#assassin's creed scenario

[ridingtorohan]

𓇻 ft. ezio auditore x civilian gn reader

𓇻 summary. There's just you, Ezio, and a slow, sleepy morning on a rooftop.

𓇻 content. platonic or pre-relationship. pre-Brotherhood.

𓇻 enjoy! feel free to like, reblog, or send in asks!

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Soft strands of sunlight crests over the city walls, dusting over the roof slates in a golden sheen. It’s beautiful and tranquil, the starlight fading overhead into hues of gentle light. Early dawn has you feeling cold, a little uncomfortable under the brisk air. Monteriggioni feels quiet beneath the sway of your feet, the small city silent with sleep. Ezio barely breathes - and when he does, it’s relaxed, the motion slow. He’s, somehow, not quite what you imagined and yet everything all at once. Quiet. For all the charismatic clamor you see him with, he watches over the city with a sense of calm that Claudia has never spoken of.

Aristocratic nose, fine cheekbones and firm jawline, Ezio was without a doubt a cut of the finest cloth. Boisterous. Loud. Everything you’ve heard spoken about him - and even seen him act. This is a tender side you didn’t know existed, hidden beneath swaths of fine armour and silky fabric. Looking at him as you do now, his presence almost muted beside you on the rooftop, he seems more man than myth. Gentler, almost, even with the garment of metal strapped to his wrists.

Despite all the armour he typically wears, the imposing and broad figure he cuts, he’s everything but. You’ve seen him out and about, moving along the rooftops and city walls, scrounging for feathers - you still didn’t quite understand that— and tending to mundane jobs. He’s even swept out an arm to guide children back to their feet after a tumble to the street. Which happens a fair bit, even to a young child from your extended family.

Thing is, while it happens a fair amount - Ezio is there to stop it. Always visiting, moving between houses and tending to the people with a spirit and jubilance that you haven’t even seen the Lord cherish the town with. He loves it like his own, a home far from his birthright.

You don’t know much about Ezio’s past, only gleaned some of it from gossip and from Claudia. Even that isn’t enough. Enough would be to hear it from his own lips, to have the man himself explain. But, the strange thing is, despite all the good tidings he gives to the town, when he’s alone with you like this, he grows somber. A million miles away, lost in a world you can’t comprehend.

Other days it’s good. He tends to you like every other townsperson in Monteriggioni, making sure you have everything you need. You’re not even sure how spending time with Ezio like this even happened - what you did to make him choose you. There are many ladies who express an interest in him, many soldiers who want privy into his skills. But he chooses you, takes you for strolls and stops first thing at your market stall when new produce is brought in.

Today is not one of those days.

“I am sorry,” he says then, voice hard in the growing daylight. Not because he’s harsh - never is— but because that’s just how his words sound. “My mind is … quite occupied today.”

“It’s okay,” you breathe out, because it is. It’s okay. You don’t question where his mind goes.

There’s a long moment of silence before Ezio quietly elaborates, “It is close to my Christening day.”

“Oh-” You pause and consider his tone. “I’m sorry.”

His expression twitches then, mirth dancing in his eyes, dark eyebrows knitting together. A small smile plays across his handsome face, fingers spreading across his thigh. “Thank you.” He laughs, an unused sound that rests deep in his throat. “Ah, I’m sure you’ve already heard of Claudia arranging a party, no?” Your pinched expression gives you away and his laugh deepens, eyes turning away.

“She wanted it to be a secret-” You stop yourself there by instinct. But Ezio doesn’t interrupt, he never has. He’s attentive that way, always listening to what you have to say, even if it’s about the soil or the worms in your garden. “You weren’t supposed to know about it.” “She always tries to make it a surprise,” Ezio responds, eyes tender as he looks at you.

“And yet you know of it anyway.” There’s a twitch of his scarred mouth when you speak.

“Mm.” He gives a slow nod of his head, leaning back, brown hair moving from his shoulder to spill over his back instead. Ezio closes his eyes, the hazy sunlight moving across his face as it climbs into the sky. “Has anyone invited you?”

“The whole town is going.”

“Yes, I imagine.” Ezio laughs slightly then. “I’m inviting you as my guest.” It feels like it should be a profound statement - something awe inspiring or an utterance to make you gasp. It doesn’t. Instead, all you feel is a low seeping warmth that touches the tip of your toes. You look down, swaying you feet over the edge of the roof. Ezio isn’t saying it to be polite - there’s something about the way he speaks and acts with you that makes you feel like he’s genuine.

“Thank you,” you say after a moment. “That’d be great.”

Ezio says nothing to that, though you can feel his eyes turn from you back towards the city at your feet. An emotional eclipse washes over you and you’re left feeling cold. Every moment with Ezio is like this - inviting, like summer days and fireflies. Like he sees who you are and accepts it.

There’s nothing for a long moment, just you and Ezio and the slow march of time. Dew glistens on the lower tiles, the rough texture cold beneath your palms. “Thank you for going,” he says - and the way he says it makes it feel more profound than it originally sounds. Like it matters to him, like your presence is something he basks in.

You look at him, at his battle worn features, weary lines smoothing into something almost peaceful. He needs moments like this, you realize. Needs it like you do - the companionship, the ease from everyday life. The slow, quiet mornings, the yawning pull of life. An insurmountable, insignificant second of life - every second that amounts to something more. Because he exists, you exist, and this moment exists.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you promise, meaning every word of it. You enjoy these mornings with him just as much as he does.

[teecupangel]

@thedragonqueen1998's reply to this post

That new tag actually is an idea/AU i've thought of lately. XD Where Desmond gives birth to Altaïr, Ezio and Ratonhnhaké:ton before being kidnapped. I've personally had him just suddenly become pregnant, no sex needed to lean more into the "Desmond is the Chosen One". XD Plus, we need more Dadmond tbh.

Virgin Birth.

Desmond had never even heard about it until he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

This is, according to Wikipedia, different from Immaculate Conception.

Desmond would like to reiterate that he was not the second coming of Virgin Mary.

… as far as he knew.

Not only that, he had been a virgin before he gave birth, having enough trust issues to fill a goddamn dam at the moment.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to know how sex feels like.

It was more that he was still scared that his father or someone his father sent would come find him and take him away from this freedom.

He can’t go back.

He would never go back.

Especially now that he had three sons to think of.

They were born on December 21, 2005.

At least, that was what Desmond believed.

The morning of December 21, his stomach started hurting so badly he couldn’t leave his bed. The pain ebbed and flowed from paralyzing pain to almost unnoticeable, giving Desmond a chance to text that he wouldn’t make it to his shift because of ‘stomachaches’.

His boss assumed he had diarrhea and told him to stop eating weird cheap shit.

Desmond was pretty sure that wasn’t it but it wasn’t like he could go to a clinic and get this check out.

Clinics meant asking questions about who he was and his history.

Clinics left tracks that William Miles can find.

Desmond knew how the game is played.

And fuck that. Desmond wasn’t going to give up his goddamn freedom because of a stomachache.

It will come to pass.

Like every pain Desmond ever felt.

So he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. Inhaling deeply before slowly exhaling, timing his breathing to the ebb and flow of the pain.

By midday…

Desmond fell asleep.

He didn’t know if the breathing helped him fall asleep or if he had passed out from the exhaustion and pain.

When he woke up, the sun had started to set and…

The pain was gone.

His bed was a lost cause, covered in blood, but Desmond’s attention was focused on the three small forms lying on the bed between his legs.

His sons.

Three bloodied (and, Desmond was being honest, wrinkly newly born ugly) babies who were all staring at him as they make cooing sounds.

That was the day Desmond became a father.

And also the day he googled ‘Is it possible to get pregnant without having sex?’.

They were… low maintenance boys, Desmond supposed.

They only shout when they needed to get Desmond’s attention and they weren’t fussy over their drinks. They seemed a bit disgruntled every time Desmond had to change their diapers but they didn’t cry.

They rarely cry.

They only truly cry at times when they were asleep and Desmond believed that they would have nightmares during those times.

His boss was strangely alright with Desmond suddenly appearing with three babies, only looking at him with a frown as he told him that this should be his wake up call to use condoms.

Even his coworkers believed that the one day that Desmond said he was out because of ‘stomachache’ had been code for him freaking out because an ex had left him with three sons as a big fuck you or something.

The most support Desmond got from them though was letting the babies stay in the office.

He had to buy the collapsible playpen though but it was fine.

It gave him an excuse to get more shifts just to pay for his and his sons’ living expenses.

One of his coworkers asked why he didn’t just give them up for adoption. It was clear that he wasn’t ready for it.

And Desmond couldn’t explain it.

He wanted them.

They might have been a surprise but… they were his.

And…

Whenever he felt tired or felt like everything was becoming too much… just feeling them in his arms was enough.

It was enough.

.

.

Miles’ kids were strange boys.

They didn’t make any messes and they were polite… most of the time, anyway.

He knew it was bad to let Miles use his office to keep the kids. Hell, this bar was not a good place for kids and Miles should really just get a babysitter but he didn’t mind.

Miles was homeschooling them… in a way.

It wasn’t his place to give parenting advice anyway so he stayed out of whatever Miles planned for his kids. As long as they don’t hinder business, they could stay.

Altaïr was always on that second hand battered laptop that always made loud fan noises when it was turned on. They mostly kept it on because of it.

At first, he thought Altaïr was just playing in his laptop but… he was studying. Every tab he could see was either educational or… well… Wikipedia pages. Even the YouTube account Desmond shared with his sons were filled with educational videos, mostly something connected to history or engineering or technology.

Desmond liked to say that Altaïr was a genius and had been saving up to buy him a better laptop for the past year now.

Ezio, on the other hand, was more of a people’s person. He liked to talk to Desmond’s coworker before the start of their shift and he was a charming little bugger. Charming enough that many of Desmond’s coworkers started to give them food and juice boxes, saying they made too much or their parents or grandparents gave them too much food and there’s no more space in their fridge…

He was pretty sure that was Ezio’s plan from the very beginning. Build up a network of helpful adults.

Then there was Connor.

He had a different name that Desmond and his brothers use but it was hard to pronounce so he just let everyone else call him Connor.

He followed his father or one of his brothers most of the time, quiet by their side.

Observing.

He was the one who helped out the most, always following Desmond and helping him whenever they were doing their final clean up before closing for the day.

When he was with Ezio, he was always earnest with his questions, taking everything the adults tell him seriously.

When he was with Altaïr, he would lean close and read with him quietly. They would share the earbuds that they had with tape on the right wire because the casing had broken apart and watch videos quietly.

They were… nice kids.

Desmond was a good father dealt with a bad hand.

He supposed…

Buying Desmond a cheap laptop would be cheaper than raising his pay this Christmas.

Would save him more money in the long run, that’s for sure.

