asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed

I-I-I..._I!!! I, um...I love you. Truly. That's just beautiful. I just can't wait to see what the writer anons come up with.

Too long; didn't read.

Okay, so. I was going to fill this anon, but it is waaaay too long for comment-fic and I am not posting it four times. If you want to see it, you can go to my journal.

Clicky! (http://tanarill.livejournal.com/132245.html)

When/where did Anon put too long; didn`t read? This Anon doesn`t completely understand.

When Leonardo had first heard the thud upstairs, he had merely thought it had been something falling over, like that wobbly desk with the unsteady leg. It was when Ezio cried out his name in such a pained manner that the painter realized it was his friend who had tumbled in through the window, and dropped his work to sprint up the stairs.

The sight that greeted him was a sickening one, even for a man who cut open dead bodies to study. Ezio clutched to Leonardo's bed, trying to pull himself up as blood dribbled from his lips and over one eyefrom a gash in his forehead, two of his fingers obviously broken beyond repair and when he rushed to the man's side, he saw that the front of his outfit had been dyed red and judging by the concentration, the wound was deep into his stomach.

"Stop, stop, Ezio, don't move, stay there! I will help you," the artist panicked, going to leave and get his medical supplies when Ezio rasped out "wait! Wait..." Leonardo had no choice but to hurry over to him, dropping to his knees next to him as Ezio slumped over on the ground, Leonardo unsure of where to lay his hands.

There was so much blood.

"I am afraid they have killed me, Leonardo," he managed, chest heaving with the effort. "No, no, don't say that, I'll help," Leonardo pleaded, and Ezio gave that little chuckle he had some to love so much. Even he could see that there was no fixing this hole, and lifted Ezio's chest so his back rested against the artist's knee.

"No," and Ezio coughed, a gut-wrenching sound that made him spew blood out of his mouth, and Leonardo could feel the warmth of his blood soaking through his stocking. His eyes stung with tears that gathered so forcefully it shocked him, and he tried not to let them fall. Even though a small part of him had accepted that he was beyond help, that it wasn't long until his friend breathed his last, he still couldn't believe it.

"Leonardo... I was so stupid, mi amico-" and he broke off again, the blood he coughed up splattering Leonardo's shirt. "Don't try to talk," he said, but Ezio managed a smile and lifted his hand to cup the older man's cheek. It was shaking, and so was Leonardo's as he brought up his own to join it to hold it there as Ezio's strength was failing him. "No, mi amour." Startled at the change, especially as the light began to fade so quickly in Ezio's eyes, tears began to run down Leonardo's cheeks despite his efforts to keep them back. "Ezio," he choked out, who continued so quietly he could barely hear the assassin.

"I never... got to tell y..." and he went silent. It was like a candle spluttering and finally dying in it own wax, al the cheerful warmth gone because this isn't one of Leonardo's favorite trashy romance novels, this is real life, where there's no time for last words and the hand goes limp in his grasp.

"No, no, no! Ezio, you cannot die, you cannot!" Leonardo can't remember a time he has wailed like this, completely overcome with grief, pulling the younger man's body to his chest. Of course, Ezio doesn't respond and it's all too clear that death rattles are shaking his young body- so young!- as his friend holds him close.

"I loved you," he moans into that soft, chocolate hair, the warmth of life all too quickly leaving his body. Ezio cannot hear him now as he sobs, this one death affecting him so greatly, knowing what he had been trying to say, what he had wanted to hear from those scarred lips the moment he met him- lips that had been smiling and laughing and talking only moments ago.

Ezio Auditore de Firenze is dead, and he had never gotten to tell his best friend he loved him.

Anon, I'm trying to write this for you.

(A/N: I lost any semblance of any fill ideas about four days ago, so I will end this quickly. *hopeshopeshopesforIC-ness*)
----
It's been a long day. Meeting with Federico's thirteen-year-old brother, Ezio turns out to be a bad idea, as the both of them, Vieri and Ezio quickly kindle a 'hate-at-first-sight' relationship. It is only with the elder Auditore's intervention that things do not become ugly. Avoiding the Pazzi bravos searching the streets, as Federico has had run-ins with them before and Vieri wants to keep his secret...well, secret. Taking careful lessons on climbing with Federico's help. Nearly falling off the roof during that same lesson. About the only thing that remains relatively normal was the dinner. As an apology for nearly knocking Vieri off the ledge, the Auditore promised to show him something. Well, it seems this is it.

"Hey! Get-off!" Vieri hisses. Federico blinks sleepily, suppresses a yawn and presses up closer to him.

"No, don't do that you-figlio di-...ugh. Whatever." Vieri -allows- the man to sleep on his shoulder while they sit leaned on the pigeon coop, watching the stars wink in the sky. It was supposed to be one of the higher posts overlooking Firenze, but Vieri was never very good with heights.

