#assassin's creed crossover

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I still can't get over Eivor leaning in when Kassandra put a hand on her shoulder like she thought they were gonna kiss. Like I cannot get it out of my head she is so hopeless. She is in the vicinity of another woman for more than 5 seconds and loses brainpower. Unfortunately she is so real for this

[recreationalfanfics]

Some Assassin's Creed x Genshin Brainrot I've been having:

1. A reader whose like Barbara. I have her and I would absolutely kill for her. Like, the reader is the daughter of a doctor who isn't necessarily an assassin but married one so they help when one of the assassin's get hurt and the reader sings as she works to help them and the assassin's can't help but smile. AND I MEAN THIS IN A PLATONIC WAY, LIKE, YOU ARE THE SAME AGE AS BARBARA but I just think it'd be a cute idea because you're a very good medic and doctor and the assassin's enjoy seeing you. Like if you're in Connor's time period, he will be silent as you sing but he does have the smallest smile on his face and if you ask him: "Are you feeling better, Mr. Ratonhnhaké:ton?" he's internally adopted you already- JACOB ABSOLUTELY ADORES YOU, the only child in London who HASN'T tried to rob him, and Evie definetly has a soft spot for you two. When you tell Evie that you really look up to her and that you want to be just as smart as her someday, she gets kinda shy and Jacob gets jealous BECAUSE WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO BE LIKE HER, HE'S SUPER COOL TOO- I can see some of the more crude assassin's trying to watch their language around you. EDWARD STRUGGLES SO HARD but he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable so he TRIES HIS BEST. Arno is very gentlemanly so if he's ranting to someone while you're fixing him up, he'll politely tell you to cover your ears. And so on and so forth-

2. Childe x Ratonhnhaké:ton! Reader. Like in the sense that the reader has his personality and beliefs. This dynamic would be interesting to me in the sense that Childe fights because the Abyss gave him that need but the reader would fight because it is their duty. Also because of the dynamic that'd they'd both be unhinged in their own way. Childe is more obviously unhinged but let's not forget that Ratonhnhaké:ton ran through a city that was being BOMBED just to get to the man who he was after. So let's say the reader's target is Childe and they just run through an entire army. Normal people would be terrified by that kind of persistence, especially if that person wants them dead, but Childe just having the biggest grin on his face because he might be in love- However, Childe also loving the kind and compassionate side of the reader and how that kindness and compassion never falters. Not to mention that he'd definetly admire how honest the reader is and like how the reader does have some sympathy for Childe and his childhood but how they can't let that sympathy distract them from doing what's right.

- OKAY SO YOU KNOW THOSE SAGAU GENSHIN STORIES? Maybe something like that where the reader is an ISU hybrid so they have the golden blood and skin markings that light up but because of how the ISU act in the Assassin's Creed verse, THEY ARE HELLA DISTRUSTING OF THE ARCHONS AND THE ARCHONS ARE SO HURT BC WHAT DID THEY DO-

- Just an Assassin's Creed reader in general somehow getting into the Genshin universe PURELY BECAUSE I think it would be funny how they would absolutely outclimb everyone. Like, I have a hard time with climbing in Genshin because I always forget the stamina bat but in AC, most of the game play is just climbing really tall things so the reader just escaping everyone by climbing taller than them. Or like, they're constantly found brooding on some sort of high ground. Also because imagine they get a vision and one of the characters is all: "Okay, now we'll teach you how to use Elemental Vision-" and the reader is all: "Oh, is it like Eagle vision?" and they're all: "Wtf is eagle vision-"

- THE ASSASSIN CREED READER HAVING AN EAGLE SIDEKICK, IDK, I JUST THINK THAT'D BE COOL.

- Diluc would actually be a good member of the Brotherhood, like, I don't have the creativity to write it but someone give that man a hidden blade.

[kagamikoi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LYNEY AND LYNETTE 🐱🪄

Look!! a crossover that nobody asked me for but I had it in mind for so long and in a very convenient way, I unintentionally timed to their birthday soooo :3c

[esamastation]

ladyjazzhands: Ezio x Shen Qingqiu, somehow

There's a foreigner staying in the Warm Red Pavilion, who speaks not a word anyone can understand. Shen Qingqiu hates him on sight.

He's everything he loathes in a man. Leering and smarmy, with unkempt short hair and beard, armoured like a rough barbarian, with the manners and body language of one used to throwing his weight around, he dominates every room he is in. Shen Qingqiu can't see why, but somehow every courtesan present seems drawn to his presence and he's never seen without a woman or two under his arm.