[recreationalfanfics]

An Unstable Atmosphere

Part 1

Summary: You attempt to escape when you wake up in the captain's quarters of the Morrigan.

Note: Yandere themes, somewhat unserious banter at the end, this is a strictly platonic yandere x reader story

When you wake up, your eyelids still feel heavy and you feel like a stranger in your body as you feel all sorts of pains and aches. Your stinging eyes have a harder time adjusting to the light, your muscles ache and creak as if they will give out from under you as you pull yourself up, and you touch your lip which feels puffy and bruised. When the dull pain makes you flinch, everything comes back to you. The mass murder of everyone you knew, the way you were beaten around by Templar footmen and…

  And Shay. 

Now in a panic, you throw the blanket off of your form and inspect the area around you. The first thing you realize is that you were below deck on a ship, and the second thing you realize is that it was specifically the Captain’s quarters judging from the desk of a scattered yet neat pile of paperwork and the giant portrait of the dreaded traitor himself. If you recalled the rumors and stories to be true, Shay was about only two or three years older than yourself when he became an official Assassin, but seeing the portrait and remembering his face honestly made it hard to picture. You had to give credit to the artist where it was due, they captured his imposing and austere eyes rather well that it sent shivers down your spine, but it only made it harder for you to picture that his aged and hardened face was ever an assassin. He truly looked like a Templar, hateful and evil. 

You hesitantly step your feet onto the ground as you sit on the edge of the bed, taking in more details of the area. You still bore your robes and your hood seemed to be sitting on the back of the chair. Your paranoid eyes look at the door and then towards the window; as if a Templar was randomly going to jump out and attack you, but once you gain the piece of mind; you stand up and walk towards the chair to grab your robes and make your outfit whole once more. Despite the pounding in your chest and the overall awfulness of the situation, there is a small amount you gain as you pull your hood over your head and it gives you motivation.

You’re alive…for now. May as well keep testing Lady Fate.

You briefly glance over the papers but find nothing of use, you also realize that your wrist piece with your hidden blade was not attached to your robe and was nowhere to be found, but you weren’t really surprised by that realization. It wouldn’t have done you much good anyways, seeing as you were never really handy with weapons, but your mentors often told you that you had a gift for stealth and having the element of surprise on your side. The very least you can do for those mentors is believe in their words and in yourself as you get your boots on and walk towards the door, pressing your ear against it. The chatter is rather low and soft and you don’t hear the sound of many scuffling feet, not to mention that you still hear the sound of seagulls which is a very good sign that you’re still nearby land but the ship is definitely still moving.

They’re in the middle of casting off.

With a closing time gap, your thoughts come together to come up with a very poorly thought out plan but one you felt would be your best bet. You would certainly be outnumbered but if you were quick enough, you’d be able to escape the remaining guards below deck and everyone else above deck would be too busy readying the ship to notice you escaping right away, and that once you managed to get to shore; you’d either buy yourself enough time to get a headstart before they turned their ship around or they’d simply deem you unimportant and continue their sailing to do whatever high ranking templars as Shay did. Grabbing your pillows and blankets, you take a deep breath before slamming the door open and throwing them at the first two templars you see guarding your door. You don’t catch their panicked yelling and you knock over everything in your path until you find the stairs. 

A little earlier, Shay was steering the boat; pondering over his own morals and choices. It was clear that while his crew didn’t voice it, they were all very confused why he of all people allowed the little assassin who was currently asleep in his quarters to live. Now that Shay thought about it, he couldn’t really understand it himself; obviously, it was unfortunate that someone that young became an assassin but you weren’t exactly the first novice assassin he had to face. Although, there was a huge difference between you and your unfortunate peers; while they foolishly overestimated their abilities and underestimated his experience because they equated their youth to superiority, you were just…helpless. Like a baby bird with a broken wing, at the mercy of the wolves around you, Shay just couldn’t help but want to take you under his wing and keep you safe. Unlike the others who were too arrogant and humbled in their last moments, there was something inside of him screaming at him to not let you die, and that in such a short amount of time; you’ve endeared yourself to him. 

It was wrong, he thought to himself. The very thought of you being killed despite being a part of the organization that betrayed him long ago felt…wrong. As he tucked you in the bed of his quarters, his hand gently caressed the side of your face, and for a brief moment; he felt a sense of familial connection. One that he hadn’t felt in a long time since his dear friend Liam and he realized he could not lose it. He could not lose you. There was no doubt in Shay’s mind that you needed him, especially as his eyes glazed over the injuries on your face with disgust, but he also knew that he needed you in his life just as much. He needed to protect and watch over you. He needed to teach you the ways of the world and softly introduce you to harsh truths. He needed you to look up at him and see him as not a disgraced assassin or as an untrustworthy Templar but as an idol, a mentor, and maybe even a father. There was an oddly warm feeling in his heart at that thought but he is pulled out of that daze the moment he hears loud clattering coming from the hatch that led below deck and that soon enough, your hooded figure pops out from it and immediately darts towards the side of the ship.

“STOP THEM!” Shay roars, he feels his body instantly become hysterical.

Side-eyeing the dock, it was far away that you couldn’t jump on it and make your escape back to land but it was close enough that it would take just a few strokes and a climb up and you’d be gone. By yourself, all alone, in the big cruel world. While some part of Shay expected you to pull something like this, a large part of him was slightly impressed but mostly worried. After all, once you got off his ship; where would you run to? All nearby guilds were already killed and the ones who managed to flee had escaped and erased all tracks for you to follow. You weren’t even armed with a weapon and you had no money. 

As he questioned your poorly thought-out idea after ordering his men to stop you, he also instantly turned his wheel to steer his ship further from the dock and more into the ocean. He yells out another order to go full sail and that immediately heightens the sense of urgency you had already. One of his men tries to tackle you but you duck out of the way and slide between the legs of another who tried to grab you in his arms. You reacted quicker than you did yesterday and it definitely impressed him and even reminded him of himself when he was younger. 

“I’ve got ‘em, Captain!” The navigator beside him shouted, Shay heard the sound of him withdrawing his pistol and he immediately turned around to grab his arm and quickly aim it anywhere else that wasn’t you.

As the two men scuffled, you yelped when you heard the gunshot. Failing to realize that it was nowhere near you but also not really caring, you dodge the last of his men near the edge and you reach the edge and perch yourself on it. Shay catches a glimpse of you as you try not to think about the water below and that the distance isn’t getting any shorter the longer you wait. 

“FULL SAIL!” Someone yells.

It doesn’t take long before the wind fills the sails and the change of speed is drastic. Much so that you stumble from your spot and yell as you fall over, your hand managing to grab the side.

“NO!” Shay cries, immediately bolting towards you.

The sea spray kisses your boots and you look back at the dock, amazed and upset by how quickly the ship got away but if you let go right now, maybe you could still make it. You pinch your nose and close your eyes to ready yourself for the water but as you let go of the side of the ship, two large hands grab your wrist. You’re nothing more than a rag doll as you’re roughly hoisted away from the side and onto the ship’s floor. You stare up and your heart drops in your chest as Shay kneels in front of you, much like he did yesterday, but this time he put a hand on your shoulder. It was a tight grip, one that despite his gloves and your robes, you could feel his nails digging into you like a predator desperately clutching onto its prey. His face looks worried but you don’t know why, maybe because his prisoner or hostage or whatever he saw you as nearly escaped. 

“Do you know how reckless that was!?” He hisses at you, his eyes now narrowing.

Still coming down from the adrenaline rush, your throat runs dry and you can’t seem to find a response. However, it didn’t really matter if you could or not because Shay quickly pulls you up to your feet and leads you back down below deck. He takes in the turned-over tables, chairs, and other miscellaneous things. His door swung a little most likely from the event that just occurred above deck. Then he finds his anger calming down and he briefly feels amused when he sees the blanket and pillow from his quarters haphazardly strewn on the ground outside, quickly gathering that you most likely threw them at the guards. Meanwhile, you struggle against his grasp and demand he let you go, knowing that it’d fall on deaf ears. Regardless of how you try to squirm out of it, it is all in vain.

He soon sits you on the bed as he slams the door shut, his other hand now grips your free shoulder and now it’s just you and him.

“What were you thinking?” He demands, trying not to be threatening but the frustration in his voice was clear. After a night of rest, you’re able to fake a brave face as you mimic his expression, furrowing your brows and trying to form your lips into a scowl as equally severe looking as his.

“Where are you taking me?” You shot back.

His expression changes, seeing you doing your best to look threatening, and he fights the urge to pinch your cheek fondly and tease you for it. Already, he feels an old part of himself reawaken, a more softer and tender side that he had thought years of being a Templar had washed away. When he pulls his hands away from you and crosses them over his chest, he becomes noticeably less angry but he still keeps his somber appearance.

“Do you really think you’re in the position to ask questions?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. You simply respond with a, “Don’t care. Where are you taking me?” 

The silence is loud, uncomfortably so. However, your apprehension soon turns into frustration. This man had murdered your found family, this man was a selfish self-righteous traitor, and not to mention that for some sick reason; he kept you alive. The very least he could do is give you some answers. You open your mouth to once again demand answers but he beats you to it.

“Here’s how this is gunna’ work now.” He begins finally, “I ask a question, you answer. Then you ask me, and I’ll answer.” 

“How do I know you’ll be honest?”

The corners of his mouth upturned into a little smile, one that only increased the rage and fear brewing deeply within you.

“I’ll be as honest as you are. And trust me, I’ll know when you tell me a lie.” He answers, sounding somewhat genuine but your mind remains ever skeptical. Leaning on the side of his desk, arms still crossed, he gives a look that almost reminds you of a parent staring down their child, “Do you understand?”

You stay silent out of malice and spite for a while but then your eyes look to the side in defeat, “Yes…”

“Good. First question: What’s your name?”

“Hezekiah Needleman.” 

His head lops to the side a little and he gives you a long stare, clearly not amused by your false answer, and you couldn’t help but feel a teensy bit smug at his reaction before you say: “Alright, fine…It’s (Y/n). (Y/n) (L/n).”

“See how easy that was? Now, (Y/n), it’s your turn to ask a question-”

“Where are you taking me?” You demand once again.

“Home.”

It was a simple one-worded answer in any other situation, but in this context, it was like a baffling riddle. Raising more questions than answers, your expression becomes bewildered, “What do you mea-”

“Ah-ah, (Y/n). S’my turn,” He chides as unfolds his arms, his hands gripping the edge of the desk as he leans further onto it. You glare at him but stay silent so he can get his question over with, “Why did you join the assassins?” 

This question takes you off guard and your hand reaches to your other arm and grips it, a visible sign of discomfort, and your eyes quickly sadden in such a way that Shay almost wants to take back his question, unsure of what wounds he might’ve just opened.

