to go down. A cold beer would do. He shoved a hand in his pocket and felt the coins. Yeah, that should do for a pint or two. He headed for the harbor and entered a tavern there. 

The setting was much different than that pub of the previous day. Everywhere around him were official sailors, people who had a wage and all for their work. There were even a few blue coats, officers of the French naval forces. M didn’t pay any attention to them. He went to the counter and placed his order, barely noticing the eyes riveted on him, the odd one in the crowd.

“Mais qu’est-ce qu’il fait là? Il n’a pas l’air Français.”

[What the hell is he doing here? He doesn’t look French.]

“A mon avis, c’est un de ces pirates, ou pire, un Anglais.”

[In my opinion, he’s a pirate, or worse, he could be English.]

“Un pirate? Ici? Il tend le bâton pour se faire battre…”

[A pirate? Here? He is asking to be beaten up...]

M’s understanding of French was limited to sailing words. But no matter the language, he could feel the tension rising in the air and the animosity growing towards him.

“Hé, d’où tu viens, l’ami?”

[Hey, where d’you come from, mate?]

M kept on drinking his beer silently.

“Hé, j’te cause….!”

[Hey, I’m talkin’ to you….!]

The French naval officer came closer and pulled M by the shoulder. 

“T’es Français ou non?”

[Are you French or not?]

M sighed and frowned. 

“No.” He answered.

“Alors casse-toi avant qu’on te casse la gueule.”

[Then fuck off out of here before we beat you up.]

M did not want to attract any attention but… His pint was still pretty full and he had paid with the last few doubloons he had. In other words, he didn’t have much to lose. He whistled and his owl flew inside the pub, landing next to his glass.

"Une chouette et un long fusil… Est-ce que c'est…?"

[An owl and the long gun… Is that…?]

One sailor pointed at M.

"C'est personne! J'en ai vu des gens qui se trimballent avec un hibou et un long fusil. Ils s’habillent comme une des Grand Neuf pour effrayer les gens!”

[It's no one! Countless people I've met with a pet owl and a long barrelled gun. They just dress up like one of the Great Nine to scare people away!]

“I’m not lookin’ for trouble. Just a beer close to the harbour.”

The people in the bar looked at each other, intrigued. A man with a pet owl and an odd long barrelled gun on his back…?

“Leave him be.” Another officer said from his chair in the corner of the room. He spoke in English with a similar accent than that of the governor. “He paid for his beer as much as you did, thus giving his money to a French landlord. If more of the English scum did the same, we wouldn’t need to hire pirates at each other to help us in this war.”

“J’en ai rien à foutre. Qu’il dégage ou je vais le renvoyer chez sa mère vite fait bien fait.”

[I don’t give a fuck. He should be out of this place, before I send him back to his mum quick.]

People turned to the man who was in the corner, the one who had defended the stranger, and he stood up. He walked to the one who wanted to pick up a fight and looked them straight in the eye.

“C’est toi que je vais renvoyer chez ta mère si tu ne la boucles pas.”

[It’s you I will send to your mother if you don’t shut it.]

He patted his own shoulder where the sewn pattern of his rank was and the feisty officer froze. 

“Oh, merde… Pardon, Monsieur!” He saluted him.

[Oh, shit… Sorry, Sir!]

M had ignored the whole conversation. He had asked for a bowl of water and Hootsy was now bathing in it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. The officer sat next to him. 

“Sorry for the inconvenience. I know you will join us on the governor’s ship tonight. My name is Capitaine de Belzyeux.”

M nodded in thanks.

“You the captain of the ship?”

“No, I will come as a guard with my squad.”

M nodded again.

“See you later.” The Frenchman said.

M finished his drink and the sun gently set in the distance, the sky turned from blue to pink and darker shades of violet in the distance. He looked at his owl and offered his hand to him. 

Tick, tack, tick, tack.

Hootsy’s claws clicked on the wooden counter and the feathery companion climbed on his master’s hand, wrapping his claws gently around his fingers. M put him on his shoulder and exited the tavern, heading for the docks. 

He walked along the ships, Hootsy flying above him until M located the governor’s ship. The sails were very distinct, his sigil was sewn there gigantically. 

Embarking wasn't an issue for M, the letter vouched for him. But once aboard of course, people kept on giving him odd looks. He was the only one not wearing a blue uniform. But as the Captain from the tavern was there, no one attempted more than whispers or looks. 

The ship departed from the harbour and was headed deep into the sea. The strip of land on the horizon shrunk to a line, and soon, nothing. The water was calm, one could only hear the occasional creaking of the wood on the ship, or the sails rolling, inflating under the soft wind before they deflated and let a gentle draft through. Orders were shouted left and right but soon, silence fell when the ship was sufficiently far from any land.

The night was deep and everywhere around the ship was an infinite sea, the ripples at the surface gently reflected the moonlight. Most of the crewmates withdrew to get some rest, leaving a few to keep watch.

“Mercenary?” M turned. The Captain from earlier came to him. “Follow me, please.”

M obeyed and went down the cargo hold of the ship, passing the crewmates' rustic beds.

“That’s where the gold is.” He pointed at crates. “Should things go pear-shaped, this is what my squad, me and you will die for.”

M’s eyes lingered on the crates. They were neatly arranged and piled up and he thought to himself that it was indeed a lot of it. Wherever that governor had got it all from was beyond him.

“As you see, there is only one way to get inside, through this door that I have led you through, and this entire level is below the crew’s level where some of my guards are posted. Whoever wants this will have to pass through three levels of the ship and even more levels of guns and guards to get here.”

“Thanks.” M nodded. 

“No problem.” Both exited the room and the Captain locked it again. M saw him slip the key in his pocket. “Now, I am not one to be enthused at the idea of working with a mercenary.”

Both men resurfaced on the deck. 

“Your kind are competition to the regular armed forces of any country. Besides, your presence here speaks at length of how much the governor trusts me and my men… But I suppose, with what  both you and I have seen down there, it is only fair to doubt the loyalty of men. Some would kill for much less.”

They walked along the deck.

“But contrary to a lot of your bunch that I have met through the years, you don’t seem arrogant about it and you don’t provoke my men, or the regular guards in general. Quite peculiar.”

M nodded without adding a word. The Captain stared at him for a second and decided to leave the man to his own peace.

M climbed up to the crow’s nest. He leaned to rest his forearms on the bar there and just calmly watched the starry sky. He took a deep breath. Yeah, that was his life, and one he wouldn’t exchange with anyone else for anything in the world. Out there, at sea, not having to follow anyone’s order, doing a job, getting paid and moving on to the next. No strings attached. 

Well, he sometimes wished he did have a few strings attached to something, to someone. M wasn’t getting any younger and the thought of coming back somewhere to a room with someone waiting for him tickled his insides warmly. But who? Who could accept to let him go periodically and perhaps not see him again? Because it was out of the way to stop being what he did best. After all, he was the best in his business for a reason and liked his job. It wasn’t always on the legal side of the line, but it paid enough and he wasn’t bothered too much about the causes or consequences of his contracts. Those were for other people to deal with, in their consciences. He was a means hired to an end. Some would argue he was doing the dirty work. In the eyes of the law? Yeah, very dirty sometimes. But for him? He was doing the exciting part, the part that in fact no one else could do.

His train of thought was broken by a sailor climbing up the crow’s nest. M let him come up and slid back down. His heels hit the floor with a wooden click. He went back to the edge of the deck and let the salty air gently lick his face.

“Capitaine! Pirates en vue! Nord-Ouest et en approche rapide!”

[Captain! Pirates! North-West and coming fast!]

The crew woke up fast at the jingle of the metal bell that resounded promptly after. M squinted in the direction announced by the sailor on the crow’s nest and yes, he could see it. A ship coming closer and closer.

Orders were shouted, sailors put all their efforts into trying to gain some speed but burdened as the ship was, they would never manage to avoid the confrontation. Some other sailors manned the cannons and got ready to fire. The racket of voices slashing the air, heavy cannons slowly rotated to get the right angle on their target as the rest of the crew took muskets and swords.

