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asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
asscreedkinkmeme) wrote2013-05-13 07:24 pm
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Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt. 6
Assassin's Creed Kink Meme pt.6
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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
Displaced 13a/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-24 03:30 pm (UTC)(link)"Let us go investigate this island. Faulkner says, if his map is correct, there should be the ruins of a governor's mansion, and little else." Connor looked at Desmond's still-bandaged hand, then called, "Father! I need somebody to row."
Desmond settled in the small boat--entirely a different experience from the sturdy Aquila. He gripped the seat as first Connor, then Haytham joined him, and the boat tilted alarmingly in the ocean.
Connor handed his father the oars. Haytham handed them back.
"Please, Father, can you row?"
"But son, I've never rowed before."
"And you are an old dog that cannot learn new tricks?"
"No, but you're a strong young man who can show some respect for his father."
Desmond looked up at the clouds, hoping this wouldn't take more than an hour or so.
"Respect?! ...I respect your impressive physical strength despite your age, and wish to help you maintain it."
"And I respect your vast experience in matters nautical."
"Good, then you will be more than happy to row while I use my experience to navigate."
"I'm quite certain you're capable of handling both at once. You could probably kill one of my friends at the same time, even, you're just that talented."
"You have friends? ...Oh, I forgot, you enjoy the company of murderers and abusers of small children."
"You mean, hardened killers like my son?" Haytham's voice was deadly and quiet.
"I certainly never inherited that talent from my mother."
"Would that she had killed Washington when she had the chance, instead of merely concussing him!"
This was going nowhere, and neither was the boat. Desmond picked up the oars and began clumsily rowing towards shore. Yeah, the rocks were dangerous, but he was pretty sure he knew where they were. And he was making mental bets on when either of them would notice he was rowing. He would have lost, though, because as soon as his bandages shifted and he winced with pain, the bickering stopped.
"Give me that!" Haytham snatched the oar out of his bandaged hand. "What on earth do you think you're doing? What do you think would happen if you got blisters?" He ineptly applied the oar to the water, and they proceeded more or less towards the shore.
Connor tried to hide his smirk. Desmond rolled his eyes, annoyed with both of them.
It began to get dark as they approached the shore, and Connor was so focused on steering clear of hidden hazards that he wasn't paying much attention to the land. But when Desmond switched to Eagle Vision, he saw a heck of a lot of blue gathering on the beach. "Uh, I thought you said this was uninhabited? So, uh, what's with the crap-ton of Assassins?"
Connor looked up, surprised. "How do you know they are Assassins?"
Haytham cursed, grimly. "Who else would be blue to you and red to me?" He squinted, then laughed. "Except they've got at least one traitor. A Templar, or good as."
"You recognize this person?"
"No, but I can't think of any other reason someone on an island full of Assassins would be blue for me." He reflected for a minute, then added, "It could be Jenny, but the last I heard she was in London terrorizing everyone within a three-mile radius."
Desmond squinted. Yes, there was definitely a wisp of red among the crowd.
The waves gently carried them to the shore, where at least three dozen hooded figures waited. A large man, perhaps a handful of years younger than Haytham, stepped forward. "Who are you, and why have you come here?"
Haytham muttered, "Typical Assassin welcoming committee."
Desmond reminded him, "Most Assassins have plenty of reason to hate you."
His voice radiated wounded innocence. "I haven't killed any assassins inyears."
"Howmanyyears, Pops?"
Connor shushed them, and stood up carefully in the boat. "I am Ratonhnhake:ton of Davenport Homestead, Captain of the Aquila." There was a general hushed commotion.
"Ruh--what?"
"Connor, then."
"Connor... what?"
"Just... Connor."
Desmond casually folded his ring finger and pretended to pick his nose. Haytham smirked at him. "Don't you think Templars know those little recognition signs you Assassins love?"
"Of course. But I don't think other Assassins know that Templars know that. Besides, what Templars are we talking about? Rank and file Templars? Or ones that defected from the Assassins or are spies or are otherwise associated with--"
"Will you two be quiet?!"
"Er, are you having some kind of difficulty?" The man was trying to look around Connor to see what all the talking was.
"My father and my cousin are...bickering. Again."
Desmond sulked. "I'm not bickering. You bicker with Pops. I don't."
