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silvysartfulness · 3 years

Note

Omg I saw that you used to write for the assassin’s creed fandom and honestly what a throwback 😭 are they on livejournal?

Aahhh, this is the part where I have to admit, I don't think I ever put any of those drabbles online! It was more a fun thing me and wife used to do, writing very very short 5 minute one-shots based on single word-prompts.

Oh, wait! Apparently I actually still have them, in an old folder of mine! Will post under a cut. These are AC 1-3-brotherhood, primarily focused on the latter.

La Volpe/Cesare post the fall of the Borgia was my main rarepair ship in that fandom, so that's the main (if occasionally only implied) focus for a lot of these. (CW some dubcon/non-con under the cut, so be warned.) 😊

1 Unwillingness

It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits for now.

2 Memento

”Something to remember me by,” murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.

3 Baseline

He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.

4 Sniper

He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?

5 Birthplace

It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.

6 Denunciation

It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?

7 Distaste

”Volpe, you didn't!” Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.

”Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained.”

Ezio shudders. ”That is exactly what bothers me!”

8 Elimination

Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.

9 Bluntness

”You can do as I say,” says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, ”or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours.”

Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.

10 Turf

The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.

11 Assassination

He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'dnever even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as that very first body at his feet.

12 Apprentice

He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.

13 Debris

Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago – his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.

14 Scolding

Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face as the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.

15 Torrent

The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.

16 Anchor

He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet – sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.

17 Truce

”It would be nice,” says Machiavelli evenly, ”if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion.”

”Fine,” mutters Volpe, frowning. ”It would be niceif you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own.”

”Fine,” Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.

Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.

18 Nook

There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.

19 Orgy

These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.

20 Scoff

”I spend all my time in the Animus,” Desmond frowns, ”Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do youdo, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?”

Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.

”You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid.”

21 Scolding

At the time, Ezio always figured Giovanni's constant nagging and pleading with him to stay out of trouble was only the worrying of an overprotective father. Only later was he taught discretion was part of the ancient Assassin's creed. He never got very good at it, even so.

22 Bonfire

No-one is entirely sure why Julius II has tempered justice with mercy for now and opted for his enemy's imprisonment rather than death sentence. As far as la Volpe is concerned, the way Cesare goes pale whenever the topic is brought up is at least good for entertainment.

23 Nakedness

Being exposed holds no particular shame for him, but the walls and floor are freezing to the touch, draining precious warmth from his aching body. Now would be a prudent time for an accursed thief to show up with a blanket to bargain for.

24 Arbiter

It was funny, Machiavelli drily noted in his notebook, how God and Divine Justice so often were on the side of the biggest army with the sharpest swords.

25 Purgatory

The land burns, smoke choking the sky and tinting the sun a sickly shade of blood. It is with a cold and unfamiliar sense of foreboding Cesare hurries through the flames toward the towering walls of the fortress to escape this hell on earth – one way or another.

26 Fingernail

Ezio has more than his fair share of scars adorning his hardened body, some remembered more fondly than others. He would never dream to ask Caterina to trim her nails, or use them just a touch more carefully.

27 Slavery

The Creed dictates freedom of thought, and in his reckless youth Altaïr would use it as justification for any rash impulse. But the older he grows, the more he comes to realize freedom and all its crushing responsibility can be the harshest master of all.

28 Carnivore

When confronted on his nasty habit of biting, Volpe only grins and quips something about foxes and their nature. Cesare is tempted to snap he's often seen dirty foxes prowling the back streets for garbage, but can see where Volpe would go with that, and so holds his tongue.

29 Bluntness

Ezio is too flustered after his mother's blunt request he find other outlets than vaginas to realize the enthusiastic young artist at his side seems more than eager to offer a few suggestions on the particular subject.

30 Vow

He will live, Cesare vows. He will live, he will regain his freedom, his power and his army. At any cost. And then they will. All. Pay.

31 Blending

It was simply not fair, thought Machiavelli, that no matter how solid your acting, no matter how meticulousyour disguise, Volpe would immediately spot you in a crowd and grin at you. Clearly spying on the sly old fox called for more cunning means, he conceded as he made his way to the Rosa to shamelessly bribe Claudia for information.

32 Misconduct

“Not that we are in any particular hurry to the Castello,” Orsini says, the knuckles of his war-gauntlet quite pleasantly buried in Cesare's face, “but things would just be easier all around if you would stop squirming and came quietly.”

33 Ultimatum

“If you don't stop hogging my mp3-player,” Rebecca whispers softly in Shaun's ear, “I'll tell Lucy exactly whatyou and Desmond used her yoghurts for last night.”

34 Takeover

“Stop!” Lucrezia commands as the soldiers feed the paintings to the fire – already the image of a swan is crackling and fading to black amongst the flames. Such a waste of beauty. She hasn't even realized Cesare is standing behind her, fierce and bloodied after the battle, until he speaks.

“You like them?”

She nods, and he touches her cheek with a smile, careful not to stain her hair.

“Then they are yours. A memento of the day the Assassini fell.”

35 Afterlife

“I blame you for this,” says Cesare flatly as the imps re-heat the lake of boiling tar. Again. “There is no God, you said. No heaven and no hell, you said. Stupid old bastard.”

Rodrigo mutters something about Hell being other people, but will have to concede that in this trifling matter, yes, he was mistaken.

36 Distaste

He would rather be hated than forgotten, Cesare sullenly thinks, rubbing his stiff hands for warmth. Bony, filthy, with the matted long hair of a hermit falling into his face, he has to settle for the guards' contempt. At least it's better than pity.

37 Slavery

He isn't really paid, Leonardo thinks, merely kept alive, yes. Not really compensated as such. And so the construction of the intricate war-machines is really on the consciences of his masters, not his. Sting of guilt quenched he returns to the blueprints with renewed fevered enthusiasm.

38 Probation

“What's the catch”, asks Cesare with deepest suspicion.

“No catch,” Volpe assures, looking innocent. “Just a reward for your recent good behaviour. Keep it up and there may a meal and a hot bath in it for you, too.”

Cesare does not for a moment believe they are just going out 'to stretch their legs', but a meal does sound inviting. He follows.

39 Adversity

Ezio strongly disapproved of the idea of his little sister taking over the Rosa in Fiore, and he frankly can't say whether he is more disappointed or proud when it flourishes under her care.

40 Bluntness

“You are a thief,” Machiavelli growls, piqued into a rare display of anger. “A liar and a cheat and an honourless thief!”

Volpe grins.

“All those things. And I'm still better than you.”

41 Scheming

Ezio gave the Apple to Mario, who had it stolen by Cesare, who gave it to Leonardo, who found it plucked out of his helpless hands by the Pope and his daughter. He ponders life was easier when he was just a painter. The Apple is a thing of awe, but the intrigues in its wake make his head hurt.

42 Favorite

It wasn't that Cesare particularly hated his older brother. It was just that while he no longer childishly sought his father's approval, the position as the Pope's favorite son came with several practical perks. Unfortunately for Juan, that meant he simply had to go.

43 Truce

When things are civilized, they can be bearable, almost even pleasant. The food is good, the wine plentiful, and Volpe's skilled fingers all but gentle. An unspoken truce, no matter how temporary. But neither man ever forgets the truth, which is war.

44 Scour

They answer to no-one, self-proclaimed executioners beyond all law. Too much blood on their hands now. Just before sunrise Cesare gives the command to attack. The cleansing of Monteriggioni has begun.

45 Extrovert

To hold his own council and play his cards close to his heart has always been his way, and he knowshe is a master at his game. And yet, Machiavelli can grudgingly admit to himself, it isn't until the boisterous chaos in human guise that is Ezio bursts in on the Roman scene that he begins to see how they will win this war.