M whistled and Hootsy perched on his shoulder. He exchanged a few words with the bird before setting it free. M watched as the pirate ship got closer. He removed his gun from his back and loaded it to get ready. He took aim and was the first gunshot that anyone heard. All the eyes turned to him as he reloaded shot after shot. Sailors laughed at him. Taking shots from that far surely was a waste of ammunition. Thank God the man had a pouch with his own and wasn’t using the crew’s or they wouldn’t be laughing seeing his reloading and shooting relentlessly. The captain of the ship ignored the lunatic and went on shouting orders.

“Aux canons! Tenez-vous prêts!”

[Man the cannons! Get ready!]

The French Captain from the tavern took his spyglass out and took a look. His jaw dropped.

“Non!” He roared. “Ne tirez pas!”

[Don’t shoot!]

The sailors looked at each other, confused. 

“Ne tirez pas, leur canonniers ont été abattus!”

[Don’t shoot, the pirates manning the cannons are down!]

The official captain of the ship took a look and his jaw dropped. His eyes went straight to M  who was reloading with impressive speed and took another shot. Hootsy came back to his master and hooted to him a message that only M could understand. He raised his eyes to the French Captain from the tavern. 

“There are more, they’re hidden in the ship and will come out when they’re within boardin’ distance.” He simply said and took another shot that split the air before it split a skull, leaving a bullet hole cleaner than what any pirate had ever seen before.

The pirate ship was helped by the wind and soon it happened. The pirates boarded the official ship and swords slashed, clouds of smoke popped everywhere on the deck where gunshots slashed through the air. The battle raged but the pirates soon manned their cannons again and started taking shots on the regular ship. The water started to flow inside the ship and it slowly rose, more and more. Each loud boom was accompanied by the sound of the wood crunching under the impact of the heavy cannonball piercing through the hull mercilessly. As the water flowed in more and more, the sailors were soon overwhelmed and some abandoned the ship, others were shot dead or thrown overboard.

M was of course caught in the middle of the fight. He put his rifle on his back again and picked up a sword. A pirate ran to him but he fell limply to the floor before he reached him. M turned to a group rushing to him. There was a gunshot and the blood sprang from them, as they were sliced open, but by whom? M couldn’t tell. In the dead of night, it was hard to see even for him.

“Hoo!”

M turned again and this time his sword slashed with an opponent. Soon after, the ship was set ablaze by the pirates and the flames devoured the wood mercilessly. M defended himself  and managed to protect himself until he received a hit on the head and blacked out on the vision of hell; flames everywhere, and the smell of burning wood, ashes blown by the air.

When he gained consciousness again, He was tied in a cage like an animal and the French Captain from the tavern was there too, in another cage. M looked around. They were in the cargo hold of a ship, not their original one. And oh… His hat was gone, his braid of brown hair still laid on his shoulder.

“You’re finally awake? God bless you... “ The French Captain whispered. “We’re on the pirate ship and I’m afraid they didn’t make many more prisoners. It’s only you, me and a handful of others.” He nodded in the direction of a cage when other bruised men were tied up.

“Oi! They woke up down there!” A voice shouted in perfect English, which told M that it was one of the pirates. Soon after, a few of the scoundrels came in to examine their prisoners.

“What do we have here, eh? Frenchie, Frenchie, Frenchie and oh… You! We put you in a different cage cause you’re special. You’re not French.” The pirate captain had an impressively large, black hat with feathers as red as blood. He had a long, unkempt beard and dark eyes. The man was largely built too. “Who’re you, eh? Why’re the Frenchies keepin’ ya? Lucky charm? Well if you’re their lucky charm, we should toss you overboard, eh?”

The rest of the pirates cheered and laughed around him.

“Now, we found you with one hell of a weird gun.” 

One of the pirates brought M’s rifle forward.

“You’re the one who took my men down from the bloody Moon, yeah?”

M didn’t answer. His head hurt too much and he didn’t want to even raise his eyes to the pirate captain, who went on.

“Now, some of my men here are scared of you, that’s precisely why I want to keep you. It’ll teach them to not fear anyone. Whatever you are, you’re human and we can kill you any moment. Now, for the Frenchies…” He turned to the French Captain. “You’re the chief there, aren’t ya? Are those your men?” The pirate nodded to the third cage.

“What do you want from us?” The French captain bared his teeth.

“From you? I want to know what was on your ship and if there are more like it coming. It sank faster than an elephant!"

"I won't say anything to some scum like you."

"Well then," The pirate Captain turned to his men. "Get one out of the bird cage and shoot'em." 

M was still surfacing back to full conscience when the gunshot made his ears ring loudly. He winced and frowned, trying to catch as much force as he could. His mind was foggy but when he managed to open his eyes again, there were a few corpses on the ground. French sailors.

The French Captain couldn't do anything. 

"I told you! We were the only ship with this cargo!"

"Yeah but you didn't tell us what you were transporting. Another one!" 

Another gunshot and a body fell lifeless. 

"Gold! We were transporting gold but it was the entire stack of it! I swear!" The bloodshed was enough for the French official soldier. 

"Are you sure?" He gestured and another French sailor was executed. 

"I swear!" The French officer shouted, tears welling at his eyes. The pile of corpses was growing and the man's conscience was gnawing on him. 

"Alright then…" The pirate gestured and the French man's eyes snapped wide before his skull got pierced by a bullet and his body hit the floor limply. 

M leaned back and sighed.

"Out with the bodies, quick!" The captain of the pirates ordered and his crew got to work.

"And what should we do with this one?" One of them asked, pointing at M. 

"We keep him for now."

The bodies were dragged out and M was left alone in the dimly lit cargo hold. He fully woke up and started to move his wrists. Bugger, they were in iron handcuffs. He gritted his teeth and looked around him. That's when he noticed that his ankles were in cuffs too. 

Well, time to think of something… Hm… 

His eyes darted everywhere around him, as the boat gently bobbed left and right under the waves and the currents, when a smell tickled his nostrils. It was sweet, what was it? It wasn't sugar or honey, no, it was… It was… Vanilla? 

He frowned and looked around him but couldn't see anything that could smell of vanilla. It intrigued him and distracted him almost well enough that he hardly heard a metallic click. M moved his wrists. He was free? 

Tick, tack, tick, tack…

M thought it was Hootsy but out of the shadows a white cockatoo appeared and entered his cage, slipping between the bars. 

"Hey there, baby bird." M pushed the handcuffs away from his wrists and offered a hand to the bird who climbed on his fingers. He petted it. "D'you have any idea how I can make it out of here, eh?" 

The cockatoo raised his eyes to the man and nodded, bending his head down to enjoy more neck scratches.

"Sorry I don't have any treats for you. I used to have Hootsy's but they're meat. I doubt you'll like that." 

The bird nodded again before jumping down M's lap and curling there. The man cupped him to bring him warmth and petted it, staring at it on his lap.

"There, there…"

Click. 

M raised an eyebrow. The noise surprised him and as he raised his head to see in front of him, his eyes met with the silhouette of a man crouching in front of him, with a gloved finger on his lips. 

M didn't make a noise. 

"Good day, M." The stranger said low enough that the wood creaking almost covered his voice. "Now listen, I will get you out of here, but you need to follow my instructions closely." 

The voice had a French accent too, was that one of the sailors? Nah, none of them knew his name. 

"Do you understand me?" The stranger asked and M nodded. 

"Good." He unlocked the cage and freed M before gesturing to him to follow him. The white cockatoo flew to the stranger.

“Perle, reste avec le Monsieur, ma chérie.”

[Pearl, stay with the gentleman, my darling.]

The bird flew from his shoulder to M’s and both men walked as silently as possible. M grabbed his equipment from the floor nearby, he put his rifle on his back and his hat on his head. When they faced the stairs to go up one level, they saw a pirate standing guard. The stranger motioned M to wait, and he obeyed. He watched as the man dressed with a long dark coat and a hood on his head slithered behind the pirate, killed him in silence and dragged his body down and behind the stairs. When he emerged from there, he was dressed and looked absolutely like the man he had just killed. 

M's eyebrows jumped. How the hell did he dress up that fast? And the face? Was he the pirate's twin? 

They progressed up level by level. The stranger's abilities were like no others. M saw him stab the pirates in the back stealthily, one by one, putting a hand on their mouths to cover any noise they would make, before disguising as them and progressing further. Sometimes, he would even lure them with a conversation before striking. M would hide behind barrels or crates and watch his improvised ally until they made it to the upper deck. M realised that an entire day had passed since the boarding of the governor’s ship as it was already night again.

