asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2011-11-16 12:25 pm
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
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List of Kinks
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Re: All About Instincts
(Anonymous) 2012-05-02 12:06 pm (UTC)(link)Re: All About Instincts
(Anonymous) 2012-05-02 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)Re: All About Instincts
(Anonymous) 2012-05-03 05:17 am (UTC)(link)Wrong Life, Wrong Body 1
(Anonymous) 2012-05-03 09:15 am (UTC)(link)It wasn’t his fault he enjoyed settling down—dreaming of a partner and children of his own. There was something to be said about owning property, about finding a loyal partner. Back on the Farm, he had owned his room—and on the run, he owned the bar, the three-room apartment, and all of the skyline.
So naturally, he had been upset in Abstergo because his territory had been shrunken down to just two and a half rooms—bathroom included. Abstergo had been hell because he refused to let himself surround himself with the covers like he did back home. He had refused to take all the towels and throw them on the bed because there weren’t enough things on there to make him comfortable.
Of course, he failed spectacularly, and they opened the wardrobe after his first night there—ho, boy, he had been happy to see everything, and his bed had had everything in the damn closet and bathroom on that bed. It drove Vidic nuts. Oh, yeah, and he couldn’t forget that he usually walked around in the nude just to piss him off, too, because he hated wearing clothes. They were just too tight and stuffy, and so he’d sprawl out on his bed in absolutely nothing, and Vidic would send Lucy in to get him. Lucy enjoyed it well enough, and as Desmond got to know Altair, he found himself adopting that prideful strut. Hey, they were both good-looking, and Altair hated clothes as much as he did, so he was more than happy to let the Bleeding Effect take its toll. Now he had someone who understood what it was like. What made him mad, though, was in the final memory sequence, as he plunged the blade into Al Mualim’s throat, he was torn from Altair’s body as they looked at the map, and he had felt so at home right then just before he was pulled away.
And then they escaped, and here he was now in Monteriggioni, and this whole thing was irritating him. He didn’t like Ezio. He didn’t like the perpetual exchange of partners (to which also earned him ridicule as a foolishly “in-love” woman), and he didn’t like the non-familiarness as he had shared with Altair. So, in retaliation, he had started actively trying to block Ezio’s bleeding and replace it with Altair’s. When he saw Leonardo or Machiavelli, he’d imagine Malik; when he saw the streets of Florence, he replaced when with Jerusalem.
And it was working: all hell it was working.
He was bleeding Altair faster than he was bleeding Ezio, to the point where he could communicate clearly with Malik as if they were best friends. He could talk to Altair now, whenever he wanted, if he just imagined him (and sometimes without even having to do that). They were taking on personalities of their own, and he was okay with that because at least he didn’t feel so alone surrounded by his teammates. He had told Lucy about his blocking Ezio with Altair, and she had looked upset, but accepted it. He had been hoping that would get him a ticket out of the Animus for a while, but that had backfired.
“Bloody hell, Desmond, please, stop pacing. And don’t bring back more blankets and pillows if you go out tonight. This is not our home.”
He sent a glare over his shoulder to Shaun, and Lucy sighed.
“Please, Shaun. This is just his way of coping.”
He scratched at his head, raking his fingers through his shaggy hair. He needed to cut it. Good thing Lucy agreed to do that today for him.
“He copes like a woman who just moved into a new house. We don’t need to be settling down here. What if we have to leave again, hm? We can’t take it all with us!”
“Shut up, jackass. You’re the reason we can’t have nice things.”
“Oh, really now, Desmond? That was a wonderful retort. Absolutely brilliant—”
“Come on, Desmond, let’s get your hair cut.”
He looked to where Lucy gestured and plopped down, sighing as he waited for her to fetch the scissors. He sat on the designated chair and waited as she stepped behind him, sighing as she started cutting his hair. It would be good to get rid of it. She started snipping, giving him a cut just slightly longer than a military buzz cut. He sighed at the pull of his hair and the relief of losing his hair. She was quietly humming to herself as she cut, and when he felt her hands stop, he looked up at her.
“Desmond,” she murmured, and she ran her hand through his hair. “Just how long as this been going on?”
He blinked. “What’s going on?”
“You picking your scalp raw.”
He blinked again. “What?”
He looked when Rebecca go up and walked over at Lucy’s gesture. He watched her lean in close. “Damn, Desmond…”
He frowned. “What’s going on?”
“You had no idea you were picking your scalp raw?” Lucy asked, and Desmond felt as if he was about to get into deep shit. “Do you—”
“Lucy, I’m fine, all right? I don’t know where the scabs came from, but I’m doing fine.”
He watched her frown deepen, and she started cutting his hair again. “I don’t know when you started this, Desmond, but this is serious. If you’re doing something that’s causing you injury and not remembering it…”
“Actually,” Shaun said, and he looked at the British man as he faced them, frowning, “as much to my detriment as this will be, he has been scratching his scalp more. Usually when he adopts that blank, stupid expression that someone might pass as ‘thinking.’ And in all of Ezio’s memories, I have yet to see Ezio picking at his scalp. He loves his hair too much.”
“Then what are you suggesting, Shaun?” Lucy asked, picking up the hair cut again.
“Well, he’s either finally hit Route 16, or he’s got someone else driving with Ezio in the backseat.”
"But then, Ezio should be the only ancestor he's experienced other than...”
He blinked when Lucy’s eyes widened. “Altair?”
“If you think,” Shaun said, waving a hand and turning back around.
Lucy patted his shoulders, and he looked up at her. He could tell she was thinking about the forced bleeding he was going through. That went without her knowing it was now getting out of control. He frowned—he hadn’t known that Altair had those kinds of nervous ticks.
“You don’t know a lot about your ancestor, novice, even with all you have learned.”
He looked to see Malik standing there with his hand on his hip.
“You are so incredibly blind for an assassin. Did you not pay attention to his thoughts and sleeping patterns when you were him?”
“I was paying attention, you dickhead! That’s why I liked his memories so much: we had so many of the same habits!”
He could feel Altair cutting his hair gently. “Desmond, there’s much more to me than you realize.”
“That doesn’t sound arrogant at all.”
“And what would you have me say?”
“Oh, perhaps that you are the biggest birdbrain on the face of the planet, hm?”
Desmond could hear him roll his eyes. “That joke is old.”
“Yet oh so relevant,” the man said with a scoff. “You wish to learn more of your ancestor’s secrets? Then trust me: go back to when he killed Al Mualim. You will find your answers there.”
“But… how? I can’t get in without someone to monitor me.”
Malik sighed, and Altair chuckled. “How about Hastings? After all, he did admit to watching you all the time, especially when you
hallucinate.”
“He did say that—didn’t he?” Desmond repeated, pursing his lips. “You’re right.”
Malik snorted and sat in his sleeping bag pile before vanishing. Desmond watched as things righted themselves before his eyes, and he was met with a quiet Sanctuary. Lucy was still trimming his hair, and he swallowed as he looked around. Shaun looked thoroughly shocked, and he knew that Lucy was frowning.
“You’ll be okay,” he heard Altair say.
He snorted. “That’s what you think. You clearly don’t know them.”
He spent the rest of that night under careful observation, and Lucy told the others about his forced bleeding. He sighed, settling down in his bed of pillow and blankets, and wished this night would end. By the time Lucy and Rebecca went to bed, he had never felt so estranged from his teammates in all his life, as if this “crazy” thing was forcing an unwanted wedge between them. Finally, he heard Shaun move at his desk, and he stood up, walked over, and stood there for a bit as he tried to figure out what to say.
“Hello, Desmond. Go—”
“I need your help.”
There was silence, and he could see Shaun’s tensing, him making up his mind. He watched patiently.
“I want to go back to Altair’s memories and see if we can’t pinpoint where my scalp-picking habit came from.”
Shaun frowned and turned to look at him. He could feel the man’s eyes raking up and down his body, appraising him as if he were an ox (which sometimes he felt as if he were). Then, he sighed, irritated.
“Very well. I’ll help you.”