46 Protagonist

“I will avenge the cowardly, treacherous plot against my father,” he thinks. “I will root out all those involved, every single one, and I will kill them and all they stand for.”

No-one ever sets out to be a hero, only to do what is right.

For Cesare, the path ahead is clear.

47 Willpower

It is never easy. Every time Altaïr visits his (his!) bureau in Jerusalem, Malik has to struggle with himself not to slay the man in his sleep. On many a moonlit night, only a lifetime of discipline stays the blade in his white-knuckled hand.

But strangely, it does get easier over time.

48 Esacalation

At first it had been mere proof of his ability to go anywhere in Roma as well he pleased, the taunting and impotent rage in response a given bonus. After some time, forced still-furious intimacy gained through blackmail had appeared a logical step. Then force turned out redundant. As Cesare clings to him, nails biting into his arms and teeth bared with need, Volpe admits to himself he would never have suspected the caged Borgia would so willingly use him to sate his desires – nor the other way around.

49 Torrent

Raw grief fades over time, a broken heart healed into a dull ache. The thing that keeps Claudia from sleeping at night is not all she has lost, but her screaming frustration at not being able to take her fate, and that of those responsible, into her own hands.

50 Danger

The peaceful life he had envisioned just the evening before will have to wait, Ezio grimly decides, pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder and focusing on not falling off his horse. And despite the shock, grief and pain, it somehow feels right. He has lived this life so long, he isn't sure he remembers how not to.

51 Splattering

Leonardo likes to buy birds at the market and set them free, watching with dreaming eyes as they take to the endless sky. Once, Ezio surprises his friend with twenty white doves. Much belatedly he wishes he'd remembered that stressed pigeons prefer to lighten their load before taking off.

52 Ramification

“It is time you take responsibility for your actions,” Rodrigo snarls, and Cesare struggles with the impulse to scream, childishly, “But father, younever did!”

53 Concession

“I'm not sure we should...”

Lover and Thief, silhouettes in the dark, alone. A light touch.

“Come now. It will be good, I promise.”

“But, what if...”

“Ssh. Are we not both Assassins? Everything is permitted.”

His honed thief's nerves tingling with foreboding warnings, La Volpe allows Claudia to persuade him in the end, knowing Ezio will probably kill him, and that it will no doubt be worth it.

54 Leer

You can't even seehis face in the shadows beneath the cowl. And yet, Volpe just standing there outside the bars, nonchalantly leaning one hand against the wall, makes Cesare want to scream. Or punch him hard. Preferably both.

55 Whisper

Ezio reflects that there are few other voices he would instantly recognize by just a short, urgent uttering of his name. His hesitation to turn around stems not from uncertainty, but the childish wish to postpone the trial of his oldest friend's rumored treason just a few moments longer.

56 Absurdity

At first Ezio had felt confused, then worried and finally terrified. But as they've fled Florence and the man introducing himself as uncle Mario tells him that his family belongs to an ancient clan of legendary assassins, relief washes over him. Finally is clear it has all been an insane dream. He can't wait to wake up.

57 Experimentation

Leonardo da Vinci is a true genius, his brilliant mind always seeing the world through a lens of wonder. Nothing escapes his never-sated curiosity – but that a small poseable wooden mannequin could be used like that? Cesare is a man not easily impressed, but will have to admit the artist rarely fails to amaze.

58 Farewell

It is with uncharacteristic kindness Volpe kisses him, between shared gasps for air after their final tryst. A last goodbye before the approaching dawn will see Cesare on his way to exile in Spain.

”Growing sentimental, old fox?” the younger man scoffs at him. ”No need. I shall return soon enough, and repaint the walls of Roma with Assassin blood.”

Volpe just smiles. He has already helped Ezio prepare his own journey and knows with certainty that Cesare will never again return to Rome.

59 Turf

”Maybe Giovanni could get away with doing paperwork all day over in Florence,” Mario says, and his tone clearly states what he thinks about his brother's choice. ”But arround here we train Assassins, not accountants or delivery boys.”

Ezio's body has never ached as much in his life as it does after his first day of training with his uncle.

60 Smoothness

When she smiles her deep red lips are like tantalizing rose petals, framed by sun-ray golden hair. She is smooth, flawless, perfect. But every rose has its thorns, and Lucrezia's are laden with poison.

61 Kneeling

Every fiber of Ezio's body strains desperately to regain control as he jerks like a puppet on golden strings of light.

”You are lucky,” breathes Rodrigo in a low, husky growls, leaning hard on the staff after the battle, ”So verylucky, little Assassin, that I am in a hurry.”

As the dagger sinks into his guts, Ezio briefly thinks that indeed, it could have been so much worse.

62 Purgatory

The imps don't know whether to feel amused or put out that the screaming, flailing argument between father and son has by now escalated to the point they don't even seem to register the lake of boiling tar anymore. A bit of respect for good solid workmanship, is that too much to ask?

63 Lick

It has to be said in favour of Machiavelli's assassin reflexes that the unexpected lick at his ear out of the dark earns Volpe neither a jump or a shriek but a rapid fist to the nose.

Only half an hour later, safely home in his bedroom, does Niccolo allow himself to contemplate what might have otherwise transpired.

64 Bonfire

It is a sad thing, reflects Ezio in hindsight, older, wiser, that compared to all the priceless art and knowledge fed to fire during Savonarola's mad reign of Florence, the mere loss of a human life that ended it is remembered with little sense of loss or revulsion.

65 Last

After Mario's death, Ezio has felt the weight of being the last Auditore Assassin ever heavier on his shoulders. But as he watches Claudia fearlessly take her leap of faith, he wonders how he could ever have been blind enough to think himself alone.

66 Well

The guards in hot pursuit yell and stab at wells, haystacks and dark alleyways. From his perch on a rooftop Ezio smiles. He always did prefer to take to the sky.

67 Wrongdoer

As his support falters and the opposition grows ever bolder, Cesare becomes increasingly frustrated with their attacks and accusations. He would prefer to answer only for his own sins, not those of his dead father.

68 Deliberate

It really is getting unnerving, decides Machiavelli, the way Volpe has taken up the habit of commenting on his every observation with a frosty ”Indeed” or ”Yes, quitethe coincidence”. He wishes he could believe the man isn't doing it on purpose.

69 Counter

When he first arrives in Jerusalem, Altaïr can't quite shake the feeling that the only thing between him and certain death is a rather narrow, map-strewn desk.

70 Bribe

Cesare has always been good at striking a profitable bargain. Unfortunately Borgia as a currency is bitterly deflated, and these days he often have to sell himself too cheap for comfort. Even though it isa warm, snug blanket.

71 Chess

Cesare knows he is a brilliant strategist – not so much because of the expected praise from his subordinates as from the satisfactory number of pins currently adorning his map of Italy. He would like to believe himself modest in this, careful not allow hubris to cheat him of a victory. And yet he never knows whether to frown or laugh helplessly as the absent-minded artist all but appologetically check-mates his king time and time and time again.

72 Feel

Leonardo never knows how to feel when Cesare enters the room. At first he is apprehensive, but as weeks turn into months and he realizes he's not only allowed but encouraged to dream up grander designs than ever before he is thrilled.

In the end, seeing the Assassins' plans put into motion long before Cesare even knows the final battle has begun, he can only avert his eyes in regret.

73 Mister

”Outside the kingdom of God is the realm of men,” Salai says, leaning just an inch too close. ”You worship there, Messere?”

Only years of training his clueless look on Leonardo helps Ezio keep a straight face as he blankly waves for the boy to follow him.

74 Fine

There are simply too many guards around for a discreet kill, so Ezio grudlingly counts the florins and hands them over. How was heto know he wasn't allowed to park his horse there? Time to liberate another stable from its Borgia-tower shadow, he decides. Burning them all down is easier than keeping track of territories anyway.

