asscreedkinkmeme | Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

I'll be in my bunk.....

I've always kinda envisioned a AC/Pokemon crossover were Desmond was a trainer and Altair and Ezio were his Pokemon.

OP approves! Thank you so much!

^ this needs to happen.

8D Everyone should get comments! They're amazing <3

xD well yes, that'd be just cute beyond words :3

See, I named them because of their personalities xD I mean, Altair would always be playing fights with Malik, and when away from them he was just quiet and always trying to climb on things. Malik was just relaxed and all, but if Altair came near he'd start biting xD And Leo, adorable Leo, was just curious and hyper about everything around him lol

(OP!anon) DO IT!!!! :D
I too am planning to draw them some day when I have more time. (Stupid studies!) I'm not much of a writer but I often hear that I can draw.

Go for it!

Drive-by anon is pleased with this and wishes her "time of the month" could make her this badass.

http://forkinsocket.livejournal.com/20186.html?thread=6884314#t6884314

Going to post it in the fill post. Hope OP likes it! ^_^

I don't mind. I'll go with what ever the majority vote is.

Am I the only one that thinks this? Cuz you know Ezio would totes enjoy being fucked by Leonardo. And you know Leonardo would be... creative. ^.^

So. I would like to see Leonardo using Ezio for his experiments. Maybe he's created an aphrodisiac and needs a test subject. Maybe he's painting, and needs a model, so he ties up Ezio and leaves him there (protesting) for a few hours while he paints. Maybe Leonardo wants to see how many times a man can ejaculate before he's dry. Maybe Leonardo just likes to fuck with him.

+ 10 brownie points if bondage is included. :3

LOL. More common than you think, Anon.

SUDDENLY,

Porn.

The Wikia page states that "the The Papal guards are considerably stronger than Ezio and have a larger build, with all of them being at least a head taller than him" and for some reason that made me go HNGGGGH.

Sooo... I want to see a Papal guard in some way dominating Ezio or an overconfident recruit with the emphasis on the difference in strenght and size. NO rape or torture though!

Bonus points if you can use that particular guard who gave the money chest to the banker and was hit on (+ robbed) by a courtesan. He spoke with such an adorable english accent with some german words :D. If you don't remember him then check this (from 4:30) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HePpdT_kuL8

Shaun/Desmond semicon (or noncon) in the shower cubicle, with ghost!Altair watching (or maybe even joining).

preferably from Desmond's POV; I want to feel so wretched right now!

I am sad... I've watched my 'friends', who I haven't hung out with at all this summer, make set of plans after set of plans.

So yeah, I feel lonely.

So, lonely Assassins. I imagine being an Assassin would be very lonely at times.

yes, yes! I want this so bad! someone please, make this happen!

Indeed. This reminded me of this drawing:
http://fc09.deviantart.net/fs50/f/2009/312/f/e/God_knows_you__re_lonely_souls_by_doubleleaf.jpg

I like staring at it for hours and depressing the hell out of myself.

Countless times, Malik has warned Altaïr about that wretched Apple.

If he has said it once, he’s said it a thousand damn times: that thing is not a ball of yarn to be pawed at constantly by an ignorant cat—the cat being a certain someone, of course. Altaïr has chastised him for being ‘a nagging wife, worse than Maria,’ but still he continues to give the other man a sharp piece of his mind.

“You remember what happened in Solomon’s Temple,” he would say without the bite from previous years, and Altaïr would just roll those amber eyes. He’d then add, “You remember what happened to Al Mualim.”

Honestly, Malik understands the Apple’s uses; however, the price that comes from wielding it is something that makes his spine curl like an agitated snake. What’s worse, Altaïr has been piddling with the glowing orb more and more as days in the year go by. Every time Malik enters the room, Altaïr is tinkering with it, or twirling it on the desk while staring idly into space, or scribbling madly on parchment with a quill and gazing at whatever holographic sorcery fountains up from the top.