----------------
Welp, I don't know if you enjoyed it, but I hope you find it well enough. Questions/comments/complaints are always welcome.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 1
(Anonymous) 2012-05-03 09:30 am (UTC)(link)I love the idea that Desmond paraded around in the nude to piss off Vidic! And I can't wait to see the boys' reactions to Desmond's ancestry! :D
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 1
(Anonymous) 2012-05-03 10:54 am (UTC)(link)Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 1
(Anonymous) 2012-05-03 03:00 pm (UTC)(link)I can't wait to see what happens next!
unrelated, but if Ezio was descended from a bird, I bet it'd be a peacock.Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 1
(Anonymous) 2012-05-03 06:43 pm (UTC)(link)Newbie!Anon thinks this fill is made of awesome, and hopes to see more. :3
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 1
(Anonymous) 2012-05-08 07:01 am (UTC)(link)Wrong Life, Wrong Body 2 [1/2]
(Anonymous) 2012-05-10 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)“Well, this is an interesting development,” he heard Shaun’s voice in his ear.
As he sat there roasting the rabbit, he petted the eagle, feeling absolutely devastated and…
“Yeah, well wait until I tell you what I’m feeling.”
“Oh?”
“Depressed. And horny.”
There was silence. Then, “What?”
“You heard me. Altair wants to get laid—by the eagle.”
There was more silence as the memory was fast forwarded to the next morning as he rode into Masyaf and fought off his brethren. When Malik appeared, he had never been more grateful.
“Al Mualim has betrayed us.”
“Yes, betrayed his Templar allies as well.”
“How do you know?”
And when Desmond heard something about Altair’s “creation,” he was confused.
“Where did the eagle come from?”
He felt himself smirk. “This is my mate of many years, Malik. There will be time for introductions later. Safety and peace, my friend.”
“Your presence will deliver us all.”
And then he had control of the body, and he just stood there.
“Did he just say…”
He could hear Shaun sniggering in his ear. “Mate, mate. Your ancestor took the eagle thing a wee bit too far.”
Desmond blinked. “Mate. He slept with an—wait, then how did he end up with Maria? She was no-shit woman!”
There was silence again.
“Uh,” he heard Shaun say after a bit. “Well… I don’t know.”
Desmond growled and took off after Al Mualim. The adrenaline coursed in his veins, and as he plunged the blade into Al Mualim’s throat, he felt that comforting feeling envelop him, and then he blinked. Everything had grown. He heard a bird call, and he watched Altair’s “mate” fly down beside him. He was shorter than the mate. He went to reach out and touch her, but he was alarmed to find his arm was a wing.
“An… eagle?” he heard Shaun breathe.
There was the warning of desyncing, and he found himself resurfacing from the memory with a gasp. There was a silence between them, and he looked at Shaun, who looked thoroughly shocked. Then, Desmond found himself grinning, and Shaun bit his lip, and then he started giggling, and Shaun covered his mouth to suppress his laughter, and everything was on a downhill tumble until they both had tears in their eyes from trying to hold back laughter.
“He really was an eagle?” Desmond rasped around his laughter.
“Looks like Malik’s accusations of him being a birdbrain were grounded in fact!” Shaun hissed back, doubled over in his chair, his glasses on his desk.
Desmond’s lip was bleeding from biting it so hard, and he drew a deep breath, holding out a hand for Shaun’s attention. He watched as Shaun looked at him, and he drew his fists near his armpits and started flapping.
“C-caw, motherfucker!”
And that did it. They couldn’t hold it back any longer, and they were roaring with laughter as they were lost within the image of Altair as an eagle and the utter ludicrousness of the fact that there was actually a bird lost somewhere in Desmond’s lineage. They managed to wake Lucy and Rebecca with their rambunctious guffawing, and it only earned them several glares and threats before the women settling back down, promising an interrogation tomorrow. When they finally calmed down, Shaun snorted.
“So Desmond, how does it feel to know that ‘Ibn-La’Ahad’ is the truth, and that your idiocy is excusable by the… bird… in your family genes?”
Desmond gave him a shit-eating grin. “Watch yourself, Hastings, or I’ll peck your eyes out.”
“Desmond, I am not a chicken,” he heard as Altair appeared beside Shaun.
“Ooo, I’m so scared.”
“Oh, my ‘pologies, Altair. I’m gonna claw your eyes out.”
“Oh, Altair is here? Perhaps you should start squawking to him.”
“He told me that he was not a chicken.”
Shaun snorted, and he watched Altair’s eyes narrow at the British man. “Of course, Desmond. Whatever the voices tell you. Though that does explain your ridiculous behaviors.”
“Huh?”
“Just look at your sleeping bag.”
He did so, and it looked like a mess, to be quite honest, piled with pillows and blankets around the edges. It was actually super comfortable, and Desmond liked it.
“Of course you do,” Altair murmured. “It’s a nest.”
And then the image clicked into place. It was a nest. It was a large nest, spilling over the sides of this sleeping bag. It was huge.
“Much larger than the ones I used to make, I will admit.”
So then, his territorial and settling down problems spawned from his bird ancestor.
“Yes,” Altair murmured.
And his hatred of clothing probably also came from Altair.
“Of course.”
And his dreams to settle down with a partner and have kids—
“Mating instincts. You’re ready to have children.”
His eyes grew wide, and he paled. “Sh-Shaun…”
“Yes?”
“I’m part fucking bird.”
“Think of it this way, Desmond,” Shaun said, putting his glasses on and leaning back in his chair, “only a extremely thin vein of that blood is in you—”
“But the bleeding!”
Shaun was quiet for a moment. “Perhaps then your habits are coming from him.”
“But I’ve always enjoyed having things on my bed and having area to patrol. I’ve always wanted a partner and kids. I’ve always hated wearing clothes!”
Shaun frowned, watching him closely and staring at his head. “Then perhaps you’re just related to him more than you thought. Dominant and recessive genes and whatnot.”
“But why me? Why didn’t my mom or dad have problems with that?”
“How do you know they didn’t? You were only there until you were sixteen, and those were not the years to bond with your parents and find out their dirty secrets.”
He just stared at Shaun. It was as if everything was just sailing over his head. Apparently to Shaun, it didn’t matter that Desmond was part bird. He was a fucking animal. He had animal blood in him.
“Yes, Desmond,” Altair said. “Don’t let it distract you. Use it to your advantage.”
He was going to die. He was part bird. He was part fukken bird. He was not even human by Those Who Came Before’s standards. He was a hybrid by the hybrids’ standards. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder to see Shaun super close, his brow crinkled. He stared into the man’s eyes—and swore he saw worry there.
“Desmond. It’s just a bird. Don’t freak out. You’re still human. Otherwise, Altair would not have been able to have descendents.”
“I have bird blood in my veins. I have—”
He was stopped by a hand over his mouth and Shaun crouching in front of him. “Desmond, calm down.”
He was still a little panicked. He was related to a bird.
“Not a bird, Desmond. A human who was a bird. Do not confuse them.”
He stared at Shaun.
“If Altair had been a bird when he mated, there would be no way that you were here today with us.”
Desmond watched him carefully as Shaun’s other hand came up and slowly started running his fingers over his torn-up scalp. He swallowed, blinking, and curled his toes slightly. It did feel rather good, but he didn’t quite want to quell the pain yet.
“It’s common,” he heard Malik say somewhere behind him. “Altair loved his back rubbed.”
He glanced over Shaun’s shoulder at the man, who was leaning on Shaun’s desk.
“All animals enjoy being petting. Even humans. Why else would a back rub feel so good?”
Desmond’s nose twitched, and he blinked again as he heard Shaun shush him. The man’s hand was still clamped over his mouth, but those other fingers were now gently scratching his head, and he couldn’t deny it felt wonderful. He blinked again, hearing Shaun chuckle, and he had to admit he liked his laugh. Preferably when it wasn’t directed at him, but he could only hope.
“Christ, you’re as noisy as a parrot.”
He looked back at the man, who was still laughing quietly. He furrowed his brow, not bothering to talk around the massive hand.
“You’re making all these high chirps. Has no one ever scratched your head?”
He glared at Shaun, earning a snort.
“You are such an idiot.”
