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teecupangel · 4 months

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Just saw the Mermaid!Desmond post and it reminded me that i have been playing around with the idea that Desmond gets transported to the past as a mermaid(he prefers the term 'merman' thank you!). With my obsession with EziDes(i'm shameless XD), i imagined 2 scenarios:

1) Ezio meets Desmond in Venice and though at first Desmond is shy and hides away, Ezios persistence and charm wins him over. Desmond has the ability to launch some sticky "vines" from his hands to drag people into the water(based on what the mermaids in Pirates of the Caribbean can do), so he helps Ezio with assassinations from the canal. We could even have some drama where the Templars catch Desmond in a tank on land and when Ezio comes to save him, the tank breaks and at first Desmond is suffocating, then he is in immense pain while his body transforms into a humans. So good news: he can walk on land and even "sleep" with Ezio without risking drowning him(No Ezio, we are not trying it again!). Bad news: it hurts like a motherfucker to transform and it takes a hot minute. At least he can see Monteriggioni now!

2) The classic "Desmond takes Older!Ezio and himself to the past to save Ezio's family" but Desmond is turned into a mermaid(merman!) and is stuck in the disgusting river that runs through Florence. They get transported a day before the execution(Ezio just needs that scar, i love that connection too much XD), so they get a plan to bust out the Auditore family during the night and use a boat to get far enough away from the city before switching to a wagon. Giovanni is confused to what his son is doing("Why didn't you deliver the papers to Uberto, Ezio?"), but decideds to trust his son. During the trip, a guard almost raises the alarm but before he can, something whips out of water and drags the man in. Everyone but Ezio is shocked and when they get to the wagon, they see a small tub with water in the back. Before they can ask about it, they see Ezio lift something from the river before turning around and revealing a mermaid(MERMAN!) in his arms. Ezio is not leaving Desmond behind, no matter how difficult transporting him is(in this version i'd have Desmond need to learn how to shift forms, so for a while he has to be transported in a tiny ass tub if he was to follow Ezio around). The ride back is pretty awkard 'cause it turns out only Ezio can hear Desmonds voice(he speaks mentally, so even underwater he can talk to Ezio and the connection can reach pretty far).

We can also use Altaïr and the funny scenario of him being afraid of water, but still has a mermaid(for the LAST TIME: I'M A MERMAN!) boyfriend. XD Though Desmond would be very helpful for the guy that hides on the boat.

Maybe the treasure in Solomons temple started glowing after the entrance collapsed, distracting the templars enough for a hurt Malik and bruised Kadar to grab it and flee? And on the ride back to Masyaf, during an attempt to cross a river to lose the Templars on their trail, the treasure falls into the water, causing an explosion of light. Kadar was blinded by it, but Malik escaped the worst of it and swears he saw a large dark shape swimming away from the orb before he went to grab it. When he returns to Masyaf, with a dead arm and a mostly blind brother, he still blames Altaïr for everything that went wrong, but knows it could have been so much worse.

Altaïr is sent to find the traitor(the same as cannon), but afterwards is sent to the river Malik experienced the light explosion, to search for whatever came from the treasure. Altaïr curses Malik for his clumsiness, to lose the treasure in the river! If it hadn't been glowing it would have been lost. So Altaïr is in a very bad mood when he reaches the river to start his search. He is forced to spend days following it to the ocean, but when he reaches it, he sees something gold, glittering underneath the waves. Before he can try to even figure out how to get closer without having to get near the water, it moves upwards, revealing a strange creature. A half man, half fish spirit that looks like him, just staring at him from the water. They stay there, staring at each other before the spirit swims back under the water, dissapearing before Altaïr can even utter a sound of suprise. No matter how hard he searches the coast, the spirit does not show itself. Altaïr is once again forced to return to his master with another failure.

Phew, okay, this took almost an hour to write(i'm a pretty slow typer). XD Words just came pouring out during the Altaïr section. Lol

Additions to the ask from @thedragonqueen1998

Follow up on my Mermaid!Desmond ask:

I completely forgot to add in a description for Desmonds mermaid design. XD I'm a fan of the more spikier designs, so he'd have sharp fins on the side of his tail, a large one on his back, razor sharp claws and webbing on his hands and his ears would be fins. His teeth would be large and sharp and his jaw could almost shoot out like a goblin sharks one. It also opens wise enough that he can bite someones head off. His colouring would be a shiny gold that would dampen the more tired he becomes and the shine would fade if he is sick. So if he spends alot of time in the Venice canals his colours would fade quickly to Ezio's panic. XD He's fine, he just has the mermaid version of the flu.

Additions by teecup:

Desmond being a mermaid during Renaissance Italy would be so fun. Of course, Leonardo would have to paint him, maybe even call him the ‘Siren’ of Greek folklore, going as far as painting what looks like a lot like Templars as the people the supposed Siren drowns.

Centuries later, people would debate if Leonardo Da Vinci’s ‘Siren’ is androgynous or is actually male. Shaun has been part of that debate far too much.

Desmond probably has the habit of lifting his tail then smacking it down, making water splash all around the tank, an instinctive move that mimics humans saying their feet when they’re dangling.