Well, he does see why. The low, purring words he speaks to the ladies of the brothel might fall all but to deaf ears - but money speaks its own insidious language. Even though his coin is strange, it's plentiful and heavy and always easily parted to his adoring audience as the foreigner teasingly lures the courtesans to him with the foreign coins dancing nimbly on the backs of his knuckles.

They play for him, they introduce him to the local food and wine, and then they take him up stairs for more, and Shen Qingqiu wants nothing more than to see them do to him what they'd done to another barbarian, not long ago. There's nothing quite as satisfying as seeing rough men being thrown out of a window by a group of giggling women.

Alas, aside from looking strange, speaking language no one understands and acting like the worst sort of letcher, the foreigner has done nothing but favour the ladies of the Warm Red Pavilion and clearly they intend to only adore him back.

At least, until his coin purse would run dry.

"How long has he been here?" Shen Qingqiu asks the Madam, as the owner of the brothel joins him for tea.

"Oh, Ai Qiao? He arrived here this morning," the Madam says, as one of the younger courtesans pours for them. "Though he appeared in town sometime yesterday. No one is sure when, exactly - but he made his presence known late afternoon, in the market - where he attempted to find someone who spoke a language he understood. Which he did not find."

Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes. "He's far inland, to be without a guide or a translator," he mutters, considering. "How did he end up here?"

"Oh, he found his way here - he might've seen one of my girls running errands," the Madam muses and gives him a look. "Does Xiao Jiu know him?"

"No," Shen Qingqiu says and sips his tea. He doesn't know the man's style of clothes either - and more damningly, he doesn't know his language. Though Shen Qingqiu hasn't ever had the time to truly dedicate to learning other languages, he is confident enough to say that he at least knows most human languages by sound. The cadence of Ai Qiao's speech alone is completely unknown to him, never mind the sound he makes, the words he speaks.

There are few things he can deduce, if somewhat begrudgingly, about the man's attire. Though the style is absolutely nonsensical, it's not without finesse - the armour was not just well crafted but to some extent artistic, with floral designs hammered into the metal. The leather straps of it are well made and well maintained and the man's clothes are clearly well tailored and well kept. White like that, on a warrior - there's only so many people Shen Qingqiu knows who can wield a sword and keep white clothes clean, and all of them are immortal cultivators.

It could be indicative of a wealthy warrior without much experience. There were many rich idiots out there who clad themselves in even more extravagant armour that would never see battle, showing off their wealth and claiming bravery where they had none. Except…

Shen Qingqiu clutched onto his cup.

Even outside the aura of mortal danger around the foreigner, Ai Qiao's armour isn't without a scratch - in fact, beneath it's shine and polish, it's quite well worn and battered. And then there is the man's armament - which is… extensive. Sword, crossbow, numerous throwing daggers, bombs… never mind the things hidden in his sleeves, whatever they are. All which the foreigner wore with casual confidence even Liu Qingge would find unnerving.

The man is a killer, there is no doubt in Shen Qingqiu's mind - if not a murderer. And he is currently in congress with who knows how many of Warm Red Pavilion's girls. Even with all the training Shen Qingqiu had given them, and all the weapons he'd done his best to supply with them… none of them are fit to face against a trained killer.

The Madam looks at him, and sees right through him. She smiles knowingly, but is kind enough to not draw attention to his white knuckled fingers or his clenched jaw. "I will have the girls prepare a room in the back," she says. "Will Xiao Jiu play for us tonight?"

"This one will," Shen Qingqiu says. "Let me know when the foreigner falls asleep."

-

The foreigner doesn't fall asleep. For more than two sichens he partakes in the women of the pavilion before making his unwelcome presence known in the hall where Shen Qingqiu is playing the qing. The man saunters in confidently with his armour askew and his knife belt loose, his hair a worse mess than before, grinning with great satisfaction.

"Li-mei," Shen Qingqiu says under his breath to his most recent student in the brothel, a fifteen year old girl who's watching him play intently. "Go see to the girls he left behind."

The girl bows and slips away to take the hidden ladder upstairs. In the meanwhile Ai Qiao is already being attended to by another courtesan at loose ends, who takes the man's arm eagerly and leads him to a table - and to an expensive bottle of wine.

Shen Qingqiu continues to play, keeping his glaring to a minimum while watching the foreign killer. Though it's clear he can't understand a word Ding-er says, they get along just swimmingly, as the man teases her into giggling with his low words and appreciative touches.

Two sichen with who knows how many women and the man still has an appetite for more.

Shen Qingqiu plays, keeping his posture proud and his movements elegant, not letting his worry or disgust show. He doesn't relax until young Li-mei returns to him to tell that, "They're sleeping - all of them," with a giggle. "I think the patron wore them out!"