Malik, as he walks down the hall for the Grand Master’s room, expects to find Altaïr like this again.

In the past, the Apple has been… fussy, to put it simply. The thing is as much of a child as Altaïr acts sometimes, spitting out disturbing images and wrapping everything in the vicinity in illusions. It has burned Altaïr’s palm, Malik remembers. It has condensed the very air in the room until the both of them have been suffocating. It has made Altaïr wrinkle with age. It has emitted a screeching ring that seared their ears. It has rendered every person in Masyaf paralyzed for the longest minute of their lives. It has also, much to their horror, turned Altaïr into a woman. That had been a day.

Already, Malik is prepared to fall into a tirade of mothering rant when he puts his hand on the door. His lips are parted, brows lowered seriously, tongue filed to an advising edge. He knows what he’s going to say: You need a break. You shouldn’t be messing with that blasted thing so much. Put. The Apple. Down. Unfortunately, when he pushes inside the room, he is met with an unsettling surprise: nothing.

The room is eerily silent, the Apple isn’t in its usual place on the table, and Altaïr’s figure is missing from the room entirely.

Slowly, Malik closes his lips, looking perplexed. He back-steps into the hall, glancing first left and then right. There’s no trace of the man’s disappearance, no wisp of robe around the corner, so he eases into the room again, calls out into the quiet air, “Altaïr?”

His answer is nothing, not even a stir of dust, and then, all at once, there is a blood-curdling siren of noise that erupts on the other side of the table. It startles Malik so bad he jerks, and he isn’t sure whether he should flee from the room in defense, or investigate. When he realizes it is the sound of a baby’s cry (God knows he had heard enough baby-cry from Darim), he warily shuts the door behind him and ventures over.

Oh…

Well, he thinks, Altaïr’s robes are here. Actually, Altaïr’s robes are everywhere, and the Apple is stuffed in the folds of them. So, too, is a squirming and irritable what-Malik-supposes-is-a-baby stuffed into the folds beside the Apple. This is very disheartening.

As he stares, Malik can feel a sudden clench to his chest right around where his lungs should be, a rippling and icy chill that loops down his spine and makes him rigid. The baby looks frighteningly familiar, he knows. The baby, with its bright hair curled over its forehead and sharp, amber eyes—it is terrifyingly familiar.

What has Altaïr done? he whispers in his mind.

Unsure of what exactly to do, Malik falters in resolve and turns away, but he is no more turned around before the baby heaves two choked gasps, and then it begins a tantrum of crying and kicking. Quickly, Malik spins right back around. The baby quiets, but its face is still twisted and pinched as if it’s blackmailing Malik to stay by look alone.

Malik stays.

Soon, he finds himself huddling a baby wrapped in Grand Master robes to his chest, and the Apple has since been placed on the table out of reach. Altaïr (since Malik assumes this is, in fact, Altaïr-turned-baby) seems partial to some attention after being in the room alone. Malik, on the other hand, can feel his volcano of irritation moving slowly from dormant to active, and his sympathy pool is hastily drying up. Though Malik is fond of spending time with Darim, he is not fond of babysitting a stubborn and turd-headed old man transformed into a screaming child. (Especially when he told the stubborn and turd-headed old man to stop messing around with ancient artifacts they had no knowledge of in the first place!)

(Fitting, he thinks afterward.)

The next course of action is for Malik to hand Altaïr off to a few of the apprentices running around Masyaf. It’s two of the most unlucky ones, and they look befuddled, naturally. They are given a baby who looks strangely like Darim wrapped in the Grand Master’s clothes, but no Grand Master, and Malik is all but rambling on to them about staying right here near the Grand Master’s room.

“Don’t stray out of Masyaf,” Malik instructs them, sounding both tired and antsy all at once. He is idly tucking the robes around Altaïr, but the baby is beginning to fidget in growing annoyance. “I will get Maria.” The apprentices aren’t sure who Malik is trying to console more, them or himself. “Just stay with…” continues Malik. “Just keep the baby quiet, and don’t wander. I’ll be back.”