There was actually an ask about what kind of merfolk design would each Assassin have but I can’t find it (as usual).

One of my suggestion for Desmond though is a tail similar to an angler fish like this:

Not exactly like this but a combination of this and your idea of sharp fins. They seem to glow but it’s more noticeable when using Eagle Vision.

Also… the water underneath Monteriggioni is a good place for Desmond to stay as well (although Ezio would be everything to renovate Monteriggioni to have a pond large enough for Desmond, it will become his priority even if they don’t profit from it XD).

If you want an alternative meeting, Ezio could meet Desmond in the underground waters of Monteriggioni while he was exploring Monteriggioni.

For the AltDes version, I’m just kinda imagining Altaïr would be too stubborn to return to Masyaf until he was certain what he just saw. He had already failed, he can’t afford to fail again.

Both because of his pride and because he had lost faith in Al Mualim and the Brotherhood too much that he actually believes that they would execute him if he failed again.

So he’s just camping there, staring at the waters.

Every time he feels like someone is staring back, the feeling would be gone by the time he turns around.

He had read about many mystical beings that live in the waters and Altaïr had started to write about what he can observe, even going as far as drawing what he could remember of what he saw.

If anyone was to see it, it would look like the ramblings of a man imagining something that doesn’t exist.

Or perhaps they would believe it.

Many people do believe in such rot.

Altaïr did not.

Not until he saw the spirit.

And now…

Altaïr was simply too stubborn to retreat.

He would capture the spirit and drag it back to Masyaf if it’s the last thing he does.

#ask and answer #no usual tags because #ezides #altdes

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auroramoon-draws16 · 5 months

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The Crossover Bar AU: the Beginning

“What… what the fuck?”

Desmond didn’t know what was gonna happen after the Temple (after sacrificing himself), but waking up in a bar, a 1920’s style speakeasy, was not what he was expecting.

It looks new, it smelled new, the scent of fresh wood and fabrics, stocked up alcohol and syrups, it was nice- really nice. He didn’t know what to make of it, but his body moved anyway. Stepping behind the counter he found so many bottles, glasses, there was modern bartending tools and shakers, also new. It felt like someone placed everything here, just for him. Like this was all just for him.

“So, do you like it?”

Holy shit- oh wow it’s been a while since anyone could sneak up on him. Desmond reflexively held his hand to the speaker’s throat, hidden blade at the ready.

“Wha- I- who are you?” He sputtered, eyes wide at the girl, no really, it was a girl. At least- he thinks, his mind couldn’t comprehend any detail about her. Like everything about her was glitching beyond recognition. She was short, and that’s all Desmond could tell about her.

“Don’t worry about that,” she grinned(?), nudging his hand away from her throat, and weirdly enough, he let her. “Answer my question, do you like it?” She repeated, not rudely per say, just… eager. Like a little kid showing her mom her drawing.

Blinking, Desmond lowered his hand, and took another look around.

There were wooden tables and chairs everywhere, nicely made from what he could tell, set up in a circle around a stage across from the entrance. The curtains a bright, vivid blood red, and there were lights up on the ceiling to brighten it up. From his place at the bar he could see a balcony, a second floor, but besides the railing and the edge of a pool table, he couldn’t see much else. On the walls were empty picture frames, waiting for something to occupy them- well, most of them- the one by the entrance had a portrait of Desmond with a golden frame.

It felt…

“It’s… home,” he blurted, “it feels like home.”

The girl(?) made a happy noise, bouncing up and down excitedly, “I knew it! I knew you’d like it!” She squealed, a warped and echoing sound, “oh I can’t wait! There’s gonna be so many more, they’re gonna like it too! You’ll see!” Before Desmond could respond, he felt arms wrap around his middle, “I’m gonna go get them, stay right here! Oh they’re gonna love you! You won’t be lonely, I promise!” And then she was gone. Just- he blinked and she was gone.

“Don’t mind her, the Apprentice is just excited,” someone explained, sounding both amused and fond. “This is her first project.”

Desmond looked to the other end of the bar, finding a man(?) sitting with an empty glass. He couldn’t see his features either, but that’s because he was engulfed in a bright light from head to toe. He felt familiar- distant- like looking into a funhouse mirror, him just not really… he even sounded sort of like-

“Hey, don’t do that,” he interrupted Desmond’s thoughts, holding up his empty glass, “you’ll get a headache. Now then, you’re a bartender, aren’t you? Mind pouring me something?”

Shaking out of his stupor, Desmond reached for the shelf, “right, uh, what’d you want…?” He asked, head still buzzing.

“You can call me the Reader,” the Reader told him, a smile in his faint voice, “that Whiskey will do.” He pointed at the bottle Desmond’s hand was hovering over.

After pouring him a glass, Desmond twitched, “uh, what do you mean- about her- the Apprentice- this project- what-?”