As Federico sleeps on his shoulder, Vieri thinks. It should be almost over now. It is dark and right now everyone is going home. He could leave, could go back right now and become Vieri again and no one would be the wiser. The Pazzi looks down at Federico's peacefully dozing face, almost unwillingly.

It reeks of cacca di uccelli, the damn birds keep cooing and rustling and the chain is uncomfortable against his back.

For some reason though, he feels...happy. It is an unsettling feeling, he has felt it so few times before. Triumph maybe, as he defeated his opponents. Satisfaction, as he watched his enemies fall. Never quite happiness. For a moment, the Pazzi wonders about it, musing. It has been a very long day.

Maybe Federico has been rubbing off on him, part of the Auditore's infectious personality now ingrained into his own. The thought of that causes an odd tingle to course throughout his body. Vieri doesn't know what to think, doesn't know whether it is a good feeling or bad.

If he doesn't take this chance, what others will there be? Besides, after this, they will go their own seperate ways. Federico will never see 'Rosa' again, possibly even forget about her. Vieri will return to his family and his regular life, and probably make an enemy of the Auditores.

And then they are also both men and Vieri has been deceiving Federico from the very beginning, about his sex, his name, and his life.

But this night at least, his name is not Vieri de'Pazzi, son of Francesco de'Pazzi. Tonight, his name is Rosa de'Leon, the woman who has, unfortunately, fallen in love with Federico Auditore.

It is on a -lark- that he decides to do this, a complete joke. Yet Vieri is nervous as he cranes his head, awkwardly, artlessly kissing the sleeping man on the cheek. It is everything and nothing like kissing a woman, but unlike those other kisses, it causes Vieri's chest to lurch dizzily again, and tears almost-almost spring to his eyes. He does not cry.

Federico mumbles something about a flying pig and turns his head so that he is facing away. The Pazzi does not see the faint but triumphant smirk on the other man's face. The false belief that Federico is asleep causes Vieri to roll his eyes and smooth the skirt fabric over his legs.

"Psst. Idiota. Wake up."

Federico doesn't move. Vieri whaps him lightly on the head, not hard enough to hurt.

Federico is instantly 'awake', cursing.

"Cazzo! Qual è stato fatto?"

"I need to get back to my home, Auditore. Can't stay up here forever." Even if the view is nice.

"You didn't have to hit me..."

"No, I didn't, did I?" But they are both grinning at each other, and as Federico steps off the roof, Vieri accepts his offered arm.
----

“Altaïr, there’s one thing I don’t understand.”
They sat side by side on the roof watching the sun set over the rooftops of Damascus.
“What?”
“Why didn’t the thieves from the fire look in, I mean he screamed loud enough. Did they just not care?”
“The kid was new.” Altaïr said softly.
There was a few moments silence while Malik’s brain processed this.
“I shouldn’t have killed him so quickly.”
“No?”
“I should have made him suffer more.”
“Whatever you could have done to him is unparalleled to what he will receive in the next life.”
Malik looked to him. “Do you believe that?”
“I do.”
“And you saved that one boy and many others that would have fallen into the cycle…” Altaïr sighed. “I just wish I could have done it myself,”
Catching Malik’s questioning gaze he activated the hidden blade and looked at it in the evening light, the sun’s rays bouncing off the edge.
“You have to understand Malik, after a while you give up trying to keep anything of yourself. You finally realise that he knows all of you, better than you know yourself. He even kissed me once, but he can’t of liked my reaction cause he didn’t do it again.”
“What was your reaction?”
“Nothing, I just let him do it, like all the rest of it. If I had gone in there by myself he would have looked at me and I know I would have reverted to the powerless state I was in back then. He just knew what to do to make me weak.” Altaïr’s hands were shaking as he retracted the hidden blade.
Malik bit his lip and reached up, laying his hand on the back of his neck and massaging the tension from it with his fingers.
“He’s dead Altaïr, dead.”
He nodded and let his head droop and his muscles relax before leaning over and resting his head on Malik’s shoulder, pushing back his hood. “Could you do that thing with my hair?” he asked hesitantly.
A little shocked, Malik rested his own head atop Altaïr’s and began to run his fingers over his skull feeling scars underneath the soft mess.
“Does this help?”
The assassin had his eyes shut. “I always kept my head shaved in the gang, to stop myself getting lice.”
“So he never played with your hair.”
“No.”
“Good, so you kept that from him at least. Add to that your sense of humour and many other things you wouldn’t have shown, then you get a long list of things he never knew about you.”
“Sense of humour?”
“Well its black, I’ll admit, but who else would hang a pimp from the ceiling using his own bondage gear?”
“That was just ironic justice.”
“I found it funny. In fact when a novice told me, with just the right amount of awe, I had to sit down.” Malik sighed. “You’re wrong about him knowing you, he knew what he created nothing more, and you have it in yourself to being someone completely different. If you want to.”
“I missed these long speeches you give.”
“Well I have a few to make up for.”
Altaïr paused before saying. “Good, cause I never thought I’d hear you speak to me with warmth ever again.”
Taking a deep breath Malik grumbled. “I wish you’d stop making my eyes water.”