It takes effort not to verbally express his abhorrence and keep his fingers moving smoothly over the strings. "All of them - how many of them did he have?" Shen Qingqiu demands with disquiet.

"Four," Li-mei giggles.

Incredible - no, impossible. The girls of Warm Red Pavilion might not have the stamina of cultivators, but they have more stamina than to be laid low by a mortal man. Shen Qingqiu narrows his eyes, still playing, and asks, "And they were all… well?" Had Ai Qiao knocked them out - had he struck them, drugged them?

"They looked quite snug and comfortable to me," Li-mei answers, amused. "And the patron left enough coin to cover all their services."

Shen Qingqiu casts a look towards Ai Qiao, who's now listening to Ding-er speak, smiling even though he can't understand a word and urging her on with his hums and murmured encouragement. His fingers, Shen Qingqiu notes, are gently stroking the edge of her collar, where her hanfu leaves her shoulder exposed. The touch is as covetous as it is appreciative. One could even call it proprietorial.

It's nothing he's not seen hundreds of other men do to the women of the brothel, and he's not stupid enough to interject - this is their occupation, and men like Ai Qiao is how they make their living. And a man like this, lustful and generous in his lustiness, is exactly the kind of customer a brothel loves - one who showers several girls with coin and doesn't hold back. And yet…

There is something about this one Shen Qingqiu cannot stand. At first he thinks it's the beard, the attitude, the foreign manners, the way he can't even sit properly. The low tone of his voice, the smarmy smiles he gives everyone, how freely he expresses his desires despite the language barrier. But no.

It's the look in his eyes - dark, shrewd, calculating. It sends cold shivers down Shen Qingqiu's back.

Ai Qiao would be out of the brothel by morning, Shen Qingqiu swears, even if he had to throw the man out himself.

-

Ai Qiao is plied with wine and snacks but doesn't let himself be drawn into a bedroom - instead he sticks to the main hall, chatting nonsensically with Ding-er and then with many other of the women who find themselves at loose ends as the night wears on. The courtesans take turns trying to teach Ai Qiao new words, giggling uproariously at his horrendous pronunciation as he struggles over sounds his own language clearly lacks.

Shen Qingqiu keeps playing and watching and gritting his teeth as the foreigner lets himself be humiliated by the giggling courtesans that have once more begun flocking around him, seemingly as entertained by them as they are by him. Every now and then someone would find their way in his lap and the man would dote upon them, but beyond that he seems satisfied in simply being there and enjoying their company.

And he refuses to tire and go to sleep. He outlasts all the other patrons, who either get ushered into rooms or outside once their coin begins to run out. Ai Qiao's purse remains quite heavy, even with all the coins he's so happily shared with the girls around him, and so he keeps going and going - until finally the hour grows so late that even the women, used to late nights, start tiring.

Shen Qingqiu himself would be asleep by now, if this was a normal night - but he is still on high alert and Ai Qiao doesn't even seem drunk anymore, bidding the sleepy ladies fond good nights with kisses to their hands and some more coins in their palms. Infuriating man.

"Xiao Jiu," the Madam murmurs, coming to his side. "It's late."

By which she means, most of the patrons of the brothel are asleep, and she doesn't want him to play anymore lest he wake them up.

With a slow breath, Shen Qingqiu brings his last piece to a conclusion and then rests his aching fingers on the qing strings. "Very well," he says. "This one shall have some wine now."

Giving him a look, the Madam sighs. "He's been the perfect quest all night," she says quietly. "You need not be so wary. All is well, I promise."

Shen Qingqiu doesn't bother to answer and with a shake of her head the Madam rises and goes to seek her own bed for the night, trusting her women to care for the last patrons they have - namely, Shen Qingqiu and Ai Qiao. Scoffing after her, Shen Qingqiu takes his time going over the Qing and easing it into its case before accepting the bottle brought to him by Ling Ji, one of the older courtesans present.

"Xiao Jiu played beautifully, and for so long," the older courtesan comments while pouring for him. "It has made this a lovely night."

Shen Qingqiu accept the compliment with a nod and distractedly accept the cup - and by then, Ai Qiao is watching them, his eyes considering, his lids low. In an instant Shen Qingqiu is back on the very end of his already frayed nerves, his face growing hot with fury - and, to his utter revulsion, Ai Qiao smiles at him.