The Reader chuckled, “You’re not the first, you won’t be the last,” he muttered, more to himself than to Desmond, “she’s a good friend, she wanted to try something new, something different than what I usually do- or what They usually do- so I’m letting her try it out. This place is gonna be a catch all, a hub for any Soul needing somewhere to go, a place where they can Crossover the threshold without- well, y’know. Of course since you’ll be the Host, you have the final say over everything, this domain is all yours.”

“What? Who- I don’t understand, what the fuck does all of that mean?” Desmond spluttered. The Reader just laughed again. Asshole.

“You’ll get it soon enough,” he took a swig of whiskey and pointed to the door, “look, your first Guest is here.”

“Seriously? I’m not gonna fall for that,” and he was gone in a blink too, nothing but an empty glass to even hint someone else was here, “goddammit.”

Desmond didn’t know what to make of all this, who the Reader or the Apprentice were, what they were doing, what they even are in the first place, but he knew people were coming, Guests, the Reader said, and that he’s the Host. So that’s what he’s gotta do then, if the bar was made for him, and that’s what he’s here for, he might as well… right? What else was he supposed to do? He’s supposed to be dead, but he’s here as the Host.

Taking the glass and grabbing a cleaning rag from under the counter, he cleans it. Looking up at the doors, before hearing them swing open and watching someone stumble onto the floor with shouts of shock and thuds of limbs scrambling to catch onto the smooth floor.

“Hey, welcome to the- wait- Clay!”

“Seventeen!?”

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isa-belle1367 · 2 months

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More ac writing bc I'm procrastinating my main fic 😅 anyway. desmond has a nightmare and freaks out the others.

⚠️TW. This is a bit heavy, so if nightmares, blood, violence, self depreciation, or slight suicidal thoughts trigger you plz skip this⚠️

Blood

Shaking hands

"It's all your fault."

She was right. It was my fault. I watched in horror as a mutilated Lucy clawed towards me. Her skin was pale, and her normal blond bun was matted with blood.

I cried out. "Please! It wasn't me, it was Juno!" I tried to move away from her, but the more I struggled, the harder it got to move.

The next thing I knew, she was on me. She gripped my face, her nails digging into my skin. The smell of fresh blood and decaying flesh taking over my nose.

Her eyes were bloodshot and angry. Angry in a way I had never seen before. They almost seemed to glow.

"Oh, but it was you. You let her in, you let her kill me, YOU KILLED ME DESMOND!" She screamed, digging her nails further into my face. I could feel her nails piercing my skin. It stung.

"No! I-I didn't mean to! Please!" I cried out.

She didn't respond. Instead, she began to drag her nails down my face, leaving long, painful claw marks. I couldn't fight it, even if I wanted to. I deserved this. She was right, I had killed her. It was all my fault.

Suddenly, I felt the ground beneath me begin to shake. The floor in front of me opened up to reveal a large dark pit.

Lucy stood away from me. "I'll see you in hell." She growled.

I began to be dragged towards the pit. I tried to claw at the ground, but it turned to sand in grasp. Soon, I was dragged into the pit.

Falling down into the darkness.

Falling...

Around me, I could hear Lucy laughing at me, at my panic. I tried to cry out an apology, beg for her forgiveness. But she didn't listen.

Eventually, my eyes snapped open. I haven't even realized they were closed.

I sat up right, breathing heavily. Next to me, I felt an arm on my shoulder.

"Easy Desmond, it's ok." The voice lulled.

My body was shaking, and I was hyperventilating.

I brought my hands up to my face. It was just a dream.

I looked to my side, and I saw Rebecca sitting down next to me with a concerned look on her face. Next to her was Shaun and my dad, who both shared the same looks of concern.

I sighed, laying back down.

The nightmares were a regular occurrence. Running from Borga guards, the world burning around me, Altair's son getting killed, going insane the same way Clay did, the list goes on.

However recently I had started getting nightmares about Lucy. Most of the time, I would just shove the nightmares down, out on a brave face, and pretend nothing was wrong, but that was proving very difficult considering the fact that I scream in my sleep. A lot.

"How bad was I this time?" I asked dryly.

An uncomfortable silence passed between everyone, Rebecca was the first to break the silence. "You were screaming Lucy's name again."

"Figures." I stood up. Stuffing my hands in my pockets to hopefully hide the fact that they were still shaking.

"Where are you going?" Bill asked.

I walked towards the temple entrance. "Gonna go get some air." I called over my shoulder.

Nobody stopped me, I was glad because I was barely holding it together.

Once I was outside, I spotted a tall tree. I decided to climb up it so I could be alone.

After making heading about halfway up the tree and found a good branch to rest on. I sat down, bringing my legs up to my chest.

I rested my head on my knees, and I tried to stop the tears from pouring down my face, but it was useless.

I sobbed into my hands, i let out all of the anger and pain I had been bottling up these past few months. The sounds that came from my mouth sounded almost inhumane, but I didn't care. I cried about everything. The weight of the world rested on my shoulders, and I had just killed one of my friends. Juno had told me that I would be the earth's saver, but I couldn't even save my friend.

The bleeding effect was also getting to me. When Clay transferred his memories to me in the animus, the first thing I felt was the pain he had endured in the animus. The feeling of going insane, desperately clinging onto your sanity as it was torn from your flesh, bit by bit, until you had nothing left.