The man blinked and shook his head. "I see. What brings you here, Connor of Davenport Homestead, Captain of the Aquila?" He caught Desmond's eye and brushed something off his sleeve, ring finger folded. Desmond pointed to Connor's tomahawk, and was glad when the man looked at it, eyes widening with recognition. Then his gaze wandered to Haytham's arm, obviously noticing the old Assassin symbol. Desmond could have facepalmed. Oh shit, he thinks Pops is one too!
Connor was good at this formal stuff--perhaps because he sounded formal all the time. "I find I have need to maroon a crew member for his crimes. We had thought this island to be uninhabited."
"It wouldn't be a secret hideout if it was marked on maps, would it?"
"Very true. In any case, since we obviously cannot maroon him here, may we purchase supplies and food from you, and then continue on our way?"
The man smiled. "Bring your whole crew ashore, Captain, and we'll throw a party."
Connor demurred. "That will not be necessary--"
"Nonsense! The Ghost of the North? Here? No Assassin would give away the chance to thank you and your crew for all you do for the Brotherhood."
Haytham was very carefully not obviously laughing.
Connor inclined his head stiffly. "Very well. Where can we dock?"
They rowed back out to the Aquila, and Connor steered it into the cove. Almost all of the crew gathered on the shore, leaving only a couple of men to keep watch over the ship and make sure the creep didn't escape from the mast. The Assassins had offered to transfer him to a couple of cells they had in the basement of the old manor, but Connor had declined.
Makeshift tables were being set up in the grassy area in front of the manor, and Assassins from the island mingled with sailors from the Aquila, and everyone took the chance to eat as much fresh food as they could. There was wild boar with pineapple, a spicy rice dish, and many other dishes that seemed exotic to most of the sailors, but just reminded Desmond of home and the vast array of ethnic cuisines he was used to having at his fingertips in take-out menu form. There was alcohol other than rum, for once, although the red wine was indifferent at best. There was music, and dancing, and room to dance without being hemmed in by the ship. There was a distinct lack of loose women, and what women there were, Assassins all, had a no-nonsense attitude that seemed to scare off most of the sailors. Desmond was fairly sure that one or two of them had agreed to make out with some of the crew, but the amount of drunken debauchery was fairly low.
Desmond and Haytham were hanging out at one of the tables, watching Connor watch his crew, and watching Jimmy sleepily playing dice with Faulkner. The Assassin who had welcomed them to the island walked deliberately over to them--clearly a little tipsy, but not smashed. "Hullo, visiting Assassins."
Haytham pretended to be watching a line dance. Connor eyed the older Assassin. "What is your name?"
"Ted Burleigh. First in my family to be an Assassin! Not like you fellows and your family."
"Mm," Desmond agreed, noncommittally.
"Me mum was a pirate, y'know. But an ally of Assassins. So when I was a lad and I couldn't be on a ship without puking my eyes out, I figured I'd join the Brotherhood. Least Mum's proud of that even if I can't sail."
"How did you get here, if you can't sail?" Haytham inquired.
"It was the worst time o' my life," Ted confessed. "I swear I puked up half my body weight. But this is the best place in the Caribbean to train, y'know. I didn't wanna go to Louisiana, or up to New England. An' I haven't left since I came here. Hey, Connor. Connor--You ain't got a last name?"
Connor gritted his teeth. "No."
"How on earth do you expect to blend in to colonial society without a last name?" Ted seemed aggrieved, either because of Connor's surname situation, or because he was having trouble sitting down on the flimsy folding stool.
"Very poorly, as few colonists seem to be able to see that I am half British."
"Then why not use your British parent's name?"
"Good question, son," Haytham whispered.
Desmond asked Connor, "Why does he care if you have a last name? How many Native American assassins named Connor are there anyway, and does each one get to drive a ship named the Aquila?"
Connor was well on his way to grinding his molars into dust. "Because my parents were not married and I understand that in my father's society that means I do not inherit anything from him except his face. Certainly not his name, even if I wanted it. Or anything else of his."
Ted peered at Haytham, looking surprised. Haytham smiled weakly. "Yes, hello, I'm Connor's father. I have no qualms about him using my surname. In fact, I would be delighted. And honored."
Connor growled softly, then muttered "Fine. Kenway."
Ted fell off the rickety stool. "Kenway?! As in...Edward Kenway??"