Most of the girls are yawning around the man now, and with more kisses and coins bestowed to their hands, the man bids them goodnight - and then he rises. With clear intent and that confident swagger he'd entered with, Ai Qiao approaches the dias where Shen Qingqiu had been playing and is still sitting - and it's plainly obvious what the man's purpose is. He's still smiling - and then one he's smiling at is not Ling Ji.

Shen Qingqiu goes from hot to cold and then back to hot as his fury blazes into pure rage.

Shen Qingqiu rises to his feet in outrage and, clearly delighted, Ai Qiao bows to him - completely wrong and all too theatrical, swinging his arm strangely. The man says, "Ezio Auditore da Firenze, mia cara signora," clearly an introduction. "È un piacere conoscerti." And then he tries to kiss Shen Qingqiu's hand.

Shen Qingqiu throws his wine at his face before he can.

-

And Ezio absolutely took it as a challenge, haha.

[fanfenomenon]

who done transported him into hamilton 😭😭😭

[unpersoniverse]

in another universe they are besties

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[jinaprivat]

I played journey for the first time recently (I'm very late I know), it was an amazing experience !

I remembered that someone did a crossover between journey and ACIII a while ago, and I wanted to do the same with Altair and Ezio. I don't think I will do the other protagonists as I only planned to do Altair at first.

[teecupangel]

Imagine if Obi-Wan kenobi came across toddler desmond while he was being all hermit like on tatooine. Or what if desmond was a part of his batchmates as initiates at the jedi temple? (ghost kenway nonny)

Desmond would be such a headache as Obi-Wan’s batchmate though. Like, that man would question everything about the Jedi Order and its teaching. His instructors would have a full hand just dealing with him but they don’t necessary think that he’s a bad egg. If anything, he’s showing how serious he is in trying to explain how a Jedi should be.

They are worried that this might lead to unsavory rumors.

And it did.

Desmond’s constant questioning of the teaching and discussing (debating) with others about the doctrine and sacred texts had led to a rumor that Desmond was a prime candidate to becoming a Sith.

Desmond knows of this and just ignores it because he knows that he won’t be tempted by the Dark Side.

That doesn’t mean he was on the Light Side though. He was narrowly tipping the line and the Brotherhood had always ‘stayed in the dark to serve the light’.

To be completely honest, Desmond knows himself enough to believe that he would probably have an easier time mastering the supposed powers the Dark Side uses but that would be it.

Using what the enemy uses against them…

If that ends with him going on a separate path from the Jedi Order then that was that.

Enter Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Nobody knows whose idea was it but Obi-Wan Kenobi, a batchmate of Desmond (no last name, orphan, unknown planet), was given the ‘mission’ as part of his training to keep an eye on Desmond. Not because they believe Desmond would become a Sith but to make sure he wasn’t isolated or felt alone.

In other words…

Obi-Wan was requested to be Desmond’s friend.

Desmond has no idea why this has happened.

Obi-Wan also has no idea why it has to be him.

But now…

They were going on a Jedi Order version of two unlikely students having a profound deep friendship in ‘highschool’.

Obi-Wan did not sign up for this.

Desmond did not want any of this.

But, my Force, were they now stuck with each other whether they like it or not.

[auroramoon-draws16]

Alright fellas, not a crossover, but I got the goods

Assassin’s Creed Shifters AU

Eagle vision? Nah, full Eagle at will.

I mean, duh, they still have Eagle Vision, they get all the good shit, but they can also turn into a bird at will. It’s not always an eagle, but most of the time it’s raptors. Unless you’re the Frye twins, because Corvids, caw caw bitch.

Desmond freaked the fuck out the first time he shifted, he knew about it, sure, but hell if turning into a goddamn bird wasn’t something to lose your shit about.

Assassins through history could turn into birds at will to help scope their prey- I mean targets- fuck with the Templar’s plans, and get to places faster. (Leonardo would have loved that shit, Ezio, go help your homie learn to fly)

Although that means it’s anyone who have Eagle Vision strong enough can Shift.That means arial fights, claw each other to death bitch.

Also getting kidnapped while shifted and shoved into a cage, look, it’s hard to shift back to human form in small spaces without horrific consequences. Luckily, Assassins keep their human minds while shifted. Oh you wanna keep me hostage? Bitch, I’ll be a fucking problem.

On a lighter note: bird instincts. The best Assassins have them and it can be hilarious.

Have fun fellas!