~*~

The Imam was busy talking to someone else when Altaïr came into the mosque and sat down on the carpeted floor leaning against a pillar a little away from where he had sat last time. However, he didn’t begrudge him, he was content to wait and think over the last few months in the relative silence between the gracefully arched stone walls and wooden ceiling staring at the stained glass once again.
He had spent most of what free time he got in the bureau in Jerusalem, taking more missions there than anywhere else, talking with Malik and laughing with him. Everything had run smoothly untill he’d brought back two skins of Arak one day and they’d drunk one each. Malik had been unable to walk so he’d picked him up and carried him to his bed pulling off his boots for him. Then he suddenly found himself swaying worse than before and had sat down, and then laid down. And when he’d woken up in the morning he had a splitting headache and… a Malik in his arms.
“Altaïr,”
Altaïr looked up to the Imam and swallowed taking a deep breath to rid himself of the strange feeling in his stomach.
“I was not sure I would see you again.”
“Nor I, but I need council and you seemed the only one who could give it.”
“I see.” The Imam sat down next to him as before and Altaïr looked around before speaking.
“It is a sin to murder, and a sin to commit adultery but men do these two things all the time and in some cases in the service of their god.”
“That is right, though not for their god do men commit adultery…”
“No, but Generals leading jihad armies have been known to keep prostitutes with them to keep the men busy at nights.”
“True.”
Altaïr swallowed. “If two people like each other is it a sin to commit adultery?”
“Yes if children were born because of it; out of wedlock. Then they would not be provided for…”
“And if there was no chance of any children?”
“Then the question becomes different, you are not hurting anyone so…” The Imam himself checked there was no one around. “I do not believe in the conventional Islam, I believe that the only sins there are, are those which hurt others. If a sin does not hurt anyone I believe it is not a sin.”
“So if you were to murder an evil man?”
“Then it would not be murder, though in justifying murder we must be careful.”
Altaïr turned to face him. “I have murdered many times, some were justified, others not, and yet… the sin which I want to commit I cannot do.”
“Why?”
“Because murder is done everyday by many people, this is outlawed by all and viewed as wrong in whatever circumstances.”
The Imam seemed to be filing through all he had said for some clue as to the sin he wanted to commit.
“What makes it wrong?”
“The qu’ran condemns it, as does the bible…”
“Both texts have been use to condemn and advocate good and evil things, why trust them?”
Altaïr looked at him strangely. “I thought you were an Imam.”
“I am what I am, which is to say: I am devout when it suits me and not so when it doesn’t.”
The assassin blinked. “You’ll be burned one day.”
“No doubt. But until then I can help you, what sin do you wish to commit? Adultery?”

“Yes. But not conventionally, I have…” Shaking his head Altaïr started again. “I do not trust anyone.”
“Understandably.”
“Apart from Malik, who has forever been my friend even after I, as good as, killed his brother and lost him his arm.”
“I see.” The Imam was beginning to form an idea in his mind.
Altaïr leant forward. “I Know that both faiths have a very clear opinion on same sex relations.”
The Imam sighed. “You have come here because you thought it was unnatural and you wanted it said aloud so you could have some reason to ignore your feelings.”
“I don’t know.”
“If that is the case you came to the wrong man. It is not conventional and not at all viewed as proper but it is not a sin, at least not in my eyes… You hurt no one through loving another man. If I were you I would more be worried about the murders by your hand than another man underneath it.”
Altaïr blushed and looked away making the Imam laugh. “Go and see if he returns your feelings.”
“How do I do that?”
“I think you’ll know what is appropriate at the time.”
Altaïr got up, his head reeling, and offered a hand which the Imam shook. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “I’ll see you again?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”

Kissy Kissy <3

Antonio/Ezio

Antonio finds out about Ezio's feelings for Leonardo and teaches him how to please his would be lover. :D

Someone losing their virginity. Het Yaoi, I don't care. Just make it special and sweet, please. ANY pairing is acceptable.

Because anon is nervous about losing theirs. -blushblushblush-

~~reCaptcha says "all smeared" Captcha, you pervert!! D:~~

Challanger is pleased. It is a very good and touching story. Good work.

D'awe, cute.

Revenge. Malik has plotted for years his revenge, determined to punish Altair for what he did. His words of forgiveness were nothing but a sham while he bided his time. At the end, when he's ready he captures Altair and has his way with him.