Not even five footsteps later, Malik is halfway down the hall when he hears an explosion of wailing echo from behind. The noise isn’t even a sad or upset kind of crying, not even a hungry kind of plea-crying, but instead, a skin-crawling siren of fear that comes without tears at all.

Damn it, he thinks, he will never let that fool live down shrieking like a banshee for this aggravation!

Still, Malik pauses momentarily to see if Altaïr will cease such infernal howling, but the baby Grand Master does nothing of the sort, and he is forced to back-track to make sure the apprentices aren’t slamming their master against the stone wall.

When the dai appears again, the Assassins swiftly and gratefully hand over Altaïr. The golden-eyed baby instantaneously becomes docile in Malik’s arms, and the three adults spend an awkward minute looking back and forth between each other. Malik isn’t sure whether he is more irritated or more relieved by these turn of events. Keeping Altaïr calm is good, but at his own expense is… well, not good. For him.

Finally, Malik begrudgingly says, “You both… Go get Maria for me.”

The image that jumps to my mind is Desmond hallucinating that Altair is molesting him when it's really Shaun.

I wish I could write this...

*joins the boat to hell...*

Okay, so, the other write!anon's was so good, and they asked for what would happen inside the hideout, so...

Hi there, I'm Novice!Anon, and I bear gifts of Papa!Ezio.

_______________

"Ezio, may I speak with you for a moment?" The white hood lifted from where it had been bent, puzzling over the map of Roma. The smaller figure in white across from him stood as Machiavelli approached the table.

"Of course Niccolo. Ghita, if you will excuse us?"

She nodded and picked up a note left on the table. "Yes, Maestro. This should be fine, anyway. I shall discuss the particulars with the others." Machiavelli watched her head off into the armoury, grabbing another girl's arm to pull her along as well.

"Is everything alright?" He turned back to the Master Assassin, who stood from the table to put them on the same level.

"All is as well as it can be, but I wanted to speak to you about the recruits."

Ezio looked puzzled for a few seconds. "Oh? They all seem to be settling in well, and Ghita oversees the training with an iron fist. Despite this, I have heard no complaints."

"Yes, they are all hardworking girls, and each well suited to assist the Brotherhood." He couldn't help the slight patronizing tone that slipped out, but Ezio only nodded.

"So what is the problem?" Ezio pressed.

Machiavelli sighed. "Ezio. You have collected eight recruits to our cause. I know that you are seeking others. But I must admit to some concern."

Brows furrowed, Ezio shook his head. "Speak plainly. What is it?"

Machiavelli folded his arms behind his back, and took a moment to choose his words delicately. "Very well. You have brought here eight women to be Assassins, and you spoke of another girl who might join us. I have... apprehensions, that you might be taking advantage of the recruiting process."

There was a tension in the air now, and they could hear Ghita explaining the current political situation in Barcelona in the next room. Ezio's head tipped so that Machiavelli could not see most of his face, and he wondered if he might have offended.

"What."

He had offended. Machiavelli tried to explain. "It is only that, with your sister and mother running the Rosa in Fiore, I suspect you may not feel comfortable visiting the girls there. There are other brothels in Roma, as I'm sure you know."

What was visable of Ezio's face was unreadable, but Niccolo remained undaunted. After a few more seconds of silence, he prompted, "You understand, yes?"

Another stretch of silence. The girls in the next room laughed, then hushed to whispers. Machiavelli started when Ezio -who had been so still- finally moved.

"... Niccolo Machiavelli. You are my friend, and my ally. I have a great respect for you, and I understand that what you say now, you say only because you want the Brotherhood to remain strong and uncorrupted."

Machiavelli smiled. "I am glad you understand, my friend."

Ezio, though, was not finished. "But if you imply again that any of these girls are here for any reason other than to learn to be great Assassins, I'm afraid that you and I will have a problem."