[dumbsterlobster]

Crackship Ideas

I especially love the first and last one help

[decompo-zd]

I got a bit lazy towards the end but I think it's okay 👍

[nemo-in-wonderland]

Jacob and Dottie - XMen Edition

You're all that I can trust Facing the darkest days Everyone ran away But we're gonna stay here, we're gonna stay here

Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh I know you're scared tonight Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh I'll never leave your side

When it all falls, when it all falls down I'll be your fire when the lights go out When there's no one, no one else around We'll be two souls in a ghosttown

When the world gets cold I'll be your cover Let's just hold Onto each other When it all falls, when it all falls down We'll be two souls in a ghosttown

"GHOSTTOWN" - MADONNA

SO.

A few days ago, I asked on IG how my mutuals would have liked to see me drawing Jacob and Dottie again (since, you know, it has been since March that I last drew them together in any capacity).

And dearest @memoriesofafallen suggested me to draw them as X-MEN.

Needless to say, my brain starting going like crazy, because if there is something that I absolutely adore in this world, it's X-Men.

They were the first comics I ever read (all thanks to my older cousin who was the one to actually introduce me to the fandom with the old game "Children of the Atom") and to be honest, the only Marvel comics I ever read (I much preferred DC when I was younger).

So, when dearest Tofu suggested me to draw them as X-Men, the brain started brainrotting right there and then.

BUT.

I was faced with a dilemma: drawing them as my favourite X-Men pairing OR as the characters that Jacob and Dottie resembled the most?

Because depending on that, I would have to draw them as very different characters (a huge cookie to the one that would guess how I would have drawn them if I went with the similarity road lolol)

And Tofu suggested me to go with my favourite ship.

SO NOW HERE YOU HAVE JACOB AND DOTTIE AS GAMBIT AND ROGUE BECAUSE FML.

Only, of course, I had to change Rogue!Dottie's hair, so I inverted the colours lololol

Baby me was smitten with Mr. LeBeau when I saw it on tv in '94, and absolutely love Rogue for how tough she was (why do you think I have a white streak in my hair lol)and you can BET YOUR HAT THAT I JUMPED TO THE OCCASION AND STARTED TO SHIP ROGUE AND GAMBIT (we will absolutely pretend that AoA never happened. Nah-ah. That is not canon for me. nope.)

Also, I decided to go a different way with colouring this time around, and instead of going with the soft rendering I usually go with, I decided to try my hand at recreating the style that is usually used in the comic, and good Gods, let me tell you, I had an ABSOLUTE blast and I am SO HAPPY WITH HOW THIS TURNED OUT.

SO HAPPY WITH THE COLOURING, SO HAPPY WITH THE POSE (also a little throwback to the very first artwork I did with them lolol

SO HAPPY WITH EVERYTHING.

I gave it a small "80s Retro" vibes because YES.

Honestly, for once I didn't dread colouring and rendering, and I had a HOOT.

I truly need to practice this colouring more often because I loved it! <3

Well, I hope you will like this!

--Nemo

[esamastation]

wvyld: Desmond wakes up in Angelgard — to find a guy in chains who feels Very Evil (daemons) to the Eagle Sense, but also. uhhhh. you know. it's just — the chains are going through his flesh it's. yeaah he may have to go against his intuition with this one, this is no way to treat an eldritch abomination....

Guess what I didn't write? Any of that. I did however write Desmond in FFXV. :D

-

He sleeps the deep, deep sleep of the Earth. He dreams of mountains, of ravines, of endless pressure and crushing weight. He sleeps, and dreams, and his dreams have the weight of gravity, the drag of continental plates, the churning of magma and rattling of earthquakes. They're slow dreams but they're not peaceful.

They're also never enough to distract him from the weight still resting on his shoulders. The weight he can never put down. The heat of it pounds down on him, burning him, crushing him. Weight and heat are the same, when you really think about it. Mass makes gravity makes pressure makes fire makes explosion. Gravity makes stars. Makes planets. Makes earth. It's all the same.

There's always some weight upon him. That is his task and nature, as an Astral. A shitty gig, if there ever was one.

He breathes in deep and then falls deeper into slumber. Deep into memories of other worlds and other planets and man that once was and doesn't really matter anymore. The Meteor is heavy, heavy, heavy, burning, burning, burning. He sleeps and dreams deep, deep, deep.

And then someone Sings with the Voice of Stars and drags him from Beneath - and for the first time in eons, Awakens him.

It's not a pleasant feeling, to become aware once more under all the weight of the Cosmos' Rage.

"God of the Earth I beseech you!" A small voice calls out from somewhere below. "Enter into a covenant with the Chosen King so that he may reclaim the Stone and purge the Darkness from our Star!"

It takes a moment - a stretch and press of time dilation under weight of infinite gravity - to remember what speech is. What the little voice is saying makes no sense, even then. "WHAT," he says, with the Meteor roaring like hellfire in his ear, deafening him.