Still, he paid attention to himself the next time Shaun started rubbing his head, and he tried his damnedest to squish the noises. It wouldn’t do him any good to reaffirm the fact that he was part bird. He wasn’t going to give in. No, not especially since this was the first time he was ever given such a head rub, and it felt so wonderful.
“Doesn’t it though? Malik gave me one once. Although I did prefer his back rubs.”
He caught himself in the middle of a chirpy noise.
“So extremely talkative,” Shaun murmured, and Desmond scowled as he lowered his hand. “Was Altair like this?”
He glanced over Shaun’s shoulder as Malik scoffed. “He was much quieter.”
“No. He was quieter.”
“Who’s standing behind me?”
“Malik. And Altair.”
“For how long?”
“Not too long.”
He looked when he heard Shaun hum, and the man hadn’t moved from his personal bubble at all, still staring intensely at him. “Desmond.”
He blinked, scowling as the fingers stop moving. He’s about to get in trouble, he knew, because it was that same tone that Lucy adopted when she was about to chastise him for something. He glanced when he saw Malik and Altair vanish.
“How bad is the Bleeding Effect right now?”
“Nothing to be concerned about,” he snapped. “Lucy already knows it all.”
“Mm-hm… And, do you have a way to keep you from bleeding like a lunatic?”
“What?”
“I mean,” Shaun began, “if the bleeding ever gets too bad, do you have a way to pull yourself out of it?”
“What? No. Don’t be stupid. I can’t.”
Shaun’s lips didn’t even twitch, just kept staring at him. It was beginning to make him nervous. It wasn’t even a “friendly” stare, but that intense, judging-the-soul stare.
“Are you sure?”
Desmond scowled. “Yeah, duh. How could I pull myself out of something involuntary anyway?”
Shaun stared at him a moment more before humming and stepping back, back to his work desk and away from him. He rolled his eyes and rose, walking over to his “nest” and settling down. He realized, much to his chagrin, that he wanted Shaun to continue rubbing his head, and he was surprised when he heard the man get up and walk over, sitting in his nest with him and rubbing his head gently. He didn’t even care about the noises he would be making because he felt so wonderful as he eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.
Wrong Life, Wrong Body 2 [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2012-05-10 07:39 pm (UTC)(link)“Yes… you will sing… like a bird in a gilded cage. Sing… you fucking mother-fucking… cunt-bag erne… Sing! Bastard.”
He blinked. He had no idea what Shaun was talking about, but the tightening of his fists in his jacket and the near snarl on his face told him it wasn’t good.
“Shaun?” he murmured, and immediately, the man relaxed.
“Ah… good birdie. Beautiful birdie. Keep singing.”
Desmond frowned, thinking perhaps it was just a coincidence. “Shaun, you need to wake up.”
“Excellent. Now just keep… singing.”
No, Shaun was definitely talking to him. He frowned. Of course Shaun would be a bastard enough to tease him. Still, when he heard Shaun whine for him to keep singing, he scowled and started with a lullaby he had often heard Malik sing to Altair. The man asleep on his chest seemed to relaxed with his… warbling, he supposed. He wouldn’t call his voice beautiful, and he would hardly call it singing, but warbling seemed to fit. Thankfully, he stared at the ceiling because Lucy and Rebecca were asleep. Finally, Shaun began to stir, and he watched as the man blinked, looking around before resting his arm on his chest and looking at him, his eyes squinted.
“Desmond?”
And he knew his eyes widened as he felt his entire body react to the way Shaun’s voice sounded. He liked the groggy sound, the way he could still hear him trying to work through everything.
“Yeah?”
Shaun blinked at him again, and he smirked. Messy hair looked good on him. “Why are you in my sleeping bag?”
He snorted. “I’m not. You’re in my bed.”
He watched the man look around, half-awake. “No wonder it was so much more comfortable than mine. I’m in the nest that the mamma bird has made.”
“It’s not a nest.”
“It is, too, and you can’t win this, eaglet 17-M, because I have the polly-walped mamma bird on my side, so just shut up.”
Desmond wheezed as Shaun’s head collided with his chest, and he felt one arm rest across his stomach as if he were a stuffed bear. He bit his lip when Shaun snuggled close.
“My birdie,” he yawned, “just mine. Aaaaaaaaall mine.”
He felt so utterly confused. If this was how Shaun acted still half-asleep, then it was no wonder all his words made so much sense in real time: he got all his stupid out now. He lay there and let the man cuddle with him, noticing how pleasant it felt to have a slow morning after sleeping well. When Lucy and Rebecca woke up, he was even more surprised to hear—after closing his eyes to look as if he were still sleeping—that Lucy decided it would be best just to let them lay there until they woke, and then they would take time to eat breakfast before stuffing him into the Animus. He waited until he felt Shaun stir, and when he felt the man get up, he yawned and stretched, rolling on his stomach in the nest and watching him.
“So, I’m all yours now?”
Shaun paused, midstep, and Rebecca choked on a laugh as Lucy stared at them. He grinned like a shit as Shaun turned around and narrowed his eyes.
“What are you on about?” the man hissed.
Desmond’s grin grew. “You said, ‘My birdie, just mine. Aaaaaaaaall mine.’ You said it this morning, as a matter of fact, after commanding me to sing for you and before calling me eaglet 17-M and telling me to shut up because you had the polly-something momma bird.”
Shaun was regarding him carefully for a moment before that look turned into something utterly dark, and he couldn’t help but keep grinning.
“You’re joshing me. I haven’t talked in my sleep since primary school.”
“You really think I would come up with shit like that?”
“Yes.”
Desmond rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You’re just embarrassed.”
“Yes, I’m embarrassed for your pitiful sake, Miles.”
He scoffed and flipped back over, lying in the bed and thinking about how to record those ramblings. He could hear the man start some tea to drink, and there was silence for just a minute before he heard Lucy clear her throat.
“So what was so entertaining last night you had to wake us with your laughter?”
Desmond stiffened. It wasn’t something he was sure he wanted to share with the girls. Not yet, not until he had fully come to grips with it—and perhaps asked Shaun for a few more head rubs. He could hear Altair laugh just to his side, and he swallowed.
“As a matter fact, Lucy,” Shaun began, “in speaking of ridiculous things, did you know that Desmond is actually part bird?”
He closed his eyes as he waited for their reaction.
“Because, you see, Altair was actually an eagle that Al Mualim, I would assume, had the gall to pull from the skies and turn into a human. Fascinating, hm? It certainly explains Desmond’s utterly bizarre behaviors.”
There was silence a time more before Rebecca blurted, “No fucking way!”
“That’s what we thought, too, at first, as Desmond relived the memory and discovered that Altair traveled to Masyaf with an eagle. We both thought that he was just taking the whole eagle thing a wee bit too far, as Desmond reported he felt depressed and horny, but no, the whole thing was true, as allegedly, the eagle companion was actually his mate! Terrible injustice, but Desmond’s idiocy comes directly from Altair’s lineage and the feather-minded birdbrain that he had.”
There was more silence, until Shaun called him over for breakfast, and he didn’t bother to make eye contact with anyone. They all sat at Lucy’s desk, some semblance of a family in the terrible conditions they were forced into. Nevertheless, as he finished his own breakfast, he tried ended up scavenging food from the others’ plates, still hungry, until Shaun caught him and smacked his hand with the fork. Desmond hissed as he drew his hand back, and he glared at him.
“You know, that is entirely un-eagle like to steal food from another’s plate. You ought to go catch your own.”
“Fuck off, Shaun,” he growled as he swiped the man’s last bite of French toast and ate it with gusto.
“How disappointing. I had hoped you would embrace that eagle side of you.”
“What, so you can ridicule me more?”
“I can ridicule you enough, regardless.”
Altair appeared beside Rebecca’s shoulder, pointing to her sausage link, and Desmond’s lip twitched before his hand shot out. He heard the hidden blade whizzing out before he could stop it, but when he was eating the sausage off the weapon, he decided he didn’t care because the sausage was incredible. He didn’t notice the looks the others gave him, and he didn’t care, either, because he had just one-upped them—and the reward was so worth it. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he burped and rose, dropping his plate in the washing bin.
And thankfully, he knew whatever discussion of his bird lineage was had, was had during the time he was out cold in the Animus.