75 Dog

If La Volpe is the fox and Ezio the bird of prey, Pantasilea ponders, then Bartolomeo reminds her of a large, lumbering dog. Faithful and loyal unto death, but with a booming bark and a vicious bite for those who threaten those dear to him.

76 Forgotten

When Volpe appears he is the first person Cesare has seen in days. He greets the thief with his usual brazen curses, careful not to let any trace of relief shine through. Of all things he is most afraid to be left alone to die; not slain out of hatred or need, but simply ignored and forgotten.

77 Changed

Had Ezio been the kind of man to think upon such things, he might have noticed the Cesare facing him atop the towering walls is not the self-assured young general he met a handful years previous in Roma. Tired-looking and hunched over he looks defeated even before the battle has begun. But Ezio is here for one single purpose alone, and has never been the kind of man to think of such things anyway.

78 Gondola

Antonio assures Leonardo that only from an extensive tour with his private gondola will the artist truly get to know his new home town. As it happens, a rocky two-hour boat ride later, Leonardo still hasn't really seen much of the city. But that's quite alright, as he happily agrees to repeat the endeavour soon again.

79 Casino

It never hurts to try to win Fortuna's favour when gambling is one of your favorite pastimes, Salai knows, but in this particular case divine intervention is quite a bit closer at hand. As long as you have La Volpe's favor, the dice at the Sleeping Fox will never let you down.

80 Soup

The first bowl of watery gruel ends up thrown in the guard's face with enough force to break his nose. The next morning the second splinters against the wall. Nearly a week passes before he forces himself to eat the fifth, to preserve his strength.

Cesare closes his eyes as he quickly raises the bowl to his face to wolf down the hundredth, before the reflection in the dull surface can show him what he has become.

81 Carrot

”Tell you what,” murmurs Volpe in the starving prisoner's ear, dangling the vegetable in front of his face, ”If you give me a good enough show I'll even let you keep it for supper when you're done.”

82 Madame

Volpe has to admit himself impressed – Claudia is shrewd, ruthless and horrifyingly practical, and stillmanages to be praised a good businesswoman rather than cursed a thief.

83 Kilt

Yes, Ezio decides as he flexes his body inside the unfamiliar weight of Romulus' armour, there is definitely a draft around his nether regions. Whatever the old Romans may have thought, a skirt of leather belts does notconstitute proper clothing.

After some swearing and creative arranging of his spare cloak he considers it may well look even moreof a skirt, but at least this cut preserves his manly dignity when he jumps.

84 Theft

He has stolen valuables, information, people and lives. La Volpe draws in a deep breath as he surveys Roma in the first light of morning, then exhales in satisfaction. She is the greatest city in the world, and she is all his for the taking.

#asksilvy #blast from the past

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itseivwhore · 4 years

Text

|Ezio Auditore x reader|(Modern)

I was at the beach for an entire day,from morning until evening:with the sun and the impossible heat (plus my pride and the thought of being invincibile to everything and everyone),didn't exactly help the stay...so I ended up to have billions of sunburns all over my shoulders and face (who would have thought...I've been spending 17 years at the beach every damn Summer,yet I never got such a bad sunburn like this one.Invincible my ass). And I was stuck on my bed,I couldn't even move...so how better to spend all this free time if not to write something?

Have a little modern au imagine with all of the Assassins,and at least but not last,with the reader comforting Ezio struggling and being a bit dramatic with the big sunburns he got.