I feared that I would end up like him. Hell, most days, when I wasn't in the animus, I spent my time trying to organize my memories.

I was slowly breaking, and the others could see it too.

I saw the way they looked at me, like I was glass about to break. The way they glanced at each other when I accidentally referenced something from my ancestors' memories.

I hated it. I didn't want to be treated like glass. I had been through Hell and back, and yet they acted a paper cut would kill me.

I took a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. The knees of my jeans not had wet spots on them from my tears.

I chuckled, I really was pathetic, I had one nightmare, and I immediately break down.

Maybe things would be better if I stayed at Abstergo. Let them force me into the animus until my mind broke. At least Lucy might still be here.

I was the least deserving person, I didn't deserve this role, I didn't deserve to still be alive, I didn't deserve Rebecca and Shaun. I was a killer, a fake, someone who ran for the hills anytime things got hard.

I wiped away my tears with my sleeve. Steadying myself. I stood from my branch on the tree, listening for any sounds. Below me, I heard footsteps. I flicked on my eagle vision and saw a blue light peaking through the branches.

"Desmond! Are you alright?" Shaun called out.

I smiled, I carefully dropped down from the tree, making sure not to make any noise.

Shaun was standing a few feet in front of me with his back turned.

I leaned against the tree. "Right here."

Shaun nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to face me.

Once he realized it was me, he sighed. "You scared the Hell out of me." He said while glaring at me.

"Sorry." I said while chuckling.

"Your dad wants you back at the temple." Shaun paused, staring at my face. "Also, are you alright? Your eyes are-"

I cut him off by holding up a hand. I shook my head, and he seemed to get the message.

He cleared his throat. "Right, well, your dad is asking for you. Best not keep him waiting."

I sighed. "Did you tell you what he wanted?"

He shook his head. "You know how he is."

I sighed, turning to walk back to the temple.

I quickly walked back into the temple once I walked inside. My dad was standing there talking to Rebecca.

He turned to me. "Desmond, where did you go?" He asked.

"Just climbed a tree to get some fresh air." I said, waving him off.

He looked me up and down. He could tell I was lying, but he didn't press further.

"Are you up for an animus session, or do you want to wait?"

Just thinking about the animus made me want to curl up in a ball and cry, I doubted I would be able to get far without desyncronizing.

I shook my head. "I'm going to wait a bit."

He nodded. "Alright, tell us when you're ready."

I nodded, going to sit down. I could feel them looking at me. No doubt my eyes were red. They probably knew I was crying. I sighed, I just couldn't do anything right I guess.

I sat down leaning against the rock that I had been using as an animus chair since we came down into the temple. It wasn't that comfortable, but I wasn't really awake to complain about it.

My whole life had gone to hell so fast, I wondered if I would make it out of here alive. I didn't think so. I wasn't mad at it, just disappointed. Maybe this was my punishment, my punishment for running away from the farm, for killing Lucy. Maybe my death was punishment for all the pain I have caused.

Maybe when I die, I can apologize to Lucy, to clay, to cross, to everyone I have failed. Maybe then I would be able to rest.

(Did I cry while making this? Yes, was it worth it also, yes.)

#assassin's creed #desmond miles #sad desmond #bill miles #shaun hastings #Rebecca crane #crying #angst

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fanworldbuildingfun · 1 year

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“Winds of Cyrene” play on repeat

I come bearing yet another time travel idea (to surprise of absolutely no one). This time, the premise is thus: after the Temple, Desmond awakens in a sealed tomb. At first, he doesn’t realize he is not simply… Gone. Not till he has to get up because something particularly hard has been digging into his back while he ruminated. It’s a trial all on its own – wherever he was, it was cramped, and full of things

Definitely not the Temple. All it had in abundance was, well, space

In the end, he tries to resort to Eagle Vision. It takes a few tries – I’m thinking, because suddenly it feels/acts closer to Layla Trilogy’s version of the vision? And it’s downright odd and headache inducing. But after a few tries, Desmond begins to realize that it’s not just random things surrounding him. Just in hand’s reach, he can make out jars and vases by touch alone. And a few meters to the side? His Vision keeps insisting there’s a chariot, of all things

And the thing he is leaning against?

A stone sarcophagus

Que a mounting sense of dread as the above convalesces into a single picture. Of a tomb

And at this point? Desmond has no idea if it’s just some random tomb, or a tomb made for him, or…

Whatever place it is, he just knows he has to get out of there. All Desmond has is his clothes, his blade, and nothing more. He has no food, no water, and who knows what’s in this place – the air is stale. Musky. And if he managed to somehow survive the Flare? He was not about to waste it by using the tomb for its intended purpose. So he starts exploring. Trying to figure out how to use the new version of the vision. Trying to ignore how it feeds extra information to him that he should not known (what the heck is a khopesh?)