-----------
oh, my, I hadn't even realized how long it had been since I updated. Stupid allergies. Stop plaguing me.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 2 [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2012-05-10 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)OP is overjoyed and thinks this is beautiful.
Please tell me there is more. Please. It's so great.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 2 [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2012-05-10 09:35 pm (UTC)(link)LOL. I'm glad you liked the sleep talking. I made so many references to different blogs in there. ~.^
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 2 [2/2]
(Anonymous) - 2012-05-11 00:02 (UTC) - ExpandRe: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 2 [2/2]
(Anonymous) 2012-05-11 07:15 am (UTC)(link)Don't worry Des, I'm sure you'll find your bird heritage useful! And Shaun will be there to give you head skritches and pets. (Out of curiosity, writeanon, are you gonna turn Des into a bird? I saw someone mention it up in the earlier comments and think it'd be an interesting twist/parallel to Altair's experiences.)
Wrong Life, Wrong Body 3
(Anonymous) 2012-06-18 04:18 am (UTC)(link)“A Koosh ball!”
He grinned, squishing it between his hands.
“It’s been forever since I saw one of these! Awesome! Where’d you get it?”
He was holding it up by a few of the hairs, wiggling it. Then, he tossed it in the air, playing with it almost like a Hacky-Sack, kicking it around and throwing it. He had always wanted one of those, and now he finally had one. He alternated between tossing it around and squishing it, laughing at the way it felt between his fingers, and he stopped only to eat dinner.
“You’ll never guess where I found it, Desmond,” Shaun said as Lucy brought over the pot of ravioli.
Desmond looked at him. He was so happy.
“In the bird section of the marketplace in the next town over.”
He was lobbing the Koosh ball at Shaun’s face before he knew what he was doing, and he sulked over to his nest—bed!—without eating dinner. He jerked when he heard a whistle, and his gaze honed in on the Koosh ball swinging back and forth in the damnable man’s fingers. He had finally gotten a new toy, and all he was doing was getting ridiculed for it. He hissed and, in a flash, was barreling over the table and plowing into Shaun, knocking him senseless as he grabbed the Koosh ball and felt himself smile softly as he squished the small ball between his hands. This was his toy, and it was going in his bed. He got off Shaun, one foot clamped over the ball as he scavenged what was left of the other man’s food before getting his own. And when the man finally recovered, he sat up slowly, his face contorted into one of mild pain.
“You asked for it,” Rebecca murmured.
Desmond snorted. “Of course he did.”
Shaun blinked for a minute before smirking. “But I told you he’d love it.”
“Lots of people enjoy Koosh balls,” Lucy uttered, sighing, irritated.
He hummed, eating a large portion of the ravioli, before picking the ball up and rolling it between his hands.
“Desmond, you’re filthy. You need to bathe,” he heard Shaun hiss, feeling his eyes raking over him.
“Do I have time? Or are we fitting in one more session before bed?”
“We’ll… wait on having that,” Lucy said softly, watching him. “You go take a shower tonight.”
He nodded, rolling the Koosh between his hands still. “You got it. I’ll take one now.”
He played with the Koosh ball all the way through his shower, humming as he take his time, washing his head gently and listening to Malik argue outside the shower curtains with some novice his mind has come up with out of nowhere. The man sent him on his way as he showered, and he yelped when he saw Malik’s head peeking into the shower. The man snorted, and he blushed when he saw him give him an extremely thorough onceover.
“Desmond, don’t be a perv,” he muttered, looking away.
“You look exactly like Altair,” Malik murmured, and Desmond scowled, still not looking despite the tone of Malik’s voice. He was not going to give into the fact that he was creating the people in his head to check him out and—“Novice. We’re no longer just people in your head. We’re entities, like that multiple personality disorder you researched once.”
That made him cringe. That was not what he wanted to here. Not ever.
“Besides, you have a good body. You should show it off more as Altair did when we were alone. You are in an intimate enough setting.”
He scowled. “No! Not in front of the others!”
“And why not?”
“Can you imagine the shit I’d get from Shaun?”
“Why does he matter?”
“Why do you care? It’s not like you’re interested in men.”
“I simply ask because I know you are.”
He scowled even deeper. “Creeper. I’m not interested only in men.”
“I know that. Doesn’t mean I care, however, and I have noticed the way you stare at the others.”
“Shut the fuck up, Malik. I’m bisexual, okay? I care about what Shaun’s gonna say. Bad enough he’s already done nothing but tease me about birdbrain out there.”
He could hear Altair squawk indignantly from the counter outside the shower as Malik smirked, pulling back. Desmond snorted, finishing his shower quickly after that unpleasant interruption. He dried in the shower and changed quickly, cursing his ancestors for staring at him as he dressed. He didn’t like long-dead old guys staring at him, and he most certainly didn’t like to think he was being judged by his ancestors, so he scowled as he shoved the Koosh ball in his pocket and ran off after that, determined to leave the others behind, even more disappointed to see that they were keeping up with him even with the unfamiliar territory. When he made it back to the Sanctuary, he walked straight over to his nest and curled up, harrumphing.
“Well, looks like feather-brain is finally back—and got into a spat with the voices inside his head.”
“Shut up, Shaun.”
“Ah, and why should I? The girls have gone to bed, and there’s no one awake to hear me torment you.”
So that’s why it seemed darker than normal. They had shut down. He growled and curled up under his blankets and pillows, clinging to his Koosh ball. Shaun was remarkably silent for a while, and when he heard Shaun shut down, Desmond looked to see him walking over and sitting in his nest. It was remarkably big.
“So much bigger than any of Altair’s,” Malik murmured, but Desmond didn’t hear because Shaun was scratching his scalp.
He closed his eyes, choosing to ignore Shaun’s chuckling as he enjoyed the head scratching. He kept his Koosh ball in his hand, tucked neatly under his stomach, and Desmond could hear himself making tiny noises, especially when Shaun scratched the beard under his chin. A beard was an itchy thing, but a comfortable one at the same time, and he thought it felt wonderful as he rolled onto his back and held the Koosh ball close.
“You are so bizarre,” he heard Shaun murmur.
“You’re encouraging it,” he said as best he could without disrupting Shaun’s wonderful fingers scratching the back part of his jaw and cheek.
Shaun hummed, and Desmond slowly relaxed under his wonderful fingers. Eventually, he felt the man start stroking his neck, and he exhaled softly.
“You are so noisy.”
“I’m not that noisy.”
“Yes, you are.”
He made some sort of warbling huff, and Shaun laughed again as he felt those fingers slipping slightly lower. He melted when he undid the sweater and scratched his chest slowly and lightly through his thin tee. Desmond exhaled, a contented sigh, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the last time Shaun clipped his nails. He squirmed slightly, getting comfortable, and then fell still as he let the man alternate between scratching his chest and rubbing his neck and chin. He drifted off to sleep slowly.
When Desmond woke up the next morning, Shaun was hugging him like a giant teddy bear. He twisted his head when he heard someone pacing around, and Lucy was already up and about, turning things on and starting for the day. He watched her until she noticed him, smiling, amused, at the grip Shaun seemed to have on him.
“Morning, Lucy,” he murmured.
“Morn—”
“Shush,” Shaun hissed, curling up tighter. “The Dinkey-Bird is singing…”
“Huh?” she said, looking at Shaun.
“The Dinkey-Bird!” he hissed, his fingers curling into Desmond’s chest.
“Shaun, is the Dinkey-Bird related to the polly-smogluped momma thing?” Desmond asked.
Shaun sighed happily, relaxing against his chest. “Ah, speed little dreams, your winging, to the cliffs beside the sea…”
“Shaun?” Lucy murmured, pacing over.
“Lucy,” Shaun said, curling his fingers again into Desmond’s chest, “look at your bed.”
She did so.
“Now look at my bed.”
He watched Lucy blink before looking at him and crossing her arms.
“Now look at your bed. Who’s jealous now, bitch?”
He laughed quietly at the shocked expression on Lucy’s face.
“D-did he just quote the Old Spice commercials?” she asked.
“I didn’t even think Shaun knew about Old Spice,” he responded.
“What time did he go to bed?”