There's a little human somewhere near his feet, tiny, tiny thing, blond and pale and wearing white. She reminds him of something from eons ago.

"The Time of the Prophecy is at hand!" the human says, grand and commanding and barely audible. "The Darkness Eternal threatens our Star and only the King of Light may defeat it! To do that, he will have your power - you must enter into this covenant!"

The words make no sense. "WHAT KING?" he asks. "WHAT COVENANT? WHAT DARKNESS? THERE'S ONLY THIS DAMNED THING," he shifts under the weight of the Meteor. "AND THE ASSURED DESTRUCTION SHOULD I EVER PUT IT DOWN."

The little human wavers and he realises - his voice is too loud. He's shouting at her. His quietest voice is deafening to her. Even so, she keeps shouting back. "There are worse dangers now! Even now the Darkness grows stronger - every day, it claims more of our Star's Light. Without that Light, there is no Life, without Life, there is no future! The Meteor doesn't matter now - "

"THEN WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL HOLDING IT?" he asks sarcastically, and the little human is thrown back, faltering under his power. Oops. Poor thing. "WHAT IS THIS DARKNESS YOU FEAR SO MUCH, THEN? WHAT IS SO BAD THAT YOU'VE AWOKEN ME FROM DEEP SLEEP?"

The human struggles to her feet, using her little staff to prop herself up, and faces him with a stern look on her face. "It is the Scourge of Stars!" she says and lifts her staff. "I will Show you!"

And she does. She shows him a Disease. A plague that causes transformations and shadows, that infects flora and fauna and twists them into living ash. It makes monsters they call Daemons, and it has been coming up again and again for the last two thousand years. No one knows where it came from, but people have a Prophecy about it.

The Draconian made a Prophecy about it. Apparently that's what they call that guy now. And the little human - the Oracle? The Oracle tells it to him like he's supposed to know it. Like he's already part of it.

"I DON'T KNOW YOUR PROPHECY," the Archaean - that's what they call him now, apparently - answers. "I'VE NO PART IN IT. I WAS UNDER BURDEN BEFORE YOUR STARSCOURGE EVEN APPEARED. THE DRACONIAN'S WORDS, SPOKEN EONS HENCE, HOLD NO SWAY OVER ME."

The little human falters. "But - but the Cosmogony - the Prophecy says - "

The Archaean strains under the weight of the Meteor. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT A PROPHECY IS, LITTLE ONE? IT'S SOMEONE VOLUNTEERING SOMEONE ELSE FOR A TASK THEY THEMSELVES WILL NOT DO. THAT'S ALL."

The little human shakes her head. "No, no, it has to be the Chosen King, the Draconian said - "

"IF THE DRACONIAN REALLY WANTED THIS DARKNESS GONE, HE'D DO IT HIMSELF," the Archaean says, unamused. "HE CERTAINLY HAS THE POWER. JUST LOOK AT ME." He shrugs his shoulders and the Meteor upon them, sending tremors through the earth beneath his feet. "WHO DO YOU THINK CAST THIS THING UPON ME?"

The Oracle clutches on her staff, her eyes wide. "The Draconian sent the Meteor down upon us?" she asks, horrified, and falls to her knees. "W-what? No, that's not possible. I don't - that can't be."

Well. That seems rather telling and alarming.

The little Oracle can't take this conversation for long, it seems like - his voice is too much for her, as it tends to be for most humans. There's no way around it, though. He can't do much for her. The Archaean simply cannot put down his burdens, not for a long, long time, not until the half life of the damned thing runs its course. Until then, it's just him between the Meteor and Eos - and an explosion that would rock the whole solar system, if the two ever met.

He can, however, detach a small portion of himself to act as his avatar.

-

"Well, don't you look far less tiny from this angle, huh," the Messenger says, cracking his neck and getting used to being human sized again. "Hello, Oracle."

The Oracle stares at him, wide eyed. "You - you're the Archaean?"

"Small part of him. It's a bit of a long term gig, holding up the Meteor," the Messenger says and peers up at himself, standing tall as a mountain under the Meteor. Already his larger self is going back to slumber - much easier to bear the weight like that. "Six thousand years down," the Messenger says, shooting finger guns at himself. "Six million more to go."

"Y-you -" the Oracle stammers and then goes down into a bow. "My Lord, I am your humble servant - I beseech you to listen to me, for our blight is true and dire."

"I believe you believe that, and it probably is pretty bad," the Messenger says and motions to the Meteor. "But if that thing goes down, it will destroy this whole planet. Into itty bitty space dust," he adds, just to drive the point across. "So, no. There will be no Covenant. The Archaean will not move. Not for a long, long time."

