asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-11-16 12:25 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 4

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.4


Welcome to Constantinople

‡ Comment anonymously with a character/pairing and a kink/prompt.

‡ Comment is filled by another anonymous with fanfiction/art/or any other appropriate medium.

‡ One request per post, but fill the request as much as you want.

‡ The fill/request doesn't necessarily need to be smut.

‡ Don't flame, if you have nothing good to say, don't say anything.

‡ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

‡ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

List of Kinks
Kink Meme Masterlist
New Kink Meme Masterlist
(Livejorunal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
#2 (Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

In memoriam

(Anonymous) 2011-11-16 10:52 pm (UTC)(link)
As I'm trying to avoid Spoilers on the first request, I'll try and be vague about it.

The man who kept his word to Ezio, and dies trying. Died between the books. Funny man.

I'm really sad about his death, and even more with how unexpected and lame it is. I would've wanted him to outlive Ezio, maybe have a little chat when they're both REALLY old.
But that didn't happen, so what I ask right now, is a fic about him, anything goes, but I want it to embody his character.

Can anyone do that for me? (Alternatively, there's another character death, supposedly, with the 'due deletion' and all, if someone would care to write about him, I'm okay with it)

Darn it, why did I had to finish the game, now I'm sad! (and anxious for part 3)

Re: In memoriam

(Anonymous) 2011-11-17 06:14 am (UTC)(link)
I see what you did there.

[Possibly writing one of these scenarios because they have sparked my interest as well.]

Cleared!Anon here

(Anonymous) 2011-11-17 08:09 am (UTC)(link)
Likewise also saddened by the "confirmation" of a certain other's death (by "confirmation" that probably tipped you off as to whose I mean) and I also found that "lame," as a game about letting go, I'd say that Ubisoft's writing pulled it off with everyone except for THAT one...

Would definitely be interested in a fic about the first dead character you're referring to though, I got your hint. The alternate... not so much, if only because his writing came off as REALLY confusing, almost schizophrenic on Ubisoft's part.

Re: Cleared!Anon here

(Anonymous) 2011-11-17 10:18 pm (UTC)(link)
OP Anon, yeah I could do with a fic with the confirmed character as well, I've always liked said character.

I wasn't the OP Anon, but thank you!

(Anonymous) 2011-11-18 07:21 am (UTC)(link)
I'll be happy to read any of the above three...

Re: I wasn't the OP Anon, but thank you!

(Anonymous) 2011-11-18 10:20 pm (UTC)(link)
Yeah I failed, as I meant I was... but whatever, maybe I'll write any of those myself after all, but it'll be crap!

Re: I wasn't the OP Anon, but thank you!

(Anonymous) 2011-11-25 07:01 am (UTC)(link)
If you're still reading this a week later, please do (feel free to) write them... even if you feel it crap, I'd be glad to read and critique. (I wouldn't even worry too much about that second character's characterization, considering how "schizophrenic" I thought his writing in Revelations was... no thank you Ubisoft.)

a conversation (1/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-11-26 10:03 pm (UTC)(link)
It is quiet in Istanbul, calm in Konstantiniyye, peaceful in Constantinople in a way that it rarely is. The late afternoon has smeared the pale architecture with a vibrant orange-to-yellow fade, and all the colors of the city blends a little for a brief, beautiful moment. Smoke rises from the rooftops of every district, mixing in with the wispy tendrils of incense burning from the lower streets, barely visible at this altitude. It suffuses the air with the scent of a thousand different lives, a hundred different cultures, and Ezio likes to imagine that the sun sets on Constantinople with the city a little freer than it did when it rose.

“I keep on having this dream,” Ezio confides, quietly and almost to himself if it weren't for the man at his side as they swing their legs over the balcony of a towering mosque like they are still young men. At least they can still make this climb, he silently considers. They are not quite that old yet.

“A good one?” Yusuf asks, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as always, like it couldn't ever quite manage to find its way off his face. The roots of his hair are turning gray, his short beard thinning out and peppered with it, but there is a youthfulness in his enthusiasm that has never left him, even as his bones grow stiffer all the time. The end of his brightly-patterned bandannas sways in the wind, fraying at the edges and Ezio waits for the day the cloth will simply give up its valiant fight to keep itself together and unravel all in one go, a mess of thread around his friend's forehead.

“Unfortunately, no,” Ezio answers, and Yusuf makes a sound of acknowledgment but not of surprise, waiting wordlessly for elaboration. They are assassins, after all, and good dreams do not frequent their profession all that often. “In my dream,” Ezio continues, “We are younger men and I had not been in Costantinopoli for long. But I had to go away on a mission; I was hunting the last of the Palialogos still, and I asked you a favor.”

