#and beaming like the animu he's been all along

[bonhcmme]

From earth grows the flower (bender AU)

Born into a family of poor Earth Kingdom farmers, Jean was the first in his immediate family to have bending ability. He was seen as a bit of a curiosity because of this difference, even in his small village because there weren’t many benders. So instead of learning to control his abilities, he concentrated on helping his family survive. As soon as he was old enough, he worked the soil; it was here he began to bend, for the convenience— tilling and sowing were so much quicker this way.

Things got worse. Their parents died, leaving his older sister to raise her brothers. Then one day he tried to show off to his brother; tragedy struck. An accident left Mathieu unable to walk, forcing Jean to take on even more responsibility. Eventually he grew desperate enough to steal a loaf of bread; he then used earthbending to evade the police for a time before he was captured and sent to prison. The damage he’d caused with his bending increased his sentence, since the family couldn’t afford to pay for repairs.

By the time he got out, he was disconnected to both his fellow citizens and his bending. He couldn’t find work, got into a fight over mistreatment, got badly beaten up. An old man found him, took him home and tended to him. He also turned out to be an earthbending guru and once Jean recovered, he taught the youth all he knew— including how to read. Jean took that knowledge north to a little merchant village where he had some success in business, especially with making radios and specifically an element inside them.. Quite a lot, in fact. In time he moved his base to Republic City, where a certain metalbending policeman seemed convinced that he knew the man.

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 47

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You try to adjust to your new life, but it doesn't go well.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Angst, mild body horror

AO3

Bucky pulled you into his arms, and that’s where you stayed for the next several days. He only released you for bathroom breaks, and the first night when he tried to get you to sleep in his bed while he took the couch.

After he woke up to you crawling under his blanket to lie on top of him, Bucky gave up on trying to separate during sleep. You were thankful for that, because the night times were the worst. You held Bucky tight, that bone-deep fear of freezing in the night never quite going away even with your new fur.

Your features did not look any less jarring when you looked at them through the mirror rather than a flowing stream. You were less disturbing than a character in Cats, but only because you looked meaner. With sharp needle teeth and retractable claws, you were so careful of them around Bucky, even with his healing abilities. The bite you’d given him had already vanished, but your guilt was still very much present.

On good days, you could tolerate visitors. It was usually Wong who came, though sometimes it would be other wizards you didn’t recognize. They examined you only enough to determine that your time in the demon realm wasn’t going to kill you, as far as they could tell, but they had no idea if your demonic changes were permanent or temporary.

On good days, you would sit in one of the clock faces and soak up the sun, looking out at the sun-covered city and marveling at the lights at night.

On good days, Bucky was able to touch you. Everything about your body made you self-conscious and twitchy, but he was gentle and kind. Never angry or frustrated at your slow progress. He, above everyone else, understood how much patience was needed while you recovered from your time in the demon realm, not to mention the new changes to your body.

Bad days… Bad days were hard. They involved hiding, usually under the bed or up in the top floor among the rafters. Bucky was worried you’d fall, but once he saw how swift and graceful you were running along the beams, he stopped looking like he was on the verge of a heart attack.

On bad days, Bucky couldn’t touch you at all, and it was a blessing he didn’t have to. The bond was permanently disconnected, and you no longer had to be feed him or be fed upon. Bucky still had to obtain the energy that kept the demon part of him alive, but he supplemented with the potions the wizards gave him. You could smell the foul concoction even from across the loft, and it set your fur puffed up and on edge.

On bad days, you couldn’t tolerate Steve being anywhere in the loft. He’d come to visit after his recovery, and you were relieved to know there was no permanent damage from the Winter Soldier’s brutality. But when the demon side of you reared its head around Steve, he couldn’t stay. That part of you saw him as a threat, as competition, the prize being Bucky himself. It made you feel sick for hours afterwards, but Bucky was always patient and understanding.

On those days, the bad ones, the part of you that wasn’t entirely human had a stronger hold than the rest of you, and it treated everyone but Bucky like a hostile enemy. Those days were the worst, for both of you. Bucky couldn’t get close enough to offer you any comfort, and you couldn’t ask for it. You missed him so much it physically hurt, but when he approached, your body acted on instincts you didn’t understand, and you couldn’t stop yourself from running and hiding.

On a good day when you could be approached, Strange and Wong visited to conduct a round of new tests. Unlike the previous ones where nothing of interest had happened, it seemed that every instrument that touched you now either lit up like Times Square, or it simply exploded in their hands.

So much for being a magical dead battery.

Strange explained your “condition” and you tried to focus as best you could, still unable to talk and ask questions, even though you could technically write them down. Bucky asked plenty, keeping an eye on you in case you reacted unpredictably as you sometimes did. You were still a little too feral for Bucky to leave alone for long, a fact that was deeply shameful but you couldn’t do anything about. You prayed this wasn’t your new normal.

According to Strange, you were actually very gifted with magic, and all his previous tests had been wrong. Something to do with you suppressing your magic in your childhood—you didn’t really understand most of what he said—but he did know why you looked the way you did. In order to survive the harsh conditions of the demon realm, you’d absorbed some of the natural energy of the planet in order to “adapt.” Essentially, you’d become a pseudo-demon.

Strange was unsure if the changes were permanent, because this type of magic was incredibly advanced and should have been well beyond what a novice like you could achieve.

Bucky was handling the news better than you were, even though you becoming a demon had to be his worst nightmare. So when he looked at you as if he was scared you might break or vanish, you ignored the wizards in the room and melded yourself to Bucky’s side.

He didn’t move for a moment, but before you could pull away, Bucky put a hand around your shoulders and petted your hair. You sighed and melted into him further. He was as warm and solid as he always was, his earthy scent creating a familiar tingle in your stomach—

“Ahem.”

You looked up, blinking, having forgotten all about the wizards. Wong was giving you a frown that reminded you of a scolding schoolteacher, while Strange was trying to suppress an amused look.

“We’ll leave you to it, then,” Strange said as he stood from the couch. Wong followed him to the middle of the room where there was enough room to create a portal back to the Sanctum.