Haytham looked surprised. "Yes, that was my father's name. You knew him?"
"No, but my mother did." Ted seated himself again with exaggerated care. "She knew him really...really well."
Desmond winced. He could see where this was going.
Ted continued, a little louder. "My mother loved Assassins. At least two of 'em. And then she chose stupid idiots to father her children. Vastly inferior men." He shook a finger in Haytham's face. "I would...LOVE...to be your brother, mister...mister Kenway. Y'know. Your dad gave us this island. 'Cause the Templars found our old place. Kept attackin' us. He felt bad, she said. Said it was his own fault. Tried to protect it, but it weren't good enough. Now we're here an' the Templars ain't bothered us."
Haytham was really, really unable to look directly at Ted, and settled for keeping a concerned eye on Jimmy.
"So...I heard that ol' Edward and all his family got killed forty years ago. Guess not all his family."
"Actually, he was the only one who died that night. Other than some of the attackers, one of the boys who lived next door, and my governess." Haytham's voice was cold and remote as he watched Faulkner wrap his coat around Jimmy, who was nodding off, leaning against a palm tree.
Connor was watching his father thoughtfully. He supposed that, of all the phrases that could describe Haytham Kenway, "vastly inferior" was one that would never be applied to him, not even by the most Templar-hating Assassin. And, although he knew that many of his people had been displeased with his mother for taking a white man for her lover, he knew that none of them considered his father a weak or pathetic person and none of them spoke of his mother with anything less than respect. His friends Teiowi:sonte and Kahionhatenion also had a British father, but whenever he was spoken of, it was with fear and disdain. None even wished to speak his name, nor did anyone call his wife by her name, not even after she died, for fear that someone would tell him she had hidden there.
Ted interrupted Connor's musings by yawning hugely. "Pardon me." He yawned again, and put his head down on the table. Desmond tripled his estimate of the older assassin's blood alcohol content.
Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-24 03:33 pm (UTC)(link)He looked extremely uncomfortable. "Ah... in my cabin... on my ship... "
Haytham sighed. "Son... "
She smiled and leaned closer. "Maybe I could join you there..."
Connor was blushing brick red. "Ah... I apologize... but I am on a mission right now... "
"Then perhaps after your mission is over... "
Connor looked like he thought he was about to be smothered by bosoms. "Ahhh... maybe? There are... others who might, ah, think they have a prior claim...."
Desmond made a funny strangled noise, and Haytham was having trouble breathing. She smiled at Desmond, and he shook his head quickly. "My heart is with a girl back home."
She nodded equably and laid a hand on Haytham's arm, which he gently removed. "You are very lovely, but as you can tell from my son here, I prefer a lady with, ah, a darker complexion."
Connor looked like he was about to explode from embarrassment, and once the woman left their table, he hissed angrily at his father, "What did you mean by that?!"
Haytham smiled sadly. "Exactly what I said. I do prefer a lady with a darker complexion, although she probably wouldn't have appreciated me referring to her as a lady." He took a long swig of Desmond's drink, and stared pensively at nothing. "Since I cannot be with her, I find that other women suffer by comparison." He finished Desmond's drink, and swiped Ted's, while asking, "And you, lad, missing a girl back home?"
"Yes, and when I get back, she'll still be dead so I'll still miss her."
"Ah. How ironic."
"I'm not like Connor, I can't tell girls to get in line."
"Yes, son, do tell me about all these women waiting for you."
Connor grumbled and ignored his father.
Ted woke up enough to stare blearily at them, then remembered his manners. "Let me show you to the guest house..." He beckoned them towards the manor, bringing them over to one wing that was offset a little, and had its own front entrance. "Here ya go...plenty of candles... beds should be fresh..." he yawned again. "We can fit your crew in--"
"No, my crew will return to the ship to sleep, as will I. However, my father and cousin are not seafaring folk and will appreciate a night on land."
"Whatever you wish, Brother."
In the end, Desmond and Haytham and Jimmy elected to spend the night at the guest house, and Connor returned to the Aquila, where he spent most of the night silently threatening the prisoner.
Desmond had a hard time getting to sleep, and then he was awakened far too early. "Psst!"
"Huhhhhh..."
"Wake up, before the sun rises."
"Them's fightin' words, Pops."
"Come here and look at the main wing. No, use your other sight."