His salvation comes when, having moved one of the heavy crates, he sees a fain, nearly not-there, golden outline of a footprint. Not unlike the ones his ancestor’s targets would sometimes leave. It gives him a direction to search in

For the above, I was very much thinking about the Golden Tomb in Isolated Desert. Why? For the sheer opportunity of Desmond then first stumbling down instead of up, to the manmade entrance. And so, he finds Oun Maa Niye Ressoot. Touching the monolith, even without silica, causes it to activate and his pain to light up in pain. That makes Desmond miss the beginning of the message. A stroke of luck, because, frankly, what he does catch through the bouts of pain, leaves him deeply questioning whether he is even alive or not. Whether this is all some trick of Juno’s or not. At least, until his name is mentioned – but he is not addressed

That… Is a relief

It still leaves Desmond pondering a great many things. For a time. Because whether it’s a simulation or not, the thirst and hunger he feels appear very, very real to him. And he was not risking deciding it was a simulation – and dying for it

He ends up figuring out the teleport

But what he finds once he is no longer blinded by light? This… Appears entirely too empty to be anywhere he knows. And entirely too sandy and hot. So Desmond finds a cover, waits for sunset, and then picks the direction which appears the shiniest to his Eagle Vision

…The Giza plateau he finds is entirely too different for him to even entertain the thought that he is anywhere near his time

From there I’d have Desmond try and find a way back. Perhaps look for more Temples like Oun Maa Niye Ressoot, in hopes that one may help him in it. And on the go, he just – settles into rhythm of doing small favors for people. Or what feels like those, to him, because if there is one thing Desmond doesn’t understand, it’s demotic. And his Greek is pretty shaky too, with Ezio being mostly knowledgeable about Latin. So a lot of it? Is down to charades. But it’s not a big issue to take down a group of bandits, or to find documents that help prove that this one merchant asshole is, in fact, NOT doing his work legally

Somehow, though, Desmond keeps returning to Giza

And one of those times? His vision pings him that something is Off with Sphinx (and Ha! Isn’t that a novel idea? It still had its nose, even)

He ends up following the anomaly and – ends up finding the entrance to the chambers under sphinx

And then, he finds the now-open Eesfet Oon-m'Aa Poo

(Here, I ask you to assume Bayek finished the stone circles after the vanilla story line, but has not yet visited Giza, after)

This time, the reaction is… Much, much stronger. And for a moment? Desmond can practically see Calculations. Or the Reader, whichever you prefer. Except, they are not the only ones in that space. There is a voice calling for someone, in the distance, and it sounds so young - Between an odd glowing silhouette and what sounds like a child, Desmond chose to follow the child’s voice

And that’s how Desmond finds Khemu. Khemu, who is trying to find his father but can’t. And while Desmond realizes this may be a huge ass mess and more than likely just a simulation, not a real person –

He tries to calm the kid the best he can. There is no questioning how he can understand him – Desmond is just relieved he can. After managing to get the kid – Khemu – to calm down, Desmond tentatively offers to get him to his parents. This time, when he walks off in the vague direction of the golden tree, he has a scrawny passenger in his arms. And when he wakes up on the floor of Eesfet Oon-m'Aa Poo? There is the same scrawny body laying on top of him

Loose ideas:

This is set after the Hidden Ones have been created, so the origin story for them remains the same

The understanding Khemu and Desmond shared in Calculations… Didn’t really carry over. But they do their best to try and understand each other – or to teach each other their language. Khemu proved to outstubborn Desmond in that

Khemu also has no idea what Assassins are, or that Hidden Ones even *exist*, so his ideas on what Desmond’s work is… Is a bit wonky

And that is totally how Desmond spends all too long thinking that “medjay” is demotic for “assassin”

This may or may not get the two of them into equal amounts of trouble and good luck. Depends on where they are, really

Desmond totally stole the Isu armor from under the Sphinx, and it definitely looks like the concept art version and not the in-game glowy version

It takes them several months to track Bayek down. Or rather, to accidentally stumble across the Bureau in Memphis.

#Assassin's Creed #Assassin's Creed: Origins #Desmond Miles #Khemu of Siwa #Bayek of Siwa #Desmond the tomb explorer #Desmond the maybe a little tomb looter #Khemu lives

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jaewul · 2 months

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I am having Assassin's Creed thoughts again, remember how in AC3 the cave entrance of the Grand Temple had some tags all over it ? And they looked fairly recent ?

It must mean that some local kids used that place to hangout, no ? Imagine if at some point they came there while Desmond&co were inside, saw that the back wall was missing and the cave now led to some sort of sci-fi ancient alien compound. Maybe they went back home, planning to come back with torches and explore it later. Maybe only a few days later strange trucks arrived and barred anyone from going to the cave. Maybe years later, those kids are still thinking about the weird cave and regret not going in it while they could.

#assassin's creed #jae's ramblings #ac3

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a-mad-scientist-approaches · 4 months

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A New Era (1)

Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony, but everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he turned against it. A hundred years passed, and the war ended, but a new Avatar has yet to be found. The Earth Kingdom waits, ready, for any stirrings of power expected to rise in their lands. The Fire Nation works to rebuild relations with the rest of the world, sending its trusted envoy Skulduggery Pleasant to keep watch over Nefarian Serpine. The Water Tribes strengthen themselves, and the last scattered descendents of Air Nomads hide, not yet ready to believe they are safe. Their newest member, Stephanie Edgley, starts to stretch her wings. The pieces are in place. A transplant of the Skulduggery Pleasant characters and plot into the Avatar world, to see what would change.