"Now, I will have to handcuff you again momentarily and take your equipment from you. Follow me and you will find your freedom."

M nodded and got his wrists back in a pair of cuffs. The stranger took his rifle and his hat that he put on his own head before pushing M outside. 

"Now, get outta there! Captain wants you out, whoever the fuck you are…" 

M's eyebrows jumped again. Where the hell was the French accent gone to? 

It didn't matter much because the acting fooled the remaining pirates who pitched in in the mocking of the unfortunate M, who played the stranger's game and walked on the deck. When he raised his eyes, he realised that the ship was actually stopped at some land. Where that was, M had no idea. But he needed to get far and away from these pirates right now. 

The stranger pushed him out of the ship with the tip of a sword poking his back and into the harbour. They walked and walked until they ended up in a narrow alleyway where the stranger resumed his normal attire with the dark cloak in a flash and uncuffed M. 

Hootsy came flying and landed on his master's shoulder.

"You must run and hide. Any minute now, they will realise that something is wrong." The stranger said.

M observed the man. His face was hidden under his hood and when the nearby street lamp light hit him right, he realised that he had some kind of scarf around his mouth and nose. Only his very light blue eyes flashed in the night. 

"But I don't suppose you have anywhere to stay here, do you?"

"I don't even know where we are." M answered.

"Back where you started. But I doubt the governor will be happy with you when he will know that you lost his gold. So you cannot hide with him."

M nodded and lowered his head. 

"Which is why I am offering you to follow me back to my house."

M's head jerked back up. That stranger was awfully generous… 

"Who're you?" 

"You know who I am and I know who you are too. The legends did not lie, you really have a pet owl and a very long barrelled gun." 

M could hear the smirk even if he couldn't see it. 

"Now, follow me, we shall go out of town." 

They walked through dark and poorly lit streets, stopping every so often to let a group of patrolling guards cross their paths and walk away. After what seemed like eternity, they walked out of town and had to walk on roads never taken before by man. M pushed the dense foliage to follow the stranger not by necessity anymore but out of curiosity. 

"Here we are." 

Hidden deep in the jungle was a white house. It wasn't as big as the governor's palace but it was more than reasonable in size for a wealthy family. 

“Hoo!”

The stranger knocked on his own door and a butler opened. 

"Bonsoir, Monsieur."

[Good evening, Sir.]

"Good evening, Alexandre. Please speak in English as our guest here is not familiar with our tongue. Come in, please, M."

M was taken aback. How did the stranger know his name?

He followed him inside to discover that the house was richly decorated. And M's suspicions as to who his host was were more and more confirmed. 

"I imagine you are quite hungry. Alexandre, please prepare some dinner for two, I will show our guest around." 

"Of course, Sir." 

"Follow me, M." 

"Hold on." 

Both stopped in the corridor. 

"How d'you know my name?"

The stranger pulled his hood down and M saw salt and pepper hair combed back into a slightly long mullet. The front grey lock nonetheless fell between his eyes. M’s eyes went down to his host's attire and he realised that under the cloak, he was dressed as posh as his manners and his house. 

"You may call me L." He simply answered with a smile that M finally saw as he removed the scarf in front of his mouth. 

A slightly hooked nose, slim face and silhouette overall, and very thin lips under a finely trimmed moustache, French style, with a goatee. 

"Now, follow me upstairs… Here are your quarters. Madeleine?" He shouted and a maid appeared. “S’il vous plaît, préparez un bain pour notre invité, il en a bien besoin.”

[Please prepare a bath for our guest, he could do with one.]

"Oui, Monsieur." She nodded and went on her way.

[Yes, Sir.]

“I shall leave you in the hands of Madeleine, M. See you for dinner.”

The expert hunter was so surprised that he didn’t know if he should thank the man or run away as fast as possible. 

“Monsieur?” Madeleine’s feminine and gentle voice cut M in his astonishment and grounded him back to Earth. “Veuillez me suivre.”

[Please follow me.]

“D’you speak any English?” He asked as Hootsy flew straight to the bed, between the pillows.

“Euh, je, non, je ne parle pas Anglais.” She blushed and lowered her head.

[Uh, I, no, I do not speak English.]

“It’s alright, just go ahead, I’ll follow.”

Communicating with Madeleine turned out to be easier than expected. Sign language helped greatly. She showed him his room and started preparing the bath. M stripped naked and slipped in before she came back to scrub him clean with - oh - a vanilla scented kind of soap.

“Voilà, Monsieur. Monsieur L vous attend pour dîner et vous trouverez de quoi vous habiller  sur votre lit.”

[Here we are, Sir. Mister L is waiting for your dinner and you will find what you need to dress up on your bed.]

M raised a curious eyebrow and Madeleine repeated herself with gestures, pointing fingers and miming actions.

“Ah, yeah, alright, I get it. Uh, merci.” He tried his best and Madeleine nodded with a wide grin on her face. She left the man alone in his bathroom to get out of the bath and go to the bedroom to get dressed. 

When he entered the bedroom, M found a few different options of clothing on the bed. He went for the most casual one. A white shirt, with quite wide and puffy sleeves, and a pair of dark trousers. He put them on and slipped some socks. Even slippers were provided. 

Hootsy flew to his shoulder as he went downstairs and stopped at the living room door, his hair still damp on his shoulders. 

“Ah, M, please join me.” L gestured to him and he entered the room. “Take a seat and join me, I hope you will enjoy your meal. What does your feathery companion enjoy?”

M took a seat and his eyes raised to comprehend everything that was on the table. Chicken, lamb, beef, salads, fruits, vegetables, potatoes…

“Meat.” M answered.

“Oh, come here, then.” L raised his finger and Hootsy flew to him. He fed it some lamb and petted his head. “I like birds, their freedom is inspiring.”

M was still tense. He did not want to stay for dinner with that man. Why was he still there? And dressed by him as well…?

“What d’you want from me?”

“A few answers and a bit of company. But first, please, you must be starving. Help yourself.”

M went for a chicken thigh. He grabbed the large knife and cut it in one confident slice before going at it.

“I presume you know who I am.” L said.

“Have my idea.”

“Pray share.”

M raised his eyes from his plate to Alexandre and Madeleine still standing not far. L turned to them and nodded. Both of them left.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” M said.

“And so are you. I am delighted to meet you, a master hunter and sharpest of all shooters. I saw you in action and it was quite a feat.”

“You’re not bad with your disguisin’ and backstabbin’ either.”

The concerto of cutlery on plate resumed. They exchanged gazes with each other, the tension was making the air electric. Should one trust the other? What were his ideas? His intentions? Should one just ask?

“Why did you get me out of there?”

“I heard that someone dressed like you was roaming the streets.”

“Who told you?”

“Perle.” The Frenchman said and his snow white bird flew to him. “She has eyes and ears everywhere. People don’t mind what they say where birds fly free. Too bad for them, and quite good for me. Tiens, ma belle.”

[Here, my pretty one.]

He fed her some nuts that were in a separate little bowl.

“What d’you want from me?” M asked.

“Nothing. Or rather, I want to suggest something.” L said, becoming slightly more serious. “You might wonder why I was on that pirate ship you got captured in.”

M nodded, his face still deep in his food.

“Well, I could have retired or stopped. As you can see, I live very comfortably and do not need to continue pirating, looting, stealing and such.”

“But?” M raised his lagoon blue eyes to his host and saw the shadow of a smirk on L’s lips.

“But I like it. I like the thrill of it, the tension, the energy and sometimes, the chaos even. On the deck of the governor’s ship, I was there, fighting too.”

“Saw you.”

L’s eyebrows jumped.

“Did you?”

“Never saw anyone fight swords with a short blade.”

“Swords are preposterous, large, inconvenient and at the other end of stealthy. I like to do what I need to do while hiding in plain sight, as you have noticed. If I can make my way without making any noise, then I will.”

“Yeah, saw that too, and never saw anyone like you before.”

The Frenchman’s smirk grew wider. 

“Likewise. The way that you took down those people manning the cannons was divine. If your gun had been silent, I would have had to sit down to breathe.”

M stopped chewing sharp. His irises darted left and right as the blush on his cheeks appeared. He cleared his throat and frowned, diving again in his plate.

“Workin’ on it actually.”