Strange’s innuendo was wasted; as soon as the wizards departed, that glimpse of your old self vanished, and you were back to hiding under the bed. You heard Bucky’s heavy sigh, but he didn’t say anything. He never did. He simply waited with saintly patience for you to eventually come out.

It didn’t hit you, how hard all of this was for him, until later that night.

You’d just woken from a nap to find the lights left off, the room dark and the snowy city glittering outside the clock face windows. You crawled out from under the bed and glanced around, ears perked when you couldn’t find Bucky in his usual spots. He wasn’t in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or in his study.

You craned your head back to look at the staircase spiraling around the elevator shaft, leading to the empty belfry. It was the last place to look.

Walking on your hands and feet, crouched over like an animal, you ascended the staircase on near-silent footsteps. The temperature dropped with each twist of the stairs, and you shivered despite your fur, still getting used to the late winter chill.

Pausing on the staircase, you peeked your head above the landing and froze at the sight of the bent figure. Wings draped along his back, his tail curled around his feet, Bucky sat on his haunches while staring at something in his hands.

It took you a minute to place the object, and when you remembered, it hit you like a train.

Bucky was holding an old, scruffy, stripped grey tabby. The animus. The thing that had bound you to him, and the last time he’d held it in his hands you’d nearly gone out of your mind with desire.

And now you felt… no different than you had before. The bond was gone, and the toy was just a toy.

Your ears folded back, your chest aching so deeply you could hardly breathe. Bucky didn’t appear any happier. Moonlight poured in front the old windows above his head, painting a lonely, melancholy picture.

Bucky pulled the toy against his chest, shoulders slumping forward, and he took a shaking breath. You froze, listening intently, and crushing guilt washed over you when his breathing hitched again.

Bucky was silently crying.

Your descent down the stairs would have felt like fleeing if you hadn’t been completely numb with horror. You had done this to Bucky. You’d driven him to hide his pain, only releasing it when he thought you wouldn’t know.

Tail between your legs, literally and mentally, you crawled into the bathroom and shut the door. Hesitating, you turned on the lights and rose to your feet to unwillingly look in the mirror. You’d tried to avoid it as much as you could, only catching glimpses in the window and reflective surfaces.

You looked the same as you had in the demon realm. Grey-blue fur, cat-like ears and tail, curled horns, and slitted eyes. Only now did you realize something so ridiculously obvious: you looked a lot like Monster.

You shut your eyes and tried to push the thought of your hobgoblin out of your mind. No one could find him, not at your apartment and not at the Sanctum, and you couldn’t bear the thought you’d never see him again. Strange critter or not, he was family, and you couldn’t imagine losing him on top of everything else.

Gazing back at your reflection, tail twitching behind you, you concentrated. You had no idea what you were doing and that was obvious when after several minutes, nothing happened. You gripped the sink, nails scratching against the metal as you tried harder. You were not going to live out the rest of your life as a goddamn animal.

Try as you might, nothing continued to happen, and you sagged against the sink in defeat. You couldn’t live like this, half-wild and unpredictable. Bucky was a patient as he could be, and it occurred to you he would continue to try to help you no matter the cost to himself. That’s just how he was, selfless to the point of self-destructive.

That, more than anything, got you moving. Thinking of Bucky and what Strange had told you earlier that day, you came up with an idea. It was asking too much of Bucky, but if it worked, maybe he’d be able to forgive you.

Bucky found you sitting cross-legged on the bed when he came down the stairs. His brows rose, clearly not expecting you to be waiting for him, and his gaze dropped to the notepad and marker in your hands. On good days, you could communicate with writing. In a twist of irony, it was the same pad and marker you’d used to talk to him when the heigore had torn up your vocal cords and the sorcerers had silenced you to recover.

As soon as he appeared on the staircase you started scribbling, and as he approached, you scooted over and patted the covers next to you. When Bucky sat, a couple feet from you with careful movements, you held up the pad. He read it.

“You need… a favor from me?”

You nodded, wrote again, and underlined it twice.

“A big favor.”

You nodded again, sharp nails curling around the pad as you tried to quell your nerves.

“Okay.” He eyed you carefully. “What kind of favor?”

You couldn’t blame Bucky for his cautiousness. Besides communicating the bare minimum to him, this was the first time you’d held any kind of conversation since he’d rescued you from a very literal Hell. Guilt continued to twist up your insides, but you pressed onward.

The next words you wrote took far longer than it should have, considering there were only two. You stared at them for a moment, your fur slowly puffing up. Bucky was watching, his expression growing more concerned by the second.

“Hey, you can tell me, whatever it is,” Bucky said. He moved a little closer, and you flinched. His expression was immediately regretful, but it wasn’t what he thought at all.

Before you lost your nerve, you held up the pad and quickly looked away.

Bucky didn’t repeat the words you’d scrawled on the paper. Instead, he gave out a croaked, “What?”

You pulled back the pad and stared down at the words you’d written.

Fuck me.

Next Chapter

[wingsoffireaus]

Winter is an Animus AU Part One

Okay bear with me this is going to be a weird one that has kept wiggling at me. I’m gonna come out and say it. Prince Arctic being the last animus makes no sense. If we look at the sea wings they clearly just pop up at random in the generations. (I have no idea how genetics work but that what seems to be going on.)  So did the icewings just give up and go well Arctic was our last. I guess we’re not testing them anymore LOL. So my personal theory is that there were Animus but they somehow never realized it or kept it hidden for some personal reason or another.

Anyway this idea kept niggling at me and just begged me to at least write at least a brief summary for it.

 Winter was two years old when he first remembered disappointing his parents. But it also just so happened to be the first time he had ever impressed his parents as well.

The polar bear hunt goes the same as canon up until being confronted by his parents.

Icicle begins to tease him about letting the bear escape when some small part of winter snaps and he point at her and orders her to “stop talking”

Icicles mouth continues to move but nothings coming out. She almost drops her kill when she reaches up to grasp at her throat

They all stare at her for a moment before turning their eyes back to winter who is staring at his sister in shock.

For a moment he thinks shes just doing it to mess with him but it doesn’t seem like a trick his sister would usually do pretending to stop talking and she looks genuinely looks horrified.

His father talks to him and Winter must be mistaken because he could swear there was a small bit of amazement and perhaps a dash of fear in his fathers eyes.