“Shortly after I got back.”
Lucy nodded, and Shaun snored softly once, muttering about the eternal shadow slaying vultures from the mad sphere.
“I heard you get back.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Oh… looks like he’s getting frustrated.”
He looked back at Shaun, who had the cutest face of absolute frustration. He wrapped an arm around him and hummed quietly for a moment before speaking when he seemed to relax.
“I’m getting a feeling this is how it always will be in the mornings from now on. He seems to like this bed more.”
“I think we all would,” Lucy said with a chuckle.
“You’re welcome to anything here. Just let me know what you take.”
Lucy smiled. “Thank you, Desmond. I suppose I should leave you alone with him.”
“Probably a good idea,” he murmured, starting to sing quietly, and when Shaun actually woke up, Desmond couldn’t help but grin ear-to-ear. “So, Shaun—”
“Shut up, Desmond. I don’t want to hear about my escapades in dreamland.”
Yet, when the girls went out shopping and bottle of Old Spice soap appeared, Desmond couldn’t help but laugh uproarishly. And the days began to settle into a pattern.
In the morning, he’d cuddle with Shaun. He heard about radioactive narwhals fighting doped-up unicorns. He heard about glowing green cats chasing purple tap-dancing mice. He heard about pink-spotted kangaroos dancing the salsa with slimy, striped lobsters. He realized, as he listened to his companion every morning, that he was beginning to grow fond of him, and that he wouldn’t want to go anywhere without him. Of course, the affectionate nickname “eaglet 17-M” also endeared him in a strange sort of way when coupled with the possessive “my birdie”s, reoccurring with every dream every time he would open his mouth to speak.
Then Shaun woke up, and Desmond popped into the Animus, then he got out, and they’d have dinner. Sometimes he played with the Koosh ball, sometimes he went out for a run, but either way, it was the only stimulating thing he could do—until the historian decided to take it upon himself to entertain him. Of course, the first time he brought the rope down, Desmond had been offended, snorting and ignoring it until the others were asleep before he tucked it into his bed next to the Koosh ball. Shaun had also gotten his hands on some sort of ball puzzle and put a small container of honey and berries in there. Desmond had spent three hours trying to figure out how to get to it—ending just shy of destroying it. And when the man had gotten his hands on some dried salmon (which Desmond loved) and stuffed it into a different puzzle, he thought he was just about ready to die from having to figure out how to get it. He wanted the fish more than the sweet treats. Of course, Shaun insisted that it was all to keep him from getting bored, but it didn’t take much to keep him occupied. Still, he was grateful to him for keeping him entertained: since, apparently, he couldn’t entertain himself.
It was an uneventful day, in all actuality, but when they would retire, and Shaun came over to his nest, Desmond was probably the happiest man on the face of the planet. He got his neck, chest, and face scratched, and even though Shaun insisted on teasing him about the little chirpy noises he made, he was in Heaven. He laid there and let him scratch and scratch until his fingers got sore—because then he would cuddle in close in the gargantuan nest and fall asleep, commenting on how much heat he put off. Desmond laid awake for a while more, sometimes listening to Malik comment on how different he was from Altair, yet exactly alike as well. Other times, he listened to Altair tell him about flying and how great it was.
And when he fell asleep, he began to dream about flying.
Everything was going relatively well until they reached the apple.
Of course, the nervous feeling his stomach hadn’t exactly encouraged him as he stood over the apple, listening to Shaun drone on and on about something stupid as he stared at it. He couldn’t say it didn’t lure him in, but the fact that Altair seemed to be fuming made him re-think picking it up. He stared at it until he heard Lucy beside him.
“Well? Should I pick it up?”
Desmond jumped, looking at her. “Nah, it’s okay, Lucy. I was just thinking. Well, listening.”
“To Shaun?” she deadpanned, giving him a disbelieving look as he grinned like a shit.
“No, to Altair. He doesn’t like the apple.”
“But… didn’t the Codex say…”
But it was too late, because Desmond was already scooping up the thing, more than a little curious. He was enveloped in a brilliant white light as he heard Altair’s cry of “Lucky!” He blinked, tilting his head at how much lighter he felt. His vision was off, completely disorienting, and he would have sworn his field of vision was larger. Remarkably so, he mused, and he looked around to find Shaun. But there was a problem: Shaun was now twice as big. He frowned and went to ask what the Hell happened and why everyone was staring at him as if he grew a second head, but all he heard was a squawk.
“Bloody hell…”
He tilted his head and tried to speak again, that time hearing a soft warble. He blinked and looked down. Then, with a cry of horror, he panicked when he saw brown and white feathers and clawed feet and the wall all at the same line. He was so disoriented he was going to puke as he tried to resituate himself.
“Desmond! Desmond! Calm down, mate!”
He was squawking and screaming as he tried to flail his arms and saw wings flapping. He screamed again, stomping his new scaled feet in terror as he kept up his panic attack. He was a bird.
He was a bird.
“Desmond! Calm down!”
He couldn’t help it, screaming and crying and wondering where the hell the apple was because he wanted his damn body back, and no one was even trying to comfort him in this horrific moment. Everyone was just watching him as he flailed and screamed, and not even offering a soothing word. Eventually, with one more anguished cry, he collapsed on the ground, wings outstretched and face on the floor, wishing he were dead. He was terrified, and he didn’t actually know what happened, hoping this is all some sort of bad dream, but he cried faintly when he saw Shaun step over and kneel beside him.
“Christ, I never thought I’d say this, ever, but I actually feel sorry for the poor bloke. Look at him.”
“Damn… he even looks afraid.”
“I’d be afraid,” Lucy murmured. “We need to contact headquarters. This is bad.”
Desmond cried out in agreement, still limp when he felt Shaun pick him up.
“He’s bleeding huge.”
“He’s a bald eagle, dude,” he heard Rebecca say.
As Lucy began to leave to find some way to talk to headquarters, Desmond was never happier that Shaun was holding him, scratching him, talking to him in a quiet voice. He kept crying out, hoping it was all a just a bad dream. He eventually folded in his wings and tucked his beak—beak!—beneath his wing. He drew his feet up and gave one more half-hearted chirp as he felt himself accept his fate and be doomed. He could hear Shaun sigh, stroking his back as he held him in both arms.
“What’re we gonna do with him now?” Rebecca asked. “Ship him out to a reserve or something?”
Desmond screamed, not hearing Shaun’s hiss of pain as his talons shot out and sliced him. He beat his wings furiously as he screeched again and took off into the air, flying the short distance to the other side of the room and landing rather clumsily, hopping to turn around and yell at Rebecca some more, despite his swimming vision issues. She was pressing cloth to Shaun’s arm, and Desmond kept screaming at her until he felt Lucy return.
“Okay then. No reserve for you.”
“We’re keeping him, Rebecca. That’s final. As much of a lughead as he may have been as a human, we still need him. I can take care of him if that’s what it takes.”
“Desmond?”
Wrong Life, Wrong Body 4
(Anonymous) 2012-06-18 04:25 am (UTC)(link)“Desmond, can you understand us?”
He nodded, feeling most of his upper body getting into it.
“Shaun, you’re bleeding—”
“Of course I am,” he hissed, glaring up at Lucy. “Birdbrain—” Desmond screamed. He did not need his smartass mouth right now. “—here decided to panic after Rebecca wondered aloud if we were going to dump him on a nature reserve.”
“Rebecca!”
“Hey! I had no idea! What are we going to do with him anyway?”
There was silence, and then Shaun slowly made to pick him up, and Desmond let him, adjusting himself in his arms.
“Well, first we’re getting out here. Then, we’re going over to meet William, who will probably be able to help us better than if we’re here. But before that, we’re stitching up my arm and getting me something so Desmond can sit on my arm.”
He watched as Shaun carried him out of the Vault, a little calmer in his arms and trying to keep his panic thoughts out. He could feel the man’s heartbeat when he tucked his beak under his wing, and when they got to the van, his father already there, he was almost asleep, exhausted from the panic attack. He felt that he should have been able to handle more, but he was just so damn tired, and all he wanted was a nap. His head was pounding from the swimming vision he had, and all his limbs felt so out of whack. He ruffled his feathers quite by instinct, glaring when he felt someone else’s hands on him and snapping at the large hands, and he screamed at his father. Shaun sighed, sitting in the back of the truck awkwardly and setting him down in his lap. He glared up at the man, then stood and adjusted himself, careful so he wouldn’t injure him further. He tucked his beak under his wing and promptly fell asleep.
