asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2009-12-26 11:46 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed

Assassin's Creed Kink Meme
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Welcome to the Animus 2.5

✠ 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
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion

What? WHAT?! YES!!!

(Anonymous) 2010-10-27 06:05 am (UTC)(link)
I was discussing The Last Herald Mage trilogy with my mum today and now I see this, and my brain jumped straight to epic Vanyel/Altair smex. The brainmeats are so broken now...

I am SO seconding this!

OP

(Anonymous) 2010-10-27 03:43 pm (UTC)(link)
I didn't even think of that! But oh my, yes. Especially if this is a meeting between, say, Magic's Promise Vanyel and post-game Altaïr - when they're both seasoned warriors who still manage somehow to hold on to their ideals.

...something to do with the Nightblades song, I wonder? Vanyel is on a mission to hunt down this assassin destroying the peace treaty, and ends up - although he isn't aware of it until the very end - allying with a real Assassin to take the traitor out!

Aaaaand OP again.

(Anonymous) 2010-10-30 01:18 pm (UTC)(link)
Blast it - I posted these ideas because I do not have time to work on them and I'm curious what others will do... but that doesn't keep my brain from poking.

So, here's another thought, related to Vanyel meeting Altaïr. Normally, I try to take a light hand with the angst... but this is Vanyel, who contractually requires that any story involving him includes so much angst that you have to scrub the woe off with heavy-duty cleaning materials. So:

You do realize that if Altaïr were to do a Leap of Faith in front of Vanyel, Vanyel would totally start flashing back to Tylendel's suicide?

And now I want it to be a two-layered story, where Ezio in the time of Selenay managed to get access to the archives and discovered a note written by Vanyel about meeting Altaïr...

Fill

(Anonymous) 2010-11-03 03:11 am (UTC)(link)
Sorry, I'm kind of making up my own characters. This is set a few years after the Mage Storms trilogy.
* * *
Rohan knocked on the door, straightening his formal Grays and running his fingers through his dark brown hair. The new emissaries had only arrived yesterday and already rumours were flying. All he knew for sure was that they came from the lands beyond the Eastern Empire; the rumours agreed on this point and added that they were demons that could fly and pass through walls!
When he had watched them arrive at the Palace, he’d originally been disappointed. All he had seen was two covered wagons and a dark-haired man in a long blue coat with skin the colour of caramel arguing with the Seneschal. The man’s skin colour had been interesting, but he was nothing compared to the Hawkbrothers or griffins.
Then the other man had stepped out of one of the wagons, and Rohan’s disappointment had flown away when he saw what the man was wearing. He had almost looked like a Herald, all dressed in white. But then he saw the splash of blood-red around the man’s waist and the weapons that covered him and a shiver of excitement had run through him. This was no Herald. The man had then started to walk towards the Seneschal and the dark-haired man before suddenly pausing and looking right at him, half-hanging out of a window. The man’s eyes had been gold.
Rohan shivered again. He had felt like a field mouse beneath that gaze, just waiting to be snatched up and devoured. Maybe there was some truth to the emissaries being demons.
Finally the door opened and one of the emissaries peered out. It was the dark-haired man that had been arguing with the Seneschal. For a moment he looked shocked to see Rohan before frowning. “What do you want?” he asked suspiciously in harshly accented Valdemaren.
“Oh, um, I’m supposed to help you; it’s training, making sure we don’t get all up on our high horse, but my horse her name is Celia she’s really tallandawesomeandgreatatjumping-“
“Shut it!” the man snapped, glaring at Rohan. Rohan shut it. “We’re fine,” the man snarled, looking like a wild animal, “come back tomorrow morning.” Then he made to slam the door in Rohan’s face. A deep voice calling out in a musical yet harsh language stopped him. The man’s frown deepened and he shouted something back in the same tongue. Laughter was his only reply.
Grumbling, the man opened the door as if it was a great burden. “Forget it, just come in.” Rohan quickly hurried into the room, before the madman changed his mind. The man closed the door after him, grumbling in that musical tongue.
More laughter greeted Rohan. He blinked, looking around the luxurious diplomatic suite, but saw no one else in the room. Fear trickled its way into his chest. These men really were demons!
The man behind him, still frowning, looked and snapped something off at the dark rafters above. Confused, Rohan looked up as well just as the white-clad man who he’d seen that morning jumped down. Rohan let out a distinctly unmanly squeak. The man straightened up and smiled, his white hood keeping most of his face in shadow; Rohan could still see his eyes, though.

Blah, Fill with proper formatting

(Anonymous) 2010-11-03 03:14 am (UTC)(link)
Set after the Mage Storms trilogy, using mainly my own made-up characters.
* * *
Rohan knocked on the door, straightening his formal Grays and running his fingers through his dark brown hair. The new emissaries had only arrived yesterday and already rumours were flying. All he knew for sure was that they came from the lands beyond the Eastern Empire; the rumours agreed on this point and added that they were demons that could fly and pass through walls!