His father tells him to tell Icicle that she can speak and so he does it.

Icicle makes a choked sound and babbles almost brokenly she’s looking at Winter with something new in her eyes and Winter realizes that it’s fear.

Narwhal and Tundra are as close to  beaming as he had ever seen.

They speak almost kindly to him when they ask him to order a piece of ice to rise up into his talons and watches in fascination when it does so.

His uncle had come closer and had almost dropped from the sky when he witnesses.

He is immediately rushed back to the palace. Protectively surrounded by his parents and his uncle takes the lead. Icicle is forced to the back clutching her much less impressive catch in her claws.

Winter follows along almost in a trance clenching and unclenching his claws. Was there a slight tingle of power in them that he only noticed just now?

He is brought to the queen and is met with a great celebration. He is the one chosen to sit next to the queen at the feast. Icicle doesn’t even show up claiming that she wasn’t feeling well. They all dig into her polar bear without her.

After this Winter’s life is both easier and harder

Easier because he now has his parents attention for the most part positive although he can tell they wish it had been Icicle or that he would have been hatched as a female.

Now he has the best tutors and is looked up to and admired by the younger dragonets as well as being automatically moved up to the first ring. 

However now that he has the attention he can never escape it which means he is always followed by someone since he is the first known animus in the tribe in two thousand years. Protecting him is number one concern!

Which is what leads to Hailstorm taking him out on the expedition to find a scavenger den and leads to him being captured. 

About the same canon reactions except the judgement is harsher on Hailstorm for putting Winter in danger more than anything else. Winter is knocked down like maybe one or two ranks but his spot at the top just due to his abilities keeps him firmly up there.

Winter wants to use his powers to get Hailstorm back but is strictly forbidden due to the rule of one spell to help the entire tribe. Not a single solitary dragon.

This of course causes Winter to have even more guilt and anguish than even in canon since he could technically get Hailstorm back with a flick of his tail.

Everything else happens according to canon. The DoD end the war and Hailstorm is believed to be killed by the Nightwings.

Queen Glacier sends Winter to Jade Academy which shocks all of her advisors but she know he needs time away to try and heal (I feel like this is somewhat canon. She seemed like a kinder Queen than the others and also seemed sympathetic towards Winter in Winter Turning) 

Also remember in this AU Winter and Glacier have spent more time around another and have become closer. She becomes a bit more of a maternal figure to him. 

He still gets Bandit because I have a morbid sense of humor and humans as pets never fail to make me laugh,

Things happen at the academy as they did in Moon Rising. However when they finally figure out Icicles plot she is even more bitter towards Winter about Hailstorms loss saying things like he could have saved him anytime yadayada.

After this point it gets a little tricky. When I originally came up with this AU I hadn’t finished the series so there is some definitive things that would be heavily effected. But that’s also what’s so much fun about AUs.

That’s actually where I’m going to stop this for now. This AU is way larger than I expected but it is a lot of fun to write for. However as it goes on I’ve realized there is many different ways it can branch out which will need some planning out but I think it would be a really fun project to plan out.  I apologize if anything doesn’t make sense as this is pretty much just the bare essential notes for this AU and you can see how my brain jumps around to way too many different ideas. Hopefully you all still enjoyed it! And please let me know if anyone has any ideas for future AUs for me to write about or even ideas for this AU I would love to hear them! Thanks again and see you next time!

[creednight]

Death with Dignity

Inspired by the song of the same name by Sufjan Stevens. The meaning doesn’t exactly fit, but the song just makes me feel so many emotions. Inspired by this post!!  It’s really long, just a warning, and angsty. I love afterlife stuff and will probably do more for this, but I wanted to get this one out. Also, as a point of reference, Edward is the age he is in AC 4, Haytham: AC3, Ezio: Revelations, Connor: Post AC3 and Altair AC 1. 

The buzzing stopped moments after it started, but Desmond’s body still feels like it’s vibrating. He remembers lights and a searing heat traveling up his arm, a loud booming sound, the buzzing and now this silence. 

Are his eyes open? Yes, it’s just dark. 

“H-hello?” he calls out into the black sea while walking forward. 

Walking? He glances down to see his body in his usual garb, that’s a relief. Is this Heaven? Hell? Do Assassins go to a special in between?

Up ahead he spots a white light and makes his way towards it. The sound of footsteps fades in and the light seems to rush towards him. He shields himself, bringing his arms up as he’s engulfed by light and warmth. 

Once again, he opens his eyes and is met with a garden. It looks familiar, a memory nags at the back of his head as he steps around the rows of crops towards a house on the other side of the field. He feels a sense of warmth bloom in his chest as he approaches.

The house is two stories built with some kind of light brown stones with an old wooden pergola attached to one side of the house. Desmond recognizes this style from Ezio’s memories. It hits him like a train and he stumbles into one of the support beams of the pergola. 

“Easy there, mate,” a voice calls as a body flanks Desmond’s side.  He glances up into the blue eyes of a blond man and frowns. “God?” The man barks a laugh and pats his back hard. “Nah, I’m more like the devil ‘imself actually.” “Who are you then? Where the hell am I?” Desmond stands up and takes a step away from this man. He stares at him longer, watching as the man’s blue eyes grow soft looking at him. Realization dawns on him and he exhales. “You’re the pirate.” “Aye, I’m Edward Kenway, captain of the Jackdaw,” he puts out a hand. When Desmond takes it he pulls him in and wraps an arm around his neck with one arm and ruffles his hair with the other. “An’ you’re Desmond, ain’t ye? We’ve been waitin’ for ya!”

“Wait what?” Desmond takes a step back, his arms up as if to hold Edward in place. “I’m dead, right?”

“Aye, thas’ right,” Edward nods as if it should be obvious.

“Then where am I? What do you mean ‘we’?”

Waving his arm inwards, Edward grins at the boy. “Come on, you’ll see. Yes, you are dead, but you’re home now.”

“Home?”

There’s no reply as Desmond is brought around the house to an open courtyard with a large table set and full of food. Music plays from somewhere in the background and suddenly Desmond doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. The burning pain he felt moments ago, the buzzing he heard is all gone. It almost feels like the animus...