“Are you?” L cocked an eyebrow and M met his gaze for an instant.

“Still haven’t told me what you want from me.”

“Straight to the point, I like that.” L straightened his back on his chair. “Here is my proposition. I know you have nowhere to go and no one left. You cannot wave goodbye to that life of adrenaline either so I wonder, would you like to join me?”

M stopped eating.

“What do you mean, join you?” He asked.

“I regularly go and have fun on my own. My targets are dictated only by me.”

“Sounds… weird. Also, how d’you know things about me?”

“People think that my trade is seduction and disguises. Part of it is, yes, but I also possess means of gathering intelligence unlike you have ever seen.”

M cocked an eyebrow and leaned back on his chair.

“Meanin’?”

“Meaning that I know things, like I know that you were supposed to transport thirty-eigth crates of gold from the governor from here to another city up North where it would then be split up to be transported to France. But, as you are here and the gold twenty thousand fathoms below the sea, you had better either leave or pretend you are dead, at least for this governor.”

M sighed.

“My proposition is simple. We continue enjoying what we do best, but we don’t do it for the money or for fame. I would rather people ignored my existence and if I could, I would wipe out their memories like water washes footprints on the sand.”

M noticed the slight intensity in the man’s eyes.

“Did stuff you regret too, eh?” The Frenchman failed to hide his vexation. “It’s alright, we all do. I guess it’s why we don’t stop. We just always try again to make it right. But it doesn’t change.”

Silence fell.

“Get out of this house.”

“What?” M raised his head off his plate.

“I said. Get out of my house this instant.”

A few minutes later, the hunter was out with his hat, his rifle and his misery. And he still had the slippers on. He looked down and sighed. Well, at least he had a bite. And the food was really good too.

It was deep into the night now but M shouldn’t risk going to town and meeting with a patrol of guards. Surely the governor had learnt about the shipwreck, because if M had the time to make it back, then that news sure did too.

He walked around the impressive white house towards the sound of the waves and after pushing leaves left and right, he found the sand, not far. He removed the slippers, left them there before treading in the still warm sand. The grains flowed on his feet as they sank with each step. The wind was gentle and helped dry his hair as his shirt waved under the gentle draft.

M sat down and crossed his legs looking at the waves roll and the froth periodically slide up to him, before withdrawing again.

What he had said to L, it was unfortunately true. He wished he hadn’t killed that many men, he wished he hadn’t killed the first one, he wished he hadn’t brought that money to his parents, he wished he hadn’t lost them that day, as he thought he would keep them happy forever but ended up disappointing them beyond repair. Maybe he should have just stayed on the farm with them, he shouldn’t have gone and lied for the day on a ship, he shouldn’t. Maybe it was better to be stuck there, with them, find someone to settle with and have a gentle life rather than be here, as lonely as he could get, no family, no friends, no shelter other than the starry sky. Remorse was maybe worse than regret. 

M brushed the sand next to him until it was relatively flat. He then removed his shirt and folded it approximately, just so that it would be a square-ish mass of fabrics to use as a pillow. He lay down and stared at the now vertical front of the sea rolling to him and further away, repeatedly, tirelessly. 

While him? He was tired. He had had enough. He wished he could live like L. Big house, far from people, and his meals, always hot and ready. And the butler and the housemaid as well… I mean, that’s some kind of company, right? That’s a few people to come home to, isn’t it?

Mundy sighed.

Mundy, that was his name, the name that his parents had given him and that he had decided to bury along with them, all those years ago, on that day that his life had flipped. From farmer to pirate. From son to orphan. 

As the waves rolled and rolled, as his thoughts crept up on him and invaded him, he closed his eyes and let it all come to him. The regrets, the remorse, the feeling of being too big, taking too much space, being too visible, attracting too much unwanted attention. He wanted to be forgotten, just plainly forgotten. He wished he hadn’t been a burden for his parents, he wished he hadn’t brought that life of misery on himself. Yes, being a pirate had its moments of adrenaline rushes, of being absorbed into something that sucked all his mind and prevented him from looking back. But when he did, oh boy…

Vanilla. 

Mundy opened his eyes. He could smell it.

“I do apologise.”

Mundy sat up and looked next to him. L was sitting there, his elegantly clothed derrière planted on the sand, right next to Mundy’s.

"I should not have reacted the way I did. It was impulsive of me."

"It's fine." 

They let the wind and the waves speak for a while. 

"Lucien." 

"What?"

"My real name. It is Lucien." 

"You're really French." 

"A curse and a blessing, depending on who you ask." 

They chuckled and their eyes met. 

"Where are you from, M?"

"Mundy, and I'm from Australia."

"Oh… I have heard legends about that place."

"You ever been there?"

"Non, the seas never took me that far. I… I couldn't afford it."

"What, you always paid a ticket to travel?" Mundy chuckled. 

"Non, it is not a monetary cost I am talking about, but an emotional one." Lucien crossed his legs and lowered his head. "If only it was something as easy to obtain as money." 

"What was it?" 

"I suppose you had a family at some point? Before this whole 'becoming a legend of a pirate'?" 

"Yeah, my parents."

"No family of your own, wife, children?"

"Nah."

There was a second of silence. 

"What?" Mundy asked, looking at Lucien. 

"Why not?" 

"Why not what?" 

"Why didn't you have a family?" 

"Sheilas are odd. Never understood them."

"Do you prefer men?" 

"Yeah." 

"Fair enough." 

"What about you?" 

Lucien lay down on the sand, putting his hands below his head.

"I once was a father, and a husband." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"Really?"

"Oui." He chuckled with a distraught smile on his lips. "I had a son, Jérémy, and a wonderful wife."

"What happened?" Mundy lay down next to him and stared at the stars. 

"I thought I could keep them away from harm's way and live my life with both of my passions, piracy, and them. It turned out I had to make a choice, and before I could, God made that choice for me. I lost the only woman I ever had any interest in, and our dear beloved boy." 

"Oh… I'm sorry." 

Lucien took a deep breath and sighed. 

"There is nothing you or I can do about it, pirate legends or not. But thank you." 

Silence fell for a while, the waves still rolled and spilled a few metres away from their feet. 

"Have you ever met the others?" Mundy asked. 

"The rest of the Nine? Oui, I have. After I lost my family, I was set on travelling and… Dare I admit, I wanted to take the lives of the people who took theirs. So I sailed and ruthlessly killed, left and right. At some point, I even ignored what faction those poor souls were from, for each time I was facing someone, I could not stop that voice in me, saying that this one might be the one who killed them." 

"Gosh…”

“I travelled the world and met all of them. Remarkable people, some of them actually work together.”

“Do they?”

“Oui, Mikhail and Ludvig, the Mountain and the Healer work together. The Flame and the Hammer do too, how else would a ship be able to sail on oily flames if not for the Hammer’s ingenuity.”

“Did you talk to them?”

“Oui. I… I suggested an alliance between them and myself.”

“Did they accept?”

“What do you think?” Lucien answered. “I am here on this beach with you now.”

“Oh… So they didn’t.”

“Non indeed they did not. Looking back at it, I understand. My trade is very different from theirs. They face their enemies frontally while my methods require more subtlety. It would never have worked. And I am not getting younger.”

Mundy chuckled.

“What?”

“You’re not that old, eh? And from what I’ve seen you do today, you could go on for years.”

Lucien smiled. 

“I might. But I am… bothered by something.”

“What is it?”

“The solitude that this life condemned me in. I am restless and obsessed with the idea of some company.”

“I know a few places in town.” Mundy answered.

“I do not mean it in that way. If physical satisfaction was the only thing I was after, it would not be an issue, I would have any man or woman offer his favours to me in the snap of my fingers.”

“Man or woman?” Mundy repeated.

Their eyes met again.

“Oui.”

Mundy nodded to himself. 

“I am looking for…” Lucien started.

“For what?”

Lucien turned his head and Mundy imitated him. Their eyes met.

“For exactly what we are doing right now.” The Frenchman answered with a smile. “Some company, some meaningful discussions, an exchange of ideas, opinions, a few laughs, why not?”

“You can laugh?” Mundy teased and Lucien chuckled. 

“Believe me, I can, oui.”

“Still have to see it then.” Mundy smiled and it made the waves stop rolling for Lucien.

“Please, stay.” Lucien asked, almost whispering.