When he had watched them arrive at the Palace, he’d originally been disappointed. All he had seen was two covered wagons and a dark-haired man in a long blue coat with skin the colour of caramel arguing with the Seneschal. The man’s skin colour had been interesting, but he was nothing compared to the Hawkbrothers or griffins.

Then the other man had stepped out of one of the wagons, and Rohan’s disappointment had flown away when he saw what the man was wearing. He had almost looked like a Herald, all dressed in white. But then he saw the splash of blood-red around the man’s waist and the weapons that covered him and a shiver of excitement had run through him. This was no Herald. The man had then started to walk towards the Seneschal and the dark-haired man before suddenly pausing and looking right at him, half-hanging out of a window. The man’s eyes had been gold.

Rohan shivered again. He had felt like a field mouse beneath that gaze, just waiting to be snatched up and devoured. Maybe there was some truth to the emissaries being demons.

Finally the door opened and one of the emissaries peered out. It was the dark-haired man that had been arguing with the Seneschal. For a moment he looked shocked to see Rohan before frowning. “What do you want?” he asked suspiciously in harshly accented Valdemaren.

“Oh, um, I’m supposed to help you; it’s training, making sure we don’t get all up on our high horse, but my horse her name is Celia she’s really tallandawesomeandgreatatjumping-“

“Shut it!” the man snapped, glaring at Rohan. Rohan shut it. “We’re fine,” the man snarled, looking like a wild animal, “come back tomorrow morning.” Then he made to slam the door in Rohan’s face. A deep voice calling out in a musical yet harsh language stopped him. The man’s frown deepened and he shouted something back in the same tongue. Laughter was his only reply.

Grumbling, the man opened the door as if it was a great burden. “Forget it, just come in.” Rohan quickly hurried into the room, before the madman changed his mind. The man closed the door after him, grumbling in that musical tongue.

More laughter greeted Rohan. He blinked, looking around the luxurious diplomatic suite, but saw no one else in the room. Fear trickled its way into his chest. These men really were demons!

The man behind him, still frowning, looked and snapped something off at the dark rafters above. Confused, Rohan looked up as well just as the white-clad man who he’d seen that morning jumped down. Rohan let out a distinctly unmanly squeak. The man straightened up and smiled, his white hood keeping most of his face in shadow; Rohan could still see his eyes, though.

Re: Blah, Fill with proper formatting (continued)

(Anonymous) 2010-11-03 03:16 am (UTC)(link)

“Altair.” the angry man growled behind him. The newly named ‘Altair’ radiated amusement as he turned towards the man and replied, “Malik.”

‘Malik’ snorted, his full upper lip curling in disgust or annoyance, Rohan couldn’t tell which. There was an odd affection around his eyes though as he shook his head and stomped off towards the bathing room, taking off his long, dark blue jacket as he went. With a jolt, Rohan saw that the man was missing an arm.

A hand fell on his shoulder, making Rohan jump a little. He looked up the arm to see the white-clad man, ‘Altair’, pulling back his hood. Rohan absentmindedly noted that while his hair was dark, it was closer in shade to his hair than the other man’s hair. “You insult him.” he said, jerking his chin after the one-armed man. Rohan paled and began to stammer apologies, his mind working furiously to figure out what, exactly, he had done wrong. The man smirked at him, the scar that ran through his lip warping oddly. “He work long and hard to be seen as more than a cripple. You offer help…” he shook his head, mock-pursing his lips. “Very bad. He declare feud now.”

Rohan’s eyes widened in horror, causing the gold-eyed man to burst into laughter again. “I joke, I joke,” he said, wiping away a tear. He turned around to go seat himself in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, mumbling amusedly to himself the entire way there.

“Come,” he gestured imperiously once he had sat down, the effect softened by the traces of a smile still around his lips. “Speak. What court like? Who watch out for?” Rohan inched forward nervously, sitting down on the seat gestured to. It took some prodding on the part of the white-clad man, but eventually Rohan was babbling as he normally did about the Hawkbrothers, Karsites and the other exotic ambassadors at the court.

A harsh growl ending in the white-clad man’s name made Rohan’s babbling trail off. The man smirked and looked over his shoulder. Rohan followed his gaze and saw the one-armed man, still damp from the bath and clutching a towel around his waist. Rohan blushed at his nudity, noticing the man’s still-strong body.

Standing up, the man began to usher Rohan out, an odd gleam in his eyes. “W-wait!” Rohan yelped as he was pushed through the doorway. The golden-eyed man paused and quirked an eyebrow. “W-what is your name – I mean, who are you representing.” The man’s smirk returned to his face. He leaned over, putting his face close to Rohan’s. “The Assassins.” he said simply, and shut the door with a final-sounding thud.
* * *
Sorry if you can tell, but I haven't read the books lately; no room in a dorm room.

OP!

(Anonymous) 2010-11-03 01:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Why do I totally get the sense that Altaïr speaks perfectly fluent Valdemaran and is simply faking the accent?

This was hilarious. I admit that I have a little trouble buying why the Brotherhood would bother making such an open gesture, but the interactions - Malik being all snarly, Altaïr being quietly Amused and testing the people around him to see their reactions - is great! (And he'd probably be a bit more relaxed than Malik anyway - given that Eagle Vision would probably do a lot for verifying that these people are not potential enemies!)

They make a very deft Good Cop/Bad Cop team, now that I think about it...

Re: Blah, Fill with proper formatting (continued)

(Anonymous) 2010-11-03 09:16 pm (UTC)(link)
omg omg omg omg omg omg

anon. I love you. You cannot even begin to imagine how much I love you, or how happy I am that you are writing this. *starry eyes*

"Very bad. He declare feud now."

Altair with a sense of humor is a terrifyingly awesome thing.

Re: Blah, Fill with proper formatting (continued)

(Anonymous) 2010-11-30 10:16 pm (UTC)(link)
Would be lovely if you had more, write!anon. <3

This will be kind of a story, kind of a bunch of one-shots

(Anonymous) 2010-12-11 04:35 am (UTC)(link)
There was a large rush over to Rohan’s seat when Karal and Altra had to temporarily leave the room. Mellus, a large boy mud-coloured hair from Hardorn’s capital plopped himself down in the seat beside him and leaned towards him. “So,” he hissed, “what are they like?”

“Huh?” Rohan said intelligently.

“The Assassins!” Mellus snapped, still keeping his voice down. “Oh, them,” Rohan said hastily, putting down his pen, “they seem pretty nice. At least, Altair is. Malik is kind of mean. Actually, so is Altair, I think he likes to scare people, he scared me when he jumped down from the rafters -”

Rohan stopped when he realized that Mellus and the others were staring at him. “You know their names?” Mellus said weakly. “Um, yes?” Rohan said warily. Mellus, despite being a Heraldic trainee, was seen by most of the Collegium as a bit of a jerk. He had picked on Rohan for being younger than anyone else in the class before. “Altair talked with me for a bit.” Rohan offered. “He seemed really interested in who else was at court.”

“And you told him?!” Mellus whispered in a horrified tone of voice. Mellus turned away from him to stare at his hands, shaking his head in wonderment. “Why are you so interested, anyways?” Rohan asked curiously. Besides the bullying, Mellus usually left him alone. “You’re the only one they let in their rooms.” Mellus said to him sternly, jabbing a finger at his chest. “They sent away the trainee that came this morning.” Forgetting Rohan, he leaned towards the others and added, “And before I came here, I heard stories from some of King Tremane’s soldiers about them.”

“Really?” said Rohan. The rest of the group had turned their attention away from Rohan and began to bother Mellus for details. Mellus looked smug under the attention despite his words. “It’s only some stuff I overheard one night when I was waiting for my mother to come back,” he said, flapping his hand like he was brushing away a fly, “She’s one of the cooks there, and Dad was sick that night, so…”

“Forget that, what did the soldiers say?” asked Yarrow, a blond Bardic trainee. He was always looking for fresh gossip and had been the second one over to Rohan’s desk after Mellus. Mellus’ expression changed; he looked a little nervous now, like he was about to talk about something priestly. “One of the soldiers had been stationed in the province where they lived, and he said,” his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper, “that one morning the administrator of the province, who’d been close to finding out where they actually lived, had woken up with a knife on his pillow and cake that only the Assassin’s make on the table. Nobody had seen anyone go in or out, and none of the wards had been tripped. It was like a spirit had done it.” Everyone shivered with delight.

“What happened to the administrator?” asked Yarrow, his eyes practically glowing with interest.

“He gave orders to keep looking for the Assassin headquarters and tripled the guards and wards around him. The next morning, he was found dead in his bed, his throat slit from ear to ear.” Mellus said with relish while miming getting his throat cut.

“How ghoulish.” Karal remarked. The other students agreed before realizing who had said it. They then did a double-take and rushed back to their seats. Mellus, however, was too slow. Karal caught him by the shoulder, holding his firecat Altra awkwardly in one arm. “While it is fun to gossip,” he said dryly, staring off into the distance while Altra’s eyes pinned the boy to the floor, “I must ask that you keep it to a minimum about visiting dignitaries.” He let go and went back up to the front of the classroom as Mellus scrambled back to his seat. He smiled slightly at the class before adding, “Especially ones that are currently having an audience with Queen Selenay.”

The classroom broke out in excited whispers. Rohan sat in his seat, frozen. A private audience with the Queen so soon? They had only arrived yesterday! Only Rethwallen ambassadors got that treatment; everyone else had to wait for a few days before seeing Queen Selenay privately. And they called themselves the Assassins openly too. He suddenly couldn’t wait to see the two men again and ask them what they wanted with the Queen.

Re: This will be kind of a story, kind of a bunch of one-shots

(Anonymous) 2010-12-11 04:41 am (UTC)(link)
Oh my oh my oh my I thought this would never be continued. <3 <3 <3!!!