Malik/Altair, cruel, forceful sex, whipping, possible cutting, whatever else anon can think of. It's up to anon to decide whether Malik kills Altair in the end or keeps him as his pet.

I've seen Prototype/Assassin's Creed crossover a couple of times, in artwork and fics. Usually the pairing is Alex MercerxDesmond, or Alex and Ezio.

Now here's a crazy idea.....how about someone trying out AlexMercerxLeonardo? 8D

On it!

(because OPanon should be unnervousified :) )

http://i42.tinypic.com/20sav4y.png

At the end, the "long story short."

:|

Anon offers a hearty "fuck yes" to you and demands MOAR

anon aproves this.

YES. WANT. YES.

Oh, that is fucked up.....

Definitely seconded.

(A/N: I blame soundtrack music and sleep-deprivation. Let me know if you guys want more. Even though I Can't. Stop. Writing.)

He wasn't quite sure what had happened. In fact, he didn't even know where to begin guessing. His only clue was that the Apple had something to do with his current...situation. A bewildered noise from his left had him amending the thought: their situation.

"What in the name of Allah is going on?" Malik's hissed question jerked Altair back to the here and now.

"As if I should know?" the master Assassin responded curtly. "We were talking--"

"Fighting."

"Disagreeing over the new hidden blade. You punched me--"

"It was deserved, I assure you."

"And we fell onto the desk." Onto the Apple. Altair knew better than to speak the last aloud. Malik's distrust for the stolen relic was nothing short of legendary and his feelings about Altair's continued explorations into the device were not something that Altair wanted to 'discuss' again any time soon.

"Onto that cursed piece of treasure, you mean?" The sting in Malik's voice was slight, but still there.

"Perhaps." Definitely.

"Hmph." How Malik managed to convey so much meaning into something that wasn't even a word amazed Altair. Utterly condescending and smug, it was an "I-told-you-so" noise if he'd ever heard one.

"The problem now becomes, how do we get back?" Altair glanced at Malik. "It does not seem that we brought the Apple with us." As if to emphasize, he spread his empty hands.

"Do you think they can see us?" Ignoring Altair for the moment, Malik gestured to the people in the strange room they were looking at. Two women, two men, all oddly dressed.

"It does not seem like they can," Altair replied after a moment. Malik had always been a curious man, even more so than he was. Unlike Altair, however, the Dai possessed a better control over his impulses. "So many strange things," he muttered, narrowing his eyes at the room in question.

The two women were seated at what appeared to be metal desks, their hands moving rapidly over some sort of object that filled the room with a clicking sound. The dark-haired one had some sort of device over her ears, round silver objects connected to a string that ran down to a device seated on a lower shelf of her desk. The blonde, her hair pulled back in a severe twist that seemed at odds with her casual posture, seemed to be entirely focused on the object on her desk, her hands moving at a rapid pace.

One of the men, the dark-haired one, was reclining on a strange lounge of some kind, his eyes closed. His entire body seemed to be at odds with each other; his face seemed perfectly relaxed while his limbs were tensing, his clothing moving as muscles flexed and relaxed. The other man had his back to the room entirely, focused on the same sort of device as the two women. Occasionally, he'd look up to a wall covered in parchments and frighteningly realistic drawings.

"They are dressed very strangely," Malik commented, shifting to lean closer to Altair, his voice barely a whisper.

"Women in breeches are not so strange," Altair returned.

"True, at least for us, but I mean the style of the clothing." He narrowed his eyes at the man lying on the chair. "It cannot be easy to move in such restricting clothes?"

"True." Altair frowned. "I wonder..."

"You wonder what?" When Altair didn't answer, Malik turned to look at him. The younger Assassin's face had gone tense, his eyes unblinking. Malik recognized the look; Altair was using the Sight. After a moment, the Assassin blinked, shaking his head ever-so-slightly to clear the halo effect switching back caused. "What do you see?" Malik prompted.

"They read as allies." Altair's tone said it all. Whatever the Apple had done, at least they had been taken somewhere relatively safe.

"Shaun, can you go see if that stupid dishwasher's done yet? I need coffee."

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed

Re: artfill...

Re: Stupid? Of course it is!! XP

Filled!

Re: Stupid? Of course it is!! XP

Too Short, Too Soon, Too Sudden (1)

Re: Stupid? Of course it is!! XP

La Signorina Piccola [11/12]

Re: Altair/Malik

Re: Altair/Malik

Re: Altair/Malik

Re: La Signorina Piccola [11/12]

no subject

Virgins~

Re: Altair/Malik

Re: La Signorina Piccola [11/12]

Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Cold

Here's a crazy one...

Re: Virgins~

ARTFILL

Re: Stupid? Of course it is!! XP

Re: So I'm writing this fic- part 8

Re: Modeling Is Serious Business

Re: Mind Over Matter 2

Re: Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Cold

No One Dead Will Seem to Come [1/?]