Mundy’s smile vanished and he looked away.

“I-I don’t know. Need to think about it.”

“Fine.” Lucien sighed. “I understand if you like your freedom better.”

“I don’t know.” Mundy repeated. “The bit you said about solitude. Makes a lot of sense.”

Lucien’s eyebrows jumped.

“What do you mean?” He asked, and Mundy took a deep breath.

“I’m… I’m tired too; not of what I’m doin’, I’m tired of bein’ alone. No one gets what it feels like. People say that it’s great and excitin’ and all but at the end of the day, it’s just you, and you don’t want people to know who you are and bother you, of course, but that just pushes you to be more alone and… sad.”

Lucien stared at the man lying on the sand next to him, his rough skin, his odd sideburns and his long, wavy hair, his naked chest too.

“You’re really lonely?” Mundy asked, looking him in the eye.

“Oui, I am. I… This conversation that we are having is… a priceless gift you are offering me. It is more than I had hoped to have with anyone.”

“C’mon, you have yer Alexander and Madeleine at home. You can talk to them and all, you’re not all that lonely.”

“Non, Mundy. Their company is very enjoyable, oui, but it does not fill the emptiness that you presently are with your presence and your words.”

Their eyes lingered on each other. 

“My words might seem strong to you but…”

“No.” Mundy blinked with both eyes. “I get it, I… I really do. The more you talk about it, the more I… Yeah… I uh… Yeah, I’ll stay, I think.”

Lucien’s eyes snapped wide and he rolled to his side.

"Are you sure? You may take your time thinking if you want.”

“No, I’m tired of waitin’. I’m tired of everythin’. Maybe this is what I need.”

The Frenchman smiled from ear to ear. 

“But hold on,” Mundy asked. “I don’t have any money to pay anythin’, like rent or food. I need to go and get some work.”

“It will not be necessary. This house is mine, I am not renting it, and I will be glad to cover all the costs myself.”

“It’s unfair.”

“Non, you just did not understand what I said.” Lucien propped his head on his hand, still lying on his side in the sand. “I will repeat myself but your company is priceless.”

They exchanged a smile.

“You barely know me. Maybe I’m hell to live with?” Mundy said.

“Non, you are not. You have been the dream housemate so far. We even had our first argument.” Lucien chuckled.

“Yeah, and you kicked me out the house already, I’m tellin’ you, I’m terrible.” Mundy rolled on his side too, facing the Frenchman, and his hair gently fell on his shoulders and on his naked chest.

“Maybe you are terrible, but you are the kind of terribleness that I look for.”

“Heh, thanks. I like it better when you’re like that.”

“Like what?”

“Not posh and arrogant, but you just say what you want.”

“Should I tell you what I want now?”

“Go ahead.”

Lucien looked down at the sand and timidly raised his eyes to Mundy again.

“I… I…” His jaw was petrified as his mind raced to find the proper way to express himself. His eyes darted on Mundy, everywhere, his face, his body, his hair.

“I’d like someone for the night too.” Mundy said, and Lucien exhaled the air that he failed to transform into words.

“Fine.” Lucien stood up and started walking back home. 

“Oi, wait.” Mundy jumped to his feet, his white shirt still crumpled in his hand.

“Oui?” The Frenchman stopped in the middle of the foliage, the distress still gnawing on him.

“Where are you goin’?”

“Well if you know a few places in town to find the company that you need, then I am only keeping you up and away from what you want. I shall go to sleep. I will tell Alexandre and Madeleine that this house is now yours too.”

“You idiot.” Mundy said and took the step that separated him from his former host, now housemate.

“Quoi?” Lucien failed to translate himself on the spur of the moment.

[What?]

“I don’t want to go to town or anythin’. I… I was meanin’ that maybe uh… I mean… I tend to get cold at night and uh… Hm.” Mundy frowned. “Y’know what? Forget it, it’s bloody ridiculous.”

“Non, please? What do you want?”

Mundy looked into Lucien’s light blue eyes only shimmering in the night.

“You asked me to stay with you, right?”

“Oui.”

“And it’s madness, right? I mean, we just met.”

“Yet we share more in common than I first thought, but oui.”

“Can I ask you somethin’ a bit… mad, too?”

“Pray do.”

Mundy dropped the shirt down and fiddled with his fingers awkwardly.

“Mundy…?”

“It’s a bit… weird. I mean, we just met - oh?” A gloved hand was warmly brushing Mundy’s cheek and he couldn’t help but close his eyes slowly and melt under the touch.

“Please.” Lucien insisted in a whisper.

And it gave him the courage, with his eyes nonetheless closed.

“Sleep with me tonight.” Mundy whispered with his hoarse voice and when he heard himself ask, he blushed and frowned, regretting it already. His hands hovered around the Frenchman’s waist.

“Avec plaisir.” Lucien pushed Mundy’s hands on his sides.

“What?” He opened his eyes and the sight of Lucien with half-lidded eyes made his guts melt further. And what a grin, how…?

“With pleasure.”

[tf2-hmmm]

What would happen if s/o can't understand some of the mercs' accents? 😂 would they slow down when talking?

finally done, here you go :)

Scout

His ma used to remind him to "talk slowa" for his pa as a child. Even his pa couldn't keep up before.

Give this man his bonk beverage and his words per minute will double.

One time he casually asks them a simple question: "Wheah dow you want to gow fah suppah tonight? It's six-fahty.”

If his S/O truly wants to keep up with the conversation, they better be honest and ask what some of his phrases meant.

He does appreciate being asked, cause it means that his S/O is actively listening. Unlike most of the members in his team. At some point, he’ll become self-aware of how fast he talks.

The way he responds to his S/O next is determined by the current topic at hand. 

When the topic is serious, he’d gladly repeat himself for his S/O, but slower this time.

However, when the topic isn’t important, he’d use the opportunity to mess with his S/O. They shouldn’t expect a direct answer from him at this point. “Why? Does my accent sound that good? Maybe you just like hearing me talk.”  If there are other mercs around, they'll find the scene between the two endearing or sappy.

Soldier

If the other members from his team constantly misinterpret his clear message (usually Heavy and Pyro), he gets annoyed.

He is the type to speak loud because he hates repeating himself, but when it's his S/O, his treatment of them is entirely different.

When his S/O inquires, he asks which part they don’t get and attempts to explain it to the best of his ability.

They can always rely on him to give them a straight answer.

Tones down his voice reserved only for his dear cupcake.

Pyro

Most of the team members tried their best to understand their verbal cues. They opted for the arsonist’s non-verbal cues instead.

They stopped trying to communicate verbally long ago, but they're glad their S/O never gave up.

The only three people able to comprehend them is S/O, Engie, and Spy.

S/O does most of the translating for the team, but there will be times they misinterpret Pyro too.

Having a very expressive body movement, they will draw objects or do sign languages that are related to their point to get it across their S/O.

Will use fingerspelling when the message they’re passing to S/O is urgent.

Demoman

When his S/O wanted him to repeat his previous stories, the way he answers will depend solely on the question: How much alcohol did he consume?

1-4 bottles: Is still articulate with his words. Paraphrases his earlier ramblings and takes the time to use common words for his S/O. Still sober. 

5-8 bottles: Shows signs of being a wee bit steamin. His Scottish accent thickens. Will tell more additional side stories and compliments S/O before fully recounting his previous ramblings. Does a lot of hand gestures. Struggles getting back on the topic.

8-XX bottles: He tolerates his alcohol extremely well, but at this point maybe his S/O is better off asking him when he's sober. But he may never remember what the topic was about.

Heavy

He has basic knowledge in English, enough to be understood by his S/O. Calls S/O his pretty little flower.

When his S/O got confused by his statement, in his mind, he pauses to reword everything from Russian to another language. His knowledge in his mother tongue is complex, which is why it takes time for him to process everything in English.

Not a shy learner. His S/O can guide him to construct his sentence and correct him. Once he hears the word, he keeps it in mind. He isn’t afraid of being corrected when using new words.

His fluency towards S/O’s language gets better each day, making him able to process his sentences faster. 

Also planning to impress his S/O by learning to flirt in their language. He learns from his private lesson with Spy.

Engineer

In his usual conversation, there will at least be one technical jargon included in his sentence.

If that’s not confusing to his S/O, maybe his Texan accent and slang will.