“They raised me, why wouldn’t I?” You say, hatred once again growing for the man who stood across from you.

“What happened to your parents?” He asked, his intrigue growing.

“Isn’t it my turn to ask a question?” You snapped. He wants to say something, to have the last word, but even he admits to himself he walked into that one. So he silently nods, a quiet gesture that lets you know it’s your turn to ask a question.

“What do you mean you’re taking me ‘home’? Where is this ship going?” 

Shay tries to figure out what he’s going to say, how he can explain it to you even though he struggles to really explain it himself. 

“Back to my estate. Where I will train you and show you what the Brotherhood really is.”

You open your mouth, again frustrated with how vague and confusing his answers are but then you close your mouth, not wanting to set yourself up for another pointless tease from him. Shay, quite pleased with your lack of rebuttal, then asks you: “Now, what of your family?”

“Dead. Because of you,” Your tone is bitter and your eyes harden again, “but if you’re talking about my real family, I don’t know. I was told the Templars were responsible for my becoming an orphan.”

“Did the Brotherhood tell you that?”

“Yes. And if you think the words of an old traitor are gonna change my mind, then I wish you the best of luck.” You snarl at him. 

Something about you calling him a “traitor” enrages him, definitely not towards you but that bitterness towards the Brotherhood grows at your words and you can see that your words stung him.

“You’ll find out very quickly, (Y/n), that I don’t need luck. I make my own.” He then straightens his back and goes towards the door of his quarters, “Question time is over.”

You stand up indignantly, demanding that he returns, but you’re only answer is the sound of the door closing; this time you hear it locking and you stand in silence before you growl and kick the leg of his bed.

Putting the keys to his quarters back into his pocket, Shay now understands just how tangled you are in the Brotherhood’s webs and how it’ll be hard work to get you to see the truth, but he is now more than certain that it’ll be for your own good. When he returns to the top of the deck, he feels raindrops and immediately looks up at the sky above.

The sky is grey and the clouds begin to darken. He knows that it'll just be a day or two of rain but he still thinks to himself that it'd be better to sail with caution. After all, he had precious cargo on board.

[yukiyee-akian]

batfam x un lector assassin(?

No sé, me imagino al pobre teniendo que escapar no solo de Abstergo y los templarios, sino que ahora de la batfam también porque por alguna razón o de alguna forma se obsesionaron con él, ya sea de forma romántica (excepto Damian) o platónica.

Solo pensamientos aleatorios.

______

No romantizar el comportamiento yandere en la vida real porfavor.

[kuroganedorian]

Got inspired to this one, listening to Ready To Fight by Roby Fayer.

Warnings: Inner darkness and suicidal thoughts.

The battle was over, but the one within him was far from. Losses upon losses, sacrifices, threats and false promises. All shaping a once so lively man into a shell of nothingness. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, no smile, no joy… He was scarred inside and the heart in his chest couldn’t let go. Kids on the streets tried to get his attention as he walked, but sorrow had made him mentally deaf to the world. The tears that spilled from his eyes was with soundless crying as he walked the street leading to Notre Dame, stopping as he reached her, placing a hand on her wall. Things started falling apart completely, tears stinging and his heart firmly held onto those painful memories causing him to grab a phantom blade, wanting to stop the pain once and for all. Feeling the sharpness of it against his palm, he held it firmly to his neck, ready to cut and end that darkness, but…. but a familiar voice in the back of his head stopped him, making him drop the blade and he looked up, now hearing and seeing everything again. The sound of the bell of Notre Dame, meowing from cats, barks from dogs and laughter kids. There WAS a light and the end, there WAS joy, and now a smile. Arno’s heart had finally let go of the pain and replaced it with happiness. All of this because of one single word in the back of his mind.

[thatcrazycrowgirl]

Imagine…

Getting into a snowball fight with Shay, when you two were supposed to be out searching for supplies.

[chaoticradio]

I don't know why, but assassin's Creed got me looking at random buildings and thinking I can climb ANYTHING....and walk away without a scratch. WHERE THE FUCK IS THE FEAR? Seriously, I look at churches and hospitals like 'yeah, I'm going conquer your ass and walk away like a G'. HOL UP SISTER, WE AIN'T ASSASSIN MATERIAL....NOT YET

[dzthenerd490]

File: Assassin's Creed - Apple of Eden

SCP#: ABD

Code Name: Apple of Eden

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-ABD is contained at Site-AB, it stands on a podium in the center of a 5x5 meter containment cell. Due to the psionic hazard of SCP-ABD its containment cell is implanted with hidden memetics all over the room. Should anyone who is not wearing the protective memetic goggles see these memetics they will lose interest in using any SCP-ABD instance and instead report themselves to command. SCP-ABD-1 through SCP-ABD-7 are to be kept in similar designed containment cells but on different levels of Site-AB. All containment cells are either guarded by AFA-2 units or security units with [data expunged] status.

Protective memetic goggles are only distributed to transportation staff as well as those who are cleared for testing. Any testing with SCP-ABD must be approved by at least one level 5 Clearance staff member or higher. During testing, all guards present must be cleared by having [data expunged] status, those who do not have this are not to be guarding during testing as they are at risk of falling under SCP-ABD’s effect. Under no circumstances is any testing to involve more than one SCP-ABD instance. Anyone who tries to misuse SCP-ABD either for an enemy of the Foundation or their own self gain will be captured and executed, there are no exceptions. 

Description: SCP-ABD instances are golden spherical objects created by the Species of Interest: The ISU. Each instance seems to be made of stone with carvings but in reality they are made of advanced technology able to grant the wielder dangerous psionic abilities. The Foundation possesses several of these instances, labeled as SCP-ABD-1 through SCP-ABD-7. Other instances of SCP-ABD do exist but they have either been destroyed, have yet to be found, or are within the tight grip of Group of Interest: Abstergo Industries. SCP-ABD allows the user to control at least 90% of the human with the only limitation being range and how powerful the SCP-ABD instance is. People who have experienced anomalous augmentation or have a strong will and mind are able to resist the effects of SCP-ABD to certain extents. However those with DNA from a precursor species most preferably ISU DNA are able to completely nullify the effects of SCP-ABD. SCP-ABD can be activated by simply being held, granting the user full access to its primary, secondary, and third effects.

SCP-ABD main use is to force any human that has no immunity to SCP-ABD's effect to be under the complete control of the wielder. This will essentially render any humans under SCP-ABD's effect a complete slave to the wielder's will, this will continue until the wielder loses SCP-ABD, or the affected human dies. Originally this was believed to be the full extent of SCP-ABD's effects; however testing and past records have revealed that SCP-ABD is capable of so much more.

SCP-ABD is also able to project illusions that can make physical contact with the wielder and those around them. These illusions can typically project what the wielder wants; though, testing has shown that SCP-ABD is able to record the memories of the humans and ISU who use it. Naturally, not only can SCP-ABD project these memories but can even allow the current wielder to interact with them and vise versa. This allows SCP-ABD to not only records vast amounts of knowledge in great and visual detail but can even allow the wielder to contact past users and by extension the dead. The secondary properties of SCP-ABD are still under testing, thus there is the possibility that SCP-ABD is capable of more than we realize.

SCP-ABD's third effect is the ability to enhance the properties and abilities of other anomalous items created by the ISU. In a way SCP-ABD instances can be used as universal keys to all ISU technology which is probably why they are so numerous within ISU vaults. Speaking of which there are also hidden ISU artifacts and vaults that can only be opened by SCP-ABD instances making them much more valuable. However, it is advised against having more than one SCP-ABD instance used in anything regarding ISU tech. The reason for this is [data expunged] there is no record of it actually happening but the O5 council have decided it is not worth the risk to confirm and thus have banned use and testing of more than one SCP-ABD. Though because of this SCP-ABD is to be considered a CK Class Reality Restructuring Scenario hazard; it is still labeled as Object Class Safe due to its easy containment and the 0% chance of the [data expunged] incident ever happening again.

SCP-ABD was discovered in 2007, as it was one of the first anomalous items recovered after the Foundation declared Group of Interest: Abstergo Industries a threat. A raid was conducted on one of their buildings leading to the retrieval of SCP-ABD as well as other anomalous times. This however also led to the discovery of Group of Interest: Assassin's Creed before they dissolved and joined other organizations like the Foundation. SCP-ABD's initial properties were explained by the former Assassin's Creed members during interrogation and was later expanded upon during testing. The danger SCP-ABD instances pose is an exact reason as to why Abstergo Industries is to be considered a hostile group of interest and a constant threat to humanity and the veil of secrecy.

.

SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[thejuveniledelinquent]

random headcanons/scenarios that i think are funky fun

Lex tried to copyright the word "lexicon" after releasing a book called "The Lexicon" (the capitialization is often debated; nobody agrees on anything or confirms it, especially not Lex) that details his vocabulary, phrases he often uses and quotes he claims are his, including but not limited to "you miss 100% of the shots you don't take," "all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players," and the entirety of the bible.

bro didn't even make it into court with that one

Kara was once supposed to write a memoir about krypton or something but ended up sending the publisher her K/S genderbend femslash fanfic instead :/

they published it without a word. she stayed on the nyt bestseller's list for like two years. lesbian Spirk is canon now.

Dick was a stripper for a few months. mostly just for funsies, but also because Bruce dies inside whenever he brings it up and he thinks that's the funniest shit in the world

also Bruce got sent to jail one time for reasons he refuses to elaborate on, and he was cellmates with Lex. he acted like Brucie the WHOLE TIME.

buddy did not drop the act. not even in his sleep. he is an actor committed to his craft.

on that note, Bruce has been in at least twenty-five romcoms, four horrors movies ("i can't do those anymore! they're just so terrifying," Brucie had told the press when speaking about his latest film, Movie That Is Not Scary That Nobody Knows The Name Of), ten movies about dogs, twelve animated films james corden style, one very emotional family-focused western considered a cult classic by hardcore fans, and three buddy cop films in the past month

Dick, Jason and Cass drag the rest of the family to see Hamilton on broadway during opening week. none of them initially want to be there, but they're all ugly crying at any character's slightest inconvenience and they somehow know all the lyrics within ten minutes because they're homosexuals like that.

Bart Allen bites people. he is an animal and humans are his chew toys.

Damian played Assassin's Creed 2 once, and it was on thin fucking ice purely because it wasn't realistic enough

"i am not caught up on my italian and vatican history, father, but i don't think the pope had a mind control staff. why does he need it? is he stupid?"

Oliver once sang Four Jews in a Room Bitching in front of Bruce, the resident bitching jew who has not seen Falsettos, and he got served the batglare of a lifetime

also, Oliver's favourite musical is Falsettos because i said so.