Because I was annoyed,and it was the only idea I got.Oh and it won't be like all my other long imagines:this one will be quite short...maybe.(Oh x 2,I would like to point this out:the writing style will be a little bit different from all the other one shots I have written,since this will be a modern one,so don't really expect philosophical speeches).

~~~~~

Summer.

Probably the most awaited season of the year,where everything changes and the world takes on a new and youthful aspect:longer and warmer days,holidays,exciting and fun experiences,countless of new opportunities to spend free time with friends;maybe spending a few weeks in a beautiful house right in front of a lake,in the middle of nature,away from the city and its continuous noise...and this is what Ezio organized:three weeks in that beautiful large wooden house,where he would celebrate his birthday.

Everybody knew that the Italian boy had always-always-organized fantastic parties,with hundreds of people,inviting almost the whole school and all the people he knew,celebrating all night long.Everybody knew about his famous,big parties.But the group of his closest friends was shocked and amazed,to say the least,when Ezio declared that for this year there would be no big and crazy party:just a few weeks,all together,a sort of summer holiday,near a lake,in the middle of a forest.

And everyone,of course,expected that Ezio had rented an ultra-modern and very expensive house,but when they all arrived at the place of residence,they remained amazed:that infamous house,which the Italian had so long mentioned,was nothing more than a large,simple,two-storey wooden chalet.The outside of the house was surrounded by a thick layer of grass,decorated with many small colorful flowers,overlooked by large trees that partially covered the large lawn with their shade.A hammock had been tied right in the middle of two trees,and was slightly moved by the warm summer breeze.

The interior was spacious and furnished in a very simple way with wodden fornitures,and everything was more cozy and soft thanks to that small touch of vintage everywhere in the house:pendulum clocks,antique paintings hanging on all the walls,huge windows that illuminated immensely the large living room.The second floor was just where the numerous bedrooms were,as well as having a large and spacious balcony overlooking the majestic lake,giving a truly beautiful view.

In short,a truly delightful house,reserved and discreet,away from towns and cities.

Everyone,on the other hand,had found various activities and amusements to do:who,like Edward,Jacob,Ezio and Desmond,as soon as they arrived at the chalet,had lost no time and immediately dived into the lake,swimming and playing in the cool water;who,like Connor and Altaïr,had decided to take a walk in the woods near the chalet,looking for silence and peace,away from Jacob's screams,Edward's dirty jokes and Ezio's curses;who,like Evie and Arno,sat in the shadow of the mighty tall white poplars reading books,sometimes muttering something to each other;who,like Leonardo,spent most of his time painting the landscape around him.

Y/n instead spent the hours of the day alternating between being in everyone's company:swimmimg with the four boys in the lake,or walking together with Altaïr and Connor in the middle of the woods,or simply chatting with the two readers,or watching the painter paint his masterpieces.And,during the last hours of the evening,being together with Ezio,cuddling him,spending sweet and almost infinite moments with him,laying in the hammock next to him,laughing at his flirty comments,shivering at his reserved and gentle touches and blushing at his tempting and allouring glances.

The whole group was having fun,no one was bored,the days went by fast,and Ezio's birthday was getting closer and closer.Everything was normal.

Until...

"Santo Dio!" a heartrending scream of pain,coming from inside the chalet,interrupted the quiet of that mid-June afternoon.All of them had gathered in the large living room,standing around him.Curses and cries of pain had little to do with all that fuss:the real reason why the whole group had gathered in the living room was-as one might have imagined-for Ezio himself.

Once he was finally back from a full day at the lake,most of it spent sunbathing,everyone noticed how incredibly reddish his face had become-noticing however that he was wearing his t-shirt again.But he just shrugged it off,reassuring everyone by telling that it was 'completely normal',as if nothing happened.But the hours went by,and with them grew-more and more-the pain that became unbearable,impossible to ignore,the realization that became more and more vivid in his mind.And consequently,even his complaints and pain only grew:starting from barely audible groans to loud shouts,catching the attention of the whole group...who tried to do everything to help him,but in vain.

"Don't...don't touch me!" Ezio intimidated with a threatening voice,pointing a finger at all his friends who,a little surprised,a little worried-and even a little amused-were in front of him.

"Please,you need to take of your shirt off,Ezio!" Y/n prayed him for the umpteenth time in an exasperated tone,slowly taking a few steps towards the guy,spreading her arms,wanting him to understand that she didn't have any bad intentions.

"I don't need to do anything!Leave me be!" Ezio shouted again with eyes burning with rage,backing away when he saw his fiancée approaching him,his flashing gaze wandering quickly over all his friends' faces.

"You are shouting like a girl,mate.Quit it" Edward's loud,bored and singing voice came from the kitchen,too busy rummaging through the fridge to turn around and look at the poor boy.

"Zitto Kenway!" the Italian apostrophied him,panting heavily,red in the face,drops of sweat running over his forehead,while he walked quickly back and forth in the living room,trying to avoid the looks and comments of everyone.

"Be a man and take that shirt off,you are complaining for nothing" Jacob replied in a careless,nonchalant voice,passing next to Ezio and then placing a heavy hand on his shoulder,purposedly giving some loud pats:smirking in a purely amused way when he saw the Italian hissing and groaning in pain.

"Don't.Touch.Me." Ezio repeated in a cold sharp-edged whisper,violently swatting the Bitish' hand away from his shoulder,watching Jacob chuckling and throwing himself on the couch,sitting beside Arno,who was silently observing the scene.

"Ezio please,try to be reasonable" even Leonardo tried to persuade his friend,thus beginning to talk to him,sometimes even murmuring something in Italian,gesturing from time to time.

Desmond,who in the meantime had returned from the kitchen and was holding a beer in his hand,entered the living room,confusedly looking at Ezio for brief moments,and then sitting down next to Arno

"So that's what Italians are like when they're angry,huh?They shout and insult you?" he asked in a whisper,raising an eyebrow,trying not to be heard from him,receiving instead a furious look that,if he had the power to kill,the young Miles would find himself lying on the wooden floor,dead.Desmond simply cleared his voice a couple of times,then opened his beer and drank a few sips,turning to his French friend when he heard him hide a mischievous smile.

"Not only when they are angry.They're always like that" Arno said,raising a corner of his lip in a bitterly amused smile when he looked up at Ezio,seeing him respond to the artist in a rather nervous,impatient manner.Y/n,meanwhile,had gathered all the patience and strength she could have in herself;she knew that the boy could be dramatic when these things happened:she knew him too well,and she knew she had to use gentle manners with him,not forcing him to do things he didn't want to do.

So,walking slowly towards Ezio once more,with a small,pure smile on her rosy lips,she stopped in front of him,looking into his fervent,deep,dark eyes:and when his shiny eyes met and locked with her e/c ones,the violent fire burning inside his gaze disappeared immediately,returning to the warm,calm,soft brown eyes that she loved.She sighed lightly,looking up at him.

"You have to take off your shirt,you'll only make things worse" the girl explained in a serious tone,but not scolding him and,rising on her tip toes she grabbed his head,slowly took the sunglasses out of his hair,placimg them on a small table next to the sofa."Let me help you,alright?" she proposed to him with a sweet,loving,caring smile,starting to raise the edges of his shirt.

He couldn't do anything.How could he refuse the help of the person who endured him and loved him most of all?He simply couldn't.So he got help from her,but some loud hiss and painful groans,while she tried to get ridd off of that shirt,couldn't miss.Once the girl finally managed to get the shirt off from him,she stepped backwards,e/c eyes widening,bringing her hands on her mouth,staying silent in front of him,amazement and genuine disbelief that formed in her face.

"Oh my God" Y/n couldn't help but let out a shocked sigh at the view of his body:he was completely and totally red,to say the least,burned.Ezio didn't seem to perceive how much he had been burned also,and above all,on his torso and abdomen:but the pains and burns only increased when he took off his shirt.The Italian began frantically to ask questions on questions to his friends who,either too shocked,or too amused,didn't answer him.

Desmond suddenly stood up on the sofa and looked for Connor,who had been sitting on a chair with his arms resting against the backrest until now,and then beckoned him to come closer:

"Hey Connor...come here and stand beside Ezio" Connor,for as much as he was a little reluctant and confused,did as he was asked,got up from his chair,and walked to the center of the living room,stopping next to Ezio.

Everyone watched the two boys in silence,until the young Miles suddenly burst into a loud and hilarious laugh.

"LOOK!He's the same color as your shirt,you could blend in Ezio!" he exclaimed,pointing at the poor guy,looking at his arms and chest and then squaring from head to toe Connor,who was wearing a bordeaux t-shirt:and,not exaggerating at all,all of Ezio's skin in his whole body was exactly of that dark red color.This joke unleashed the hilarity of the whole group,who began to laugh loudly,who more openly and who adding more jokes,who giggling confidently.

"Cosa?Fammi vedere!Non c'è un cazzo di specchio in questa cazzo di casa?!" Ezio shouted loudly,looking around frantically, tarting to speak Italian -probably not realizing it because of the fury and embarrassment he was feeling at the moment-he started to rum around all the rooms to find a mirror in which he could see himself;leaving everyone alone in the living room,he ran to the bathroom,and after a few moments another 'cazzo!' echoed in the chalet.

He returned from the bathroom,mumbling lowly,keeping on cursing and talking Italian,panting,completely and utterly red,tired and angry eyes glaring at everything and everyone around him.

"What are you laughing at,Altaïr?!" Ezio suddenly asked angrily,turning to the Syrian when he heard him laugh silently.He did not even deign to turn around and look at the guy,he just looked over his shoulder,grimacing when he saw all the sunburns on the Italian's body,for then returning to watch outside the window.

"You are getting angry with everyone here.It's only your fault." Ezio took an expression to say the least shocked,when he heard Altaïr blame him so blatantly.

"Why should it be my fault?When I was about to take the sun cream it was empty" Ezio defended himself promptly and assuming an authoritative tone,frowning."And I really wonder who consumed it all" he added,raising his voice,turning to Jacob and glaring at him.All of them followed the Italian's gaze,and the whole group focused on Jacob who,still sitting on the sofa, looked around confused.

"What?It's not my fault if Evie is bloody pale!" he suddenly replied,opening his arms theatrically,pointing to his sister who was sitting right in front of him on another armchair.Laughing cunningly,he quickly dodged the slipper she threw at him.

"Yes,I agree,it's only Ezio's fault" Desmond agreed,taking yet another sip from the beer,getting more comfortable on the couch. "I mean,you are Italian,dude"he replied back,leaning forward and resting both elbows on his knees,giving him a disappointed look.

"And what does it has to do with it?" Leonardo asked,purely curious.

"Shouldn't he be used?You know,all tan,Italy' sun,the heat,Mediterranean people" explained Desmond with a careless voice,gesturing a little with his hands,receiving yet another frosty and furious look from the Italian.Ezio rarely did become nervous,there were few times when he became angry:but he was not offended with his friends or by all the jokes they were telling him;he was just annoyed,tired by the burning that was all over his body.The pain was so acute and so strong that he couldn't even make a single simple move.He appreciated that everyone wanted to help him,but he had to admit that all that talking,all that chaos,didn't help him at all.

"It's no one fault,okay?" Y/n said,slightly impatient,looking at the whole group and then giving a serious look at her boyfriend.But Arno didn't seem to hear her and,softly scoffing,put the book he was reading on the coffee tablet in front of him.

"Do I have to remind you that you yourself have said:'Oh I don't need the suncream'?" he replied in a decisive way,trying to imitate his friend's Italian accent at his best,looking straight into his flaming eyes.

Ezio remained silent,spechless:what the French guy said was nothing but the truth.Hours before,back in the morning,almost everyone-most of all Y/n-tried to convince him on putting some suncream on.But he didn't want to know anything about it,laughing and joking about how the others were so fragile in the sun's rays,bragging a little and feeling proud,proclaiming that he,Ezio Auditore,had no need of sunscream:and so,after swimming in the lake a couple of times,he lay in the sun,and stood there for hours,not moving,even falling asleep...only to find himself,later,in such a state.

"Don't be a smartass with me" Ezio threatened again,lowering his voice in a sharp sigh,pointing a finger at him.

"Otherwise?" Armo challenged him with his natural-old-boldness,quirking an eyebrow as he raised from the couch and took a few steps towards his friend.Ezio of course did not remain silent,to suffer the lecture of Arno,and began to respond fiercely against the provocation of the Frenchman.

"Can't we just try to solve this out without arguing for once?" Y/n suddenly exclaimed in a purely exasperated tone,putting herself between the two men and pushing them away,but receiving a hiss and a painful grunt from Ezio.

"Don't we have some medicenes here?" Evie then asked cautiously,interrupting the silence that had taken hold in the living room after the heated argument between the two guys.

"The only medicine it's alcohol" Edward answered blantatly,coming out of the kitchen with two cold beers in his hand. "Here you go mate" and threw one of the bottles at Ezio,who grabbed it quickly,looking confused and annoyed at the beer that the Welsh had thrown at him.

"I think we should go to the hospital" proposed Connor in a murmur,crossing his arm to his chest,taking on a genuinely worried look when he looked-again-at Ezio's body.

"Perfect!I'll drive.Let's go,shall we?" exclaimed Jacob cheerfully,clapping his hands loudly and smiling,excitement glistening inside his eyes,quickly taking the car keys from the coffee table.

"Yogurt," Desmond said seriously from all of a sudden,silencing everyone.

"What?" Y/n asked,wrinkling her eyebrows in a confused expression,approaching and kneeling next to him.

"We should use yogurt on these sunburns.It helps" continued the young Miles with a firm tone,showing to the young woman his phone,pointing at the screen.

"How can this help?" Altaïr asked in a skeptical tone,turning around and finally taking an interest in the matter.

"Yogurt refresh the sunburns,soften them and have a pleasant moisturizing effect" Y/n read aloud the information she read from the screen,scrolling on it for some more moments,for then giving it back to Desmond.The Syrian guy kept on giving a plain,cold and diffident glance at Miles,shaking his head in the mean time.

"Don't look at me like that,I found it on Internet" concluded Desmond showing his phone,for then shrugging,returning to lay his back on the couch.

"We can try.Do we have some yogurt left in the fridge?" Leonardo asked with curiosity,hoping for the best.

"If the big giant didn't eat them all..." Desmond joked loudly,raising from the couch,giving a playful pat behind the shoulder of his friend when he passed beside him,entering in the kitchen and opening the fridge.

"I only ate the coconut ones..." Connor justified himself in a low murmur,leaning his shoulder on the frame of the kitchen's door,lowering his eyes on the floor.

"You can find a lot of false thing on Internet though" the oldest Frye said,thinking about what Demsond read about using yogurt and other things as an help with sunburns.Jacob scoffed loudly,rolling his eyes in a dramatic way.

"Oh come on Evie!At least we'll be able to help that stubborn dumba..." but Jacob was suddenly and not a little violently interrupted by Ezio's loud and hoarse voice:

"BASTA!" the Italian yelled,making the silence return into the chalet and among his friends once his shout stopped echoing in the house.Everyone was motionless,nobody dared say anything,even Jacob refrained from making one of his jokes.Everyone looked at him in amazement,to say the least,intimidated,sometimes exchanging and casting fugitive glances.Ezio was there,motionless,eyes burning brightly,rapid breathing,red in the face,passing and placing his glare on everyone around him.

"Pasta?" Desmond asked confusedly,frowning and making a grimace.

"We are not going to the hospital,no one is going to put yogurt on me,I won't take any medicine!" Ezio proclaimed authoritatively,higly and stubborly denying any kind of help and refusing any kind of purposes.Taking his sunglasses from the coffee table,placing them on his head,he started to walk towards the door. "And you..." he stopped near the treshold of the kitchen,where Edward still was,before standing im fromt of the Welsh."You can keep your beer Edward" e,taking his hand,he forcefully gave the beer he threw at him before,for then storming out from the chalet.

Y/n-who since the moment Ezio began to shout had been silent as everyone else-was trying to reach him,but she felt a hand grasping her wrist and tugging her slightly,stopping her.Turning around,she found Arno beside her,his hand now resting on her shoulder,squeezing gently.

"Leave him be.He is angry,there's no way to let him reason now" he said to the girl,giving her a bitter and soft smile,nodding towards the window and letting her see that Ezio was outside,laying on the hammock...at least,trying to lay on it,for the sunburns he got all over his body didn't allow him to move,swearing and cursing for at least another hour.