"'S gold...why?"
"That's what I intend to find out."
"Have fun, Pops."
"Come on, now, if we hurry they won't even miss us."
Desmond groaned and allowed himself to be led to the main part of the manor. "Pops, you can't just go around breaking into--"
"Assassin hideouts? My father's houses? I assure you, lad, I have done both." Within a minute, he was clinging to the window sill, and Desmond had no choice but to follow him.
The window turned out to belong to a small storage room of some kind. Most of the stuff in it was useless--broken furniture, a barrel that had seen better decades, a little girl's dress that had ripped and was now thickly coated in dust. Haytham picked up the dress and reverently brushed the dust from it. Desmond wondered if those were tears in his eyes, or allergies. Then Haytham sneezed, and blew his nose into a handkerchief, and said in a businesslike tone, "This must have been Jenny's. She loves that shade of blue."
"That's it? You woke me up for this?"
"He has to have a secret hiding place here. Assassins love having secret hiding places."
Desmond yawned hugely. "What about behind that funny-looking wall?"
It turned out to be a loose board in the wall, behind which was a small compartment mostly filled with moldering paper. Much of the paper seemed to be half completed letters addressed "Dear Mum" and "Dearest Caroline", filled with crossed out sentences, little doodles, and the occasional curse word where the writer was apparently frustrated. There were two letters that had come, addressed to Edward Kenway, and carefully placed back in their envelopes after being read. Desmond shoved those into one of the pockets in Connor's coat.
When he heard a soft, pained sound, Desmond looked around for stray kittens, but found only Haytham, tightly gripping a small leatherbound journal. Desmond pried it from him to read the inscription on the frontispiece. "To my Father, on the Occasion of his Birthday. With Love, Jennifer Scott. 11 January 1722. Belated due to Storms." He flipped through it. "He never wrote in it... Wait..." he turned the book on its side. "He did! Look, it's near the spine. So you can't see it casually flipping through."
Both of them were engrossed in the little book, which seemed to be full of ciphers and codes, and did not notice the soft scuffing of Connor's moccasins until he spoke.
"You are on an island of your mortal enemies, Father, and this is what you chose to do? Lead Desmond into a life of burglary?"
"Hey, he didn't have to lead me very far."
"He is an adult and can make his own bad decisions."
"We are his family, we should provide a good example for him to follow. Do you ever stop to think about what sort of impression--"
"Hold on, son--"
"Yeah, calm yo' hippy tits, Connor!"
Both of his ancestors stopped mid-argument and gawped at Desmond. Connor mouthed "hippy tits" in shock, before hesitantly asking, "Father, you have spoken English your entire life. Perhaps you can help me. I know the words but the phrase dumbfounds me. Is there some special meaning to those words that I simply do not know?"
"No, son, there isn't, other than that our descendant is occasionally mad."
"I just meant you should stop interrupting your dad... Maybe bicker a little less?"
Connor crossed his arms, annoyed. "He should not be encouraging you to steal--"
"Connor, about half this stuff is ours. Or, our family's." Haytham brandished the little book. "This was a birthday gift for my father. The dress was my sister's. These half finished letters? My father was writing to his parents and his wife. He may have given this island, this house, to the Assassins, but the personal effects? The only Assassins with any right to keep them are in this room with me. So how is it stealing if it's ours?"
"That's an interesting kind of morality, Templar."
Desmond scooted in between Ted's pistol and Haytham, and to his surprise, so did Connor. With a sigh, Ted lowered the gun an inch or two. "I don't know why you two are protecting him. You know he's a Templar."
"That does not mean he is not correct about his father's belongings. Even a Templar has a right to inherit things of sentimental importance."
"He can't have that little book. There's important information that can't--"
Haytham handed it to Connor. "There, now it is in Assassin hands. As everything I own will be anyway once Connor inherits it from me."
Ted waved the pistol, just a bit. "That should be pretty soon. Hands up, Templar."
Haytham sighed and held up his hands. "This is ridiculous. I'm not attacking you or spying on you, I just wanted some family heirlooms."
Ted scoffed. "How am I supposed to believe that, once you leave, you won't go telling all your Templar friends how to get here?"
"Maybe because I don't particularly want another of my family's houses set on fire?"
Connor interrupted, "He is assisting me with tracking down another Templar."