Machiavelli gauged the sincerity in Ezio's eyes, and only just refrained from stepping out of stabbing range.

The girls laughed again, now discussing poisonings, and the various painful ways to kill a man thereby.

Niccolo cleared his throat. "Very well. Thank you for putting my fears to rest."

A stern nod from Ezio. "Anytime, my friend."

"Two dozen sweet buns, as ordered." And as the trapdoor fell shut, Ezio was swarmed.

"Ah God, yes!"

"I love you Maestro! Mmmh, go dood!"

The girls nearly pushed him over as the small army of grasping hands latched onto the basket he carried and tore it away.

"Oh Maestro! How can I ever repay you for such kindness?" Vita detached herself from the crowd, a sticky treat in her hand and a lacivious wink aimed at the Master Assassin.

Laura, helpful and practical as always, had claimed the wickerware and was distributing the baked goods in an orderly manner. "Stop it Vita, you are neither appealing, nor seductive."

"You are just jealous that I could have any man I want, whenever I want." Vita pouted, running a hand over Ezio's arm before slinking back to her cot.

A voice called out from beyond the shrinking crowd. "Laura, bring me one please? I cannot get up."

"And me!" Another piped up.

"Auuuogh..."

"Oh please Ghita, it's not that terrible." Tessa scoffed as she reclaimed her cot.

Ghita managed to raise her head from under her sheet to throw her a glare. "Says the lucky puttana who feels nothing during her time. Uuuuhmn..."

"Tessa, did you poison her?" Ezio had to ask.

Tessa shrugged, but it was Zita who answered. "No Maestro. Ghita is just very unlucky."

Next to the pathetic lump hiding under her sheets, her best friend offered over an inflated animal bladder. "Here Ghita, have my hot water bottle. I think the worst is over for me."

"You are an angel, Desderida. Ohh, thank you." The sheets absorbed the bladder and quivered as Ghita spoke. Desderida tenderly stroked what Ezio assumed to be the ailing girl's head. The others had relaxed back onto their cots; oiling weapons, mending clothing, chatting quietly.

"Do you girls need anything else?" He asked. A few heads looked up, and considering glances were thrown around.

"Please Maestro, who is cooking tonight?" Laura asked, handing back the empty basket.

"I need something hearty; it always helps to have a full stomach." Zita insisted, brushing Bianca's thick hair back into a blue ribbon. Ghita's sheets twitched in protest.

"Urp, ugh, no, maybe just some broth for me. I cannot stomach anything right now." She insisted, and Desderida hushed her.

"Marco and Ottavio are preparing a stew. Allesandro said he might make something for dessert." Ezio answered. Nearly all the girls came to attention, then starting chattering happily.

"Allesandro is? Oh, that will be wonderful!"

"I hope it's that creamy sauce again."

"Do you think he'd teach me to make that? I could eat it for the rest of my life and never care if I got fat."

"As if you could, you twig-girl."

Giggles and protests broke out.

"Ah, if I didn't feel so terrible I'd swear this is heaven!" Bianca sighed, leaning into the hard bristles as Zita dragged them through her thick locks one last time before trying the ribbon off.

"Zita, will you do my hair next please?" Desderida asked, but just as Zita stood Vita jumped and bumped her into Laura, who'd been passing around some wine.

"Cazzo! I've spotted on the sheets." She pouted, and Ezio turned away to look out the window.

"Augh, Vita, that's disgusting!"

Laura pulled the covering off of the hay and bunched it up. "Go scrub it off, quickly. The sooner it's cleaned the more will come out."

"If you took my advice, that wouldn't happen." Bianca said, and ignored Vita's glare while she admired her reflection in the window's glass.

"Sorry Maestro. You probably don't want to hear about any of this." Ezio looked away from the window to smile at his most soft-spoken recruit.

"It is fine, Desderida. If there's nothing more, I shall go then." He lifted the trapdoor and his feet found the rungs without thought. The girls waved to him as he dissapeared downwards.