~~~~~

A few hours passed by all what Jacob jokingly called an 'Italian tragedy'.It was late evening by now,almost midnight,and Ezio was still outside sitting on a chair near a wooden table not far from the front door:no one had dared disturb him,for fear of increasing his anger,or of unleashing something infectious.The Italian hadn't even come home for dinner,or for any other reason:he had stayed there for the rest of the day,first lying in a hammock,perhaps asleep,then sitting in a chair staring at nothing,occasionally trying to touch his shoulder or back to see if the pain still persisted.

No one seemed to care so much about him anymore.Apart from Y/n who,of course,was the most worried of all of them:she always turned her gaze towards the windows,trying to catch a glimpse of his form,trying to understand if he was still upset or if he had calmed down,but she certainly couldn't stand there,motionless,looking at him,doing nothing.So she decided to finally get out of the chalet,and try to let him reason,and calming him

Once outside,she gently closed the door behind her,looking for her boyfriend with her eyes,finding him sitting with his back to the chalet,eyes looking at the big,calm lake.The girl took a few steps forward,starting to walk as quietly as possible towards him.But he heard her.

"If there's somebody else then you all can go away," he coldly proclaimed in a loud and decise voice,not turning around and continuing to look at the lake.It was really a beautiful evening:sky full of stars,moon high in the sky,the water reflecting its dull and cold rays on its small waves,a light and fresh breeze made the branches of the trees move gently.

"I'll go away then" Y/n replied in a neutral tone,getting closer and closer until she found herself standing behind his reddish-shoulders.He turned around as soon as he heard her voice,looking at her in an astonished and tired way.

"You're the only person I want next to me even when I'm upset" Ezio murmured in a soothing,low voice,soft and warm brown eyes pleading her shiny e/c ones,her heart almost melting when she heard such a gentle,and utter loving phrase leaving his lips.Her Ezio was back.

"Vieni qui" he whispered,opening his arms,stretching an arm out,gently grabbing her by her waist and delicately letting her sit on his lap.Muscular arms wrapped around her form,pulling her closer,not caring about the pain that action was causing him,just holding her as close as possible,face buried in her chest,snuggling his stubble against her soft flesh,smiling against her skin when he heard her giggling.

She deteached away from him,looking at him before giving him a smile when,as she was caressing his cheek,he leaned his face on her palm,almost wanting to be lulled after such a long,tiring day.He opened his eyes after a while,fixing some strands of h/c hair that were falling in front of her.

"I'm sorry" the Italian whispered suddenly,giving his beloved a look full of guilt and embarrassment.One of the things Y/n adored about Ezio was his honesty and humility:he knew when he was wrong,he knew when to apologize and he knew perfectly well when to do so."I wasn't angry with you all...I was just tired and nervous because I got all thesw fottute sunburns" he explained in a serious voice,squeezing her hips.He could read in his deep eyes how purely sorry he was.She gave him a small smile,leaning in and leaving a chaste kiss upon his lips.

"I,we know,Ezio.No one is mad at you" Y/n reassured him in a soothing and quiet voice,leaning down to kiss him again,with more passion,paying attention to where she put her hands,so as not to hurt him.

Ezio still was whispering apologies near her ear,caressing her,kissing her,thanking her.But she got up from his highs after a while and,after looking at him seriously,the girl leaned towards the table next to them,holding an object that Ezio had not noticed until now.