"How can you trust that he's not leading you into a trap?"
Haytham snapped indignantly, "I'm not leading my son into a trap! What kind of man do you think I am, anyway?"
"A Templar who wiped out much of the Colonial Brotherhood."
"But not my son!"
"Whatever you say, Templar. Now come on, no more guest house for you, time for the cells in the basement."
Haytham rolled his eyes. "I don't believe in ghosts, but I almost wish I could think that my father's spirit would annoy the shit out of you for using his basement to imprison his own son."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure he'd be so proud of his son the Grand Master Templar. And you two, don't even think of trying to spring him. There's going to be at least four Assassin guards on him at all times."
Connor glowered. "How am I to believe that your guards will not 'accidentally' kill my father?"
Desmond chimed in, "Which would allow the really awful Templar Benjamin Church to get away with being a total scuzzbucket."
Ted just snorted. He looked awful--haggard and tired, with red eyes and sagging eyelids. Desmond wondered if it would be possible to reason with him once he got over his hangover.
Haytham rolled his eyes. "Connor, Desmond, please, don't make a big fuss. I'm sure that someone here is reasonable."
Desmond shook his head. "I'm not."
Connor asked quietly, "Not sure or not reasonable?"
"Good question."
Haytham smirked as Ted pushed him between the shoulder blades. "What would my father say if he knew his old girlfriend's son was taking me prisoner?"
"He'd say you deserve it, Templar."
"You know, I do have a name. Three of them, in fact."
"I don't care, Templar."
"I daresay one of mine is the same as yours, in fact."
"Doesn't matter. Keep walking."
"Because Ted is short for Edward, correct?"
"None of your business."
"And my middle name is Edward. In fact, I suspect we're named after the same person."
"Unfortunately."
"Did your mother name all her children after her old boyfriends? Did your father know?"
"It's none of your business."
"I mean, I would suspect you were my brother, but you're too young."
"I am no brother of yours."
"Maybe we have a sibling in common."
"Would you be so kind as to shut up already?"
Connor almost felt sorry for Ted, but not quite. He heard a sound and reached out just in time to grab Jimmy as he ran screaming after Haytham. "Shhh, I need you to stay here with Desmond, please. I am going to follow them and ensure they do not harm my father, but I also need you to keep Desmond safe."
"I can take care of--"
"If he starts speaking in strange tongues, you must keep him from doing anything foolish to hurt himself."
Jimmy looked up at Desmond protectively, and grabbed him by the wrist. Desmond rolled his eyes at Connor, who smiled just perceptibly and extended the tip of his hidden blade, then looked at his father's retreating back, and back at Desmond, and raised his eyebrows. They didn't take his blade?? Epic fail...
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-24 11:58 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-25 02:02 am (UTC)(link)I loved every bit of this one! Particularly that bit at the end, where Jimmy decides he'll be the one protecting Desmond. :D
-OP
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-25 02:12 am (UTC)(link)Although I will say that Desmond and Jimmy are super adorable together.
-writer!anon
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-25 10:03 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-26 03:17 am (UTC)(link)-writer!anon
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-26 12:16 am (UTC)(link)Poor Desmond, needing a 13-year-old to look after him so he doesn't draw attention while going crazy.
Poor Connor, having to deal with his weird family! XD
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-26 02:47 am (UTC)(link)-writer!anon
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-26 10:01 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-29 04:19 pm (UTC)(link)"Here, son, this is how you pick a lock."
*Edward fusses with the lock, gets frustrated, kicks the lock off*
"Can you do the bit with the lockpicks again, dad?"
"Uh, go ask Reginald how that's supposed to work, son."
-writer!anon
(If you'd like Ubisoft to punch you in the feels some more, get the Haytham action figure and put the code into AC4, then open the gold chest in the basement at Inagua so you get the unlockable FEELCOAT. BAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW)
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-27 10:46 am (UTC)(link)Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2013-12-29 04:21 pm (UTC)(link)But at least I didn't say anything too wrong about Inagua, now that I've actually gotten there.
-writer!anon
(Don't worry, there will be an update this week. Real Life has simmered down some.)
Re: Displaced 13b/?, Peer Pressure Is Nothing Compared To Ancestor Pressure
(Anonymous) 2014-01-02 05:32 pm (UTC)(link)