"the big grey block isn't real, Oliver. the big grey block can't hurt you," Dinah lied mere moments before the big grey block hurt him.

anyway give me YOUR headcanons and scenarios!!!!! give them to me and let me eat them :D

[ridingtorohan]

Content: Spoilers for AC1-3 and the events surrounding Lucy. A paragraph pushes it to PG-16 with reader lamenting wanting Desmond with direct references to the below verse. AU: Alpha/beta/omega verse Alpha Desmond, Omega female reader. Cross-links: ao3 A/n: Written 2018, formatted but not edited 2022. This first section is written non-linear.

Desmond had been something of an urban legend back at the Farm- he wasn't someone you knew personally, but now was someone you couldn't imagine being without. Surviving the Eye didn't change that fact- but it leads to something else.‏‎

‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ WHAT LIES WITHIN YOUR EYES ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ part I (you are here) ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ───※ ·❆· ※───

It had only taken two days for them all to reach a general agreement about the place. William had held initial reservations about the Manor and Shaun had all but complained the entire way there. Rebecca had spoken earnestly about the idea, voice chipper as she twirled the headphone cord around her index finger with a face-splitting grin. Desmond hadn't particularly reacted to the suggestion- but nobody really pressured him into giving one either.

The Davenport Homestead hadn't felt particularly welcoming - but only in the sense that it was unlivable, hostile to everyone by proxy. Every other building other than the Manor was rundown and barely more than splinters held together by nails, a crude mockery of the fine establishment it was supposed to be. It also felt like home though, enough like the Farm that the three of you had once lived on, with the wooden walls and trees that dotted the horizon, so thick it was a wonder that it hadn’t overtaken the buildings itself.

It was almost hard to believe that the Manor still stood as it did, forgotten by the civilized world as it was. Your lessons spoke of the siege during the 1920's that ripped the Assassins from it. As Desmond traced his fingers fondly along the stair railings and the faded paintings in the basement, you found your tongue stilled. You wouldn't do anything to hurt him and with part of his mind still living as Connor, it might not have turned out well for him if you brought it up.

Connor was the reason why you all ventured there - he had never left the Homestead, not even in the end. Where else did he have left to go? Rebecca swore up and down that the Templars weren't interested in the place since the siege and even Shaun begrudgingly admitted that as a former Assassin stronghold, it would be able to support them. William had relented and admitted to wanting any artefacts left behind but you had a feeling that it more likely had to do with Desmond. You all had agreed to be there for Desmond.

Desmond was … different since the Temple.

All of you had expected him to die - and each time you think of it the fear clogged up your throat and made your hands clammy. His resoluteness was the worst of it - even back at the Farm he had been calm and flippant but that had been something different. None of you spoke of it - of how he almost hadn’t made it out alive.

Somehow, he had saved the world. It was only right that the four of you saved him. When one was haunted by ghosts, the ghost had to be put to rest. Connor's body would help with that - all the missing years from his daughter's conception to his death.

What the four of you couldn’t tell was if it did help more than hinder - Desmond had been quiet since they arrived, barely gave more than one-worded answers or a shake of his head. You had all opted to leave him be and while you didn’t know what it was like to be stuck inside your head, not to the degree that he was, you didn’t leave. Not too far anyways.

You wished you could say that you had always been close with Desmond - that you had always looked up to him and that you only knew the concept of love through him. The truth of the matter was far from it. As a boy years your senior, he was in a separate training class from the Farm. Even then, there was the matter that you weren’t really from the Farm. From a sister branch, your family moved there to help pater out the bloodline and prevent too close of inbreeding. Assassins tried to teach the people of the world and the truth of it, but it is a hard and bitter pill to swallow and not many acclimate to the lifestyle.

No, you hardly knew Desmond. You met him once. Before. He had been a withdrawn boy even then, pock-faced and pudgy but from your limited interactions with him he had never been unkind to you. Your memories of him were foggy at best.

Months and years after the fact, Desmond became something of an urban legend at the Farm. They spoke of rebellions against his father, of a short temper and quick comebacks. He had been the only one foolish enough to leave. In the end it was later transcribed to be bravery.

Desmond told you once of what Juno and Minerva offered him - save the world or damn the world. How the world would have burned but the lot of you would have been safe, trapped in a place separated from the rest of Earth by time and otherworldly constructs. They’ve lied once before, he had said and in the same breath, I couldn’t be a leader to anyone. And that was enough to know that he had thought about it, even for just a moment.

You had thought of how he had been the first to leave from the Farm of their own volition. How the Assassins tried to tail him and lost him somewhere in Kansas, something perceivable due to lack of credentials but no small feat compared to how many Assassins came after him.

Desmond had been the first but he hadn’t been the last. The rest of the younger members took a chance of their own. Stories came back that some were captured and tortured for information or lost at sea, the fact remained that he had started a revolution of his own. His kindness had not gone amiss at a desolate place like the Farm. Even before his ancestors had left their imprints on his mind he had been a leader. He just hadn’t realized it.

You hadn’t told him that, not when he had looked at you with woeful eyes. Self-belief was a difficult thing to nurse.

Some days, it wasn’t Desmond that spoke to you. The horrible thing was that it was difficult to tell when the slip happened. On occasion he would slip into another language and the lot of you would work to soothe him out of the Bleed, but other times none of you had caught onto it until he would have a slight misstep and fumble or even dazedly ask what happened. Those were the days that you would end up holding his hand or sitting close to him, fingers always a constant on his skin when you could. There was a sense of dreaded hopelessness about the situation where all you could do was reassure him of his own presence there - his name in every other sentence or a newspaper detailing the events. Anything to keep him in touch and rooted here with you.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a surprise that he had kissed you. Perhaps it was his own fumble with reality, his own tightened grip on his sanity. Certainly not one of his ancestors at any rate - there was enough tentativeness to not be Ezio, it simply wasn’t like Connor to do that, and from what you knew of Altair he wouldn’t have kissed you like that, it would’ve likely just been another task for him. You had sworn it was Desmond who did, who leaned down and breathed you in and pressed his fingers to the back of your nape and tilted your head up.

Desmond hadn’t been your first love, hadn’t lain out that foundation for the rest of your life. You had every bit of belief that he would be the last. What you felt for him was slippery - intangible and messy and so horribly painful and bright. A thunder in your veins and the tension in your skin - it was easy to get lost in him, to believe with full conviction that you would not object to anything that he wanted.

The problem was that Desmond did not want easily. You both knew the Farm - knew of how easily and firmly its own code could constrict someone. You hadn’t known you had been a prisoner of a cult in near everything but the walls and name until you had left with William.

It hadn’t been much of a choice on his part - you were one of the few who hadn’t left after Desmond, let alone died on the initial rescue mission. The Creed advocated for freedom but it was difficult to believe in it when it encroached upon everyone there, where the only law you followed was the Tenets that still stood.

Desmond was a pushover to an extent. Even with all the rumours that followed after him after his departure, all the rebellious streaks that was supposed to have happened … it all seemed moot when in comparison to the young boy that you had known. He had followed after his father in the end, had gone through the rigorous training and submitted himself to that way of life. Until he hadn’t anymore. But even then, he had hung low and out of sight, only caught by a foolish mistake. He had been admirable in that, that he had lasted for years without being found out by the very people who specialized in stealth.

He had not objected to the Animus though, hadn’t uttered a word of regret or denial concerning his own impending death. You could recall his resolution back in the Temple, his tired voice and knitted brow. Even as he faced death, he had not turned his back on it. Every time he was told to get in the Animus, he eventually did. He hadn’t even protested when they all came to the Manor the second time, when Rebecca had brought it up to him.

There was nothing but the sound of silence and snow in the stillness of winter. There was no other choice, not when they had made it and followed through on it. None of them were keen on traveling once snow blanketed the ground. Spring was still a few months off especially in the frontier. Desmond had a tendency for cabin fever from what you knew, had reportedly been out of sight every night back in Italy. He had been adamant about leaving to face Cross and Vidic himself, to collect the power sources and carry on his way.

Desmond had sworn he wasn’t capable of being leader and yet the four of you had agreed willingly. William had come as a surprise to you given his accompanied alpha status, the very same as his son. The fights that you had witnessed between the two of them hadn’t been pretty. Desmond had wanted to confront Vidic. Shaun and Rebecca had no conflicts about it in the end, resigned themselves to the best option.

You hadn’t spent long in the field yourself, could not argue that this wasn’t the best course of action. Your work was better covering your tracks and finding signals on the web - all proven moot when in comparison to the likes of Rebecca. You hadn’t been worth much now that both you and William had met up with the group but while it had been the two of you it had suited the both of you just fine.

Somewhere along the way, the five of you had unwittingly become a pack, had every dynamic of one that completely functioned. Lucy had been the alpha of the last one, the head of the group. Here, it had fallen to Desmond and he wore it exactly like how he settled into his genetic memories. Easily and seamlessly. Even with your heart in your throat, you had offered no protest to him going to Abstergo.

You had cared for Desmond in your own way, had admired his steadfastness and determination until he had nearly killed himself for it. Your first introduction to him was to a boy with a face with a frown and the second was to someone equally as desolate. His sleep had not been peaceful, comatose and unresponsive to the world.

“Get him in the Animus” William had said and Desmond was strapped in. Even when the Animus went on the fritz and tried to deny his mind, when he had outright flatlined more than once, he had remained strong. When Desmond chased after Vidic, stood tall on that skyscraper, mic attached to his shirt, you could hear the wonder and awe in his voice. While you couldn't see his face, you could see what he did. Despite the grainy feedback, you saw where he stood at the end of everything.

It’s it beautiful? He had said. With your heart permanently glued to the inner lining of your throat, you had agreed. Desmond had stopped to admire the view and you had done it with him. Until it had been time to go, time to kill and move on and go go go go go.

None of you could stop, not even for a moment, not for some sight seeing or to catch their breaths. But the memory had implanted itself in your mind, solid and true. You had understood then why Desmond had left. And when Desmond took a Leap of Faith afterwards, you had inadvertently fallen with him.

Desmond had not forgotten your agreement. Even when everyone else had ushered him to hurry on, you had spoken in positive response. Even when the threat of the world hung around all your shoulders - and the doom it had spelled for him - he had pulled you aside on the rare occasion that he had been lucid and handed you his phone.

“You had liked the view too,” he had said with a worn smile and half-lidded eyes. It was not something that you had easily forgotten either. You were all but deftly reminded of his unfailing kindness and selflessness then. How he had taken the time to take a picture just for you.

“Thank you,” you had said. It was almost all that you could. He had smiled, something far more genuine that only solidified the feeling in your chest. He had clapped a hand to your shoulder and was ushered back into the Animus.

The situation between you two had shifted then. Because alphas and omegas were historically known to generally get along you had to endure nearly a dozen of Shaun’s ribbing comments already. It had been senseless banter and shameless teasing before, implications present in the edge of his voice. It was not something that could be ignored anymore, not anything that you wanted to let go of.