When he woke up next, he was jostled awake, and he screeched mightily, hearing someone laugh at him and turning to scream at them, too.
“For God’s sake, Desmond, shut the fuck up!” he heard Shaun gripe.
He glared at him, noticing someone else on the other side of his vision field. He watched them carefully, keeping his beak closed, and noticed they were wearing a navy uniform. He blinked, tilting his head and chittering curiously. That was a US flag on his arm. The man was a Navyman. Desmond stood awkwardly and flapped his wings, still trying to get the hang of it and almost relieved when it all felt natural to him as he flapped to sit on the top of the truck, taking in his surroundings. He looked all around him, taking in the bustling sea port.
And then he spotted the wiggling crab in the open stand a ways off.
It was a little-known secret, but he loved sushi. He had always loved sushi, and it had been a treat for him back on the run, until he hit the coast and it became cheaper to get. It took a few tries before he was ripping into it and eating like a pro, but for the most part, it was all natural to him. Some part of him believed it was Altair’s lineage coming back to bite him in the ass.
Nevertheless, he took to the skies, flying the short distance to almost fall as he landed on the edge of the stand, watching the crabs squirming. He blinked, jerking and falling off when the owner picked it up. He almost screamed, but then the owner threw the crab onto the ground, and he straightened himself, cleaned his feathers, and then looked at the crab again. He stared at it, and awkwardly lifted a foot to pin it down. The crab snipped at his foot, and he ruffled his feathers, setting his foot down and looking at it. He could see every detail on the crab, and he tittered. He was so hungry.
He lifted a foot up again and flicked it with a talon, tittering again when it got all ruffled. He ruffled his own feathers and leaned in, lifting a foot to clamp down on the bigger claw before tearing into the crab. And holy fuck did that taste amazing. He finished it off quickly and threw the shell in the air and shaking it vigorously when he caught it again. He blinked at the person when he started to laugh. He tittered, fluffing himself and catching the next crab tossed to him, throwing it up into the air before ripping into it.
“Desmond!”
He looked, seeing, startlingly enough, Shaun, wandering through the crowds. It was apparent that he hadn’t been seen yet. He screeched, startling everyone around him, but caught Shaun’s attention. Shaun came walking over, and he fluffed himself again, not even realizing he was preening himself until he had already done so.
“Well, you seem to be taking to your new body well enough,” the man said, holding out a gloved hand.
Desmond tilted his head.
“For you to perch on, numbskull. Haven’t you ever heard of falconry?”
Desmond screamed, flapping his wings and stomping his feet like a child. He heard Shaun sigh.
“Just get on the damn glove. We’re catching a ride with the Navymen back to America.”
He paused and looked at Shaun, tilting his head. If only he had a pen or something, he could write messages. Nevertheless, he awkwardly shuffled onto the glove. When Shaun pulled out his Koosh ball, he nearly died, snapping at Shaun’s fingers for his toy and catching it when the man let go before he could grab it. He waved it around, fluttering his wings. He could hear Shaun chuckle.
“Well, I’m glad you’re happy again.”
He twittered, waving the Koosh ball around. He stopped when he heard someone laugh, and he could see the Navymen laughing, a whole group of them, and he wanted to scowl, wishing that he could. Still, he waved the Koosh ball, sticking his chest out and puffing himself up. This was his toy, and they couldn’t laugh at him.
“Oh, shut up, you uncultured Yanks. Desmond here is incredibly intelligent for an eagle. He would put you sailors to shame.”
Desmond blinked. Shaun was actually standing up for him. All he had to do was become an animal. How… terrible. He waved his Koosh ball around some more, twittering. This was his toy, and he was proud of it. This was his toy. He shook it at the soldiers and fluttered his wings.
“And now that you have a full belly, we should get going, Desmond.”
Desmond shook his head, stamping one foot on Shaun’s gloved hand. Then, when Lucy came over with a small package in his hand, he could smell the fish, and he shook his ball at her for not giving it to him. He twittered, causing Lucy to laugh at him as he shook his ball. She opened the package and held a hand out, and he pulled back when she reached for the Koosh ball. Shaun sighed and held out a hand, and he placed the ball in his hand. Lucy rolled her eyes, opened the package, and held out—
Holy Lord, that was salmon.
He screeched and snapped at it, swallowing it in two gulps. Oh, yeah, he could get used to the life of an eagle. He was totally ready to be an eagle. He didn’t care they were laughing since they didn’t get the food. And holy shit was it good food. He stomped his feet, rocking back and forth. Everyone was laughing at him—he was not that funny.
“Christ, you’d think you were a one-man circus, Desmond,” Shaun murmured. “Are we leaving yet?”
He nodded, excited. When they were on the boat and taking off, Desmond couldn’t help but take off into the skies, soaring above them and practicing his flight. It felt fantastic, he thought, to be able to fly, and even though he could still see the land, he was so much higher than anything he’d ever done. He could feel the air currents under his feathers, gliding over his talons and streamlining his body. Although he missed his human body, he could see why Altair had wanted to go back to being a bird so much.
He was already tired, from just a few minutes of flying. He would have to strengthen his muscles. Still, he decided to be daring, carefully maneuvering to the flagpole where the America flag was soaring. Desmond managed it, although precariously, one foot gripping either wing of the small eagle adornment atop the pole. Still, he was proud of himself. He preened his chest feathers, staring at the men below talking. They were pointing and cheering, laughing and talking, and he could see someone of high importance come walking out, barking orders. He chirped, fluttering his wings, which were still tired.
“Desmond!”
He looked to see Shaun at the far end of the boat, looking exasperated as he looked for him. He screeched, tittering merrily when he startled the officer. His friend came pacing over, looking furious.
“Desmond! Come down from there!”
He swayed slight, making a chirpy noise just to spite his pal. When Shaun waved his Koosh ball, he nose-dived. He snatched it from the man’s hands and landing on the edge of the boat. He shook his head vigorously, feeling the ball swishing. He stopped when he felt Shaun’s hand on him, the gloved hand dangling at his side. He fluttered his wings, tittering merrily. He stepped onto his glove when it was offered.
“Desmond…”
He blinked at him, staring, and let him carry him into a nice little room.
“They were kind enough to give you and I the room with the window so you can go in and out.”
He swore that he could hear sadness in Shaun’s voice. Looking around, he spotted a pen, and he fluttered over to it. Carefully picking it up, he spotted a piece of paper, and, slowly and steadily, managed to write, “What’s wrong?”
Shaun watched him the entire time, and when he finally finished, he ruffled his feathers. His friend smiled—smiled—and scratched his chin.
“Don’t worry about it, Desmond.”
Desmond ruffled his feathers again, causing Shaun to roll his eyes. Nevertheless, when Shaun fell asleep a short while later, he was happy to tuck his head under his wing and fall asleep by his head.
Of course, when the men got up the next day, Desmond woke with them at all the noise, waking to see the high-ranking officer stirring. He hopped over to the man and tugged on his pantleg. The man looked at him, and he tugged again. He loved Shaun and sleeping with Shaun, but he wanted to go out and catch himself something to eat. The officer raised an eyebrow, and he hopped over to Shaun’s glove and tried to grab it, hearing the officer chuckle quietly. When he picked it up, Desmond stepped on, watching eagerly as he was carried outside. The seas were calm, and he screeched and took off into the sky. He was going to try hunting.
It took him a while, but when he eventually found a fish, he dived. It ended in a splashy failure, and it took him almost an hour, but he eventually caught a small fish. He was proud of himself: he was catching on quickly. He flew back to the boat, utterly worn out and ready to eat his prize. It took him just a bite or two to eat the whole fish, but every mouthful was worth it, and the praise from the Navymen was making it even more worth it. He watched the men go about their daily duties, and he fluffed himself up when the officer came over and scratched his head.