“Ah, Desmond,” a deep voice calls.

Desmond turns to see a younger than expected Haytham, maybe in his thirties at this point, dressed in Assassin’s attire despite his turnover later in life. For a second, Desmond feels bitter, after having been through Connor’s life; it’s a struggle to be able to face this Kenway. Haytham holds out his hand and offers a wry smile.

“I understand your emotions, but what’s done is done,” he reasons and then grins when Desmond accepts his hand. “We’re here now.”

“I’ll think about it,” the younger assassin shrugs his shoulder before turning to see another figure show up. This time he grins and sticks his hand out. “Ratonhnhaketon, it’s an honor.”

The Native American smiles at Desmond, his hair is longer and pull back out of his face. He looks much older than his twenties and is dressed in his traditional assassin’s robes. His girth is intimidating close up and Desmond fully understands why some Templars shrank away from him in the Animus.

“The honor is mine,” Connor shakes his hand then reaches up to grasp his shoulder and pull him closer to the table. “There are plenty of people here to meet you.”

“Oh?” Desmond feels himself relax and more figures begin to appear in the courtyard.

He recognizes some from the database, other people his ancestors knew, other assassin’s who have made their mark in the Brotherhood. Others he doesn’t, he never did read too much into the database, preferring to just use what was needed. Man, he wishes Shaun and Rebecca were here...

“Why the long face?” Connor pauses in his tracks when Desmond’s face crumples up a fraction.

“M-my friends... my dad...” he stammers and wipes at his face with the heel of his hand. “I did this to protect them a-and...”

“It’s alright, lad,” Edward comes up on Desmond’s left and offers him a pat on the back. “We all understand the sacrifices you put in and what ya lost along the way. It’s going to hurt for a while, it’ll get better.”

With a nod, Desmond shakes off the grief to make it through this strange party. Connor resumes in bringing him over when a tall, not taller than Connor, figure comes up. He recognizes the man and nearly falls to his knees.

Ezio Auditore dressed in the robes from his time in Masyaf, gazes at Desmond with a slight smile and bright eyes. The two gaze at each other, Desmond cannot fathom this moment. Having relieved this man’s memories for so long, dealing with his pain and his happiness, so much so he couldn’t tell himself apart from him makes this moment so surreal. Finally, the italian reaches up with both hands and grasps Desmond’s shoulders.

“For all those years I never understood that message, you were the one,” his voice is deep and it rattles Desmond. “It is nice to finally meet you, Desmond. Desmond, it’s you.”

“E-ezio...” Desmond is speechless and damn he hates himself for it. What kind of man is he? “Shit. I don’t know what to say.”

Ezio’s booming laughter fills the courtyard. “Come sit, we will find the words together.”

Ezio takes the spot across from Desmond with Connor sitting on the younger man’s left and Edward on his right. One by one the crowd takes a seat and Desmond watches as the table fits everyone comfortably as they converse with one another. He gazes at all the faces in awe.

“I’m not related to everyone here am I?” he wonders out loud.

“Not necessarily,” Ezio explains while piling some food on his plate. “These are all of those in and associated with the Brotherhood...”

“Federico? Claudia? Is that Petruccio?” Desmond feels his heart ache at the sight of Ezio’s family. He remembers the depression he went through trying to sift through Ezio’s grief that was messing with his head. The deaths of the Italian’s brothers and father haunted him for a long time.

Ezio grins as his family materializes on his left, Desmond’s right. They grin at him, all of them looking more mature than when he last saw them. Federico wasn’t frozen in his early twenties from his death. He’s grown into a man, strong jaw, five o’clock shadow and elegant hair. He’s supposed to be older than Ezio, but his appearance is that of a thirty year old.

Petruccio is in his twenties, he’s still got his boyish looks about him, but it’s charming. Obviously an Auditore with that smile and lean muscled build. He would have made a fine assassin had he lived.

Claudia had grown up in the Brotherhood, her eyes are sharp and focused. Her lips, even while curled into a smile is dangerous. She’s beautiful and dressed in a deep red dress with cream ribbons in her hair.

“I see the Auditore genes run strong in your family,” Ezio comments with a grin, eyeing Desmond’s beard.

The young man raises a brow. “I mean, I did get some girls in my time too.”

“Unfortunately, he is most like you, Brother,” Claudia snorts.

“Nonsense, he clearly looks like me,” another voice interrupts and Desmond whips his head up to see Altair standing there with Maria Thorpe at his side and their two sons behind them.

Everyone at the table greets the new arrivals with a slight bow of their heads and smiles. Desmond stands up, unable once again to find the words when faced with Altair. He’s gonna punch himself in the face for being this fucking stupid in front of his ancestors. Who is he? Shaun?

“Look at his face, Altair,” Ezio gestures to him. “Clearly me.”

“His eyes,” Altair gestures while grinning at Desmond. “Me.”

“You all look the same,” Connor butts in with a flat tone.

This diffuses the argument as laughter bursts around the entire table. Desmond takes a seat as Altair and his family fills in the spot on the other side of Ezio. Dinner commences then and while Desmond has a long path of grief to go along he can’t help but feel good being surrounded by all his ancestors. They’ve been through the war he just got out of, they’ve seen the horrors and felt the losses. He’s here with them now and he can only wait and see what comes next.

[acrouge-walkintwoworlds]

Walk in Two Worlds: Chapter #12

Incoming message

Holy Hell, to has been a long time! Sorry we haven’t reached you sooner friend, we had to loose out scent for months due to a series of events. Seemed Bishop and Griffon have been in need of extra assistance for my scholarly works of the two new animus machines that Abstergo had produced. We even have been gathering witness from survivors of the “imprisonment of one of the private research centers in the southwest close to the Mexican/American border.

So now with Abstergo focused on more problems related to Hurricane Harvey destroying a warehouse that destroyed the newest research plans; fortunately, our spies and trusted allies have already scanned the plans as Harvey was in vain trying to push it’s citizens out of the city.