"It's yogurt.Desmond tried to see if it could really help,and apparently,it could," Y/n explained,raising the yogurt jar in her hand and showing it to him,who in response sighed loudly and deeply,throwing his head back,almost looking in defeat.But despite his reaction,Ezio sat down composedly on the chair and nodded.

The girl laughed purely amused and,opening the jar,she took some yogurt on both hands,and began to smear it on his shoulders and on his red,scalded back;at first groans and hiss,his skin still too sensible and damaged,but after a while,when she started to delicately massage his shoulders with the fresh,cold yogurt,he sighed,relieved.He hummed,closing his eyes,throwing his head back.

"Quanto posso amarti?" he asked in Italian,sounding so hoarse when he-once again-groaned when her small hands slided down from his shoulders to his warm chest.

"Shouldn't you be giving a message to me?" Y/n asked him back in a sarcastic tone,leaning down,whispering that near his ear,hearing the entrance door being opened and closed.

"But it's my birthday today" Ezio answered in a mellifluous tone,claiming to be offended,giving a sad grimace to his lover,who just laughed loudly,for then suddendly returning serious.

"Who told you I don't have a gift for you?" Y/n inquires with a low and semsual voice,leaning more near him,her hands sliding down on his torso,almost tickling him,her lips on his definite jaw,feeling him almost shivering.

And just when he was about to answer her,he stopped when he saw all the others walking towards the table,singing the infamous song:it was,in fact,midnight,and it was Ezio's birthday.Jacob walked in front of everyone,holding a large pizza in his hands,on which were added candles.Once they arrived near the birthday boy,the British placed the pizza on the table in front of Ezio who,with happy eyes,looked at what was to be his birthday cake.

"We didn't have the time to go in the nearest city and buy a cake,so we make a true Italian pizza..." Connor explained with a ghostly smile on his lips,nodding towards the plate.

"For an angry,burnt italian man" concluded Arno with sarcastic voice,raising a corner of his mouth in a cheeky grin,smiling at Ezio.

"I tell you,we aren't even sorry" added Edward with a proud smile,placing his hands on his hips.

"Pizza cake" Desmond said,spreading his arms in a theatrical gesture,but Jacob promptly interrupted him,raising a hand and shushing the young Miles.

"We talked about this before,Des.It's birtday pizza.No discussion," Jacob replied,speaking seriously to say the least. "It is law!" he then proclaimed,roughly smashing his fist in the table,making the flame of the candles tremble.

Ezio heard Y/n laughing behind him,her hands were now wrapped gently around his neck.Pressing a long,chaste kiss on his bearded cheek,she whispered to him:

