Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 5

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Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.5
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Join or Die

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

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

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

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

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

✩ Have a question? Feel free to PM me.

✩ Last, but not least: HAVE FUN!

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

Comments

Re: Please sir, may I have some fluff?

[(Anonymous)]

I lost the prompt, earlier, and wrote what I remembered of it, which is literally titled "desmond miles has panic attacks, bleeding effect is like 'woah nelly not on my watch'" in my docs folder.
sorry if this is too far from what you want.

--- ---

Desmond is forced out of the Animus with a strangled gasp, a drowning man coming up for air after watching his-- no, no, Ezio's, they are not his-- family hang. He's never had a brother before, never had a sister before, but watching Giovanni and Federico and Petruccio, how could he, he was only a child-- watching them all hang made something snap in Desmond's brain.

(It wasn't watching them all die that forced him out of the Animus. It was the feeling of Ezio watch a slick blade slide out of a throat and having to force down nausea, grief, a sick kind of pleasure, at watching his father's bracers catch the fresh blood dribbling down his blade. It was his voice cracking when announcing that the Auditore family was alive and had been betrayed.

That was what brought Desmond out in a panic. He killed someone he used to trust and liked it.

That's what traitors get though, right?)

A piece of his brain, tucked away, is urging him to seek shelter, that staying and delivering a speech was a novice idea, and that Desmond should shake off the hands bracing his arm and find a quiet space to hide in. The rest of Desmond is simply frantic for direction, and takes off down the hall and into the warehouse floor the breathe.

The sound of footsteps is audible, heels clacking on the catwalk; Desmond can see them show up as blue, so he makes no efforts to conceal himself further, but doesn't move from his position behind a few errant crates, either. Lucy calls to him.

"Desmond? I know that was hard for you to watch," that would assume he wasn't an active participant, something in him wants to spit out, "but we need you to get back to Baby soon. I'll come back in 20."

When she leaves and he hears a door slam somewhere above him, he leans back into the crate and sighs. Then he hugs his knees loosely and wonders why part of his brain talks to him like Altaïr. (Anything to forget about his ancestor's tragedy, brought to life in stunning clarity. It's amazing what science can do now, he thinks, before memories of desert heat and chanted prayers tamp down on bubbling panic and daydreams of grotesque puppets and my brain is Frankenstein's monster.)

20 minutes later, Desmond clenches his fist and greets Lucy with a shaky smile and a whisper of safety and peace safely ignored.

He can't afford to panic. There's work to be done.

--- ---

This continues for as long as Ezio continues killing. What’s worse is that the ghostly hallucinations continue, the phantom voices, screaming his-not his-his name got louder at the worst times, like the ringing in your ears as you lay down to sleep, and pieces of his brain kept feeling like they were detaching, forming their own congress; Desmond is going insane, while Altaïr is scrambling to keep Desmond from sinking, and Ezio is rapidly gaining a foothold in Desmond’s already too-crowded head.

At least, sooner or later, Desmond admits to himself in the dark, when he wakes himself up before the nightmares are impossible to escape, at least one of the warring factions in his brain will win, and Desmond won’t have to deal with this all the time.

That’s no way to think, a sun-kissed voice chides.

Our time has passed. You are not Assassin if you expect us to fight your battles for you.

Desmond falls asleep, only half-believing his own protests of I never was one.

He dreams of running and falling, wind whipping around his face, exhaust fumes and burning canvas stinging his nose, and he laughs.

The ghosts of two other voices laugh with him. He awakes with a newly born feeling of purpose, wobbling on unused legs, and he just catches the tiding of safety and peace, brother, before he drowns himself in Ezio again.
--- ---
(tbh I got the impression that Altaïr and Ezio would have encouraged Desmond not to talk to someone about his panic attacks, but probably would have been sympathetic and directed him somewhere to work it out and get it out of his system, b/c Desmond is little more than a recruit to them, and they've both had their freak-outs/ seen new recruits freak out already. It's unfortunate, but happens for the first few kills; the important part, to a 12th or 15th century male assassin, would probably be to not show weakness, or to patch up any potential weaknesses among Brothers. I assumed you wanted more Bleeding Effect and less ghost!Ancestors, soooo...)