You didn’t want to replace Lucy, nor could you properly. She had been an alpha. You had known of her importance to the group, how hard her absence and betrayal had hit them. William hadn’t tried to replace her, even as another alpha he could sense her own placement there.

Lucy was a sore subject, a soft whisper if even that. You knew she had been close to Desmond but the truth hadn’t hurt before. If you could even call this feeling hurt- you couldn’t envy a dead woman, couldn’t chastise her for her own wasted opportunities and lament about what could have been between the two of them.

But in a way, you had taken her spot. She had tended to Desmond and now you did. The wedge between you - the wall formed by your arrival with his father had began to dismantle. Desmond didn’t necessarily need to be cared for, he could stand on his own and effortlessly carried the weight of the entire group. The admiration you had felt for him shifted since the phone, since returned to him so he could fiddle with it and record some audio clips you believed, had settled into something warmer and more wanting.

You couldn’t help him entirely, not in the way that mattered most or most effectively. You would like to believe it had been enough.

You were not entirely obtuse in your feelings for him - Rebecca had eyed you plenty a time over the edge of her computer. Shaun for his part had tried to arrange it so that the both of you were together. William pretended it wasn’t happening and perhaps for that alone you were thankful. Desmond, in his own way, had not remained oblivious either.

Rather, it had been Desmond-as-Ezio who had caught on. As Rebecca had told you, Ezio was a flirt through and through. While Ezio knew the ways of sex like the back of his hand, he knew love even greater. He had always fallen hard and fast. You had known it was Ezio at the forefront of Desmond's mind by the way he had watched you and curled his vowels.

Shaun had translated once, had remained stone-faced for far longer than you thought he would, before he said that Ezio suggested you tell him. “I have known love and I have lost it,” is what Shaun had translated. “Do not lose your chance.”

Time waited for no one. When Desmond had stood before the pillar and said his goodbyes, begged them to leave, to let him be to his fate, you thought to ask him to stay. Desmond pressed his phone into your hand and pulled you into a hug in the same motion.

He smelled of alpha-sweat-blood-dust-cold metal-whiskey-cinnamon-home-home- home. You hadn’t wanted to let him go. “I should have kissed you,” you whispered out. Instead, Desmond had let go of you - and leaned in to do exactly that.

Hours later, when the rumble of vehicles threatened overhead, their position compromised, you all struggled to gather what you could. You all had left him there to stand before his end. The end of the world had not come - but neither did Desmond leave. Time was wasted sitting there, incapable of mobility after most of your items had been packed - none of you had wanted to touch Baby, not yet. You feared you would still feel his warmth there, that if you so much as touched anything that belonged to him you would break down and cry.

Desmond had came out of the Temple and you had done exactly that anyways. “It didn’t need to be me,” he had say in way of explanation, eyes a swirl of that familiar glint of gold before he blinked, voice full of disgust, rigidness, and resignation. “It was my blood. It has always been my blood.” Then he had tucked himself in the back of the van right next to you and pressed his chin to the flesh between your shoulder and neck.

He Bled regularly as you drove along. William cursed up a storm each time he regressed and you could only clutch him tighter each time that he did and with every harsh motion of the van. You had almost lost him. You all had.

Even if you all hadn’t tried to Bleed Connor out of his system, the drive back was well worth it. The tires hadn’t survived and all of you had cricks in your neck but it had been enough. The Manor welcomed you all well enough but Desmond most of all.

Perhaps it had been the Connor inside of him that reacted, that still saw it as his den. Unlike his other ancestors, Connor had no proper pack of his own, not outside of his children, Achilles or even for that odd encounter with Shay. He had found solace in the Manor and so had Desmond.

William spoke of leaving after spring, of reports about a modified Animus and how Abstergo hunted one of their own. You had read the reports yourself but you had Desmond in your mind’s eye and so that was all that William’s comments had remained - comments. Even as an alpha, he couldn’t dictate what the pack chose. No one dared speak of going their own separate ways despite what the eldest seemed to imply.

Even with nearly two years as William's accomplice and with a reliable bond, it couldn't compare to what you shared with the others. William had not asked you to leave with him though, not then. For all that he had done wrong, from what you knew, it was a saving grace. You would not have picked him.

Connor was never an aggressive presence with Desmond though. The younger Altair, when he bled through, was a downright terror and an equally as young Ezio was too rambunctious, Connor had never mucked up much trouble. So when each Animus session with Desmond that lead him closer to the end that was written for Connor, you had seen less of him. It had been almost February when Desmond had whispered into your skin with a slur to his words, “He’s still there. Just resting.” Desmond ended up telling the others but you had been the first.

William eyed the van then and you had seen Shaun’s mouth form words of his own to comment but Rebecca had only smiled and clasped her hand to Desmond’s own. “You’re doing good, Desmond.” And he had softened and sent her a smile of his own and everything seemed right in the world, a little more sturdier.

Desmond did not want easily. He always put everyone else’s needs above his own, always followed their rules and their dictations. Even lost in his own world he obeyed the commands rigorously trained into him. He still chose his own meal if given a choice, still wanted to watch a surprisingly high quality movie on Rebecca’s computer with you - but he didn’t contribute to the discussion of where to go and what to do. He had fought so hard for his own life and it was barely with a fumble that he slipped back into that same old mold.

You remembered the day of when he had been found to have disappeared. How it had happened without warning. Ages past the fact had twisted the story, had stated that he had been found missing and his mother had crudely screamed and woke the whole household. The stories went that he had rallied up a small group of fellow recruits and taken a few with him after burning down an old outhouse. That he had threatened to leave numerous times before and successfully done it and that he would leave for good. That he took a car and blasted out of there with the radio on full blast.

You remember the truth of it. It took near four hours after wake up for anybody to even notice. It wasn't unusual for Desmond to venture out to the forest or to go horseback riding. There was no screaming or crying fest, nobody hollered or threw things. You knew well enough that Desmond and William had fought the night before. There had been no border patrols or guards or even gates.

He had simply walked out and never looked back, hitchhiked and bussed as far away as he could. Nobody had expected for one of their own to walk out - hadn’t expected that anybody would want to. Desmond had already been gone long before he had run away, it was just a matter of his physical body getting the memo.

It had been a quick and quiet affair with nary a word from him then. While you doubted that he would leave the four of you there, that he would so quickly up and leave, you knew well enough that history repeated itself. Desmond’s genetic memories proved that time and time again. You feared that the man you loved wasn’t the one you thought he was.

So every so often, when that same feeling niggled at the back of your mind, you went looking for him.

You found him in Connor’s old room. Relief had came in with a sloppy tidal wave. A shudder passed through you the moment you stepped through the doorway.

All of you slept in the living room, had set up that room to be the most hospitable during the cold months. The fireplace had kept you all warm enough and if it hadn’t, Desmond would be there at your back, holding you to his chest. Even then, there were moments like these that he was separated from you, far away both physically and mentally.

He turned towards you at the sound of your cleared throat. Shaun’s words from Ezio haunted you. You almost lost him. “Desmond?” you asked, voice shrill in the slow trickle of the air. You sneezed twice at the dust that floated around. He had drawn a mattress up there and even placed it atop the bed frame still present. Not Connor’s, you knew, but old enough. You touched your hand to his blanketed shoulder.

“Yeah,” he sighed and ran a hand up his face. “It’s me.” It … hadn’t been what you were going to say, let alone ask. You frowned.

“Why are you up here alone?” you whispered. The bed creaked beneath you as you sat beside him. His blanket was drawn up around his shoulders, huddled around his head like a hood. There was an edge of sleepiness to his eyes and a few creases around his mouth, bruises beneath his eyes. Desmond hadn’t slept well since Abstergo, since the first Animus session. That or it was literally his genetics. He has been tired long before that.

Desmond let out a slow exhale of air. Not quite a sigh. Desmond never sighed. Your frown deepened. “I’m thinking,” he confessed, eyes not on you. He’s focused at something on the wall. You almost thought there was a painting there once, a long time ago. His focus slipped and he instead shifted his hand to rub at his eyes. “Didn’t realize I spent so much time up here. Are you doing okay?”

You thought about how to answer that. For someone who had the whole world on his shoulders, you’d almost have hoped that he’d take some time to himself. You retracted your hand to tug at his own, to stop his restless fingers and to soothe him with small strokes of yours across the back of his hand. “I’m worried about you,” you said truthfully.

“I’m okay.” The reply hadn’t come as quickly and selflessly as you thought it would. There was no conviction in the words. Your fingers stilled. His flesh was so warm, so present - you didn’t want him to leave you. But you didn’t want to be selfish either, didn’t want to cage him down. “I’m about ready to go. Dad was saying something about Egypt, I think.”

“You listen to your dad?” you joked, eyebrows raised. There was a soft huff of an exhale from him, never quite a laugh but almost. Almost.

“I try not to,” Desmond said with a light tone of amusement. He turned his hand around, palm against yours before he twined your fingers with his. He let out a hum of consideration, mouth twitched at one corner. It was the most display of emotion that you had seen from him in quite a while.

“I don’t think he appreciates that.”

“Yeah, probably not. But he can deal with it,” he quipped back just as easily. You reflectively sent him a smile and the tension eased out of his arm, hand going lax against yours. He was always so tense, so rigid, so prepared for the worst to come yet. You hoped that wasn’t the case - you’re not sure you could handle the rug being pulled out from beneath the both of you.

Desmond’s smile stilled at the sight of your frown and with another exhale he let go of your hand to grasp at the corner of his blanket to drape across your shoulders too. It meant that you had to draw closer towards him, not quite sprawled into his lap as you would have hoped for but at least hip to hip. Not even that was necessary. You just liked to reassure yourself that he was there.

You echoed his exhale, drew it out into a sigh. “How are you really, Desmond?” There was a slight twitch in his eyebrow at that, at the pronunciation of his name. His expression lacked confusion though which was more comforting than you had expected.

“Tired.” His posture wavered and you worried he’d pitch to the side but instead he just pulled you closer towards him, one leg draped across his and his shoulder almost awkwardly pressed against your sternum. It was usually a hesitant fumble between you two to find an appeasing position for the both of you and eventually he settled to wrap an arm around your waist and let you rest your head against his chest. “We aren’t … happy with how things have turned out here.”

You stiffened against him involuntarily. ‘We’. Desmond had a penchant of referring to all the memories and voices inside his head as a collective ‘we’. Rarely did he refer to himself in the singular tense. It was just fortunate that he had been referring to himself for the most part.