"The surprise has to wait"

~~~~~~

°°°¡TrAnSlAtIoNs!°°°

"Santo Dio!" = Good God;

"Zitto" = Shut up;

"Cosa?Fammi vedere!Non c'è un cazzo di specchio in questa cazzo di casa?!" = What?Let me see!There's not a fucking mirror in this fuckint house?!;

"Basta!" = Enough;

"Vieni qui" = Come here;

"Quanto posso amarti?" = How much can I love you?

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teecupangel · 1 year

Note

Do we have a Phonenix yet in the menagire? We need one.

Phoenix!Desmond, probably looking like a normal bird for the most part, and stays with Sef when they go after the mongols (Altair probably thinks he's getting too old he looked a bit ratty lately) and takes the hit when Swami tries to kill him.

Idk whether to have this crack or angest with them thinking Desmond died, had a chick, and was apparently a female bird the entire time.

Okay, so I was checking the Phoenix wiki page for any information if it would be possible that Altaïr would know what a phoenix is and there’s this part written by Herodotus (yes, Kassandra’s Herodotos)

[The Egyptians] have also another sacred bird called the phoenix which I myself have never seen, except in pictures. Indeed it is a great rarity, even in Egypt, only coming there (according to the accounts of the people of Heliopolis) once in five hundred years, when the old phoenix dies. Its size and appearance, if it is like the pictures, are as follow: The plumage is partly red, partly golden, while the general make and size are almost exactly that of the eagle. They tell a story of what this bird does, which does not seem to me to be credible: that he comes all the way from Arabia, and brings the parent bird, all plastered over with myrrh, to the temple of the Sun, and there buries the body.

… which may be a reference to Bennu, the Egyptian deity connected to the sun, creation, and rebirth.

So Altaïr would meet him during his travels with Maria and he just stays. They assume he’s an exotic bird (or eagle), maybe a native to one of the places Altaïr and Maria visited.

Altaïr never told them that the bird flew into his room one night and began to chirp at him as if trying to tell him something. He also tried to tap the Apple but all it did was glow a bit.

The bird had been quite annoyed by it and began to hit it with his talons so quickly the Apple had a taptaptaptaptap sound rapidly before Altaïr could take the Apple.

After that, the bird just decided to sit on Altaïr’s shoulder when he left his room the following morning and Maria assumed he had bought the bird yesterday when they went their separate ways.

Her guess sounded so much better than the truth which was Altaïr spent the entire day yesterday holed up in his room, writing letters to be sent back to Masyaf as part of his deal with Malik in exchange for letting him go on this trip (which was to send letters detailing the geopolitical situations of the places he travels to with suggestion on what the Brotherhood should do in those parts… if they could do anything).

So nobody ever questioned the mentor’s newly acquired bird (except Malik but Malik had been more focused on the ex-Templar that Altaïr brought to Masyaf and married).

Then Darim and Sef were born and the bird (named Desmond because Altaïr thought of the name first when Maria asked what the bird’s name was) usually stayed with the children, letting out loud screeching cries whenever one of the two children were doing something they shouldn’t do.

When they got older, Darim and Sef learned the word ‘bribe’ and how Desmond can be easily bribed to look the other way in favor of delicious food.

Desmond stayed in Masyaf though, regardless if Altaïr or any of his sons left for a mission or to travel to a bureau. At some point, the bird had become a symbol of Brotherhood with its gold and red plumage.

So when Altaïr left with Maria and Darim to take down Genghis Khan, it was only natural for Desmond to stay with Sef in Masyaf.

Altaïr had been a bit conflicted though as Desmond’s feathers had grown quite… dull and he was moving slower than usual.

Maria and Malik both told them that Desmond was growing old and maybe it was time but the Ibn-La'Ahad boys refused to believe that.

Darim also believed that they might find medicine in one of the camps of the Mongols as they have been to many lands.

So when Desmond flew to protect Sef and got stabbed on the chest by Swami, Swami screamed as Desmond became shrouded in flames.

Swami burned as well and Sef could only watch in horror as white hot flames consumed the both of them.

Swami was left as a corpse charred beyond recognition.

While Desmond…

Only ashes remained…

And from those ashes…

Sef heard a small chirp.

As a little chick with red and gold plumage poked his head out of the ashes, shaking the ash from his small body.

Sef could only stare as he asked, “Desmond?”

And the bird gave him an enthusiastic chirp while jumping.

#ngl #super tempted to make desmond a female bird and have him freak out when he suddenly plopped an egg #we can go for the ‘his ancestors get reborn too as his children’ route #and the eggs stay dormant #until the death of his ancestors #so desmond’s gonna be the mother of a flock of phoenix(es)#desmond is turned into an animal subgenre #desmond is turned into a creature subgenre #ask and answer #assassin's creed #desmond miles #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #altaïr ibn la'ahad #sef ibn la'ahad

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teecupangel · 4 months

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I know someone probably already asked because what about Desmond in rainbow six siege

I imagine he would be a part of ghosteyes

I feel like if we set this with the idea of Desmond being transported into Rainbow Six world after dying, he wouldn’t be part of any squad or ‘company’, preferring to go on his own and end up creating a Brotherhood under him.

Hell, he would probably even poach a few of the members of Ghosteyes all things considered.

So we go a different route.

We add Rainbow Six (and Tom Clancy’s books in general) into the AC world and turn this into a timeline where Desmond gets into the military for some reason when he left the Farm and just… continued to do his own thing.

He became part of special ops teams which ends up saving him from Abstergo’s eyes.

(How did the world survive in 2012 then? I’ll sacrifice William Miles for this one… or if Desmond’s genetic makeup is necessary, William Miles and his wife)

Desmond continues to be part of one of the US spec ops team and learning the ropes from the best. Because of what he can do, he’s more efficient for stealth infiltration and assassination.

Which leads to him being trained by Sam Fisher.

Whether he was part of Third Echelon or not is up to you.

But it’s because Sam remembers him as the most promising ‘soldier’ he had ever trained, he is the one to recruit him as the latest member of GhostEyes.

At this point, Desmond has made a name for himself.

The White Grim Reaper.

Because his normal attire is composed of a white suit with a hood and a white mask.

Sam always told him that he was courting death, wearing an all white outfit like that.

Desmond agrees but he’s also giving a middle finger to his past.

Because an all white ensemble with a hood was always what his mother used to wear.

He doesn’t know it’s because many of his Assassin ancestors wore white with a hood.

To him, wearing white with a hood is a way to show this parent’s cult that he has carved out his own future.

And now…

A new chapter awaits with the Ghosteyes.

Also, also

Flores of Ghosteyes got an Altaïr skin so I’m imagining he’s like BFF with Desmond once Desmond gets used to Ghosteyes. XD

youtube

#did i focus on sam fisher because i played splinter cell #but not rainbow six siege because it’s online #… yes #ngl #was absolutely tempted to play it when they released the altaïr costume #but naaahhh #also…#i read tom clancy books when i was in highschool XD #so that’s what i’m familiar with hahahaha #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #rainbow six siege #sam fisher

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teecupangel · 2 years

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Listen......if Desmond was in Edward Kenway's time. What if he accidentally became the king of Pirates. Like he became sailor get some currency cos dollar bills won't work and the ship he work in was attacked and captain just aborted and abandoned the ship so Desmond just used his bleed effecting and defeated the attackers but he's like the captain is gone fuck I can't go back and just sailed to find treasure chests (using eagle vision maybe) and made a reputation that reach Edward, Black beard, James and the pirate gang , the templars and assassins ears

I had to check if King of the Pirates was an actual thing and the closest I could find that wasn’t One Piece related was Henry Avery and I’m more familiar with him because of Uncharted 4 so I'm gonna borrow Uncharted 4's personality for Avery in this one.

So let’s say Desmond Miles got kicked into Black Flag timeline and he became a crew member of a certain pirate out of necessity because he just can’t seem to find any Assassins in this timeline.

The captain of the ship he’s on was good to him. Didn’t ask any questions and seemed okay with just Desmond doing whatever he wanted as long as he gets the work done. But Desmond starts to butt heads when the captain starts to get too greedy. Too brutal.

They started hitting on merchant ships, killing innocent sailors.

Of course, the captain starts to laugh, reminding Desmond that they were pirates.

This is what they do.

And Desmond realizes that he had been blind to the captain’s ruthlessness because of the kindness he showed.

The captain wasn’t kind for the sake of being kind. He was kind because he knew that would make Desmond trust him.

So Desmond did what he was trained to do.

He assassinates the captain.

And he gives the crew two options. Either they help him sail the ship to the nearest port and they all leave or they try and take down Desmond right here and now.

Of course, these are pirates and they stayed with their captain for a reason. Most of them attacked Desmond and it was only because of the knowledge he got from his Bleed that he even managed to take them all down. It’s a bloodbath, that’s for sure.

And, in the end, Desmond remains in the bloody ship with perhaps two or three crew members who didn’t attack him. Not enough to man the ship, of course, but…

They were transporting prisoners from the last ship they hit.

So Desmond makes a deal with them, help him sail the ship then they’re free to go.

It’s a tense voyage, of course. People not trusting each other. Desmond had to fight off three or four assassination attempts made by desperate people who weren’t really trying to kill him not out of greed but out of fear.

And when they finally reached the nearest port that wouldn’t just bombard them with cannon balls and other projectiles, Desmond gives each person the same amount of gold from the captain’s coffers and then left.

Or… tried to anyway.

When he was in the tavern, eating the first hot meal he’d had in months, some of the sailors and the remaining crew members came to his table.

Desmond was confused, of course, until the men spoke.

They were all wanted men now.

No one would believe them if they say that they were just let go by some strange man in a hood (“I’m not strange… am I?”).

They had nowhere else to go.

And now it was Desmond’s problem.

Desmond just wanted to find the freaking Assassins and maybe the reason why he’s in this time period for some reason.

But there is a sense of responsibility banging into his heart right now.

Seeing the downtrodden looks of every man at the table…

Desmond sighs and agrees to be their captain.

“But, if I’m going to be your captain, there’s gonna be some rules!”

“Whatever you say, cap’n.”

“And… the ship needs a makeover.”

“A what now?”

And that is how the legendary pirate king Henry Avery disappeared…

And Captain Desmond Miles of the Bad Weather (name subject to change) started roaming the seas as the strangest nicest pirate in the West Indies (who just so happens to have a knack for finding sunken and buried treasures)

#desmond isn't really good at naming things #i was half-tempted to name it something like 'altaïr iii' in reference to the ship named after altaïr #or something ironic like 'helios' or 'anima'#but desmond sounds like the type of guy who would pick names he's familiar with #just be happy he didn't name it the aquila or the aquilus or some other eagle variation #assassin's creed #desmond miles #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot

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teecupangel · 1 year

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Once upon a time in the quaint village, there lived a young mail courier. He was known for his unwavering dedication to his job, delivering letters and packages with a smile to every doorstep. One day, an urgent message arrived at the village, instructing him to embark on a long journey to a distant town where a crucial post office awaited.

The mail he carried was no ordinary mail; it held the hopes and dreams of the villagers, connecting loved ones and spreading joy. The journey to the post office was not an easy one, as it spanned through vast meadows, dense forests, and treacherous mountains. However, he was determined to fulfill his duty, knowing that the letters in his bag held significant meaning to the recipients.

With a firm resolve, he bid farewell to his family and set off at the crack of dawn, his loyal horse carrying him through the countryside. Along the way, the courier encountered various challenges, from wild storms that soaked him to the bone to a broken bridge that forced him to find an alternative path.

As the days turned into weeks, he faced moments of doubt, but he never faltered. The thought of the smiles on people's faces when they received their letters and packages kept him going. Each night, he would rest under the starlit sky, reading letters from his own family for encouragement.

On his journey, he met fellow travelers who shared their own tales of hope and love, making him realize the profound impact his job had on connecting people's lives. With newfound determination, he pressed on, even through the darkest of nights and the coldest of days.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sight of the town appeared on the horizon. Exhausted but elated, the courier and his horse made their way through the bustling streets, guided by the townsfolk who welcomed them warmly.

The post office in the town was a grand building with ornate architecture, a symbol of communication and unity. As he entered, he handed over the carefully protected mail, knowing the importance of each letter entrusted to him. The postmaster was grateful for his perseverance and dedication, acknowledging the role he played in bringing happiness to so many.

In one of the letters is said: "what would happen if Desmond can turn into Eren's founding Titan form? Doesn't have to be an aot au. I bet it would be very funny lmao XD"

Alright, let’s talk about how we can do this. So we’ll give Desmond the Founding Titan’s powers but keep him in the AC world. (unless someone wants an AOT AU or a Desmond get isekai’ed to the AOT world AU)

So, first, let’s clarify what the Founding Titan’s powers would be now that there’s actually no… you know… Titan in AC (have spoilers for AOT, I guess):

The Founding Titan can create and control other Titans who are Subjects of Ymir. In this idea, you might think that means Desmond should be able to control those with Isu blood but I suggest a different idea: Desmond would be able to control humans in general but the more Isu blood one has, the harder it is to control them. (We’ll get to why we’re changing it this way in a bit). As for the creation part, since we’re not giving Desmond the ability to create Titan (I mean, we could), we’ll make him able to create ‘monsters’ instead. To be more specific: he can manipulate human genes and change them to whatever he liked, although it might be easier for him to change them lightly (like perhaps giving them the ability to access Eagle Vision) or to keep them more human-like (like say… a minotaur or a gorgon or a werewolf… if you catch my drift). This will also be the equivalent of the Founding Titan’s ability to change the body of the Subjects of Ymir (which, when you think about it, Titan creation is a subset of this ability anyway).

The Founding Titan can manipulate memories of the Subjects of Ymir. This means Desmond would be able to change or add or even remove memories of humans, even going as far as give them fake memories if need be.

The Founding Titan can telepathically communicate with Subjects of Ymir so I guess we’re giving Desmond telepathy as well.

The Founding Titan has the ability can influence the past in some way but it cannot completely change the past. It’s a bit complicated so we’ll set this up different with Desmond using one specific device: The Animus.

Of course the Founding Titan can only be used completely by those with royal blood so we’re making Desmond’s Isu ancestor be one of the Titan children of Gaia and Uranus. We actually have two main candidates: Iapetus whose sons were called mankind’s ancestors and we’ll translate it to Iapetus’ children being one of the Isus who helped humans during the war, turning their backs against their fellow Isus. Perhaps one of Adam and Eve’s children would marry one of Iapetus’ sons in this scenario. Another candidate is Hyperion who fathered the three children and lights of the heaven: Helios, Selene and Eos. Of course, we’ll pick Helios as Desmond’s ancestor to further twist the knife of Desmond dying from the solar flare or, if you want to be kind to him, we’ll give him Eos as a symbol of an upcoming dawn.

Now that’s done, we’ll talk about why those abilities might sound familiar…

They’re all ‘powers’ that Kassandra actually sees during her travels. To be more specific, she encountered mystical beings being controlled by Isu artifacts (that may or may not be Apple, we’re not completely certain that the Apple was able to change them or if they’re being used to simply control them after their change, the human experiments of Juno and Aita in Atlantis would point at the latter) which means that Desmond’s Founding Titan powers are powers that Juno and Aita were trying to recreate.

This is why Desmond’s Isu ancestor being Iapetus makes more sense because all of his powers are to subjugate and control humans, not Isus.

And then we come to the power to change the past which isn’t something that Desmond could actually do until he comes in contact with the Animus.

To be more exact, the Animus used by Vidic still holds the POE that he had used to develop the Animus in the first place because it was the prototype. The POE reacted to his Founding abilities that had been dormant until he got into the Animus.

And this is how Desmond would be able to change the past.

By connecting to his own genes, he’s able to contact and even control to a certain degree the actions of the people who share the same Iapetus genes as him.

However, we come to a certain… shall we say ‘snag’ in this idea.

Because Desmond has two different bloodlines that, as far as we know, does not intersect.

Altaïr’s bloodline that comes from his mother and the Auditore-Kenway bloodline that came from William Miles.

This means that we have to choose who would carry the Iapetus bloodline. Of course, it’s me, so you know I’m going to suggest Altaïr but I have another reason other than the fact that I will always choose Altaïr given a choice.

Altaïr is someone willing to make a deal with Desmond in exchange for the safety and happiness of his family. Once Desmond learned of the truth of Altaïr’s future, he could use the Founding Titan’s power to contact Altaïr and to help him change the past in exchange to being Desmond’s ‘prophet’. Using the Founding Titan’s ability to change human composition, Desmond could change Altaïr to be immortal until all their work is finish and Altaïr would agree to it. Desmond’s connection to Altaïr would give Desmond a direct way to change the past, slowly unraveling the entire road that the Isus wished him to walk.

The path that would end with a noose tied to his neck as the sun burns him away.

And, of course, we have the Founder Ymir being the ‘helper’ of the one who holds the Founding Titan.

And who else will we pick but the Reader?

The Reader who can see the past, present and future thanks to the Calculations but unable to change anything without a ‘master’ to command him.

And the truth was…

The Reader was able to tweak it.

There was a split second when Desmond Miles was able to use his Founding Titan powers.

But it wasn’t when he was first put in the Animus.

No.

It was when he used the device in the Grand Temple to save the world.

In that split second…

The Reader used that time to manipulate Desmond to making him order him.

“I want to live.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Please… someone… save me.”

He used Desmond’s desperation to live to set everything into motion. He changed the past just enough for Vidic to make the prototype have the POE, making him believe this was the best way to get clearer and more stable memories.

And from that…

The Reader set the third loop.

Just to clarify:

The first loop: AC canon with the Reader coming to existence

The second loop: Desmond Miles manages to awaken his Founding Titan power when he’s about to die and the Reader used that to change just enough things to make the third loop.

The third loop: the current loop with Desmond awakening his Founding Titan power during his first Animus session and, later on, making a deal with Altaïr to change the past using Altaïr as his ‘spokesperson’.

==== For the Alchemist Section ====

The mail courier’s perseverance traveled as far as his mail and it was now up to the local courier to make sure it arrived in its proper destination safe and sound.

Their little village rarely received mails before the alchemist took residence in the abandoned house up the hill and it had become part of his daily job to bring new mails and take the alchemist’s daily shipment but…

Things had been hectic around these parts. Harvest season was upon them and they had been so busy these past three months because of it. He knew that the mails were being delivered much later than usual but they haven’t heard a complaint just yet which was nice, especially with the heavy rainfall they’ve been getting lately. Everyone was quite worried for their corps.

Still, it was up to him to make sure he was able to deliver the ones that do manage to get to their village and send the ones the alchemist was able to finish in the midst of them helping with the preparations for harvest season.

But…

The chimney’s smoke was red.

The kind of red that reminded him of blood.

The alchemist made the weirdest things whenever they feel like it. The moving clay doll last month was one of them.

So…

He took a deep breath and prepared to knock on the door-

Only to gasp when he smelled the smoke.

It was because he was too close to the house. Even if the smoke was coming out of the chimney and dispersing into the air, it was still quite close.

His body…

… feels so hot right now.

He fell on his knees and began to pant, the heat seemingly coiling all over his body distracting him from the creaking sound the front door always make.

Then…

He felt cold air hit him like a puff of smoke.

And the heat disappeared.

Leaving only embarrassment with the way his body had reacted.

It was like…

“Sorry about that.”

He raised his head and…

… came face to face with a complete hazmat suit that covered the alchemist from head to toe. The only reason why he even know it was the alchemist because of the white and red butterfly brooch that they had always worn, now adorning the helmet of their hazmat suit like it was a hairpin.

“It would be better if you stay by the fence and shout instead. I’ll take my mail and give you my deliveries instead.”

The alchemist made a motion with their hand and he weakly stood, using his courier standard bag to hide his shame as he handed the alchemist the mails he had received today.

“Uuuhh… is it…” He looked behind the alchemist and the entire house looked alright from what he could see.

“It’s just for this week. This week’s…” The alchemist paused for a moment before adding, “… No. Next Monday’s quite special, I suppose.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll have this done later this evening. Please come back by then instead.” The alchemist requested and he nodded.

“Alright. I’ll see you later then.”

With that said, the alchemist closed the door, leaving the courier unable to ask…

If they actually did not see his shame or if…

They simply didn’t care?

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