asscreedkinkmeme (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
Entry tags:
Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 6
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.6
Open
Open
Sky World
≈ 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
#3 (Delicious.com) Archive <-- Currently active
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Fills Only
Discussion
Against Time | 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-11-09 07:43 pm (UTC)(link)---
It wasn't the Bleeding Effect.
Whatever else could be said about it, it was not the Bleeding Effect.
The others thought it might be, whispering together when they thought he wasn't paying attention. Thought what had happened to Sixt- what had happened to Clay was happening to him.
But Clay had been forced to live through the memories of dozens of different ancestors, each for days on end in the Animus. All the different memories and languages and experiences bled together inside his head until he couldn't distinguish them from him.
Desmond only had Altair, Ezio, a bit of Haytham, and now Connor. It was a lot to have in his head, but he could compartmentalize, at least for long enough to get the information they needed.
There wasn't much they could do about it, even if it were the Bleeding Effect. They needed to figure out how to get deeper into the temple, they needed Connor's memories.
Days flew by while he was in the Animus. Rebecca assured him that all was fine and that she was monitoring his vitals while he plowed his way through the American Revolution. The only thing keeping him anchored to the fact that he was Desmond and not Connor were the database entries that would pop up every so often. He'd devour them, Shaun's snarky humor mixed with the facts helped pull him out a bit, remind him that that was then and this was now.
It made it a little harder to synch properly, but helped the negative sides of the Bleeding Effect drastically.
Still, synching was hard enough as it was. Synching with Connor was easier than synching with Haytham, but every single time he got in the Animus, it felt like his mind was pulling him towards Ezio's memories.
He guessed it made sense, he'd spent way more time in Ezio's memories than anyone else's. That, compounded with the fact that Ezio's mind was the easiest to be in, kind and friendly and welcoming in its own way, despite the undercurrent of grief that would never go away, made it hard to pull away towards Connor's more single-minded, strictly honor-bound, thoughts when Desmond was stuck in the Animus loading screen.
Which, coincidentally, was where he was when everything went to shit.
Honestly, he didn't remember most of it. He just remembered the loading screen, the lance of pain that had shot through his head, and then hands trying to steady him as he rolled out of the Animus chair and onto the cool stone floor of the temple.
Lines throughout the entire temple were glowing just as bright and strong as the door deeper in, but he barely saw any of that.
It felt like someone had driven a railroad spike through his head and he squeezed his eyes shut and someone tugged him onto his back, Shaun was asking what happened.
Afterwards, he'd be glad it was Shaun and not Rebecca or his dad. Because, despite being a historian who spent eighty-five percent of his time either in front of a computer or pacing back and forth before the door in the temple and swearing at it, Shaun had insane reflexes and was about four times stronger than he looked.
And because, when Desmond opened his eyes he saw four Venetian guards closing in.
He didn't remember springing his Hidden Blade, he just remembered the look of surprise on Shaun's face after he automatically deflected the strike and pinned Desmond's arm against the side of the Animus.
The guards were still there, like an afterimage that refused to fade rather than the ghosts of the Bleeding Effect, but Shaun was clearer. Shaun and Rebecca and Dad, who were both standing on the other side of the Animus in a temporary state of shock.
And when Desmond realized exactly what is was he'd done, he was out from under Shaun in a flash and sprinting towards one of the many alcoves in the temple, somewhere they couldn't follow him.
They tried to call him back, but didn't follow, presumably because they knew they couldn't and he hadn't gone for the exit, just somewhere away from the lights where he could hide and process.
Because it was like he was back in the Animus, seeing through Ezio's eyes.
Even when Desmond's eyes were closed, there was a faint impression of running across the streets of Venice that he could watch. And he could smell the canals and feel the breeze at the same time he smelled the musty, dank temple and felt the cool stone where he was curled into a ball in the corner.
A while after all that, when he thought he could, he'd go down and apologize to Shaun and hear how something had happened to the temple that interacted with the Animus and made him have some kind of seizure. Dad was annoyed at the delay while Rebecca tore through the Animus code, looking for any permanent glitches and trying to figure out what had caused the problem in the first place.
And if they noticed the way he stuttered through a sentence because Ezio was bartering with an art dealer and he wasn't sure which conversation to pay attention to, they didn't say anything. Likewise, they just shot each other worried glances when he kept swatting at his neck because of the phantom sensations of rain pounding against a hood that wasn't there and the way he'd go to run a hand through hair that was much shorter than it was supposed to be.
He didn't mention it either. Because it wasn't the Bleeding Effect. So why should he?
---
Despite everything that had happened in recent years, Ezio wasn't prone to nightmares. And, honestly, he wasn't sure the dream he'd just bolted awake from had been one.
"Ezio? Is something the matter?"
Blinking blearily and trying to orient himself, Ezio looked around until he caught sight of Leonardo, hunched over a table of sketches, but looking over at him with concern.
"I am fine," he said automatically, glancing over to check that the chest that contained the Apple remained by his pillow. He'd brought it for Leonardo to examine and had remained to guard both it and the artist. Despite not being an Assassin himself, Leonardo was highly valued by the Brotherhood for both his skill and loyalty and, from what Ezio heard, the Venetian guards were becoming a bit too accustomed to pushing his friend around.
"A nightmare?" Leonardo questioned, putting aside his work and coming to sit next to Ezio.
"I am unsure," the assassin answered honestly, cracking the lid of the chest just a bit to catch a glimpse of the Apple's glow and reassure himself that it hadn't changed.
"But you have some idea, yes?" the artist prodded with a slightly indulgent smile, the one that said he knew the answer to his question, but was giving Ezio the opportunity to lie if he felt he needed to. Leonardo was a good friend.
Which was why Ezio felt the need to tell the truth, "It was a dream, yet, more than that." His brow furrowed as he tried to come up with the right words, "It was far away and many years from now, I believe. I was watching a young man, I think this," he rested a hand on the chest, "was showing him to me."
Leonardo nodded, familiar with and fascinated by the Apple's strange properties, even if he had yet to make sense of them.
"I think he might be famiglia, he looks..." he looked very much like Ezio himself, with close cropped hair and darker skin, down to the scar dividing his mouth, "He was in some sort of device, there were others, they... the machine was harming him, but he could not move and they would not help. I could feel his pain." His voice was near-silent by the time he finished, his hands clenched tightly in the blankets as he struggled with the urge to go to the aid of this strange young man.
A hand covered his own and tightened, bringing him back and making him focus on Leonardo.
"I know it does not make sense," Ezio said, looking away, "I-"
"I find the pursuit of sense often hinders the pursuit of truth," Leonardo said, "I believe you, amico mio. But what can be done? You said yourself he is many years from now and far away. If he is your famiglia, he is strong and clever. He will prevail."
"Perhaps," Ezio found himself staring at the chest that contained the Apple, "Perhaps."
---
Sorry if Desmond isn't crazy enough, OP. I hope you liked it anyway!
Re: Against Time | 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-11-09 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)It's perfect. Desmond's perfectly crazy; Ezio's perfectly protective; Leonardo's perfectly understanding. It's just... ALKSJFKGHLL I LOVE IT!!!!
I can't wait for more!
-OP
Re: Against Time | 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-11-09 09:03 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Against Time | 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-11-09 09:45 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Against Time | 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-11-10 12:57 am (UTC)(link)Re: Against Time | 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-11-10 05:24 am (UTC)(link)Re: Against Time | 1/?
(Anonymous) 2013-11-10 07:25 pm (UTC)(link)