Desmond drew away from you - and despite your initial thought, it wasn’t to get a better look at your expression. He drew a couple pillows from the headboard, shot a load of dust through the air in the process and positioned it up behind himself. He tugged you down beside him as you dragged the blanket with you and made sure to toss it over his socked feet, tucked your knees closer towards your body and curled towards him. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Desmond let his hand rest along your head and began to casually thread his fingers through the strands. There was a frown present on his lips again, deep enough to pull the scar across his lip tight. There was a shadow of a beard on his jawline, dark against his skin. He looked so aged from this position. You wanted to ease his burden.

“Achilles had entrusted this house to him,” Desmond spoke up finally, something sharp and jagged in his voice. His hand had stopped all motion in your hair. “It was-,” a pause as he searched for the right word, a violent lurch of his eyebrow as he knitted it and a hot breath of air from his nose before he relented with, “Connor’s house. When I was in the Animus, I - as Connor - had helped repair it. We had built this place, the entire Homestead. It was made by my hands - to see it like this...” His voice trailed off into silence.

There was a vacant glaze to his eyes, a ripple of uncertainty and fractured lifetimes. Desmond may have been with you in the room and that may have been his heartbeat beneath his hand but he has left you alone all the same.

“Desmond.” It was on the fourth time that he turned to face you, a couple pronounced blinks to his gaze as he seemed to focus on you. You raised your hand from his shirt to his face, cupped his jaw and let your thumb rest along his cheek. “Desmond, what you and Connor built was … was amazing. It still is. It’s just a little run down, that’s all.”

“It’s forgotten.” The impact behind his words had you falter for a moment. He didn’t say anything after that but he waited all the same. You bit your lip, wondered how much time he would give you to think of how to respond to that, to the tone of his voice.

“This is more than just about the house, isn’t it?” you asked him. Desmond didn’t immediately respond but his eyes didn’t trail from your face, insistent on staring into yours as he processed it. He closed his eyes, lovely brown obscured by the dark of his eyelashes. His head settled deeper against the pillow.

“Connor lived and died in this house. His wife lived here with him until she left. She took the kids. Connor had nothing left. Nothing but an old rocking chair and this house. And now here it is in ruin.” You wondered then if he would cry, if this would be what finally broke him.

You had heard that he had been unhappy when Monteronigirri had perished to flame and blade, when little to no one had been spared. You wondered if the memory was buried somewhere deep inside him, if it settled there as an unscabbed open wound. If it pestered him day in and day out. Ezio had years to get over the tragedy, if he ever did. Desmond didn’t have the luxury. It was still a fresh ache to him. To reopen the wound with Connor and his unlucky end ... 

“You remembered it,” you told him. “You’re here right now. Connor isn’t alone because .. he’s with you. You’re with him, and I’m with you. We’re all with you, Desmond. We’re not going anywhere without you.” You were firm to implant his name there, to affirm his hold on reality. You all had thought that if he relived Connor’s memories it would help soothe the Effect, that Desmond could go back to the life that he had before, that he could live unhindered and unburdened by it. Anything for it all to be easier for him.

“My Dad talked about Egypt,” there was a slight scoff to his voice. (I’m losing him.) “Why don’t we just go? I’m just holding you all back, this isn’t anything-”

“No.” You moved both hands to cup his face and he stared at you with impassive eyes. Desmond has not wanted much. He gave up a lot before, to get all of them to the end, to get them knowledge otherwise lost. He was willing to give it all up again with just a word. He would. “You’re keeping us all together, Desmond. We’re your pack, don’t you understand? Yours.” You leaned up to kiss him and your knee knocked against his before you settled your leg on the other side of his waist. He didn’t respond at first, let you pepper his face with kisses. Gradually, he seemed to react, upturned his face to return the gesture, to press his lips against yours. His hands settled along your hips, thumbs pressed into the clothed skin there. Your mouth lingered a fair deal more but it was him who dragged his tongue across your lip, had you shudder in response.

You could feel him smile against your skin, felt the uneven skin of his scar catch on you when you allowed him at your throat. You could feel a pattern begin to emerge in the light rubs of his thumbs, something almost like dialect. His kisses were slow, languid and light, a butterfly touch if you had ever felt one. You let out a breathy sigh of his name and he paused then.

“Desmond?” you prompted him and sat back on your knees, a leap in your chest, worried that you had overstepped a line.

“Just thinking,” he promised, a few seconds too slow. There was an upturn to his mouth, an appreciative look in his eyes. His hands hovered along your hips though and you knew that there was no use pushing your luck.

Desmond would likely relent if you pushed him to have sex with you now, if you begged him with a breathy tone to let you take his knot but you also knew that his heart wouldn’t be in it. That he might not want it. You couldn’t push him like that, you didn’t have it within yourself to.

“You think enough for four people,” you said pointedly and made sure to throw in a grin for good measure. You threw your leg off of him, tried not to let your disappointment surface in your scent. He had your neck exposed to him, he had already likely caught your arousal and anticipation in it alone. You weren’t disappointed in him though, never him.

“Hm,” there was a lighter turn of his mouth then, something pleased and adoring in that gesture alone. Even though he just had his tongue in your mouth and his lips and fingers on your skin, it was his smile that made you flustered. Go figure. You averted your gaze, tried to ignore the wider spread of his lips. “Definitely smart enough for four men.”

You swatted your hand against his chest as you collapsed next to him, made sure to draw your legs tighter together before you tugged his arm down and settled down against it. “Definitely,” you relented. Desmond’s look was appreciative and genuine, fond to the very end. “Or at the very least ripped enough for them.” You reached out a hand to pat against his stomach and then there was the laugh that you missed so much.

At some point, Shaun had started a running joke about Desmond being pudgy. He had been in his youth, sure, but most children were. Being on the run and doing a bunch of parkour promised at least some muscles. You grinned wide enough for the both of you when he rolled onto his side, albeit with a little bit of struggle with his trapped arm beneath you.

“Thank you,” Desmond said after a moment. “For trying to help.” You shifted enough for him to draw his arm out and he flexed his fingers experimentally, a falter to his earlier cheer as he stared at his hand. The very hand that he had supposedly clasped onto the Eye.

“Of course.” You told him. You leaned forward to press another kiss against his lips, let it linger and rest against the swell of his mouth. He inhaled your exhale and let his lips move against yours, calm and pleasant. When he pulled back, it was a wonder you hadn’t confessed to loving him. It would have been terribly easy. But the truth of the matter was despite your fear and insecurities, you knew that you had nearly all the time in the world - and isolated in the Manor as your pack was, it very well could have been.

Suddenly, you knew, that if this was what the end of the world had been like, you’re fairly certain you wouldn’t have minded at all.

[teecupangel]

Heeey long time no see, thoghts on whats going on in the comic?

Heeeeeey, and even longer time no answer, sorry TTATT

Anyway… first of all.

Here’s the tag for all my reactions and analysis to this webtoon.

This does mean I will be talking about Chapters 12 to 18 in this one and, ooohhh boy, let’s get this started XD

Okay, so this might get a bit disjointed in some places so uuuhh… bear with me?

First of all: I remembered reading that Birch was supposed to a business partner or something of Edward but I can’t find where I read that. It was never truly stated what Edward’s ‘front’ was (and I highly doubt he let it be ‘the trophy husband of a rich woman’) so Edward forming an alliance with Madam Lee might turn to him and Madam Lee having a business ‘alliance’ later, maybe Edward being the person in charge of Madam Lee’s business endeavors in London (maybe even Europe?). This would be a good place to set that up but, if it’s not, well… I also won’t be surprised considering the last few chapters XD

Sudden Ezio appearance!

Not surprising though since Ezio is the ancestor of the Kenways so, yeah, Noa having him in his genes is spot on.

However…

Excuse Me???

Bitch, if you trying to take over our baby boi Desmond Miles’ place, there will be… well… not riots but there will be some strong words being thrown around in this tumblr, that’s for damn sure!

BTW, love this game mechanics shoutout XD

(And yes, I do love these more than that Hitman coin toss thing in Chapter 11)

Also…

I know this is meant to be a visual ‘aid’ of some sort of the Italian Brotherhood around AC Brotherhood (Ezio and his recruits), but that’s Evie right there.

That’s Evie. XD

And finally...

Oh my heart… TTATT

Overall: Edward's parts are interesting and it does feel a lot like an AC game with lots of side objectives before tackling the main objective.

The flashbacks help show how Edward became the person who he is in this webtoon and his conflict with Madam Lee even with their alliance is also pretty interesting.

Refusing to call it opium and just calling it 'devil's powder' is funny though, ngl. I don't know if it's against webtoon's terms and services or not but calling it 'Devil's Powder' is the kind of dramatics that Edward would sometimes have. XD

On the other side though, honestly? I don't know if I would ever like Noa, especially with the way the webtoon is comparing him to Desmond Miles.

(I'm going to sound like a broken record)

Again, if the plot twist is he's Desmond's half-brother or son (super highly improbable), I'm out.

If the plot twist is he just so happened to have the same bloodline as Desmond (with Altaïr's bloodline included) but not closely related, I'm out. (For one, Altaïr's bloodline came from his mother's side and is not part of the Auditore-Kenway side. For another... siiigghhh... here's the post where we talk about how weird the percentages of Noa's 'bloodline' is)

The problem with his connection with Desmond is that it comes with doing disservice to an already existing underutilized character: Elijah.

Remember, all the memories Noa is reliving are Edward's memories before he had Haytham. So this means that Sample 17 could have been used to find these memories. They don't need Noa to do this.

And even if they need a 'living descendant' or what not.

ELIJAH IS STILL ALIVE in canon and would have the same memories.

"Oh, but Elijah is in hiding". Uh-huh. And it's not like Abstergo finding him or him creating his own modified Animus to find these memories would be anything out of the realm of possibility.

Which is why I am still advocating that 'Shimazu' Sei and her fellow kidnappers are doing this without Abstergo's approval and/or knowledge.

I detailed why I came to this conclusion here.

[recreationalfanfics]

A Brewing Storm

Pt. 2

Summary: In which an older Templar Shay adopts a teenage novice assassin Reader on sight.

Notes: Reader's age is 18, this is a strictly platonic yandere x reader story, this was not proofread, yandere themes involved

You huff out a breath of air, your throat feels like it just swallowed fire, and your body feels heavier and heavier, but you will yourself to continue despite all the pain. You can barely hear the shouts of your pursuers over the thundering of your beating heart in your chest. You’re running even if you don’t know where. 

Where could you go that they couldn’t follow?

What place is there that you can hide from them? 

Images of your fallen brothers and sisters start to flash in your mind, motivating you to run faster no matter how bad your body aches, and causing tears to pool up in the corners of your eyes. Some part of you still believes that, somehow, what you saw was not true. When you turn the corner into an alleyway, you wanted to believe chasing Templars would be cut down by your comrades, but instead, there is nothing but barrels you have to jump over and civilians you have to push into their way. The hidden blade feels like it’s burning into your skin as if it was angry that you weren’t more experienced enough to use it to attack. One of them lunges at you and you yelp when you feel their hand grab your robe, reaching just enough to pull down your hood from your head, but you sped up and managed to evade their grasp.