Will apologize to his S/O as soon as he catches himself slipping uncommon terminologies.

Will only notice his S/O not being able to keep up when they’ve gone fully silent for at least a minute.

His experience in teaching back in his younger days made it easy for him to explain some Texan phrases to his S/O in layman’s term. If his S/O still doesn't understand him on the first try, he'd be eager to attempt again.

Among the mercs, it's Engie the S/O will learn from the most. The longer they stick with him, the more his accent also sticks to his S/O.

Medic

His speech is easy to understand, but when the topic between him and S/O is related to his hobbies (aka. experiments) he gets into an excitable mood. In his manic state, his accent becomes harder to understand to his S/O.

One of his pet peeves is to be interrupted by the listener so they can ask mundane questions. Soldier's the #1 repeat offender of this.

S/O will have to listen to everything. By the time he finishes, his S/O will have most of their answers.

At the back of his mind, he includes S/O's confusion as part of his tally for his statistics. He's been keeping count of the phrases that make him hard to understand.

May have tried different ways of telling a story to S/O so he can know which tactic is understandable to them as part of his social experiment.

Sniper

Most of the time, it’s his mumbling of various phrases the S/O would ask about.

His reaction with S/O's confusion to his phrase/accent will depend if he is currently speaking to them personally or professionally.

If S/O is speaking to him in his free time, he either makes his explanation simple to understand for his S/O, or makes it even more complicated. Explaining things is not his specialty, but his S/O can make it easier for him by asking more specific details instead.

When they are currently working with him, all they’re getting from him are short responses. His current priority is somewhere else. He’d tell his S/O to save some of their more complex questions after the battle.

Spy

When the topic at hand is serious and complicated to S/O, he’ll excuse himself to smoke a cigar. He'll think of a better way to reiterate the information.

When he’s ready, the explanation he makes will be a detailed one for his S/O. If his S/O is multilingual, he gives their other language a try and hopes his S/O finally understood him. (also secretly does it to impress them)

Also, he’ll curiously inquire which part of his accent made him unclear to his S/O. After all, part of his job is to be an eloquent speaker and report any intel.

[jinxedpanda4life]

Criminal Investigator AU HC

I would first like to start off by saying thank you to everyone. 

I honestly did not expect the response I got to my Damirae Hospital AU HC list. 

When I first woke up and checked tumblr ~13 hours after posting I had a holy shit moment. 

I felt powerful, should I? Probably not. 

But! Since I am noticing a lack of AUs in the fandom, whether on Tumblr, AO3 or FanFiction.net, whatever AU comes to my mind I shall jot down some hcs for! 

Thank you all once again!

(Also trying format changes for easy reading)

(Also Also, I am thinking the story is less fluid but more episodic)

Let’s get started:

- So I’m thinking this is some FBI, SVU, and FBI BAU mixture or whatever. Basically all the great shows we know in love shoved together. From Bones to Criminal Minds and everything in between.

- Special Agent (Dr.) Raven Roth is a lead interrogator and is the resident psych consult. 

She’s been educated in interrogation, behavioral science, psychology, forensic pathology, and criminology. 

She has combat training (hand to hand), she carries (for her job) a gun and at all times has a knife/dagger on her person (people have stopped trying to figure out where she keeps them). 

Her father was/is crime boss T. Trigon who is currently imprisoned. 

Was born in the states but fled with her mother to Romania when she was a newborn.

When Trigon found them he killed Arella and took Raven, she was abut 9 - 10 years old.

She took her mother’s last name when she turned 18. 

Knows two languages besides English; French, Romanian, Romani (various dialects but knows multiple), Greek and Latin

On more than one occasion some goon of her father’s tries to recruit her, every time she kicks their ass. (Damian was there for the most recent (he was still green though))

Lives by herself in a decent sized apartment, has a gun safe (gun safety is important!), a cat (Nevermore), and is a regular at a 24/7 bookstore &/ cafe

Can usually be found wearing some kind of jacket, sweater, cardigan

She once helped save some kids (Melvin, Tommy & Teether) and is now their surrogate aunt, she has photos of them at her desk @ work. (Damian assumes/ed that they were her kids)

She also, when she can, hangs out and babysits them on occasion.

Raven is part of a team consisting of Dick Grayson (unit leader), Kori Anders, Garfield Logan, Jaime Reyes, and very recently Damian Wayne 

- Special Agent Damian Wayne is a lead investigator (he is still a bit fresh to the unit), translator, sniper and combat coordinator

He’s been educated in martial arts, explosives, hand to hand combat, close range combat, and combat (basically he knows how to kill you 9 ways to Sunday), also, behavioral science, computer science, criminology, linguistics and language. 

He can easily translate (into English): Arabic, Mandarin Chinese, Russian, Hindi, Bengali, French, Polish, German, Spanish, Portuguese, he can also learn any language you put in front of him and know the basics within a day

(Having lived in many places around the world he needed to be able to speak and understand in order to survive) (wow dramatic much?)

His father is currently the director (or deputy director, whatever floats ya boat) of the FBI.

His mother was essentially a secret agent who worked for various agencies around the globe. (deceased)

His grandfather was the leader of a, um, well to be honest, terrorist agency. (deceased)

Was sent to live with his father when he was 15 (when his mother died) and has been in the states ever since

Lives alone, he has an upscale apartment that he truthfully spends little time in, has multiple locations in the home where various weapons are stored, his place has a very cold atmosphere

Is either in proper work attire or in work out clothing, there is no in between

Tries and fails not to take work home with him

He sees a therapist (who says he should probably try investing in relationships with the people at his job)

His only “friend” (he hates calling him that, more like close acquaintance) is Jonathan Kent who was in his class at the FBI Academy, Jon works in a white collar crime department in Metropolis

The only person he actually kind of sort of doesn’t dislike is in fact Raven Roth, she’s a no bull shit person, he likes that

He may know Grayson because of how he’s Bruce’s kind of son but it does not mean he likes him

He finds Logan annoying as all hell, even if he is somewhat useful

He picked a fight with Reyes first day and regretted it (he will never admit that), he respects him

Anders is overly friendly in his opinion, kind of acts like a secretary with all that positivity and grates his nerves, he tolerates her

(Unlike last time I am not going in detail about the rest of the team, this will be brief)

- Supervisory Special Agent Dick Grayson (Unit Chief) is basically Dick Grayson with a big fancy title but all the same skills

He is also obsessed with Slade Wilson and Red X (who is Jason in this)

- Supervisory Special Agent Kori Anders is a lead investigator and is also a go to for undercover work

- Special Agent Garfield Logan is a lead interrogator, is head of the unit’s K-9 unit and kind of has a thing for Roth (which she does not reciprocate) 

- Special Agent Jaime Reyes is a tactical analyst, tech analyst and is head of the unit’s SWAT team, he does not do well with talking with people, or change

The Scarab is a computing program that Jaime created himself

STORY START:

- When Damian first joins the team there is another member, Special Agent Terra Markov, she is revealed as a sleeper agent but she aligns herself with the team and sadly is shot and killed in a fire fight

- A couple weeks after Agent Markov’s death everyone is talking about what they are doing for an upcoming holiday, Damian says probably nothing, Raven invites him to spend it with her and her “niece” and “nephews,” he declines

- About a day after the holiday Damian is home looking through case files when someone knocks on his door

-- It is Raven. He asks how she knew where he lived, she says she asked Dick, she also says that she knows how it feels to be alone and that he may be insufferable but it doesn’t mean he can’t have a friend

-- His response is saying he isn’t the kind to make friends with co workers

-- “I’m not asking to be your friend Damian, I am asking you to be his,” She reveals a small black great dane puppy “I know that other people aren’t really your thing, but having someone in your corner and waiting for you is always nice, even if it isn’t human.”

-- Damian invites her in, names the dog Titus and thanks her

-- “Just make sure no one tries to kidnap and kill you, we don’t need you to go full blown John Wick.” Damian has no idea who that is. Raven tells him it is an action movie series that he should watch. She leaves. He does watch them that night with Titus on his lap. (after having gone to the local pet supply store to get everything he needs) The action is inaccurate but he enjoyed the movies none the less, and decides that he probably would go into John Wick mode if someone hurt Titus.