Chapter 1: The Stage is Set

AO3 1 2 3 4 5 6

P1 P2 P3 P4

‘Story time! Story time!’

The little girl ran upstairs, never having looked so eager to be put to bed. Gordon followed, casting a helpless glance back at his brother and sister-in-law, who laughed heartlessly in his face and returned to their conversation by the fireside.

Sighing, Gordon left the warm embrace of Desmond and Melissa’s rather small (cosy, he corrected himself) living room and followed the five-year-old up the rickety staircase.

She was waiting in bed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Gordon took the seat she mandated by her bedside.

‘Story!’ she demanded again.

‘Alright, alright,’ Gordon said grumpily. ‘Spirits, you’re bossy tonight.’

‘Please,’ she corrected herself, giving an adorable gap-toothed grin that mercilessly eliminated all his defences. If Gordon hadn’t been so impressed by its effectiveness, he would have been irritated.

Who was he kidding, this kid had stolen his heart with her first words.

Fortunately, he reassured himself, no one besides himself knew that, so he would not be susceptible to any teasing from her parents. Ignoring the little voice reminding him that all his niece had to do was enthusiastically exclaim “Story time!” in order to get him to abandon intelligent adult conversation and obey her wishes, he made himself as comfortable as he could.

‘What story would you like tonight? The one about the valkyries?’

‘I’m Valkyrie,’ she told him.

‘Yes, your mum and dad were just telling me. Do you feel braver with your new name?’

‘Yes!’

‘No more bad dreams?’

‘Uh uh. No more bad spirit. He leaves me alone now.’

‘Well that’s very good to hear. You can raise all kinds of Cain for him now.’

Valkyrie laughed, even though Gordon didn’t think she knew what he meant.

‘So, what kind of story would you like? We’ll have to make it a good one, I’m going back to Omashu tomorrow.’

‘I wanna know about the airbenders!’ Valkyrie bounced in place, ruffling her covers.

Smoothing them back over, Gordon said, ‘Ah, yes. Now this one is a true story, so we have to be very respectful. Are you going to be good and listen quietly?’

Valkyrie nodded eagerly.

‘Alright then.

‘Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony, but everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked. The evil Unnamed Fire Lord wanted to rule the world, so he secretly made machines that could climb cliff faces, and ships that could sail as fast as the waterbenders, and trained an army to overpower anyone who would dare stand in his way.’

‘Except the Avatar,’ breathed Valkyrie, eyes wide and entranced.

‘That’s right. Now the Avatar was only young- a little older than you. He was still being trained by the monks at the Air Temples, and was far from ready to face the Fire Lord. And the Fire Lord was coming. He knew he had to kill the Avatar if he wanted to rule the world, so the monks came up with a clever plan: they would trick the Fire Lord by hiding the Avatar at the Northern Air Temple, so that when the Fire Lord came to the Southern Air Temple, he wouldn’t find what he wanted, and the airbenders could trap him.

‘But something went wrong. The monks underestimated the Unnamed’s desire for power. Instead of just attacking the Southern Air Temple, all four temples around the world were invaded. The Unnamed had decreed that not only the Avatar, but all the airbenders must die. So the Fire Nation stormed the air temples and killed everyone they found, and if they heard whispers of airbenders who had escaped anywhere in the world, they would hunt them down and kill them too.’

‘How did the Avatar get away?’ Valkyrie asked in a hushed voice.

‘A very clever airbender protected him through the chaos of the battle. He helped hide him and trained him, taking him from nation to nation so he could master earthbending, and waterbending, and firebending too. They spent years hiding and biding their time, growing stronger and inspiring resistance and freedom fighters across the world! They became known as the Air Avatar and his master, the Last Airbender. And the Last Airbender was your great-grandfather.’

Valkyrie clearly already knew this, back to bouncing in place with a huge grin.

‘But we don’t talk about that to others, do we?’ prompted Gordon.

Valkyrie shook her head soberly. ‘It’s a secret.’

‘Yes it is.’

Before Gordon could continue with the story, Valkyrie asked, ‘Uncle Gordon, why is it a secret? There’s no more airbenders anywhere anymore, not even Mum or Daddy or you or me or Uncle Fergus or Aunty Beryl or Carol’n’Crystal.’

‘Well, the bad people who were around back then didn’t care if you were really an airbender or not. If you were related to an airbender, or friends with an airbender, or helped hide an airbender, that was good enough for them. So we just keep this little secret to ourselves, because even though it’s not that dangerous anymore, there’s still bad people like that out there somewhere.’

‘Okay.’ A troubled frown worked its way across Valkyrie’s face. ‘That’s scary.’

Gordon winced, then hastily backtracked, sitting on the bed beside Valkyrie and putting his arm around her, making sure not to squash the threadbare brown badgermole toy nestled in there with her. She snuggled into his side.