God. Those poor souls…

But, we must be brief. I’m glad your well, as far as I can tell. I could be wrong. Regardless, I’ve managed to steal not only a bit of the Katie Shepard files, but a bit of the Hellen Patterson files as well. I suppose after the last session of the memory of Katie’s birthday, Abstergo probably thought that Katie would be of little use. So those memories have been collecting cyber dust for the months we’ve been absent. Until that Norwegian bastard gets o our track, we get into the files of these women. Probably Hellen’s files should be played first since Abstergo probably hasn’t figured out her connection yet.

End of Message

__________________

The smell of cooked beans and smoked game filtered the air. Hellen was begging in her mind to have a whiskey now more then ever, as one of Jame’s men stitched the wound from her arm.

“From the maps I read, this creek, Brushy Creek comes from the Missouri river. So you should be safer riding along upstream.” Hellen turned her horse as Frank pointed the other boys the direction of the creek. “Hold on.”  Hellen turned in her saddle, and Jesse threw a flask and a small leather purse from his saddle bag towards Hellen. She caught it, and looked to see a sum of cash, and opened the flask to smell the rich wooden smell of whiskey. “I know it’s not Irish tradition, but Kansas City can make the finest.” James tipped his hat towards her. “Consider this even, for ridding our trail from those men.” “Here here.” Hellen replied before taking a shot’s worth down her throat.  

“Jesse, I know you have a family to look after, but you need to flee Kansas City. With you coming out of “retirement”, they will follow every suspicion leading to you and Frank’s family. “Hmm.” Jesse rubbed his chin in thought. “Saint Joseph would be the closet to train routes. Better consider that before my little ones question their daddy more.” “Come to think of it, ain’t you suppose to be keeping an eye on those gals of yours up in Montana?” Frank asked, eating a chunk of deer liver. Hellen shook her head and smiled, “Maggie could handle the Dusty Rose just fine.” Some of the men chuckled and one of them with a thick southern accent commented, “Sure right y’all. Considering how the “Virgin Madame” can go in and out without men missing her. You know how much money men would pay for ya.” “Oh sure, a skinny little undercover assassin with a torn up ear and a temper of a bobcat, that also takes in being a madame and a bounty hunter is worth getting money for.”

When Hellen finished her meal, she saddled her horse and packed her saddle bags, including the manuscript’s pages safely in her boot as well. “Hellen.” Frank called out. “Keep an eye over your shoulder. They say that this, McGriffon is in for your head.” Hellen shook her head, understanding what Frank was talking about. “That bastard will have to catch me first. But thanks.” Hellen spurred her stallion around as she headed south towards the settlement of Kearney.

_____________________________-

That’s it for that memory I’m afraid. It seems more out of pace since the DNA sample was old. But it’s enough to get ’’s bloodhounds in a different source of data while you contain Katie’s memories in the USB files. I will say though, things are getting more epic as Katie goes further in this mess she’s in.

End of Message

Chapter #12

August 9th, 1757 River Valley, New York

With her hidden blades upon her wrists and her mind full of awareness, Katie followed Liam as the scouted the wooden areas of the River Valley. The past four months had been one of mass effects of complications among the assassins. For one, one of their traders who was also a hidden informant was mysteriously killed with any identification of the culprit going into the other side with him.

Following with hearing an enraged and frustrated Hope as she had to explain to Achilles that many of the factories that carried explosives and gases that were to be of use against the templars through her gangs were involved in a mass explosion. And to make matters worse, she never received the results of an experiment she was involved with Benjamin Franklin when they were suppose to meet. Katie unfortunately was the one who found out that she saw Dr. Franklin aboard a ship for Philadelphia at the hour of the meeting that he was suppose to meet.

A month prior, when Achilles summoned Katie to the homestead, he and Liam made the decision that Katie was ready for in field work and presented her the last set of robes that Miss Abigale ever made before the fever both claimed her and Connor. She was also presented with a pair of hidden blades that were obviously an upgrade with a new rope dart and a lever that made the made shirt into a dagger with a turn of the index. Katie could of sworn that she saw Liam beamed with pride underneath the seriousness he had to place when in presence of the mentor.

Liam and Katie then boarded upon a ship to reach the River Valley, where she aided in the fight, and to help heal the wounded natives and french soldiers that joined the fight. the Abenaki allies, lead by French General lLouis-Joseph de Montcalm plotted to ambush the Colonel and his men as they retreated from their own fort. Katie never really paid attention to the war, nor knew the reason for the war. All she knew that it involved the french and the iritis crown and the subjects of dear King Georgie. The only detail that she did pay attention to was the fact that Kesegowaase decided to use this to his advantage and led the attack in the hopes of assassinating Monro. As the Native assess in left, Katie felt a quick breath as she realized, that the Colornal would die this day. Liam placed a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to see Liam giving a nod and a light grip as to say, “I know what your thinking.” before talking to a few other master assassins. But Katie diverted herself by aidding the soldiers, even though her body was lacking from wash and lack of sleep.

“Hold still!” She scolded on a young soldier, who’s arm was bleeding aggressively after a musket ball rested in it. “Can’t help it miss. Hursts like hell!” The young soldier complained. “The only thing you’ll be complain about is the lack of one if you don’t stand still.” Katie’s eyes hardened with concentration as she pressed the wounds hard as she wrapped it. Liam was looking upon a map upon a larger man shift table of trees and bark. He peeked around only to chuckle when seeing Katie’s struggle with the lad.

He must think I’m a gesture wrestling a snake. Katie thought as she finished tying the wraps upon the arm. The lad thanked her and went to his comrades in arms. It was by then, a series of shouts caught her attention.

Two french soldiers were assisting Kesegowaase, the native assassin was barely keeping his head up as his feet dragged on the ground. His long braids covered his face, and Katie could see upon the tanned deer skin shirt a trail of blood. Katie called out to Liam as they ran towards their comrades.

“Heavens above and below, what happened?” Katie asked, looking upon the assassin’s scared and bloodied face that indicated that he was close to an explosion.

Liam turned to Katie, “Do you have anything that could ease the pain?” Katie nodded, straightened herself upright and ran to her saddlebags. She pulled out various salves, herbs, and cloths into a larger cloth. She barked at a french soldier to fetch a pale of water from the stream and pour some in the cast-iron pot in the cook fire ring.