"Caio, Maestro!"

"Uuurmph..."

"Thank you!"

"I shall see you all at dinner." He shut the door after himself, and easily climbed the rungs to the bottom. He paused a moment to contemplate the empty basket, then smiled wryly and shrugged.

"Girls."

Ottavio chopped while Marco stirred, and Allesandro was working secretively on the far side of the counter when Ezio entered the kitchen.

"Salute Maestro. Ah, you managed to hide some from the horde for us!" Ottavio greeted, scooping a handful of thickly diced carrots into the broth. Ezio nodded and split the remaining four buns between the men and piled the basket with the others next to the door.

Allesandro gave a gruff grunt of thanks, stuffing the whole bun into his mouth without removing his attention from whatever confection he was creating. Marco savored his with slow bites, while Ottavio ripped bits off to pop in his mouth as he began grinding some nutmeg.

"So, how bad was it?" Marco asked.

Ezio shook his head and leaned against the doorframe. "I do not know how they survived before they had us to wait on them hand and foot." Ottavio chuckled in response and tipped in the nutmeg.

"I bet you regret getting all these women now, eh Maestro?" Marco said, stoking the oven and adding another log.

"I do not regret any of them, just as I regret none of you."

A proud, abashed quiet filled the kitchen, broken only by Allesandro's indistinct mutters as he concentrated.

"Though... I will admit that perhaps nine girls to start with was not the wisest choice." Ezio relented wryly, sharing a small smirk. The boys all laughed, even Allesandro who was finally able to relax his vigil.

"Everything is nearly ready. Someone has to go tell them." Marco said.

There was a long pause.

"I could order one of you."

Ottavio gaped at Ezio in horror. "Maestro, would you be that cruel? Last time, Vita grabbed me, and..."

Marco shook his head. "She is like a broad axe to the head, that one."

"... I had to bring them spare rags this morning." Allesandro admitted.

The stew bubbled, and the logs inside the oven settled with a hiss.

"... Allesandro does not have to go."

"Agreed." The boys all nodded emphatically.

"But then, who?" Marco asked tentatively.

"Whoever doesn't go will have to clean the latrines." Ezio threatened as he crossed his arms.

Ottavio shuffled his feet.

Marco cleared his throat.

"Well?" Ezio pressed; eyebrow raised and a smirk barely held back.

"I am thinking." Ottavio only whined a little, but it was enough.

Ezio rolled his eyes. "Fine, Ottavio has to go get the girls."

Ottavio sputtered. "B-but, Vita! She grabbed my-"

"That is why you wear armour." Allesandro interjected solemnly.

"There? Wouldn't it chafe?" Marco cringed a little.

"Ottavio."

Ottavio slumped. "Y-yes Maestro."

"It was nice knowing you." Marco teased.

"We'll bury whatever Vita leaves behind." Utterly deadpan, Allesandro slapped his brother Assassin on the back as Ottavio headed to the door.

"Figlio de puttana, the both of you..."

Kink Meme - Assassin's Creed pt.3

Re: FILL: Cornered 2/2

Re: I want to be the very best...

Re: FILL: Cornered 2/2

Re: I want to be the very best...

Re: authornon here :D

Re: writeanon

Re: The way to fly. (Writeanon has a question)

Re: Ezio + Recruits [GEN FOR PETE'S SAKE]

FILL!

Re: The way to fly. (Writeanon has a question) OP

Leonardo would make a good dom

Re: Leonardo would make a good dom

Re: Federico/Ezio, grounded

Papal Guard/Ezio or recruit, size/power difference

Shower Angst: Shaun/ Desmond

Forever Alone

Re: Leonardo would make a good dom

Re: Forever Alone

Turnabout in the East [1.1]

Turnabout in the East [1.2]

Re: Shower Angst: Shaun/ Desmond

Re: Malik/Kadar

Fill: Monthlies

Fill: Monthlies [2/3]

Fill: Monthlies [3/3]