The Oracle looks at him, stricken - her lips actually quiver. "B-but I foresaw - this is meant to happen - all the writings -" she trails away, staring at him. "Is it really impossible?"

"It really is. If it was possible to put down the Meteor, the Meteor would be down, trust me, and I'd not be here," the Messenger says and shakes his head. "I'm sorry - whatever the Draconian has been telling people, the Archaean has no part in it. Our hands are tied."

The Oracle looks at him like she's going to cry. "I - all my life I've been preparing - training for this moment - I was supposed to awaken all the Artrals for Noctis - I -" she stops, drawing a hitching breath. "It's all been for naught - the Darkness will win? Our star will be destroyed?"

"Okay, okay, let's back up a bit," the Messenger says with some alarm, lifting his hands soothingly to calm her. "Why don't you tell me about this terrible fate about to befall all of us, and we'll figure it out?"

So, she tells him. Faltering and stuttering, she tells him everything she knows.

It's a lot.

-

So maybe sleeping away the eons under the Meteor's weight wasn't the smartest idea. Turns out, he's missed a lot. Like, apparently, the Fall of Solheim? Which, in the human time frame, happened eons ago, of course - six thousand years is ancient time for humans. Since then, there's been other nations, empires, kingdoms - like the one they're currently in, the Kingdom of Lucis, the one the Draconian chose. Which has since fallen into ruin, because of war.

"So," the Messenger says. "There was a Chosen One who was supposed to be the first king of Lucis, but he got sick with this Starscourge and was betrayed, so he was made the Accursed instead and the Kings of Lucis descend from his brother, the usurper. And now the current last heir to the throne is supposed to kill his many, many times grand uncle to defeat the Scourge once and for all. With Astral's power and the Crystal."

The Oracle, now sitting down on a rocky ledge looking small and sad and hopeless, nods.

The Messenger rubs at his forehead. "And that didn't clue you in to the fact that Draconian is making this shit up as he goes along?"

The Oracle's shoulders slump. "Gods are fallible, I know," she says. "But I thought the Revelation of Bahamut was true. Everyone always said it was. Even the Kings of Lucis believe in it, and they're the closest to him."

"Sounds to me like nothing is true, really," the Messenger muses. "But okay. I have a question - what, exactly, is the Crystal you keep mentioning?"

The Oracle looks up, and sort of sputters at him. "It - what - how can you not - " she chokes out. "It's the Heart of our Star - "

"The heart of a Star is mostly hydrogen and helium and thermonuclear fusion under pressure," the Messenger says and folds his arms. "I've never heard of this Crystal of yours. Is it something the Draconian made, maybe?"

"I-it was gifted to mankind so that we may know lasting prosperity -" the Oracle says before faltering and frowning at her own knees, confused. "It gives powers to the Kings of Lucis. It has protected the Kingdom for centuries, and they have protected it. I don't…"

The Messenger scratches at his neck, not sure what to tell her. It sounds like a lot of stuff the Astrals can do. The Archaean could probably whip up a magical rock too, if he wasn't under a bit of pressure at the moment. Well, he could probably still do it.

Under pressure is how gems were made.

Bit beside the point, though.

The Oracle looks up at him, actual tears in her eyes. "Everything I have been told my whole life is a lie, isn't it?" she asks as the tears spill out. "The Revelation of Bahamut is a lie. The Draconian dwells in the Crystal, it's his chamber, his fortress and for two thousand years the Kings of Lucis have bled for its upkeep."

Ouch. "Don't know what to tell you, Lady, this is all news to me," the Messenger says awkwardly. "Maybe we should set the whole… existential horror aside for a moment. Tell me more about this Accursed."

-

Six thousand years he bore the weight of the Meteor just fine. Now that he's stepped away from it, this is what he gets from it - a tension headache.

"So this guy was a healer fighting this Scourge, he was the Chosen One, supposed to be the king, the First King of Lucis, this great magical nation to be…" the Messenger says, just to clarify, while rubbing at his temple. "And then he was betrayed, usurped, and kept prisoner and tortured by the Kings of Lucis for two thousand years."

The Oracle nods slowly.

The Messenger hums in understanding. "Yeah, I kind of see where he's coming from."

The Oracle winces. "Yes, same," she admits with a sigh and then continues her increasingly depressing explanation of all the things he'd missed.

It's getting late by the time he has the full picture. Time is relative when you're Ancient Astral Being, or whatever, but as a Messenger he experiences daylight the same as your regular humans and the sun is going down below the horizon. Which apparently means the Daemons of the Star Scourge are going to come out.