The two assassin’s assisted the wounded native against a tree. Liam lifted Kasogwase’s head slowly. The assassin’s face as Katie examined the damage further. The face was blistered and reddened with burns accompanying with cut skin from possible shards of wood, some streams of blood went down upon the master assassin’s face. the skin was so inflated that Katie could feel the heat through the dampen cloth as she cleaned his face. As she preformed her work, Liam asked the native warrior again, “What the hell happened to you? Surely Monro didn’t set this, he’s too…”  

“He lives! He’d survived! And now…he has sided with the templars!”

Katie nearly dropped the salve container, her eyes widened like a doe being exposed. Kesegowaase saw him?! She had to focus on her work, keeping her eyes focused on the possible second degree burns on the master assassin’s face. She prayed to God silently that no one would noticed the panic upon her face, especially Kasogwase. But she had to know.

“Who?” Katie asked, trying to hide the desperation in her voice and face.

The native coughed a moment before a scarp answer filtered by pain joined with anger. “Shay…”

Katie dared to look at the Liam with the corner of her eye as her master’s face widened with surprise. “What?” He breathed a pained whisper that made Hellen froze in place.

Deciding to play the dumb card, Katie was brave enough in an innocent curiosity asked, “Shay? Wasn’t that the name of the assassin who…”

“I need a moment with Kasogwase Katie! Please…just…tend to the others. I’ll let you know what is happening when we figure this out.” Liam’s face was torn betweenez surprise and anger. A look that made Katie feel frightened, as if she came across a sleeping predator. Yet, she nodded and turned to tend to the other wounded soldiers.

As Katie worked, she talked to the soldiers, asking them what happened. One of them finally explained that Kasogwase ranged an open attack on Monro, disputes the fact than Mancaul offered Monro and the British terms of surrender. Then as they chased after the Colonial and his men with the lone man, assumedly Shay in Katie’s mind, hand shot a barrel fun of gun power to the native and his men. Katie felt sick as she heard these stories. Not at the fact that Shay is truly capable of harm; yet she began to see a matter that had been bugging her for years that she needed to discuss Liam with before addressing the mentor.

Later that evening, Katie was staring upon the fire writing hard, yet hesitant. As she wrote her reports for Achilles, Katie’s thoughts and fears were crashing upon her mind. Why would Shay turn on one of his own? Former own now. This was not the man she’d known he could be capable of! Of course, Shay never expects the idea of Katie an assassin; therefore, Katie knew that her life and the brotherhood’s depended on her keeping her secrets contained.

Liam walked up towards the fire and sat right next to her. He handed her a long strip of dried deer meat. She took it with a thanks, and chewed on the gamey meat. Liam looked up into the night sky, thousands of stars gleamed and glittered. A shooting star made a long trail across the dark canvas, until it disappeared into the darkness. Liam smiled, he knew what to wish for from what Katie saw. He looked at the corner of his eye to see Katie chewing the meat, and writing the reports. Her hair glowed redder by the flames. Resulting in this young woman to be more deadly and dangerously beautiful. Liam took a log and threw it in the middle of the fire. It was also a diversion from the thoughts and feelings that resulted after learning about Shay.

“I need you to confirm and add your testimony in this report. Most of the soldiers only gave me the logical of what happened.” Katie lifted her eyes and turned to look at her master. “So will you please tell me what in the Almighty one’s name is going on?” Liam’s eyes closed as he rubbed them with his two fingers. He nodded and explained to her what happened as the soldiers proclaimed, and after conferment from Kasogwase and a few scouts, that Shay Cormac, a man that Liam had grieved for over a year now is alive and standing. Bearing a templar uniform that was too familiar to him. “Katie, I need to ask you a hard question. Was your cousin buried in a long black leather jacket?” Liam looked hard upon Katie. Blue eyes meeting with green. Without thinking she answered, “Yes. Well I’m not sure. It was a closed casket service at the funeral, so I can’t say for sure. Why?”

Liam sighed and shook his head. “Sorry Katie. I assumed that…it’s late…you should get some sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. I’ll finish the report. We need to inform the Abenaki elders as well. Seemed we even lost some warriors as well”  He took the parchment and scroll from Katie ands and nodded as she lifted herself up. As she turned and walked away, Liam called her out her name. She turned and looked at the man. “What you did out there…we need that same amount of integrity and swift every moment, even in battle.” It was as close to a compliment as she could get from Liam at this point. Katie nodded and made her way to the bed roll where they’d camp. As she drifted to sleep with a pistol near by, Katie silently offered a prayer for guidance and for Shay’s safety.

[delightfullydismal]

Travis Touchdown x Holly Summers

     An old man looked out the sandy shores of Santa Destroy. Just yesterday it had been clean, without a soda can or burger wrapper to tarnish its porcelain sand. Now, all he could see was barbwire fencing and giant metal stars. He didn't have a name for them, but he recalled seeing the same ones in "Saving Private Ryan" as they stormed the beaches on D-Day. He thought they looked like oversized children's jacks.      "Those damn assassins and their pitiful games," He shook his heads, "Just a bunch of millennials that need to grow up and get real jobs." Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a group of heavily armed men. Men armored like a S.W.A.T. unit, but with black camo print. <Bunch of nancy boys> the old man thought. It didn't matter what loon they sent to fight these goons, the goons always got their limbs sliced off and ended up bleeding all over the damn place.

     "Bravo team in position, awaiting the signal from Mother Goose." He heard one of them speak into his earpiece.      "Hey!" the old man called out. One of the S.W.A.T. members turned his head up to the boardwalk. "Yes, you. You know he's gonna fucking gut your sorry ass. Probably bleed enough out of you to turn the damn ocean red. How much are they paying you for this shit? It can't possibly be enough sonny boy."      The military man may have found time to reply with some sort of quip, had Travis' beam katana not just cleaved the poor goon's head from his shoulders. A fountain of blood then erupted from his neck. Travis held his stance; He was not the least bit sick of bathing in blood. The other S.W.A.T. members charged at him like a stampede of bulls blindly charging at the sight of a Matador's cape. With a flurry of slashes Travis mowed down the onslaught of goons. More S.W.A.T. came with their guns drawn. and ready; They too were cut down. As Travis shook the blood from his beam katana, a voice chided him from above.      "Damn nancy boy, get off my beach!" The old man continued to shout from the pier, now that the killing had momentarily ended. "This ain't a damn theme park for sociopaths! Take you're homicidal rage and silly dick waving somewhere else!"      "Dick waving?" Travis Touchdown said sarcastically, not the least bit phased by the old man's scolding. "Old Man, a true killer doesn't carry a sword to flaunt what he has. Its about what he takes." Travis kicked the sand off his shoe with the tip of his katana, and then pointed the blade menacingly at the old man. "And right about now, I'd say I'm a second away from taking that blathering head off of your scrawny little neck!"      "So you do have a tiny pecker! Knew it!" The old man shouted back.      "Wha-" Travis said as he began waving his hands in distress. He had just realized that his blonde accomplice and perpetual antagonizer, Sylvia, was making her way up the beach to him. Given the playful smirk her luscious pink lips were making, she had obviously overheard the old man's ravings. "You've got it all wrong!" Travis pleaded.      "You've got a tiny pecker, sure as dirt! I've seen your type. You wear them 'animu' shirts with the slutty cartoon girls on them cuz all you want to do is play with some cartoon girls' boobies. Get a real job ya bum!" The old man finished mocking Travis and went on his merry way.      "Oh, poor Travis. Did the old man not like you leaving a mess on his beach? I think he shouldn't be saying such awful things about your "little private". I'm sure he's very cute and adorable." Sylvia began to coo over Travis' package, going so far as to assertively cup his pants. Travis quickly put several feet between himself and Sylvia, pushing her hand aside in the process.      "I don't have time for games, I came here to win. So the target, who is she?"      Sylvia ignored Travis, pulling out her compact mirror to freshen up her face. Travis tapped his foot, growing tired of being led along like a mutt on a leash. Sylvia made sure her eyelashes were seductively long and black before looking up at Travis and addressing the question she had been given.      "The association does not share that info Travis. Not for the Sixth Ranked Assassin, at least." Sylvia replied.      "And why is that?" Travis continued, visibly annoyed.      "She pays good money. Loose lips sink ships. All that bullshit." Sylvia gave up trying to explain the finer points of her job to Travis as she heard him give a long sigh. "Look, Mister Hot Shit: Did you come here to mingle? Take a walk on the beach? See the big blue ocean with those wide puppy dog eyes?" Travis shook his head. "I did not think so." Sylvia added, her tone a bit softer. "Your target is just ahead, at the northernmost side of the beach. I suggest you bring a change of pants, no?"      "Won't need them." Travis said as he lifted his beam katana. "Tell the clean up crew to get ready. This ones going to be messy."

     "UAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH" The last of the goons fell to his knees. He resembled more of a heap of blood and guts now than living person. Travis tread lightly, making sure not to step over any of the damn mines that had littered the beach. He didn't need to walk far though, he could already see his target.      "Do you know," The short haired woman before him began before turning to face him,"what it is like to feel true fear."      Travis looked her up and down. Her shorts and camo top were both cut deliciously low. A shame about the tits though, at best they were B Cups, and that was being generous. Still, he'd give her an 7 out of 10. An 8 maybe he thought as he admired her strong Russian affect and features, he did have a soft spot for Soviet Sexpots.      "I wouldn't know, I've never felt fear." Travis replied.      "Never? Not even in the countless times where you've faced death. Not even when you've robbed life from others, watching it drain from their eyes." The woman continued to rant. She was taking her sweet time with this. If only she'd get to the damn point.      "I don't ever think about death. And I'd suggest you spend less time spouting off about it too. People die. People kill People. If you spend to much time thinking about it, you're likely to die yourself." Travis was getting sick of shooting the shit. Number Six was still enjoying their battle of wits, however.      "Sympathy?" The black haired girl chuckled. She brought a hand from behind her, revealing a couple of grenades. "That's sweet of you my little tulip. You really are as green as they come, so adorable."      "Enough!" Travis sprinted at the dark haired assassin with his sword raised over his head. Halfway to reaching her, he felt the ground give out from beneath him. He fell almost twenty feet before landing flat on his ass. "Goddamn..." Travis said as he rubbed his sore back. He was so busy ignoring his opponents idle banter that he had forgotten to watch his step.      "Silly little tulip. Enjoy the flower bed I've dug for you." Travis looked up in time to see a black dot above him, whistling as it fell. It landed in his lap with a thud. He picked up the foreign object and instinctively dropped it the moment he realized what it was.      "Shit!" Travis cried out a second too late. The grenade exploded and sent him flying several feet upward inside the sand pit before tossing him ass up in the grit. He spat sand from his mouth.      "Oh Travis, if you're still alive can you do me a small favor. Catch!"      "BITCH!!!" Travis shouted as he tried to claw his way out of the pit in time, only to be smacked in the head by several lobbed grenades. He quickly ran up the collapsing wall of the pit and dug his fingers into the unstable precipice of the sand trap. Struggling to pull himself up, he gained a lucky push of moment from the exploding grenades, enough to thrust him out of the hole and once more into a faceful of sand.      Number Six shook her head. "Oh little tulip, you certainly can take a beating can't you?" <God> Six's heart melted to butter as she watched this adorable hunk shake off mortal wounds like they were just playful punches. She bit her thumb to suppress the urge to let out a moan. <Fuck. He's too dumb to just die, and too handsome to live. I'd better kill him now before this overgrown ape gets any cuter>. Travis knelt on one knee, putting his weight on his sword to stabilize himself. "You know, if you weren't such a ruthless killer, I'd almost say I liked you." Travis grunted as he felt several broken ribs scream in protest.

     "Oh, do you mean 'like' like?" Six teased.

     "You know, I take that back. Right about now, I'd say I've got a hard on for you THIS BIG!" Travis charged at the clever Ruskie. He smirked as he closed in for the killing blow, his opponent hadn't even armed another explosive, how careless.