“You know: you’re remarkably tame for an eagle.”
Desmond snapped his head to look at him, despite those fingers petting him. He blinked, watching him.
“You know what I’m saying, don’t you?”
Desmond nodded as best he could, snipping at the fingers when they stopped petting him. The officer laughed.
“Those friends of yours aren’t used to early mornings—”
Desmond shook his head vigorously, fluttering his wings.
“They are?”
He nodded.
“I must look crazy speaking with you, and even more so with you responding. Your trainers taught you well.”
He screeched and stomped his foot. Shaun was definitely not his trainer. Hell no. Then, as if to prove his point, he decided it would be better to go fishing again, and he could suck up his tiredness and just deal because he wasn’t going to stand for a backhanded insult. He flew over the sea, hunting for a fish.
----------------
I'm alive. I promise. But just barely.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 4
(Anonymous) 2012-06-18 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)And Desmond is a BIRD!!! :D I could not stop laughing at the fact he's suddenly a bird and he's doing bird things and...man, he's gonna be conflicted between humanness and birdness, given how he seems to be thinking here.
....Oh gaah, how is William gonna react? I cannot wait to see!!
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 4
(Anonymous) 2012-06-19 01:09 am (UTC)(link)8D
And Dessie's a bird! That is so awesome!!!
XD
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 4
Have ALL my love for writing this. Glad to see you're still with us, and continuing this!
Wrong Life, Wrong Body 5
(Anonymous) 2012-08-04 04:48 pm (UTC)(link)“I heard the big man thinks you don’t like him.”
Desmond glared at the man as best he could.
“I also heard he called us your trainers.”
Desmond screeched, and Shaun laughed. He watched as Lucy and Rebecca came walking over. Lucy was smiling warmly, and he chirped merrily, ruffling his feathers as she stroked his feathers softly. Rebecca was grinning like a fool.
“You know, that’s really cool, Des. I bet we could make a ton of money off you before you get turned back.”
Desmond tilted his head, and Lucy sighed as Rebecca leaned on the railing. When Lucy stopped stroking him, he reached out with a foot and grabbed her wrist gently with his talons, tugging it back and lowering his head to put his head in her palm. Shaun and Lucy snorted, and Rebecca laughed. Still, Lucy started stroking him again, so everything was well with his world. The tech started going on and on about charging to see all of his “cool tricks,” which would actually just be things he learned as a human that didn’t disappear when he transformed. About halfway through, Desmond shook his head, causing Lucy to stop stroking him. He didn’t feel right. He would have wrinkled his nose, but there was no nose for him to wrinkle. So he settled for ruffling his feathers and adjusting his grip on the railings.
He could feel something like bile rising in the back of his throat, but it certainly didn’t feel like vomit. He didn’t feel sick. His stomach didn’t hurt. He hacked once, then again. Then, just in case, he turned around to face the ocean and hacked again. He could feel something coming up, but he didn’t know what it was. He hacked again, shaking his head as he did, and he straightened, feeling much better. He had felt something come out, and he looked to see a small pellet splash into the ocean. He turned back around and fluffed his feathers again. There. Now everything was right.
“Desmond?”
He looked at Lucy, who looked mildly worried, and Shaun, who looked surprised. Rebecca was silent. An uneasy silence fell over the group until he saw Shaun’s face turn into one of recognition.
“He was casting a pellet. He’s not sick. Birds of prey regurgitate the non-digestible parts of their food, such as scales or bones. Quite clearly, that was Desmond’s first pellet.”
Desmond would have smiled, wished he could smile, but settled on swaying slightly in the cool breeze. He watched as Lucy produced that colorful rope Shaun had bought back at Monteriggioni, and he straightened.
“Well, that caught his attention.”
He snapped at the rope and caught it in his beak, and Lucy chuckled. When she tugged on it, Desmond stomped his feet and tugged back. He could see Lucy smiling as she applied a constant pressure, and he leaned back, trying to match her. He was much weaker as a bird, apparently. He couldn’t get a good grip on metal rails, and he was still adjusting—and he couldn’t discount the fact that Lucy was now three times as big as him. Still, he mused as he continued to try to pull it from her, this was probably the most fun he had ever had with a game of tug-of-war. He pulled and pulled, and he even beat his wings in hopes it would help.
Of course, he lost when Rebecca started petting him. The cheaters had probably planned that. It was also then he realized that the Navy men were laughing at the spectacle, especially when Rebecca tried to stop petting him, and he grabbed her hand with his talons, screeching at her.
“You set yourself up for that, Rebecca,” Shaun muttered. “And we don’t have to feed him, so you’re stuck petting.”
“Not fair!”
“Completely fair,” Lucy said. “You cheated in the tug-of-war.”
Desmond twittered when she scratched under his chin. Yeah, the life of an eagle, he could get used to it. Still, he spent the rest of the day on Lucy’s arm, occasionally cuddling her when he rested his head on her shoulder, and she would stroke his feet, talking to him quietly, apologizing for what happened and promising to get him back to normal. It was reassuring to hear that he was wanted as a human, and he couldn’t help but rub his beak against her collarbone to thank her. He could see the Navy men snapping shots of the two cuddling with their phones, and he wondered if the others knew about it. So that night, when he had Lucy sleeping with him this time, he picked up a pen and scrawled “pictures?” on a sheet of paper. She seemed upset, and she told him that she would ask tomorrow for them to stop so they wouldn’t get caught. She settled down in the bed that Shaun had slept in before, and he curled up beside her head, petting her hair with his beak in an attempt to calm her.
The next morning, he woke with the officer again, or whatever his position was, and sat proudly on his glove as he was carried out. He watched the men, perched on the arm, until he could feel himself get hungry, and he took to the skies, catching himself a much larger fish compared to yesterday. He landed near Shaun, who was up, and he finished the fish quickly, twittering merrily as he was petted. The day passed slowly, and he could feel something coming. All he wanted to do was bunker down and prepare for it, and at the end of the day, he found himself asleep with all four of them in the cramped quarters below deck, warned of a storm coming.
He slept through part of it, in the early morning hours, shaking himself when he woke up. He could feel it rocking, feel the storm around them, and he hunkered down, fluffing himself up as he prepared to sleep through the day.
Until one of the crew members found a mouse.
And then he got to eat lunch.
Nevertheless, Lucy still brought him pieces of meat, and he scarfed those down, vomiting up a pellet into some unsuspecting Navy man’s shoe. He was eventually lured from his wonderful, little, curled-up featherball to play with the Koosh ball and tug-of-war with the men. He was stroked, petted, and played with to the point he fell asleep early that night after helping Shaun play poker with a few of the men, who all were absolutely flabbergasted that they were beaten, more or less, by an eagle. One of the men had recorded it, laughing the whole time, and someone had even thrown in a shiny new pin for one thing or another and a small stuffed dog that had been picked up as a souvenir with a few other stuffed animals for a child at one point, which Desmond stole to put with his toys. He was swaying, his chest puffed out as he tittered at the losing men. He has always been good at poker, especially when playing it with people on his breaks at the bar. That night, he curled up next to Shaun’s head, utterly pooped, with his new doggie under his wing and his other three toys tucked into bed with him.
The storm had passed by morning, and Desmond woke with Shaun’s face pressed against his other wing, and his head tucked against his shoulder. The stuffed doggie was still under his wing, and he could feel the man’s breath against his feathers. He was happy.
“Bad birdie… sleeping with… another person,” he heard mumbled, and he tittered softly in response.
“Of course you’re sorry. You’re mine.”
Desmond smacked him with the side of his beak.
“Don’t you dare hit me, you cheating, dreamy-eyed, lost, little eaglet!”
Desmond tittered again, and Shaun harrumphed.
“I should sic the heffalumps and woozles on you.”
He blinked. Those were Winnie-the-Pooh if he wasn’t mistaken.
“And you can forget about the present I bought you, cheating on me and all.”
Desmond looked at him, watched him mumble.
“But I suppose that you do still feel the urge to mate, after all. You are an eagle.”
Desmond petted his ear with his beak.
“Very well, I forgive you. I’m sorry for my outburst. I was just so afraid the snaggle-toothed callilopers had gotten you when those blasted deermen escaped.”