You can’t keep this up. 

You can’t outrun them, you can’t overpower them, and you especially can’t count on anyone to help you out. 

You try and grab onto a window, to start climbing, but then one of them grabs your foot and throws you to the ground. You fall on your side, your breathing is so heavy that you’re beginning to gasp for air, your tears so heavy that they obscure your vision and fall onto the stone ground beneath you, and even though your arms managed to raise your body; you can’t bring yourself to raise your head. You feel pathetic and helpless as they all stand around you, throwing you around like a ragdoll, taunting you, and yelling at you. 

“How sad.” One sneered and you hear him readying your musket, and your crying becomes heavier as you close your eyes, “the other novices had some fight in them.”

He was right, your fellow novice assassins ignored the orders of the older assassin’s and even though they ended up dead, at least they went down bravely. Unlike you, surrounded by Templars anyone else could’ve easily evaded, about to be shot and put down like a sick dog. The taunts ring in your ears as you grit your teeth and accept your fate, you weren’t naive enough to expect mercy from them, and your throat was so overcome with sobs and pants you couldn’t even beg for your life if you wanted to. The captain aims his weapon at your sorry state, and you ready yourself to feel whatever pain the bullet brings you.

“HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

The templar who was about to shoot you turns around, a violent fire in his eyes as he sees who dares to yell at him like that, only for it to die down when he sees a dark figure. He lowers his weapon to his side as he and his subordinates part a path for the newcomer.

“M-Mr. Cormac…we weren’t aware you were here.” The captain stammers.

Your eyes open when you hear the name. “Cormac”, the name of the assassin-turned-templar, the one who your guild was warned about but was so confident that because they were so newly formed, he’d never find out about them. Your chest feels cold and hollow as the sound of heavy boots comes closer and closer to you, you raise your head and stare at the man who was on a quest to slaughter anyone and everything touched by the Brotherhood. Shay looks back at you, his dark eyes staring into the depths of your soul and sending chills down your spine. His eyes hold a bitter and serious gaze, the first thing you compare them to in your mind was a brewing storm at sea. Harsh, unforgiving, and filling you even more with a sense of dread. 

You heard rumors of how other assassins had been brutally killed by him, some rumors going into disgusting detail that made you skeptical, but now it seems you had the misfortune of finding out yourself if they were true or not.

“Were you going to kill them, Captain?” Shay asks, his eyes still trained on you.

Your crying has simmered but you still sniff and whimper. His brows furrow and his eyes soften as he feels nothing but pity for you, your young and frightened face pulling at his heartstrings, and he frowns seeing just how terrified you are. You notice these changes in his expression, unaware that something about you is stirring something within him, and wish he would just kill you already.

“They’re an assassin, sir.” The Captain responds, avoiding the very direct “yes” or “no” question as he stares at the man cautiously. Shay’s eyes move away from you and pierce the man as his scowl grows, “I am aware. Were you going to kill them?”

Now everyone around you is uneasy, their eyes trained on the two men. The Captain tries to swallow his fear before he answers but it failed to work, seeing as he answers with a shaky and fearful: “Yes.”

Turning his gaze towards you once again, Shay kneels down and you instinctively move away from him. He pauses in his movements before he gently assures you that he won’t hurt you but you don’t believe him. Not when he has the blood of your friends and found family staining his hands. Quickly accepting that he was as close as you would allow him to be, he studies you and your injuries. Your bruised face, your swollen lip, all of these injuries you didn’t even notice until he spoke up about them.

“How old are you?” He asks.

You gulp and try to gather yourself to answer him.

“18.” Is all you can manage to say.

You can’t read his gaze but you can tell he is deep in thought. You wonder what importance your age even has in this situation but you still analyze him for any sign of what his intentions are.

“...They’re coming with me.” the dark-haired man eventually says, tilting his head towards the captain. The Captain stares at him with disbelief, looking at him as if he lost his mind before exclaiming, “I- Sir! They’re an assassin!”

“They’re a child.” Shay shoots back. 

If this were any other situation where Shay wasn’t a double-crosser of the brotherhood, you would’ve been offended at him labeling you a mere child, but now you’re simply perplexed. 

“The Brotherhood revealed to me their true colors when I was just a little older than them.” He states plainly, “All they need is a little guidance.”

Still on one knee, his hand reaches out towards you, a silent invitation for you to take it. You stare at it hesitantly, not fully sure that your life was just spared, but also not having much of a choice. When he rises from the ground, your legs shakingly follow and you let out a soft gasp when you accidentally lean onto his arm a bit too much but he stands strong and gently assures you everything will be okay.

The storm in his eyes clears, his gaze softening as he looks at you more closely. The way you have both of your hands grasping his arm and your head resting on his arm as you walk with him, uncertain and heedful of every step you took. He knows he has his work cut out for him to try and rid your mind of the Brotherhood’s brainwashing but something else grows within him as he gently coaxes and leads you back to his ship. You lacked a figure in your life who would protect and guide you in the right direction, someone who you could rely on to keep you safe and look up to, and the thought of HIM being that figure in your life made Shay oddly happy.

[yukiyee-akian]

No lo sé, pienso un grupo yan con una amorcito de un país diferente, por ej. Latinoamericano

Puede ser uno que le emocione mucho el fútbol y los obligó a todos a sentarse a ver el partido (tampoco es que se quejen). Los primeros minutos son algo locos, con su amorcito emocionado y gritando como loc@ a los jugadores —o la televisión— que "le atinen al arco".

Pero el verdadero caos llega cuando su equipo anota un gol.

Por la emoción estampaste la cara del de a tu izquierda contra el apoyabrazos del sillón y besaste el rostro del que estaba a tu derecha como si tu vida dependiese de ello mientras los que observaban lo sucedido todavía estaban procesando el repentino alboroto. Apenas segundos después pegaste un salto afuera del sillón gritando "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL" y también una serie de palabrerías que definitivamente te llevará una reprimenda después, pero no podía importarte lo más mínimo en ese momento.

Y así todo se repitió 2 veces más hasta el final del partido.

Jaja si, escribí esto por la copa América lmao

[kuroganedorian]

Have kinda wanted to do this for a while now ever since finishing Assassin’s Creed Rogue. It’s what i believe went through Shay’s head throughout his life, so don’t quote me on anything.

SHAY: Why am i doing this? I shouldn’t touch this ornament, but… !?… W-What? It’s crumbling?! Oh no! I gotta get - out! Damn you Achilles! Sending me in to do this! WHY! All these poor people ….. I have to do something about this! I have to make him understand what he has DONE!

SHAY: Of course he wouldn’t listen. Why did i try? Why did i think he would? Why did i think he would believe me? Why did i bother? I’m just a puppet in his little game… I’m just a puppet in his little game……

SHAY: This feels right, yet wrong. What if I’m bringing the Templars in danger? I dare not bring more people in danger. The people in Lisbon already suffered… I don’t want others to suffer because of me.

[ghostyattheblogg]

Assassin's Creed scenarios. How you met.

Altaïr Ib'n La-Ahad.

You were running. Running as fast as you could, working as a double spy for the Assassins and Templars was a terrible job, and you knew it. After the Templars knew you work for the Assassins, they sended the whole troupe to find you, killing you because you were a traitor.

Because of you focusing to the Templars, showing their swords, spears, and their battle equipments, you tumbled, rolling iver to the front. Thinking that this might be your end. But Thank God, a man in white came forward, killing them.

You've seen him before, you saw him doing the leap of faith when the Templars came over to take over the castle.After all of the Templars were dead, he gave you a helping hand. As you got up from your feet to thank your saviour, he dissapeared, as if he was a ghost.

Thinking you were delusional, you just went of on your own. While said man in White was watching you from the Roofs, before dissapearing in the wind.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze.

Carnevale. A festival filled with music, food, masked people dancing to their hearts content. Fattening themselves with wine and food. Your Father brought you because of his 'business'- more like dragging you so you can find a court. Or a boyfriend. Mainly leaving you to talk to his colleauges, all alone, every time a man came to ask you to dance with him, you politely turned them off.

Prefering to be at home instead wearing a stuffy dress.Thinking that a walk would fix your loneliness, thinking that nothing'll happen. What happens next ? A group of drunkards came, eyeing you up and down as if they had seen the most precious gem in the world.

" 'Ello there poppet." The leader said, walking towards you. And those exact those manage to make your blood run cold, you ran, finding a way to escape. Left, right, middle fork, right, right,...You lost count on how many twists and turns you did. Hopping to loose them.Alas; you ran to a dead end.

You closed your eyes. Praying to God up there would listen to your prayers. Waiting for the blow to come. And when you opened your eyes, you saw all of the drunk men, falling one by one as if they were bricks.There, stood your saviour, a man in white. Wearing a peaked hood, his golden eyes shining in the moonlight.

He went up to you and gave you a tender kiss on your knuckles.

"Are you hurt, signorina ?" He asked, voice laced with worry and concern. You just nodded, not even a scratch was layed upon you.

"I am fine. Thank you." You said, smilling at his hooded figure. Before you could talk more, your father ran, hugging you.

"(Y/n), what happened ?! Who dares to do this to my daughter ?!- Who saved you ?" Your father asked.

"Oh, it was him- Huh ? Where did he go ?" You said, pointing towards the direction of the hooded man, he was gone. Like a Ghost.

"Bah, it does not matter. As long you are safe. I am content. Maybe I should arrange a marriage instead, huh ?" He rambled on and on, walking out.You turned to the same spot the man had dissapear, uttering a small 'Thank you' before you walked away.

Well, you may not have fun, didn't found a boyfriend, but it seems you had quite the interesting night.

Connor Kenway/ Ratonhnhaké:ton.

After nearly being mauled and eaten by bears and wolfs multiple times, you finaly had seek refuge in an abandoned village, deciding to camp for the night. After making a fire, you started to cook. Praying that it won't atract the same bear or wolfs. After a while, you hear some bushes rustling, sensing someone is in the area. Grabbing your bow and arrow, ready to fight.

"Who's there ?" You said, prepared to face anything. A pack of wolfs ? Bring it on, Bear ? Sure, why not. Redcoats?...er...maybe not.

Instead, it was just a man. Very tall, native you thought. Injured above his shoulders. Collapsing infront of you. Not knowing what to do, you just dragged him (because of his height. Making you small and helpless) to your sleeping bag, patched up his wound, and stared at the bonfire till you fall asleep.

The next morning, you found the man had gone, leaving nothing but an eagle feather in his stead and the soft winter wind behind.

Jacob Ethan Frye.