     *THAWP*      Travis buckled to the ground, having just felt the cold caress of Six's metal leg burying itself into his weak man flesh with several tons of pneumatic force.       "You...bitch..." Travis reeled on the ground. He was simply too weak to fight. Six had already claimed her victory over him, now she was just flaunting it.      "Tsk tsk, do you need me to give you an ice pack? Maybe a bit of heat would do better." Travis felt a gentle hand on his cheek. He could see Six looking down on him, kneeling down to comfort him. "What good is an assassin that can't kill a man... don't tell me you've gotten soft on me Six."      "Mm... maybe I just wanted a taste of your blade." Travis could feel his belt unfasten as Six shoved her hand under his pants. "You wouldn't deny me such a simple pleasure, not in exchange for your life?" Travis smiled. This was perfect.      "My Master *cough* taught me exactly how to handle beautiful women like you." Travis said in a sultry voice.

      "Oh, was he a ladies man?" Six asked.

      "Not exactly." Travis replied. He quickly kicked Six in the chest, using her recoil as an opportunity to spin her around and put her in a full nelson. In one quick motion he flipped her backwards over his head, pile-driving Six into the sand.      Six was light headed, dizzy. She eventually came to moments later only to find Travis now over her body. "Someone looks happy to see me." Six said as she once again reached for Travis' rather large tent. Travis would have protested, had he realized what Six was groping was not his flesh. Before he could think he immediately tore off and flung his pants. Before they hit the ground the pair of grenades tucked inside the groin exploded and tore his jeans to shreds.       "Fuck. Not looking forward to that conversation..." Travis muttered to himself. He quickly saved face and turned to Six, who was too dizzy to pick herself up off the ground. His katana was held steady, and pointed at her face.      "This is how it ends, my tulip." Six looked up at him. Her eyes were steady, she feared nothing. Travis paused. In that moment, Six saw his weakness. "You can't kill a woman. Pathetic. How can you call yourself a killer." Travis stared back into Six's tiger-like eyes. If he let Six go, he could not expect to sleep tonight knowing that he was Sixth in rank. He may not be able to sleep at all.      "So tell me, Lucky number Six, why you'd rather die here than live to kill again. I told you I don't fear death, Six. I don't plan to die soon either. What makes you so eager."      "Maybe..." Six began. "Maybe I want to die before I lose..."      "Lose?" Travis scratched his head. "Lose what? Your rank?"      Travis immediately found his ears being assaulted by a cacophonous sound. The sand of the beach flew in every direction and filled his nostrils and mouth. When his tears finally cleaned enough sand out of his eyes, he saw an Apache helicopter flying out to sea. Six was nowhere to be seen.      "Well well well, I see you've kept things rather tidy. My boys will be happy to have so little work today." Travis turned his head to see Sylvia stroll up to him. She forcefully shoved a pair of worn denim jeans in his hands. "I suppose I don't need to tell you that I am, as always, right."      Travis looked back out to the ocean. The helicopter was just a black dot in the sky now. Even that dot was slowly fading out of sight.      "You don't want to hide your shame? There is a lady in your presence after all, Travis." Sylvia mocked Travis. Her time with the assassin had been one of the perks of her profession, and she had grown rather fond of the big brute.     "Her name." Travis said coldly.      "Excuse me." Sylvia replied, the question had caught her off guard.      "What was her name." Travis repeated. His sword was lowered at his side, like a flag at half mast.      "Oh." Sylvia regained her sassy composure. "Well, I suppose I don't have to hide that anymore, Mr.Sixth Ranked assassin. Her name was Holly Summers, born in-"      "No. Just her name." Travis interrupted. He took out a wad of cash from his pocket and threw it at Sylvia's feet. "For the pants." He said dryly as he walked down the beach.      "Where are you going? You have an appointment to make Travis. Number five does not have a great deal of patience." Travis replied to these concerns with a dismissive wave of his hand as he continued to walk down the beach.

     Travis arrived halfway down the beach, and dug a hole two feet deep with his hands. He turned off his beam katana and dropped into the hole. He spent the time covering the hole with dirt trying to think of the proper words to say.      "Holly...I'm sorry." He spoke as his fingers dug into the wet sand. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you that I loved your soul. I...I loved you."      Travis knelt by the sand. Was this really over. Was this how the life of an assassin ended. Not with a sword through the chest, or a bullet in the brain, but an arrow to the heart? Travis pulled himself to his feet only to see Sylvia waiting for him.      "You're pulling out already? How typical of a buffoon."      Travis simply nodded in response.      "Well then. As your manager, I have certain powers at my disposal. I don't just arrange these little meet and greets, I'll have you know I can plan all sorts of sorties."      "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Travis replied weakly. Sylvia shoved a manila envelope in his hand. "I don't know, you tell me Mr.Ex-Assassin." Travis opened the folder and scooped out an unassuming black flip phone. He smiled, weakly, and chuckled to himself.      "You know, a manager with your kind of talent is wasting away in a shit job like this." Travis said coolly.      "Your telling me. I'm simply drenched in sweat from being in this infernal beach in stockings and jacket." Travis gave a small chuckle as he watched her brush off the sand from her Jacket. Then Sylvia marched up to Travis and thrust her finger into his chest. Travis winced. "Look here Travis, if you're going to take this seriously I don't want to see any of this three-day-waiting-period bullshit. You wanted to take a walk on the beach, no?" Travis' face lit up with a smile. "Just call her." Sylvia added as she walked off.      Travis went to the contacts list on the phone, and selected the only contact in the address book.      "Hey, I'm sorry about earlier. I know a great pizza place down the street. Pizza and a movie at my place?"      On the other end, the whir of helicopter blades made hearing anything quite impossible. "I...I can't hear you. Text me Travis!"      "Yes Ma'am!" Travis ended the call and began pressing buttons on his phone. As he walked up the stairs back to the pier, he saw an old couple sitting on the bench.      "Is that the nice young man you keep ranting on about dear." The old lady asked her husband.      "Yes dear, that's the queermosexual with the tiny pecker right now." the old man replied.      Travis simply shook his head and kept walking. "Fucking old people." He muttered to himself before happily texting Holly on his cell phone.      "Dear, do you want to screw like rabbits on the beach?" The old lady asked her hubby.      "Doris, I thought you'd never ask!" the old man said as he quickly hopped to his feet and helped his wife to hers.