Desmond wished he could smile. He wished he could smile so badly. He did enjoy Shaun’s talking.
“I’m sorry, eagle 17-M. Just promise me you’ll be my birdie, and you’ll let me know where you go running off to.”
Desmond twittered quietly, rubbing his head against Shaun’s cheek and ear.
“You’re such a good birdie. Such a good birdie. Such a wonderful, beautiful eaglet 17-M. And no one else in the world gets gifts as awesome as I do. No one else deserves such wonderful things.”
Desmond fluttered his free wing, nestling down again and waiting for him to wake up. The officer-person wasn’t there, and the other men were already up and about, out doing things, so he was stuck here until either Shaun or one of the girls woke. Finally, however, Shaun woke, and he screamed at him until he was up and going, carrying him outside so he could go fishing. When he had finally had his fill, he set about grooming himself, hearing Shaun yawn mightily.
“Christ, to think I had plans of going back to bed.”
Desmond ignored the glare he could feel being sent his way as he continued. He had to keep himself well groomed, and the fish at the surface were more varied today from the rain. He was going to get another in a little bit.
“Was I sleep-talking? I think I was.”
Desmond paused in his grooming to nod, but then returned to his previous business. No point in stopping until he was done completely. He took his time, smelling the coffee Lucy brought his friend. As Shaun sipped the drink, Lucy leaned on the railing and waited until Desmond was done grooming to pet his head. He tittered quietly.
“You are hellishly loud,” she said, yawning. “What got you all worked up this morning?”
“He wanted to hunt,” Shaun griped. “The fatarse has eaten probably two hundred grams of fish—”
Desmond screamed at him. He had been hungry, and he hadn’t eaten much yesterday. Lucy chuckled, scratching his head to calm him down. He twittered happily, immediately soothed.
“Whatever, I’m sure he’s eating a healthy amount. He has to eat to keep up with the amount of calories he’s burning by flying.”
“Yes, but what when we stop in Manhattan?”
“We’ll get him a radio collar. I’m sure he’ll raise hell if we don’t.”
Desmond nodded. They weren’t going to keep him from flying now that he could. He stayed there, watching the men mill about and occasionally going over the ocean just to fly and feel the wind under his wings until about noon, when he saw a Navy man approaching. But it wasn’t the Navyman that caught his attention.
No, it was the rattle.
And he wanted it.
“Do you think he’d like it?” the man said as he approached.
“Why on earth do you have a rattle?” Shaun snipped as the Navy man held up the rattle.
“It’s a long story. Do you think—”
Desmond beat his wings hard enough to give himself the lift to close the final few inches and snatched the rattle from his hand, landing on the railing again and shaking vigorously to hear the noise. He screamed around it merrily, shaking his head and stomping his feet as he listened to the rattle. He screeched again, fluttering his wings.
This was Heaven.
He had a new toy.
He loved Navy men.
He kept dancing and shaking the rattle, grooving to music in his head. This was going to be a blast. He loved being an eagle. Everything was so much more fun. He squawked and screeched, grooved and fluttered to his own beat. He really could get used to something like this, if it meant that every toy was more fun and that he could fly. He knew that Altair would agree with him. He could hear the Navy men gathering around, even the big man joining in, and he fluttered his wings, giving his head one final shake before he was done dancing for a while.
He blinked, pulling his head back when Lucy went to grab the rattle. She raised an eyebrow, but let him hold onto his toy as the Navy men scratched and petted him. This was certainly a good life, he mused, and perhaps he shouldn’t be so eager to actually be returned to his human state.
He fluffed himself after Shaun took the rattle from him, and he settled into a good routine after that. He woke up with Shaun, went fishing, returned to Shaun, maybe entertained the Navy men, cuddled with Shaun or Lucy for the rest of the day, maybe entertained the Navy men again, went fishing, then fell asleep with Shaun or Lucy. It was an excellent life. Of course, it got boring extremely quickly, but Shaun always surprised him with some sort of puzzle or game on the ship to keep him entertained, just like back at Monteriggioni. Shaun was a genius in his book. He didn’t know where he got the toys, but they were fun. Everything was more fun now that he was an eagle
And eventually, as he went flying one morning, he could see in the distance a dark streak on the horizon, perhaps land. It was jagged and ugly, marring the beautiful sea line. He frowned internally, beating his wings to catch a wind current. He soared closer, eventually realizing that it was Manhattan’s skyline he was looking at. Now he felt dumb for criticizing the marring black streak. With a snort, he turned around and flew back.
Shaun was waiting for him, a frown on his lips as he searched the skyline. Desmond screeched, landing remarkably gracefully on his arm. He twittered when he felt Shaun scratching his chin.
“No fish?”
Desmond ruffled his feathers, earning a snort from the man.
“No fish it is, then.”
Shortly after, they were docked and leaving, Rebecca and Lucy unloading the Animus into a truck while Shaun struggled to keep him down.
He hated this city. He wanted to fly back out over the ocean and catch himself a fish, hardly sated when Shaun managed to produce a bit of dried salmon from nowhere. He wanted out of the city. Of course, he wanted the gentle rocking of the sea, a place to build his nest, and somewhere that wasn’t so loud. He kept trying to fly away, held firmly in place by Shaun’s arm clamping his wings to his side. Finally, he gave up, pressing his head into Shaun’s armpit and letting that muffle the noise. He could feel gentle fingers stroking his back.
“It’ll be okay, Desmond. We just have to wait until we’re stationed.”
Desmond ruffled his feathers, feeling the vibrations in the man’s chest as he spoke. He was content to stay like that forever, pressed against Shaun and everything wonderfully muttered, until he heard a baby start crying, rudely woken from its nap, probably. He pulled his head back and looked around, spying a carriage a ways off. Without warning, he beat his wings, and startled the seamen out of his way before landing on the tray of the baby’s carriage. The baby was startled from its crying, blinking at him as he tilted his head and blinked back. He ignored the mother’s panic as the baby smiled and reached out for him. Desmond fluttered his wings, stretching them out cautiously as the baby watched in wonder, and he wrapped the baby in his wings as best he could, rubbing his head against its cheek and tittering softly.
The baby shrieked merrily, startling him enough to fall off the carriage, and as he straightened up and took off, he could hear it clapping and babbling. He landed on Shaun’s arm as the baby started crying again and guided the man over. The baby stopped crying when it saw him again, and he ruffled his feathers. It reached out for him, and he ignored Shaun’s warning as he hopped onto the tray. He squawked when he was pulled into a baby hug, almost losing his balance on the tray before he wrapped his wings around the child again and rubbed his head against its cheek. The hug was almost a stranglehold, but Desmond didn’t mind, feeling, for all the world, ecstatic about being able to receive a hug without being crushed because of his smaller stature.
Oh, my. I'm sorry I took so long. I'm quickly realizing I don't have an ending for this particular story... and one doesn't seem to want to happen either. I'm terribly sorry for being so slow to update.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 5
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)And aww, Shaun, you're so possessive in your sleep. This was awesome!! :D Totally can't wait to see more, whenever it comes.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 5
(Anonymous) 2012-08-07 09:39 pm (UTC)(link):D
:D
You updated! Yay!
Des is so spoiled! I wonder what's gonna happen he he's human again? :?
(Captcha asks what's the biggest number in the set. Who doesn't lose their head to the gutter when they see "69" XD )
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 5
(Anonymous) 2012-08-22 11:33 pm (UTC)(link)YESSSSSS!
I love this story so very much, I've been scrolling back to this page so often, just in case :-)
Desmond is a great eagle, and I love how Shaun seems to get what he's thinking most of the time. And Shaun's possessive sleeptalking is the cutest thing ever.
And Rebecca cheating in a tug-of-war! That just made me laugh out loud. She totally would, too :-)
I hope you keep going with this story, Anon, even if it takes a while to figure out where it's going, the journey is a good one.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 5
(Anonymous) 2012-11-26 01:13 pm (UTC)(link)Shaun sleep-talking like a loon is my new headcanon.
Re: Wrong Life, Wrong Body 5
(Anonymous) 2013-05-31 08:10 pm (UTC)(link)