‘It’s okay, we’re just being careful. The bad people are all locked away now, and they’re not going to hurt us. You don’t have to be scared, we’re all perfectly safe. It’s just in case, you understand? Your mum and dad are never going to let anything happen to you.’

Looking slightly more reassured, Valkyrie nodded, and Gordon hurriedly continued with the story, hoping she’d forget about the warning.

‘So, once the Avatar was all grown up and had learnt how to bend all four elements, he went to fight the Fire Lord. And they had a great battle! Fire flew, and rocks smashed, and the wind howled and the ocean roared. It was incredible! But then the Avatar got hurt, and the Fire Lord was winning. He closed in, ready to strike- and out of nowhere, who came to rescue the Avatar but his old master and friend, the Last Airbender!’

‘The Last Airbender fought with everything he had! The Unnamed had killed his people, his family, his friends, and he would not let him take anyone else! He wanted to make the Unnamed pay for all he had done.’

‘That’s bad,’ Valkyrie piped up. Gordon glanced down at her in surprise.

‘Is it?’ he said with interest. He hadn’t thought she’d pick up on that particular moral deliberation.

‘Yeah. Daddy said the Air Nomads wanted peace, and wanted to be nice to other people, so that’s what we should do. Great-granddad forgot that.’

‘Yes. He did. Good girl for remembering.’ Personally, Gordon was on his grandfather’s side there, but he doubted Melissa would appreciate him lecturing her five-year-old daughter on the subtleties of war and justice.

‘Like you say, the Last Airbender forgot about what he’d been taught in his youth, and wanted revenge. He fought like he was possessed by a dark spirit! Some say he was, and that the blood of the Spirit World will forever flow in our veins.’ Valkyrie shrieked as he tickled her, giggling until she calmed down.

‘Really?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said Gordon. ‘He just fought really well.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

‘But in the end, the Unnamed won. The Last Airbender hurt the Fire Lord so much that he had to retreat, but was fatally wounded in return. With the last of his strength, he made sure the Avatar was safe, and would continue to fight back against the Fire Nation. And then he died, at peace and knowing he had done his part so that the world might one day be saved.

‘Reinvigorated, the Avatar might have gone right after the Unnamed and challenged him again! But something was happening in the Fire Nation. The Unnamed was old, and though he was powerful, he was growing weaker. One of his younger generals decided that he wanted the throne for himself, and before the Avatar could finish the job, he assassinated the Unnamed and crowned himself Fire Lord Mevolent.

‘Fire Lord Mevolent was no less evil than his predecessor, and the Fire Nation became stronger under his reign. For sixty more years, the war raged, and the Fire Nation was clever. They knew the Air Avatar wanted to defeat the Fire Lord, and made sure that he never got another opportunity. And so, in the end, it came down to the sheer will of the people.

‘After one hundred years of war, the world was desperate. It was no longer the Avatar’s job to save everyone- it was up to everyone to save each other. So the Earth Kingdom gathered the last of its soldiers, and the Water Tribes the last of their warriors, and even the people in the Fire Nation who didn’t agree with the war and didn’t like Fire Lord Mevolent all rose up! And together, they planned, and they were clever, and they became strong and quick and braver than they had ever been before! Fire Lord Mevolent was a very evil man, and he was bad to many, many people, even his own family. Eventually, he made so many enemies that the bad Fire Nation soldiers were overwhelmed, and Mevolent himself was defeated by his own son. The war was finally over.

‘Fire Lord Caisson put the bad Fire Nation generals in prison, and the ones who were willing to learn how to be good again were given a second chance. Then, he and everyone who had helped him began rebuilding cities and villages and farms, but most importantly, they began to rebuild trust. And in the end, the world became much safer, and much, much happier. Just in time too,’ Gordon added, ‘because you, little missy, were born not long after the Hundred Year War ended. We needed to make sure everything was ready for you, after all.’

Valkyrie giggled, but her smile faded sooner than Gordon would have liked, and she cast worried eyes up at him. ‘But Uncle Gordon, you said all the bad people got locked away, but just now you said some of them got a second chance. What if they go back to being bad?’

Well, Gordon couldn’t say he wasn’t worried about that too. It had taken Gordon longer than he cared to admit to relax around any firebenders; he was still learning, to be honest. After generations of knowing that the lives of himself and his family rested on one stray rumour about their heritage, deconstructing that mentality was going to take some time. Especially as more than a few of the firebenders loyal to Mevolent had escaped capture and were still out in the world somewhere.

Fortunately, most of the really crazy fanatics had been jailed in various top-secret locations around the world that Skulduggery wouldn’t divulge no matter how much Gordon pestered him. But Serpine now, Serpine was a worry. Apparently the Dai Li had him under strict observation in Ba Sing Se. Not strict enough, if Gordon’s sources were to be believed, and Gordon was inclined to do so; after all, there had to be a reason Skulduggery had gotten the Fire Lord to make him a Special Envoy and send him over to the Earth Kingdom. If that reason wasn’t something to do with keeping an eye on Serpine, Gordon would eat a whole sack of fireflakes.