- SA Roth and SA Wayne are sent to a high security federal prison to interrogate a prisoner, who refuses to speak

-- When they get into the interview room the prisoner does start to speak, but not in English and not in a language Damian is fluent in

-- Raven on the other hand immediately responds to the prisoner (shocking the prisoner and Damian) “He is speaking Romani though not the dialect of those overseas, he learned it here.” 

-- Damian is fascinated by it and they are essentially switching roles the entire time

-- They leave having successfully interviewing the prisoner, and Raven leaves behind a written list of common words in Romani so that they can possibly communicate with the prisoner better

-- As soon as they are on the plane back Damian asks her a myriad of questions from “How many languages do you know?” to “When did you learn that?” and even “Are you a spy? Sleeper agent? Part of a terrorist cell?”

-- “Not as many as you, when I was a child, if I was part of any of that you wouldn’t be asking.” The rest of the trip is spent with her teaching him Romani and even some Romanian

- Dick & Kori eventually get together and after a while they break up. Kori takes some vacation time. At the same Dick has been temporarily reassigned to another unit.

-- Chaos ensues

-- Garfield thinks he should be the interim unit chief, Jaime thinks the same, as does, you guessed it, Damian (Raven doesn’t want to she is comfortable with her role on the team)

-- In the end they are assigned an interim unit chief, SSA Jason Todd, who usually works overseas on covert op missions (not gonna lie this could easily flow into a Jayrae thing)

-- Everyone kind of falls into line, except Damian, Damian doesn’t like him for two reasons

1) He doesn’t act serious about the job 24/7

2) He has been flirting and hitting on Raven the moment he stepped into their sector 

-- Damian hates the names he gives her; “Little Bird,” “Sunshine,” “Princess,” “Rae,” (no one calls her Rae, not even Garfield, at least not after the incident) etc.

-- (Little does Damian know, Jason and Raven have worked together before and are actually friends)

-- This all comes to a head when Damian and Jason are the only ones still in the office after a tiring case.

          “You shouldn’t do that you know.”

           “Do what? All I am doing right now is contemplating where Grayson                    keeps the liquor.”

           “Call Raven all those names, she doesn’t like it.”

           “Really? Because if you haven’t noticed she hasn’t exactly asked me to                stop.”

           “She gets uncomfortable, maybe not to the extent of asking you to stop,              but she tenses up and her body language becomes slightly more                        agitated.”

          “You seem to pay a lot of attention in how she reacts to thinks baby brat.             Seems to me that you like her.”

           “Of course I like her, she is a good friend and reliable teammate.”

           “No, you like like her.”

           “That presumption is juvenile.”

           “But you don’t deny it.”

           “Tch.”

-- If anything after that conversation Jason seems to doubled his advances. Which confuses both Damian and Raven. Damian because it is inappropriate and HR will be hearing about this. Raven because she was under the assumption that she and Jason were just friends. (Jason actually does have genuine intentions but is like 60% just egging Damian on)

-- Eventually (far too long for Damian’s tastes), both Dick and Kori return. At first it is sooooooo awkward. Like mom and dad divorced have shared custody but don’t hate each other but also cannot look each other in the eye. ((Was that a mouthful? Good)) No one can really look at each other the same? Though they do have a meeting to sort it out, get everything out in the open.

- Raven’s annual kidnapping/attempt to convert her/torture comes almost exactly one year after Damian joined the team (this is his 2nd time dealing with this)

-- This time Damian is prepared. By prepared I mean Raven doesn’t even leave her apartment before she is taken to safety. 

    “Damian what is going on?”

    “Christmas came early this year that’s what.”

    “Christmas? What in gods name are you talking about.”

    “God has no dealings in this matter.”

    “You do realize you are sounding like a bad action movie? It is not even 6 am and I am in your car going somewhere, I have had little to no sleep and I am barely dressed. What is going on?” Damian hadn’t payed attention to what clothing Raven was wearing. His mind was on one goal. Find Raven, keep Raven safe. His eyes glanced off the road enough to realize she was indeed not properly dressed. Her body was merely adorned with an oversized tee-shirt, tiny barely there shorts and a pair of fluffy socks.

    “I apologize, it appears in my haste I did not leave you time to properly clothe yourself. As to why you are here, it seems your father and his people have shortened their waiting time this year from one year to a little more than ten months.” Ravens hands fisted her shirt. “This time I was prepared,” last time he was still new to everything, last time he made mistakes, this time there will be no mistakes. “Since our last encounter with your demon, so to speak, I have been setting in place precautions and safety measures to ensure Nevermore and yours’ safety. I have also been tracking the movements of his big players. If any came close I would mark it down. Multiple are entering the city at this moment. Seeing as you we taken last time I have made plans to ensure that will not happen again.” The car made a snap turn down an unfamiliar street pulling Raven from her clouded gaze.

    “So I am going to be okay this time?” Her voice was faint and restraining against hope.

    “You’re going to be okay.” His hand lightly held hers. Only to stop the shaking, they told themselves, only to make everything better. “Nevermore is with Titus at my place being watched by a friend of mine. I have already walked Grayson through everything we will not be expected at work this week, but we can work remotely.”

     “We?”

     “I’m not going to leave you. Ever.”

-- ((Sorry for the blocks of text))

-- As Raven finds out they are at one of Damian’s safe houses. The one least likely to be tied to her. It is fully stocked with food, has security cameras and if needed weapons. The only problem is that the only clothes there are Damians.

    “Thought of everything huh?”

     “I was following their pattern, I expected to have more time to acquire clothing for you.” (he was looking away and blushing, you cannot tell me he wasn’t)

-- Raven just resigns herself to wearing Damian’s clothes, yes his brain does stop working for a hot second when he sees her in only his clothes.

-- All attempts to try and retrieve codename: Gem of Scath are foiled (like some good math)

-- So many bonding moments happen. Cuddling (pure accident *rolls eyes*), eating together, inside jokes, etc. At one point Damian answers her phone (he disabled and disconnected the tracer) to one of the mob guys after them.

    “Hello?”

     “You can hide the gem but we will find her.”

     “I’m sorry, is there a jewel you are looking for? I don’t think I have and any jewels that I am coveting.”

     “We know you are with her! It is but a matter of time until we collect her.”

     “I hope you do eventually find whatever you are looking for sir, but I haven’t the slightest idea the gem you speak of. If you could give me a physical description? Is it a ruby, diamond, onyx? Is it round or more of a pear shape?”

    “...”

    “Well, I will look for it here, but I do not believe I possess what you speak of. Will you give me your number so I can call you back?” (The line cuts dead, and Raven can be seen laughing in the background, the phone was on speaker)

-- Once the team tracks down, arrests and interrogates all of the parties working for Trigon; Raven and Nevermore can go home. Though both are reluctant in their own way. Nevermore has grown attached to Titus, and Raven well Raven has feelings. Sadly, as Raven knows, feelings are dangerous to have in their line of work. 

-- Look at Dick and Kori they were together and then they fell apart and the team almost imploded.

-- What about Trigon if he finds out about Damian and how she feels towards him? What kind of danger will he be in then?

-- Like all of her feelings Raven puts them in a box and locks the box away. Not just figuratively, in her safe there is a box with: post its, torn papers, journals, etc. That box has a lock on it. Whenever she has a new feeling that she cannot ignore, like her feelings towards Special Agent Wayne, she takes out the box and writes her feelings down. They can range from a single sentence to pages worth. (Her feelings towards Damian fill a small notebook she has on hand). Once she has written all of her feelings out she places them in the box, locks said box and then places the locked box in her safe, which she then locks.

-- Is this a healthy way to cope with her feelings? Maybe not. But, it is way better than how Damian deals with his. Violence. Also art but violence comes first.

- At this point both Damian and Raven have caught the feelings (highly contagious I hear), which makes this a little awkward and a little not awkward. For one everyone but Raven knows how Damian feels towards her. He does things for her and with her that no one else gets the privilege to.

-- To list a few:

--- He brings her tea whenever he gets himself coffee or tea

--- He talks to her about what he does outside of work, even about his kind of friend definitely not enemy, Jon.

--- They socialize outside of work. Watching bad movies (some of them are not that bad), going to the park with Titus (they once got Nevermore in a leash and walked her), meeting each other before and after work to get breakfast or dinner.