“Ah,” exclaims Yusuf, pleased at his own recollections. “I remember that.” He takes the pipe out of his mouth and laughs, for as many sorrows as their life has given them, he remembers most of his life with a nostalgic fondness indicative of old men, wise enough to know that it is a blessing to be able to look back at all. “Yes, it was to...babysit your wife, no?”

Ezio raises a brow at him and they both laugh – Ezio with a chuckle and Yusuf with a guffaw that knocks his entire upper body back for a moment, leaving him teetering over the railing they are perched on. For an instant, a flare of panic burns bright and hot in Ezio's chest, irrationally afraid for his friend's life – an senseless fear, considering they have fallen greater distances than this despite their age, and there is a cart of hay directly below them – but then Yusuf rights himself without any difficulty at all.

The moment passes.

“I asked you to watch over Sofia, yes,” Ezio confirms, though they would both not escape unharmed from Ezio's residence in the city if Sofia ever heard of the unflattering way Yusuf had put it, assassins or no.

“Why, Ezio,” gasps Yusuf, dripping with mock offense. “I would never steal your pretty young wife from you. Your dreams are unfounded!”

Ezio's mouth curves into a slow smile as he shakes his head, looking down and between the toes of his boots at the tiny specks of civilians still milling about in the streets – carpet merchants desperately peddling their wares, women swathed in beautiful silks pausing to look. “That was not why it was a nightmare, arkadaşim,” he replies, turning to look at the other man. “In this dream, I returned from my mission to find that she had been captured and you had been killed. Every time, it is the same. I go to Sophia's old shop, everything is ransacked, and you are in a corner with a knife in your back.”

The words settle like night over them, cold, dark, heavy, and strangely inevitable. Like a thick blanket, it muffles and drowns out the sounds of the people, the sounds of life, and casts a deadly still over everything as far as the eye can see, as far as the ear can hear.

a conversation (2/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-11-26 10:04 pm (UTC)(link)
Only after what seems like forever does a small sound break the heavy curtain – a tink tink tink as Yusuf taps his pipe against the railing, dislodging the excess ash, the tip of his hook blade hitting against the stone. With it comes the distant cries of shop-owners calling out last calls before they close their shops, the faraway drum-and-bell beat of the Romanis performing, the pitter-patter of feet as thieves ready up for their evening run.

Ezio lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

“At least I died trying,” Yusuf comments, sounding unabashedly proud of his dream self. “Even in your dreams, I have some mettle, eh?”

The smile Ezio gives him this time is indulgent. “If I must be honest, I would rather have no one dying in my dreams.” It happens when he is awake too much already.

“Sometimes it may happen. Someday, it will happen, even to us. We, of all people, know what mortality is.” Yusuf looks across his hometown, this wonderful ever-changing city, at the hundreds of lives that both begin and end here, and Ezio knows he thinks that he should be so lucky if he is one of them. Though Yusuf is grinning, his words are sober. “And should it happen sooner than either of us may think, we should only consider one thing.”

A dramatic pause.

Ezio sighs, playing into his friend's enjoyment of the talk, sometimes theatrical, and prompts, “Which is?”

Yusuf beams. “Have you any regrets, Ezio? We all wish we had more time, that we could have done more, yes, but do you have any that, at this point in time, that can be changed? Any that are not past the extent of our reach?” He throws an arm into the air, a powerful motion that seems to encompass the earth, the sky, the stars all at once.

“Because I do not. Right now, right here, there is nothing that I would change at this moment, and I am perfectly content to be sitting here, at the top of this mosque, sitting and smoking with you – my friend.” Yusuf smiles, showing teeth, and leans in conspiratorially, cupping a hand over his mouth. “It is a blessing, you know. There are not that many who sit down at the table and can really think of the man beside them as a friend.”

Ezio stares at him, but Yusuf has never needed a reaction to make his punchline and he simply leans back with a laugh, leaning one elbow on his knee as he takes another drag at his pipe, long and slow and relaxed. This particular posture hunches him over, almost uncannily unlike the image that haunts Ezio's dreams, except Yusuf's body is relaxed with comfortableness rather than death.