"Alrighty, I want to see these Daemons and the Scourge for myself," the Messenger says, stretching his arms. "I'm guessing the radiation from the Meteor is keeping them away from here?"

"The light, yes," the Oracle says, lifting her staff. "I have the power to keep them at bay. I can also create Havens, sacred ground that will repel them."

"Neat - don't do that just yet, though, I want to see them," the Messenger says. "After that we can hopefully figure out something that won't involve the Archaean's power."

"Right," the Oracle says, taking a slow breath to steel herself, preparing to lever herself back to her feet with her staff. "I will do all I can, even - even if I cannot fulfil my original duty. I will do everything I can to cure our star."

"That's the spirit," the Messenger says and holds out a hand to her. "By the way, never caught your name."

"Lunafreya - Lunafreya Nox Fleuret," the Oracle says and takes his hand. "And you, my lord - what can I call you?"

"Not your lord, for a start," the Messenger says and pulls her up and to her feet, thinking of a name. Oh, well, why fix what's not broken. "Call me Desmond. Now, what say you we get out of here Lunafreya?"

Lunafreya nods and follows him away from the crater. Behind them the Archaean stands still, steadfastly shouldering his stellar burden, like he always did. Desmond casts him a last look, shaking his head - the last six thousand years had not been kind to him. The Meteor's radiation really brought out the Isu in him too, it looks like. Awkward.

One of these days he would stop being such a sucker about world ending disasters. One of these days.

Not today though.

-

Lol. Lmao even.

Here you can see in real time my daily word limit coming at me as I pass it somewhere in the middle of this and the writing starts getting increasingly nonsensical as it goes on. Anyway. Desmond as the Archaean, just because the white streaks on Titan made me go 👀

Also we're just ignoring Gentiana's existence here entirely. And pretty much all sense and logic.

It's 2 a.m. I'm tired.

[theguardianwriter]

Desmond surrounded by three surprisingly over protective master assassins.

Desmond: Guys my dad is not that bad.

Frisk sitting across the room: your sperm donor is dick.

Desmond: FRISK YOU'RE NOT IN THIS CONVERSATION. Guys really is not that bad.

Bayek: Desmond don't try justifying that man.

Ezio: he right, William does not deserve the title of father.

Altaïr: I'm already sharpening my blades for him.

Desmond: come on, Frisk just exaggerated some of the events.

Frisk: NO I DIDN'T

Desmond: SHUT IT, I'm fine.

All three master assassin eyeing Desmond with a critical eye.

Altaïr: Then explain the scarring on your back

Ezio: And how you flinch when I raise my hand.

Bayek: And the way you lend into any positive touch.

Desmond: you all make it sound like I been abused

Bayek, Frisk, Altaïr, Ezio: you were!

Desmond: damn.

[splosh-crime]

Mirror’s Edge is Assassin’s Creed

The Grand Temple saved Desmond‘s life by placing him in a stasis pod to be healed over the course of several decades. Upon re-entering the waking world, Desmond finds it contrasts strongly with the one he left in his slumber. There are no Assassins or Templars, only KrugerSec, Black November, and the Runners. As he watches a tattooed teen girl lead a helicopter, two drones, and who knows how many guards in a merry chase across the rooftops, Desmond finds himself thinking that perhaps the world had not changed as much as he thought.

The Mirror’s Edge universe is the end result of the war between Assassins and Templars and the war between Humans and Isu; a totalitarian surveillance state and corporatocracy.

Post-Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, Basim and Aletheia were able to organize a temporary truce between Assassins and Templars for the purpose of defeating Juno.— “Our child will not go un-avenged,” vow Basim and Aletheia. “The freedom of humanity takes precedence over even a millennia-spanning war,” intone the Assassins. “The Ones Who Came Before had their chance. We will not squander ours as they did,” spit the Templars. —Unfortunately, not even the major threat against free will and thought that Juno presents is enough to stop the two factions from double-crossing each other and in all the chaos, the only thing certain when the smoke settles is that Basim, Aletheia, and Juno lay dead while every last Piece of Eden lay shattered. It would take decades to harvest enough knowledge from the fragments to make anything useful from it; and by that point, who knows what else might be resurfacing?

-

If you’re on something other than mobile, sorry if the format looks crazy; I’m on mobile.

Credit to @your-local-birb for the Fensage Theory AU briefly referenced in Basim/Aletheia’s lil dialogue. I already linked their post but I wanted to tag them too because I think they’re cool 👉👈

Remember that all my posts double as invitations for discussion and constructive feedback because I’d love to talk fandom!