--- He doesn’t glare at her

--- He allows physical contact between the two

--- He worries about her (hello he created an entire plan so that she wouldn’t get kidnapped, with contingencies and everything, garfield would be lucky to get a plan)

--- His eyes light up when she talks, or enters a room, or you know exists in his vicinity

--- He actually smiles around her (Dick caught him smiling once at Raven and he though Damian was having a stroke)

-- Even though everyone knows Damian likes Raven, very few know that Raven likes Damian back. (this only includes; Kori, Dick, Jason, Titus, Nevermore, and Melvin) She does do certain things that give herself away just like Damian.

--The list:

--- When Damian gets frustrated or angry she puts a hand on his arm, or holds his hand

--- She laughs at things he does (light chuckles, or little giggles)

--- She will talk to him about his interests and actively tries to have conversations with him about things unrelated to work.

--- She blushes when he does something unexpected (like a compliment)((Mostly she tries to hide it until he isn’t looking at her))(((Kori has caught the blush before)))

-- Luckily for them it does not take some cliche ‘One suddenly becomes in danger and the other one saves them only to be close to death and then they admit their love for one another and promise to go on a date when the other is healed’ situation. 

-- Damian actually asks Raven out after being tipped of by Jason and Dick that she may like him back. Damian finds out when they have days off at the same time and asks her while leaving work.

   “Raven, you have this weekend off correct?”

   “Yeah I do. I wasn’t planning on doing anything though. Did you have something in mind?”

    “Um, yeah, heh, I was wondering if you would do me the pleasure of going to dinner with me tomorrow.” *Awkwardly rubs back of neck*

    “Like a date or two friends going to dinner?” *Thinks she sounds harsh* “I am honestly fine with either since we are friends.” *nervous smile*

     “Like a date if that is okay with you of course.”

     “Yeah, yeah totally that is totally okay with me.” *Starts sounding like a teenage girl who only knows about 10 words, because she’s nervous*

      “Good, I’ll be by your place around 1830, if that is okay?” *nerve central, the central nervous system could never*

       “Yup that is totally fine with me.”

       “Great.”

       “Good.” The elevator opens in the knick of time.

       “See you tomorrow evening Agent Roth. Have a good night.”

        “You too, Agent Wayne, you too.”

-- When Damian does pick her up he feels like his brain is going to explode. She looks absolutely breathtaking. This is just like all the other times they’ve gone to dinner, except this restaurant is slightly fancier and they are on a date.

-- Raven feels as though all her emotions are leaking out at once, she has no idea what she is doing.

-- In the end they have a good time and decide to do it again. Damian does bring up that all of the breakfasts and dinners they regularly do could now be considered dates. Raven does not oppose that switch at all.

- Fast forward a handful of years (like 3?), Damian and Raven are moved in together (Nevermore and Titus are happy about this, they even allow the humans to adopt another pet, a cat named Alfred). Damian is now Supervisory Special Agent Wayne and is in charge of their unit. Raven has retired from field work and now works at the FBI academy and at Virginia State University. In about 6 months Damian is going to propose and Raven will say yes. Their wedding will be small but happy and full of life.

Once again I would like to thank everyone and all the support the previous post got.

Like last time if anything is disjointed, out of place or seems wrong, please go ahead and tell me. I have been working on this since the last one, but have finally had the time to finish it.

I hope the new year will bring us all some good. Possibly more head canons to come.

[sarahjtv]

BNHA Chapter 313 Short Thoughts & Berserk

So, for anyone following me for my My Hero Academia analysis stuff, unfortunately, I don't think I’ll get one out this week.  The chapter was amazing, don’t get me wrong, but I just didn’t have time to really write anything big about it.  Blame the BNHA: The Strongest Hero mobile game that released this week.  Gatcha games really suck me in.  Bakugo was my first random pull amazingly, but I haven’t gotten my fave Shoto yet.  I want my man to come home 😭.  Anyway, I will point out a few things from this chapter:

Thank god All Might is alive!  I didn’t expect him to die, but I’m still afraid of that possibility someday.  That one panel of him declaring himself to those thugs was amazing and I can see why it gave people Stain vibes.  Where is that guy anyway?  Also, I want All Might to sign Izuku’s adoption papers already.  He really is Izuku’s father at this point.  

All Might warned the Top 3 (Endeavor, Best Jeanist, and Hawks) about Lady Nagant, so I expect them to pop up sometime soon.  Especially Hawks.  That’ll be an interesting reunion with his Senpai.

Lady Nagant is still beautiful and badass and I love this Queen 👑

Deku got shot in the stomach (or side?) and he’s fucking pissed!  This kid’s nuts for being so reckless right now, but it looks like he’ll do anything to get info on AFO and Shigaraki.  This arc is really doing things to Deku.  I got a bad feeling that his recklessness will bit him in the ass real soon.

I think En (the 6th Holder) is rising up the ranks of being one of my favorite OFA predecessors.  I like his design, his personality, and how he mentors Deku.  The faces he made this week are amazing!  This man is just done with Deku’s shit he wants to go back to Shoyo Hinata and play volleyball again 😂  Also, he said “Hey, Hey, Hey!” in the fan translations and I can’t unhear Bokuto from Haikyuu!! whenever someone says that DAMN YOU OWL🦉

Lady Nagant’s Quirk can make her a sniper scope out of what looks like muscle or tissue because of course it freaking can.

Finally, I’m still confused on what the 3rd Holder’s Quirk is:  Fa Jin.  I think everyone is.  Apparently research says that it’s a form of Chinese martial arts that unleashes kinetic energy.  That’s why Deku was doing all those squats with his legs before he jumped to grab Lady Nagant.  I’m thinking it’s like how Black Panther’s costume stored kinetic energy and unleashed it whenever he did a punch to the ground.  Or something like that.  Horikoshi really needs to explain this one next week.

So yeah, awesome chapter this week with some action, badass All Might, and big reckless brain energy from Deku.  

And finally (and this will be a long spiel), I really need to address the sudden death of Berserk’s mangaka, Kentaro Miura (age 54), that was announced to the public recently.  He died back in May 6th due to an Acute Aortic Dissection.  I’ll admit to never reading Berserk or watching the anime adaption.  I know about it, but I never got around to actually getting myself into the series.  I heard amazing things about it, but I also heard that is has every content warning under the sun (abuse, sexual assault, rape, torture, murder, etc.).  It’s like if manga had a rating, Berserk would be rated-R full stop.  Still, I would like to get around to reading it one day.  Even so, I have seen some panels from the manga and it is literally God-Tier art.  It’s so rare to see an artist put in so much work into their pieces.  Every little detail is drawn masterfully.  If you looked at his panels far away, you’d swear that it was a photo.  If you looked up closely, you could see every single line Miura drew.  Honestly, his work deserves its own museum.  His story and work were so influential to the pop culture we know.  There would be no Souls series without Berserk.  There wouldn’t be Cloud Strife.  Any buff character with a gigantic-ass sword was inspired by Berserk in some way shape or form.  Other mangaka both loved and were inspired by Berserk like our own Kohei Horikoshi.  Miura-san was a true legend in his own right and he will be deeply missed.

I’m no doctor and I’m honestly not sure what really caused Miura-san’s untimely death, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the stress of mangakas’ absolutely brutal schedule was one of the causes.  In case you don’t know, mangakas pretty much literally put their lives into their works.  Their schedule is roughly like the one seen below.  Sleep and free-time are basically non-existent for them. The same goes for a lot of animators out there with Studio Mappa (despite their amazing animation) being one of the biggest causes of factory-like work in the industry lately.  I wish Miura’s death didn’t bring get this topic trending, but I do hope that both the manga and anime industry finally see what this work does to their artist and gives them a much more breathable schedule.  Shonen Jump+, Jump’s exclusive online manga is actually doing fairly well with their mangaka in terms of schedule.  Series like Spy X Family and Kaiju No. 8 have their mangakas release their chapters every 1-2 weeks.  They even let their mangaka take breaks if they need to with beautiful pieces of artwork as consolation.  God knows I had to wait a full month for a Spy X Family chapter to come out.  Regardless, I truly do hope this is a wake-up-call for the manga and anime industries.  I hope things get better for all the mangaka and animators.  They deserve all the praise, rest, and ease they can get.  Respect and love your mangaka and animators, my friends.  RIP, Kentaro Miura.