(c/n) : Country name

The Foggy atmosphere of London town washed over you after stepping out of the train. Smelling the smoky scent in the air. Being an Assassin from (c/n) really is tiresome. You were requested by the Assassin Henry Green, saying that you'll be working with two people named : The Frye twins.Though you've never met them, you heard rumors of them being really skilled. Especially hijacking cargo, Assassinating high ranked Templars such like Lucy Thorne, you also heard that they even made a group called 'The Rooks'.

After walking for quite some time, someone bumped into you."Ah, a thousand apologies." The man said politely, before walking away. You noticed that he was holding a wallet. A wallet exactly like yours.. After rummagging through your bag, finding out that your wallet was missing, you chased after the thief with lightning speed.

"Hey, Wait !" You yelled, chassing him down an alley. Before you could do anything, you were surrounded by men in red. Blighters.

"Guess I'll just kick you arses then." (Y/n) sighed, preparing to fight. After a few Blighters tumbling down, she didn't saw one sneaking up behind her. As the Blighter took out a dagger, ready to kill her, a man killed him. As (Y/n) saw a glimps of him, the mysterious man tipped up the top of his hat, as if giving her a salute and walked out of the alleyway.

"What the fuck just happened ?" (Y/n) mumbled to herself as she continued to chase down the one who stole her wallet.

Arno Victor Dorian.

(I'm making this an AU, He 'dissapeared' when he was a child after his dad died. He knew his Assassin bloodline. So basicaly, he had an ultimate comeback and saved his childhood friend, (Y/n). Èlise and Arno are NOT childhood friends in this one)

Ah, yes. Paris, also known as the city of love. Sadly, its condition has been in a..liberative state these days. Being born into noble, or your friend Èlise call it : The lucky ones. Sometimes, you don't feel lucky at all. You missed your childhood friend Arno, since he dissapeared years ago.The same concept like your parents.

Thousands had died in the wrath of Madame Guillotine, as so your parents did too a few months ago. And you remembered it like it was yesterday...

"Mom ! Dad ! Let them Go you Bastards !" a (h/c) woman can be heard, screaming and kicking. It happened in the dead of the night, where they were sleeping. Turns out, your parents had been stealing the people's money and using them. Making you involved to be Guillotined immediately.

Crying, seeing your parents' dead bodies, you could do nothing but cry. Just at the exact moment before you were guillotined, a blue hooded man slashed of the head of the guard who is carrying you, saving you, while he gave you a key to your shackles.

"This should open them. Now, let's go." He said, picking you up in bridal style and ran, a few guards chassing after you. After a few minutes of running, he puts you down in a mansion, the one that seems very familliar to you, the Dorian mansion.

"This should be a safe place to hide. Like to chat, but I need to go." He says, kissing your hand and walks away.

"Wait-" You said, making his steps falter.

"Thank you." You muttered, making him smile lightly under the hood.

"It's nothing." The hooded man said as he walks away, dissapearing. But why does he seem..famillar ?

Edward James Kenway.

(S/n) = Ship name

(Y/n) (L/n). Famous of being a pirate Captain of (S/n). With her looks, skill, and of course, being a pirate. A hefty sum of a Bounty was placed on her head. Because of that, the crew started to celebrate.

"Cheers for captain (Y/n) for having a new bounty !" One of the crew yelled.

"Next time, we should aim higher, maybe fight against El Impoluto !" Another joked. Hearing that, you just chuckled and laughed, sipping your drink. Being a pirate wasn't so bad after all. When you were a child, you live in an orphanage. Sadly, that same orphanage was burnt down to the ground by pirates. Because of that, you swear to hate pirates. But yet here you are, being one of the most nuttorious pirates in History.

After that said party lasted till night, and the crew went to bed. You stayed up awake on top of the mast. Enjoying the salty scent of the ocean. But then, you saw a ship. Thinking that it was just a merchants ship, you ignored it. After a few couple of times, you glanced back at the same ship. Turns out, it was El Impoluto. Panicked, you woke the whole crew up, preparing for battle.

"Look alive, lads ! Man the canons! Get ready, El Impoluto twelve o' clock !" You yelled. Hopping that your ship would survive her attack.-Time skip-After a while of fighting, turns out, half of your crew got killed, the others were injured. You on the other hand, were on the verge of death. (S/n) is destroyed to pieces, you wished just a clean and quick death at least.

Hopping for this to be over, you closed your eyes, embracing the darkness. But what you see before darkness consumes you, is a shadow of a man. And those words are enough to make you calmed down.

"Don't worry, lass. You'll be alright."

Shay Patrick Cormac.

(C/n) : Country Name.

You were the Templar Grandmaster of the (C/n) Rite. Famous in the both Templars and Assassins. The Templars highly respect you, the Assassins fear you. One day, you were invited to a meeting by the Grandmaster Haytham. You heard of him, said his father was the Pirate Assassin Edward Kenway.

After landing at the port, you were greeted by your escort. A man your age, his hair is tied into a pony tail, with a scar on his eyebrow, completing his already perfect looks. To be honest, his irish accent added the perfect zest to it.

"Are you my escort ?" You asked with curiosity, making him smirk and take a bow.

"Aye, it's me." He said, extending his elbow.

"Care for a walk ?" He asked.With no hesitation, you hooked your arm around him,

"Indeed I do."After sometime walking, you finally had reached the headquarters, Haytham, an old friend of yours, was standing with his usual hand-clasps-behind-his-back pose.

"(Y/n)." Haytham started, kissing your knuckles. You just laughed at this.

"Thank you for escorting me, Mr." When (Y/n) turned around, the man that escorted her was gone.

"Where did he go ?" You asked, curiosity filling you.

"Don't worry, he'll be back in a week or two." Haytham shrugged as he leads you inside.

Desmond Miles.

(f/d) : Favorite Drink.An Assassin. That's what you were. And you were tasked to find a man named Desmond Miles, you never knew what he looked like, since you didn't hear the lecture. Saying that he contains the genetic memories of great Assassins such as Ezio Auditore, Altaïr Ib'n La-Ahad, Connor Kenway, and Edward Kenway.

Though you didn't believe it, you just think that is full of bullshit.Since Desmond can be anywhere, you were tasked to find him in New York city, finding a bar where you usually go to during freshamn years, the Bad Weather. There, you see the usual Bartender, John (A/n: Idk what Desmond's fake name is (never mentioned), so I'll use John.).

"John, the usual would you ?" You said, slumping on top of one of the chairs. Sighing, you just stared at the ceiling for a couple of minutes, while John just poured in a glass of (f/d).

"Tough day ?" He asked, handing you the drink while he wiped the table clean.

"Tell me about it." You said, sipping lightly. Chatting with him is nothing but a breeze. The guy understands you, and you understand him. As if like you guys were besties ever since you came. You hanged for a few couple of hours indtead of doing what you were tasked. Sadly, clossing time came by and you had to leave.

"Chat later ?" John asked while he started to close the bar.

"Yeah." You said, leaving the place. Little did you know, that would be the last time chatting with the man named John, meeting him again as a man named Desmond Miles.

A/n : Should I add Kim Noa from AC : Forgotten Temple ? Also, I haven't seen the playthrough of Valhalla, Mirage, Odyssey, and Origins. So I don't know what Eivor, Basim, Alexios, nor Bayek act like. I also apologise if I made the characters too OOC. Been a while since I've write :')

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (fem) reader ⛏️

(Gamer Girl Reader Edition!)

(Picture’s not mine!)

(Request here! Yeah so, here’s this! Not much to add, I’ll probably start working on the Junkrat headcanons now there aren’t any more asks for Venture at the moment)

- I think the idea of Venture, a very outdoorsy and adventurous person with you, a girl who is more inclined to stay inside and play your games could be really cute :))

- Despite their keen interest in getting out of there and exploring they’d happily stay inside to spend some time playing games, especially with you!

- In their opinion, it’s like exploring whole new world’s without the hassle of exerting themselves physically (they like doing it nonetheless ofc) besides giving themselves a hand cramp or two.

- If there’s a game you especially like in particular, they take notice and either play it with you or play it later if it’s single-player only— 80% chance of them becoming obsessed with it as well.

- Lore??? Yes please, they want it so bad that they can make a billboard of everything so they can try to “crack” the game franchise.

- 100% buys merch for you AND themselves, cause I feel like they’d do it either due to them wanting to be supportive or partaking in the games fandom themselves.

- Specifically, I think they’d like certain games such as:

- Tomb Raider: I mean, look at it— It has artifacts, parkour, and a badass main character (I can see them crushing on Lara Croft as a little kid, can and will die if you ever cosplay as her). Self-explanatory.

- Minecraft: Endless possibilities, worlds, scenarios, they can make blocky replicas of real-life historical architecture— “…You wanna put our Minecraft beds together?”

- Spore: A little more niche with this one but this game is all about literally building up an organism and giving them culture and civilizations, come on they’d totally love a game like this… Dig it even.

- Assassin's Creed Unity: This game literally helped with the reconstruction of THE Notre Dame— THAT’S how accurate and intricate the amount of detail that went into the world-building of this game is. It’s like a love letter to them.

- Stardew Valley: As much as they like adventure (and Stardew provides that in the mines anyway) it’s nice to play a game that’s focused on something as simple yet intricate as this… That and I know a clueless player who still has fun regardless when I see one.

- BG3: It has adventure, mystery, a medieval aura, great character dialogue, and animal companions that are all so different and so charming… A large, HOT, silly tiefling woman (again if you cosplay as her they will not recover) who could throw them against the wall like they’re a bag of half-empty chips. 10/10.

- ANYWAYS, back on you two, if you make time to do what they like they’ll do so in return. Making an effort as they try to get a few pointers from the Queen of gaming herself— D.Va.

- Helps happily of course thinks y’all are adorable and reassures Venture that when she’s done with them they’ll know everything there is to know when it comes to dating a gamer girl. It’s so fucking stupid but the intent that Sloane had for wanting to impress you is still apparent.

- The information helps surprisingly, to woo you successfully, which D.Va actively boasts about whenever she can after asking how y’all are doing.

- For sure goes on mall dates with you to get gaming stuff, prefers it over online shopping. Buying things like shirts over your shared favored games, and sharing them. Loves to be able to smell you on them (not in a creepy way) while away at work for a prolonged period.

- Loves to distract you from playing your games, sitting behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as they lean against your back, head either on your shoulder or the top of your head.

- Sometimes feeling a bit flirty and kissing the back of one of your ears, rubbing your sides, mumbling honeyed and lustful words, things like “You look gorgeous to me right now mi corazón, how about you put that controller down and let me prove it?”

- They’re like a spoiled cat when it comes to your attention, I would know because I have three, and one is currently making my other arm fall asleep.

(There!! Sorry if this came out a little later than it should’ve, I’m a little exhausted from some real stuff, and I stayed up over midnight for this one. The Venture effect lol)