The night is growing dark and hazy. Even with his Vision, the darkness casts a shadowy blur over everything, like the spidery veil that exists solely in dreams. The stars don't shine brightly enough for this. It makes Yusuf's hair seem darker, no longer white at the roots where it meets his tanned, dark skin. It makes him seem younger, brushing away the shadows of crow's feet wrinkles and creases in his forehead. It makes his robes blotchy and dark where the shadow of the mosque's intricate architecture falls over them, and for a second, a particularly dark patch on his back looks like the stain of blood as it seeps from the hole beside his spine.

“Yusuf,” Ezio calls, urgently.

a conversation (3/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-11-26 10:04 pm (UTC)(link)
“In this dream,” Yusuf interrupts, looking straight at him now. His eyes are dull without starlight, but his expression is, has always been, kind. He doesn't straighten from his hunch and he doesn't pull whatever it is that is casting an odd, occasional metal glint from behind him – the hilt of his Kijil, perhaps, where the end extends into a curved crescent. (How does he know that? Such an intricate detail?) “Does it end there?” Yusuf asks. “Or does it go on? What happens after my death? Do you save Sofia? Do you marry her? Are you happy?”

“But we are married already,” Ezio protests. “You called her my wife.”

“Then you must be happy,” Yusuf presses. “You were always so protective when you spoke of her.”

Ezio swallows down something bitter; it clogs in his throat. “This dream I keep on having...”

“There is no use in having it, arkadaşim. We are men with no regrets worth changing,” Yusuf reminds, suddenly far away on the railing, like he has moved ten feet from one word to the next. That is impossible – the mosque is only so wide, the railing only so long, and neither of them have budged an inch, but Yusuf's voice carries on the wind like an echo, like they might as well have been shouting across chasms, like something old and gone and dream-like.

Yusuf then yawns, a movement Ezio can see clearly despite the distance between them. “I am tired,” he admits. “I have earned my rest, don't you think? It is about time we return.”

Ezio finds himself shaking his head, staring hard through the darkness at Yusuf's face, trying to see every detail, now hard to discern. There was no need for it before; he could have just turned and looked at the other assassin's face, but now it seems like a great effort, a challenge, like peering at an old memory. “Not yet,” Ezio answers nonetheless, trying to use his Vision and reverting back to regular sight when that only leaves Yusuf's face as a smudge of blue. “Not yet, for me. I think...I will stay here a little longer.”

Sofia is waiting for him, he reminds himself. (So shouldn't he go?)

Yusuf laughs, barely a whisper now. “Then I will see you when you are tired enough to rest as well, my friend,” he agrees amiably, pulling himself to his feet. Ezio calls out to him, but he doesn't seem to hear, balancing easily on the railing, untroubled by the strong gusts, looking free and unfettered like a bird. He bounces once or twice on the toes of his boots, spreads his arms, and jumps the Leap of Faith without hesitation. Ezio watches him careen downwards, flipping once in the air so that his back will hit the hay. His eyes are closed, his head tilted up, and the moment Yusuf makes contact, far, far away-

Ezio wakes up.

Re: a conversation (3/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-11-27 01:32 am (UTC)(link)
Not the OP, but I thank you for this all the same. This was an amazing tribute and beautifully written.

Re: a conversation (3/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-11-27 01:40 am (UTC)(link)
Not OP or anything, but this made me shed a few tears. So beautiful and poignant.

typo fix

(Anonymous) 2011-11-27 05:44 am (UTC)(link)
*uncannily not unlike

Great approval from the Cleared!Anon

(Anonymous) 2011-11-27 09:39 am (UTC)(link)
All that, yet so much meaning in the simplest of three-word phrases at the very end that turns the entire story on its head.

Re: a conversation (3/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-11-29 08:55 pm (UTC)(link)
Dear writer anon

OP anon here, with just one big question;

How do I get my first born to you? This is EXACTLY what I wanted/needed!

Re: a conversation (3/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-02 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
This is amazing. Thanks, anon, for sharing this incredibly well-crafted story, it had me tear up all the way till the end and that part about Yusuf's headband reducing itself to threads was just the perfect metaphor for everything to come and ohhhh God, I'm about to cry again, so lemme just say thank you again. <3333

Re: a conversation (3/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-17 09:46 pm (UTC)(link)
I just finished the game, came here looking for some consolation fic and you delivered, anon. Beautifully, too. Thank you!

Re: a conversation (3/3)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-31 08:40 am (UTC)(link)
Oh, that broke my heart and healed it all at once. Lovely story, and a wonderful balm to ease the ache of Yusuf's swift end. I can see him running off into the afterlife, jumping from roof to roof and laughing, same as Ezio did... (: