asscreedkinkmeme ([personal profile] asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2012-01-04 10:19 am
Entry tags:

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed [Fills]


We're about to reach the posting limit on pt.1&2, this is for those who wish to continue/write on prompts on both these parts.

Writers! It is your responsibility to link back to the original prompt.

There are no request in this part of the meme.

List of Kinks
(Livejorunal) Archive
#2 (Livejournal) Archive
(Delicious.com) Archive
(Dreamwidth) Archive <- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Discussion

OP

(Anonymous) 2011-12-06 11:55 am (UTC)(link)
... ouaehg;wuightusoarghbvsuieg;isrhugbisrfvbu!!!! I LOVE IT!!!! I cried on what happened to Desmond, and Ihate his father with a burning passion now. Oh~ I freaking love you anon. Love you!

A Box of Scraps (1/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-09 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
Original Prompt Here --> http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/19860.html?thread=6766740#t6766740

Call of Duty / Iron Man / Assassin's Creed

LEONARDO IN A CAVE! WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS! (At least there will be...)

-----

“Yes, Mama, I will be back in time for the holidays.”

“You better be, Ezio,” the woman on the other end of the call threatened cheerfully. “You know how Claudia gets when she sets her mind to something, and this year she wants to make sure we have the 'perfect' Christmas.” There was a pause and Ezio could swear he heard his mother's smile widen just a little more. “She's even sent an invitation to Cristina to meet us at the cabin...”

“Mama....” the man sighed, leaning against the wall of his hotel room. “Cristina and I broke up years ago. She's married to Manfredo.”

“It's never stopped her from loving you.”

“You are an evil woman, mother.”

The woman on the other end of the line laughed heartily, and Ezio couldn't help but join her. If he was honest with himself, he did still love Cristina, but their circumstances made their relationship impossible. He was an accomplished sniper, and as a Lieutenant Colonel of the United States Marine Corps Forces Special Operation Command, his skills were called upon more often than not in these troubling times. His command of a several languages, as well as his mastery of the Marine Corps martial arts training, made him a force to be reckoned with at close range if need be. If this one last mission went well, he would find himself retiring just as decorated, if not more so, than his father, Major General Giovanni Auditore.

“So, since you're not bringing Cristina, are you bringing someone else? Perhaps someone who will someday provide me with lots of grandkids to spoil?”

“Evil. Woman. Mother,” Ezio repeated before pausing when his phone beeped that he had another call. He glanced at the smartphone, then spoke to his mother again. “I gotta go, Mama. Duty calls. Love you.”

“Love you, too, son. Make me proud—er.”

Ezio chuckled to himself, composing himself before he switched over to the other call.

“Lieutenant Colonel Auditore?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“This is Sergeant Frank Woods. Passing the word along, sir. Something's come up, and the briefing's been moved to tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Ezio pressed the screen on his phone, disconnecting the call, and sighed. He was planning on finishing his holiday shopping before his final mission, but it looked like that would have to wait. With a glance around, he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, put his hands in his pockets, and walked towards the parking garage where his car waited to take him home.

Re: A Box of Scraps (1/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-09 12:13 am (UTC)(link)
Not-op but....


THIS.

Great start anon~!!!!

Can't wait for more~~~~!!!!!

Re: A Box of Scraps (1/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-09 04:51 am (UTC)(link)
OP here and I am absolutely in love with how this is going even though it's only one part. I adore sassy Mama Auditore and even the mention of Christina. I can't wait to read more!

FILL: Alt/Mal Aftercare

(Anonymous) 2011-12-10 04:47 pm (UTC)(link)
Prompt can be found here: http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/19704.html?thread=3315704#t3315704

This must be the oddest (and maybe meanest) thing I've ever requested, but we're all friend here right...?

I'd like to se some aftercare, especially if it's the kind where the sexings are interrupted because one uses the safe-word or something similar. Hopefully it could be Alt/Mal, since I'm very fond of them and think they would have an interesting emotional-awkward-genuinely-concerned-thing goin' on.

So yeah, just make one really uncomfortable, to the point of wanting to stop, and then go from there.


FILL can be found here: http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/19704.html?thread=7561720#t7561720

Re: Two Eagles (128/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-10 06:05 pm (UTC)(link)
Loving this story as always. Keep up the amazing work anon!

A Box of Scraps (2/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-11 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)
“Gentlemen,” the man at the head of the table nodded as Ezio and two other men entered the room. “Please take a seat. I'm Special Agent Hudson, and I'll be heading up this mission.”

Ezio sat down, looking around at the other soldiers. He knew Frank Woods from a few previous missions, but he'd never met the other man. He looked him over, and for a reason he'd never tell anyone but his most trusted friends, found the man to have a sort of blue aura as he stared. The blue hue made him relax, his strange sixth sense telling him the man was an ally.

“Lieutenant Ezio Auditore, these men will be your team for this mission,” Hudson continued. “You already know Woods, and this gentleman is Chief Petty Officer Bowman.” After the men nodded, he spoke again. “We have intelligence that tells us the Borgia family is finally making a move. I'm sure you're all aware of their black market weapon connections, and it seems they're getting ready to purchase something very valuable from the Masyaf faction. It wouldn't surprise us if Al Mualim himself was going to oversee the sale personally.”

Ezio nodded. He'd dealt with agents of the Masyaf faction before, and he was single-handedly responsible for the death of one Juan Borgia the Elder, leader of a group of decadents that bought and sold items of pleasure, regardless of the legality of them.

“Who's leading the exchange?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Cesare Borgia,” Hudson replied. “Rodrigo's son.”

Ezio sat back, a low whistle escaping from his lips. The Borgia second in command himself was going to be there. This mission was getting more and more interesting by the minute. Not bad for a last time out, if he did think so himself.

“The objective of this mission is to retrieve the item there for exchange. If you think you can apprehend one of the major faction agents there, do so. If you attempt to apprehend one of them and fail, do not let them leave the area. That means by force, gentlemen. We need no screw ups on this one; this item is far more important to the United States government than the capture or untimely death of any Borgia or Masyaf agents.” Hudson looked to each of the men in turn before continuing. “It's so important, gentlemen, that the General has stated that if for any reason the target is incapacitated, you'll all be looking at dishonorable discharge at best. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The three soldiers spoke in unison, their backs straightening in their seats as they did.

“All right then,” Hudson said, smile returning to his face. “Let's go over the plan.”

Re: Altered Flight Pattern (83/?)

[identity profile] elenorasweet.livejournal.com 2011-12-12 05:46 pm (UTC)(link)
*flail* I'm new to this meme, and I just read this in two days, and it's SO AMAZING. OMIGOSH. I don't even have the words for this, it's so far beyond awesome!

Re: Recruits to the Rescue [3a/?]

(Anonymous) 2011-12-12 09:41 pm (UTC)(link)
He had to have been asleep for some time. Leonardo was gone, and the silver light from the moon drifted in through the window.

Ezio awoke with a strangled scream. He sat up roughly, and could feel his sore back muscles ache in protest. His breathing was laboured and with shaking hands, he cradled his head. He didn’t even care to look to the door that swung open.

Maestro, what is it?” Aligiero asked worriedly, hovering his master’s side. He looked around the dark room, not seeing anything that would merit a scream like that.

“Just...” Ezio began, his voice extremely weak, “Just a nightmare... is all.”

Aligiero slowly backed up, looking out down the hall. Giovanni stood, staring at him imploringly. He honestly wasn’t surprised to see Cirino and two others peep their heads around the corner, as well.

“He’s fine – just a nightmare.”

Both men eased immediately. Cirino turned and left, and Giovanni maintained his post. Aligiero, however, quietly closed the door before walking back over to Ezio, hesitantly taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“... Master Ezio?”

Ezio hummed in response, rubbing his pinkie fingers over his eyes tiredly.

“What... what was the, uh,” Aligiero trailed off, debating internally whether or not he was in the position to be asking about it.

“It was... it was something in the past. Something I wish would die with those who caused it,” he whispered in response. His stupid heart was also rather content thrumming away in his chest, vibrating against his stomach and neck.

Aligiero was quiet. Purely out of habit, he twiddled his thumbs in circles, staring at his toes, unsure of what to say. After a few tense moments, he turned his head, ever so slightly, “Do you want to, you know, talk about.. it?”

As soon as he finished, he wanted to recant the words right then and there. Ezio’s eyes snapped open, and locked onto him. In the dark, with only the light of the moon illuminating one half of his face, the stark golden brown that bore into him was down right eerie. They showed no emotion, however; just watched, and waited – as if sizing him up. Needless to say, if Aligiero had a tail and ears, they’d be in-between his legs and nailed to his head.

“I keep reliving their deaths,” Ezio finally sighed, dropping his gaze to the sheets below.

For another moment, it was quiet. To be honest, Aligiero had no clue who Ezio was talking about. His captor’s deaths? The Pazzi? The Barbagio? The Borgia? Who?

“My family,” Ezio said, as if reading his mind.

“But your –” Aligiero stopped flat. True, his mother and sister were safe, but what about Messer Auditore? No one ever told the recruits where Ezio’s father laid in the picture, or if he had brothers.

“Giovanni, Frederico, and little Petruccio,” the last name was choked, obviously in a half-hearte attempted to keep from crying again.

Part of Aligiero wanted to sympathize with his master, but he couldn’t. He had yet to lose someone important to him; if he wanted to, he could go see his parents that very night. At most, he had lost a little bird that wasn’t really a “pet,” but rather stuck around and let him hold it.

“I’m sorry, m–” Again, he paused. Was it right to still talk to him so formally in a situation like this? Daring the stupid, he continue, “Ser Ezio...”

For a very brief second, Ezio flashed a weak smile, before it disappeared all together. After yet another few moments of tense silence, Ezio lifted his head slightly.

Re: Recruits to the Rescue [3a/?]

(Anonymous) 2011-12-12 09:43 pm (UTC)(link)
“May I ask a ... very weak, pitiful favour of you, Aligiero?”

“Anything, maestro,” He said a little too quickly. “What do you need?”

“When... I was a boy, and I had nightmares, my father had this trick,” he began awkwardly, trying to word it right and not sound like an idiot or a total pervert. “My mother let me listen to her heart, and he would let me fall asleep, with my head in his lap.” The last part dropped in volume as he stared down at his sheets, recalling the memories.

Aligiero, on the other hand, was utterly hesitant to move. He fidgeted for a second, before looking behind him, and back to Ezio. “Where would you have me sit?” He asked, his voice coming back a little braver.

Ezio looked quietly shocked. Apparently, he didn’t expect the recruit to actually let him. He was always telling them not to just say ‘yes’ to him because he was their master; this was one time where he was questioning whether or not Aligiero was doing just that.

Regardless of his internal debate, he carefully shifted forward, reaching behind him with just his arms to move his pillow out of the way. Aligiero got the message immediately, stood up and walked to the head of the bed, taking a seat and crossing his legs. He reached out and held the blankets for Ezio, letting him slid down slowly into the dark fabric. The second his head rested in his recruit’s lap, he felt the body beneath it tense; the blankets lowered over his chest by shaky hands.

Ezio looked up at Aligiero, who forced himself to relax slightly. Looking down, he gave a questioning tilt of his head.

“Don’t you dare tell a soul,” Ezio warned jokingly, but completely serious at the same time. He could already feel sleep setting back in.

A few minutes later, when his breathing leveled out, Aligiero watched in silence. Carefully, his hands hovered his sides, before one came to rest on Ezio’s head, and the other lightly on his shoulder. Absently, he ran his fingers through the chocolate brown hair, letting it fall through his fingers.

“I promise, maestro.”
-------
short, late, awesome lol. author!anon has finals this week, so once they're done, i'll be able to finish this up quicker !

Re: A Box of Scraps (2/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-13 03:09 am (UTC)(link)
OP again. I really like the setup going on but I am confused about the time period. I see you got some of the CoD guys there so...does the movie take place in the 60's? Just curious.

KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!

Re: Recruits to the Rescue [3a/?]

(Anonymous) 2011-12-13 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
Not OP, BUT THE SOUND I MADE WHEN I SAW YOU UPDATE AUTHOR!ANON! It was definitely not human. Oh god, Ezio let me hold you *cries* I love the recruits so much ♥ It's like a little assassin family ;_;

Also good luck with your finals!!!

Re: Altered Flight Pattern (84/?)

[identity profile] brokenballoons.livejournal.com 2011-12-13 10:12 am (UTC)(link)
‘Malik?’

‘Who else would it be? Hey’

‘Fuck I dunno, Altair stole the phone from you last time’

‘Key word being ‘stole’’ ‘What is it?’

‘Is it bad I wanted to apologize again?’

‘Fooor?’

‘… He didn’t tell you?’

‘Tell me what?’

‘Fuck, nevermind’

‘…’ ‘Now you have to tell me’

‘Nope’

‘C’mon ezio don’t be a dick’ ‘ezio?’ ‘ezio?’ ‘ezio?’ ‘Damnit ezio don’t fucking screen my text messages!’

‘Does Altair have a cellphone?’ ‘Sorry I was screening your messages, I was waiting till you weren’t mad’

‘He does’

‘Texting?’

‘Yes’

‘Give me his number’

‘Why don’t you ask someone else?’

‘No one else has his number, obviously. Like my cousin gives it out to just anyone’

‘He’s your cousin’

‘Yeah and he also punched me in the face the other day. I’m not on his short list of people he likes right now’

‘Why do you assume I have it?’

‘Should I really honor that qystion with a real responce?’

‘You can’t see me, but I;m rolling my eyes so hard right now’ ‘Fine, it’s 614-872-1073’

‘Thanks’

‘Don’t thank me’

‘Why?’

‘Should I really homor that question with a real respnce?’

‘… Fair enough’ ‘Also, I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah okay whatever it’s about as bad as rauf apologizing to me, stop it, you know I hate mopers’

‘kk’

‘Never send me that message again or I’ll be the pne punching you next time I see you’

‘HA! No you would’t, my face is too pretty for that’

‘Try me’

‘kk’

‘You’re like a five year old’

‘Hey also, get together at my place this weekend. Coming?’

‘For?’

‘Hockey’

‘Sure’

‘Don’t bring Altair’

‘Fine’

‘Thanks’

‘I’m doing it for his sake, not yours. He wouldn’t know what was going on’

‘Not because he would punch me again?’

‘Not if I was there he wouldn’t’ ‘So I’ll see you then’

‘Yeah’



‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’ ‘Altair’

‘Who the fuck is this and how did you get my number and how do you know my name!?’

‘It’s Ezio’

‘And for about five seconds I thought it was someone important’

‘Ha ha very funny Altair’

‘What do you want copycat?’

‘Thanks’

‘Fuck you, don’t send me a message again until you stop being a scared copy cat and man up to your mistakes.’

‘You don’t have to be so harsh you know’ ‘You’re still my cousin’ ‘Altair c’mon I’m trying to make nice’ ‘Malik told me to so I am, cause he’s my friend’ ‘I know you’re reading these because you’re too anal not to’ ‘Will you at least agree to not punch me in the face again the next time you see me?’ ‘I take that as a no’ ‘Why are you being so difficult right now’ ‘Malik said he forgave me so I don’t know why you have your underwear in a knot. Just stop being a dick okay?’ ‘I’m seriously about the punching thing btw’



Malik rose his brows at Altair as he watched the other man turn his go-phone off and toss it onto the coffee table, and that was only after he’d sent a few texts on it he knew were from Ezio. “You going to stay mad at him for a while?” he asked as Altair leaned back against his chest. They were half lying on the couch, Malik propped up against the arm and Altair lying between his legs, back to chest.

“Till I feel like not,” Altair grumbled.

“I think you’re being petty,” Malik said simply and ran a hand through Altair’s hair.

“Probably. He’s still a dick,” Altair folded his arms trying to be grumpy. Malik just smiled slightly and continued to comb through his hair gently and turned to watch the TV which was tuned to Discovery and some sort of mindless fishing show, looked like shrimp. Shrimp, of all things. Altair’s act didn’t last very long though and he tilted his head a little as Malik changed the position of his hand, to get him to ruffle where he wanted.

“I find it impressive you try so hard to be tough,” Malik informed him.

“I am tough,” Altair groused, though lowly.

Re: Altered Flight Pattern (85/?)

[identity profile] brokenballoons.livejournal.com 2011-12-13 10:12 am (UTC)(link)
“Yes, you are,” and Malik pressed his nose up against Altair’s neck and used the pads of his fingers up and around his ear. “My big tough assassin,” he breathed into Altair’s ear.

“That’s me,” Altair said chipperly and turned his head around and up slightly to catch Malik’s lips with a slight, pleased, sigh. This felt good, especially after how awkward it had been yesterday. Malik had invited Altair into his room and it was like suddenly they didn’t know what to do with each other and it had been a long time since Malik had been with someone. That tended to happen when you had only one arm, you usually got the weirdos with a kink, or the guys who would flirt with an amputee but didn’t want to do much beyond that, that or the guys who were just desperate or were horny enough to fuck anything and not even Malik would sink that low.

He didn’t even take his shirt off around friends, only Kadar, or his parents. He wasn’t comfortable with it, since it was like his one weakness, that one physical defect that people could point and stare at and make awkward comments about. Or worse yet, ask questions. It was why he didn’t go out often, didn’t seek out attention, because just walking down the street he got stares and it made him uncomfortable. Hell, six years and he still wasn’t over the fact that he was limbless and would try to reach for things with two hands. He wasn’t ashamed of the missing limb and the shrapnel scarring, he was just… sensitive.

The idea of revealing that flaw, that insecurity, to anyone who didn’t get it was terrifying. It hadn’t been till he’d had Altair in his room that he realized it fully either. He couldn’t do it. Mercifully Altair didn’t ask for anything and just plopped down on Malik’s bed next to him and curled up under the covers saying he was glad he didn’t have to sleep on that damn couch. The next night Altair didn’t ask or assume. When Malik went to bed he was watching TV and when he woke up in the morning Altair was asleep on the couch in a nest of blankets. He knew not to push. Malik didn’t even know what to say to him after that, so he didn’t, and it had been weird for a bit.

Not now though. Here Altair was, basically in his lap, a warm weight against him, pressed neatly against his chest, lips soft and almost careful as he pressed kisses all over Malik’s lips. “This is the most uncomfortable position ever,” Altair groaned when he pulled away and Malik chuckled lowly only to find himself with a real lap full of assassin as Altair turned around and straddled his thighs. “That’s better,” and he nipped at Malik’s chin through his thin goatee he was growing out for winter.

“Much,” Malik said with a smirk and Altair kissed him again, slow and deliberate, now his own hands combing lightly through Malik’s hair.

“Get a room you two,” Kadar suddenly burst their bubble and Malik turned towards the kitchen when Kadar was getting out lunch meat to make a sandwich, even though it was like nine at night.

“What? No screaming about your poor virgin eyes?” Malik teased him, clearly bringing up every time Kadar had ever interrupted him and Ezio ever.

Kadar gave him a sideways look, “I’ll let you off this once. Though only cause this one has a nice ass and isn’t a jerk,” he said and slathered mayonnaise and mustard on his bread.

“That isn’t very ni-

“You’re pretty generous squirt,” Altair said, leaning against Malik’s shoulder as Kadar piled on turkey, ham, and cheese.

“This once. Honestly, get a room, I don’t want bodily fluids where I watch TV,” Kadar huffed.

“You know Kadar. If I remember correctly it was you who made it so that we now use this side of the couch cushions,” Malik drawled, and Kadar’s ears turned bright red. “Now shoo,” and Malik made a shooing motion as Kadar rapidly threw the lunch meat into the fridge and scuttled back into his room, sandwich in hand.


“Did he really?” Altair asked only once Kadar’s door had closed.

“Yep.”

“How bad did you ride his ass about it after?”

Re: Altered Flight Pattern (86/?)

[identity profile] brokenballoons.livejournal.com 2011-12-13 10:14 am (UTC)(link)
“Never use that saying about me and my brother ever again, but I made the point stick. Don’t fuck on the couch,” and Altair snorted and buried his face in Malik’s shoulder.

“He approves you know,” Altair said smugly when he pulled away.

“Yeah, the little cretin,” Malik rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t aware you needed approval. Going to call my parents next?”

“You don’t live with your parents, so I will forgo that conversation until I can’t any more,” Altair said and kissed along Malik’s jaw.

“You can be wise. Who knew?”

“Oh shut up,” Altair growled, right up along Malik’s skin, more of the feeling of the word against skin than actually being able to hear it.

“Hey don’t dooo tha—” Malik ended in a groan, unable to complete his scolding as Altair started to bite and kiss his neck. That was because Altair’s hand was now down over his pants. It literally shorted his brain for a few seconds before getting back on track. “No hickeys,” he said and shoved Altair’s face away from him.

“Anywhere?” Altair asked slyly and Malik flushed. Malik tried to say something but a very embarrassing rasping noise was all that came out instead. Altair chuckled, “So just the neck,” he hummed and Malik swallowed when Alatair’s hands slid up his flanks and took possession of Malik’s mouth again, carefully licking his way past lips and into his mouth. Malik moaned softly and cupped the back of Altair’s neck, thumb working in small circles across the nape of his neck. He stumbled over his own breath when Altair slid a hand up his right side, riding up his shirt, palm and finger pads dragging across skin. He knew one of two things was probably about to happen, he was going to say stop, or, he was going to say more, because this sort of wary dance he was doing around the subject couldn’t be kept up forever. He knew that.

“Stop,” Malik said breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper. “Stop,” he breathed again. Altair pressed his forehead to Malik’s but pulled back, to keep his hands to himself, though he seemed to manage it just barely, only doing so by sheer of force of will, like he couldn’t believe Malik had just cockblocked the both of them. “Off,” he said looking at Altair through his long lashes. Altair frowned at him but did as he was told. Malik liked that. That Altair didn’t ask or assume, he just let Malik do what he was comfortable with since he seemed okay with anything. After all, this was something exciting, something fun, two things Altair was all for.

Malik immediately stood, grabbed the remote off the coffee table and turned off the TV. When he looked at Altair the Syrian just had his brows raised but said nothing. “Coming?” was all Malik asked as he walked away and felt Altair’s eyes follow him for a few seconds before putting two and two together and seeing where Malik was headed. He repressed a little laugh as he heard Altair stumble off the couch and quickly catch up with him as he was about to open his bedroom door. Altair’s arms circled his waist, and pressed his face to his shoulder, kissing him through his shirt.

“Of course I am,” Altair said lowly into Malik’s ear, teeth dragging across the cup of his ear and Malik shivered. He didn’t stop Altair as he slid a hand up under Malik’s shirt before they stumbled into Malik’s room as he physically wasn’t able to take it any more. The door was closed and Malik shoved Altair up against it, he just grinned smugly as Malik kissed him firmly, if only to wipe that look off his face.
--

One more scene guys. ONE. MORE. SCENE.
I bet you all know what it is too!

Re: Recruits to the Rescue [3a/?]

(Anonymous) 2011-12-13 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
Omigosh, I really love this so much. ;__;

Re: A Box of Scraps (2/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-13 10:07 pm (UTC)(link)
Authoranon here. To answer your question, OP, I'm bringing the Black Ops guys into a more present setting. While I've honestly never played a single CoD (other than multiplayer with friends), I've watched Black Ops played from start to finish and really liked the story. I <3 me some Mason. ^_^

As a side note, any inaccuracies regarding the military and military practices are purely my own. I've tried to do as much research as I could, but some things may have slipped through. Apologies for any gross inaccuracies.

Re: Altered Flight Pattern (86/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-15 02:38 am (UTC)(link)
Although I'm sad it's ending, I wanted to say thank you for this wonderful fic. I enjoyed everything about it! The characterizations and the dynamics are amazing. I keep smiling when I read Malik's and Altair's shared moments.

Re: Recruits to the Rescue [3a/?]

(Anonymous) 2011-12-16 10:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Aghhhh--- AGHHHHHH!!! I'm SO sorry for writing reply so late ;_;
You updated! Yay ;u; I love this fic so much. Just letting you know TuT
Also, good luck with finals /runsaway

(Anonymous) 2011-12-21 12:19 pm (UTC)(link)
So adorable and in character! I love it! I'll never get tired of adorable Leonardo! :D

(Anonymous) 2011-12-21 12:24 pm (UTC)(link)
Oh sweet Lord you got my adrenaline pumping with this fic! Please for the love of everything that's good and Leonardo do continue!

(Anonymous) 2011-12-27 06:33 am (UTC)(link)
RE: BOX OF SCRAPS
OP here and I am here to provide you encouragement. I am playing CoD:MW3 and it is making me more pumped should you post more installments.

Re: Love Is War (Altair/Malik/Maria)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-29 12:22 pm (UTC)(link)
I just read parts 1 through 14 in one go and I have to say: This is awesome! I really hope there will be an update some day - even though the last one is almost a year old...
*please*

Re: A Box of Scraps (3/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-30 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
-----

“I need two springs, eight pounds tension,” the blonde muttered to the Overseer.

“You already have fourteen springs. Use one of those.”

The blonde sighed. “But they don't have the right tension,” he said more to himself than to the other man. “Without the right tension, you run the risk of the spring either pulling to tight and being essentially unmovable or it being too weak and after a few pulls with a heavier load just stretching out into useless. It's critical that the right parts be used in these or they just won't function the way they've been designed to function...”

A hand flashed out, gripping the blonde by the jawbone and forcing him to look at his current holder. “I don't care. Make them work, or die.”

“But...”

The hand tightened it's grip, causing the blonde to whimper in pain. “Make. Them. Work.”

A small, affirmative noise escaped the blonde's lips as he tried to nod his head, the hand on his jaw making it nearly impossible to complete the motion. After what felt like an eternity, his jaw was finally released. He knew better than to stretch it to alleviate some of the pain; they'd taught him that when he was a small child. Whenever they deemed him worthy enough to touch, he was supposed to take it gratefully, whether it caused pleasure or pain or nothing at all.

“The metal prototype should be finished in a couple days,” the blonde offered after a few minutes of silence.

“And the non-metallic?” the Overseer asked, his intrigue obvious.

“I need a better kiln for the ceramic. This one makes it too hot too quickly.”

The Overseer grunted, then, content with his answers, turned and left the room.

The blonde looked around at his various workbenches, looking at the various states of completion of the items. To his left, eight of ten intricately fashioned rings sat in a semicircle around two incomplete rings, each with a different colored gem in the setting, each holding a different deadly or hallucinogenic poison in a hidden compartment inside the hollowed gem. While his were mere copies of those he'd heard stories of from the leader of the Masyaf faction, they still held a bit of the legendary originals mystique. To his right, a crudely stitched vest with various wires and capacitors hanging from it, an attempt at using light and lasers for invisibility. Further left, a partially constructed chair with machinery at its base, a failed attempt at a small, personal hover device. In the corner, a discarded helmet and disks intended to provide the wearer of the helmet with the ability to strongly influence those who held the disks; a failed experiment that had left several men dead and the original helmet wearer in a vegetative state. But his current project, the one that the Overseer had inquired on, was an ultra concealable blade, able to pass through metal detectors and any standard security sweep undetected.

But if one were to look further into the corner, they would see a pile of discarded odds and ends, which was the cover for the blonde's pet project. Created from essentially a box of scraps left over from his other creations, it could be assembled into a half finished suit of metal armor, able to withstand a direct blast from any military-grade ballistic shell.

With a longing look at the mishmash of parts, the blonde sighed to himself and returned to his work on the concealable blade, knowing that if he did not make further progress soon, he would be punished severely.

Re: A Box of Scraps (3/?)

(Anonymous) 2011-12-30 05:24 am (UTC)(link)
OMG OMG LEONARDO

Awww poor baby! I love all the little details of his various inventions, especially the hover chair because the mental image of that is fricken hilarious.

Page 23 of 27