‘They’re not going to do that,’ Gordon told his niece reassuringly. ‘Have you heard of the Earth King? The one in Ba Sing Se?’

‘Eechan-Mary Torteyus.’

Gordon laughed. ‘Yes, him.’

‘Mummy says he wouldn’t know what we want if we bit him on the bum.’

‘Er, right. Him. Well, after the war King Eachan put a lot of rules in place to make sure that the people who were bad during the war could never do what they did again. So you don’t have to worry, because all the Dai Li agents and Earth Kingdom soldiers are ready for anything bad to happen.’

‘Uncle Gordon?’

‘Yes?’

‘What happened to the Avatar? He never defeated the Fire Lord. You said Caisson did instead.’

‘Well, that’s a bit of a sad story. You see, he never got another chance to end the war, and one day, after he’d done a lot of good things and helped lots and lots of people, he died.’

‘But there’s always an Avatar. He gets re-in-car-nat-ed,’ Valkyrie sounded out carefully. ‘That means he gets born again into another body.’

Gordon huffed dramatically. ‘Why don’t you tell the story then, since you seem to know everything, Little Miss Smartypants?’

Once she finished giggling, he said, ‘Yes, the Avatar was born again, into one of the Water Tribes this time. No one ever found out who he was though. Eventually he came out of hiding, but instead of helping, he joined Fire Lord Mevolent.’

‘A bad Avatar?’

‘A very bad one.’ Gordon had only ever heard stories, but they’d chilled him nevertheless. He was definitely planning on including some of them in a book one day. ‘People think he died at the end of the war, but the next Avatar hasn’t been found yet.’

‘What happens when they are?’

‘Well, you remember those rules I told you the Earth King made? Some of them mean that when the Earth Avatar is found, all their training and schooling will take place under the Earth King’s supervision. He doesn’t want the Avatar to become bad again, and he’s going to make sure it doesn’t happen.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

‘Now, do you think I’ve given you enough dreams for tonight?’

‘But I want more stories!’

‘Ah ah ah, you’ve coerced too many out of me tonight as it is. Time for bed now, or your mum and dad aren’t going to be very happy with me.’

With much whining and extortion (on Valkyrie’s part) for more stories to come, Gordon was eventually able to tuck her and her badgermole into bed. As he blew out the candle, he heard one last sleepy, ‘Uncle Gordon?’

‘Yes Valkyrie?’

‘Why did the Water Avatar go bad?’

‘No one really knows. Sometimes people just make bad choices.’

‘That’s sad.’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Okay. G’night Uncle Gordon.’

‘Good night, little miss troublemaker.’

Shutting the wooden door quietly, Gordon reflected on that. For his writing, he’d researched the Avatar Cycle quite a bit. He’d heard that the spirit of the Avatar, Raava, was one of light and peace. It fundamentally shouldn’t be possible for an avatar to wreak as much harm as the last Water Avatar did; to do so would cut them off from the very core of their being… it must have torn him apart inside.

Although, the general consensus was, if there was ever anyone capable of cleaving their own soul in half, it was Avatar Vile.

#see ao3 tags #avatar au #fusion #avatar vile was my brainwave #cuz the egocentricity #inherited superpowers #and life tragedies #make skug destined for avatarship #skulduggery pleasant

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phoenixmaiden-gaming · 1 year

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Assassin’s Creed IV: Black Flag part 46 FINAL

I started the game up again after a few days of processing (and playing Pokemon) and started up to do some last minute stuff I had missed. So I got out of the animus and hacked the rest of the computers. Then I went after the last two Legendary Ships and finally, completed some Abstergo Challenges. Fun!

The first thing I did was get out of the Animus and go around to hack the rest of the computers. I started off down in the basement in the bunker. It had previously had other people there but now they were empty. The first one was another sample of another Assassin, Aveline de Grandpré. I never heard of her before but she was another Assassin who had been brainwashed and trained to kill but that later in life she was trained to be a lady and Abstergo gave the green light on this one.

Another computer was another sample that Abstergo had considered, Ratonhnhaké:ton aka, Connor. They were unimpressed with his calm demeanor. They did find his childhood more impressive but thought that the audience would struggle with the language he spoke, so they denied it.

I headed up to the top floor offices and the secretary wasn’t at her desk so I hacked her computer. It was a story of Kenway before he left Bristol. He had stopped two men from taking a drunk girl home and started a fight so they wouldn’t. Since there were three of them, he got beat up but the fight was stopped by a woman who came by named Caroline Scott. She understood what was happening right away and turned out her father owned the bar they were at. Kenway had invited her out to dinner for another time but she turned him down saying her father wouldn’t approve. But he couldn’t stop thinking about her after she left. Aw! It’s how they met.

I went down to the lobby and hacked the computers there. There was an audio file with Vidic interviewing Subject 1 who was delving into memories of Aveline de Grand Pré. Since the Subject was male, he found it weird to be living memories from a female, he noticed a lot of differences their center of gravity was different, the way he was treated, how he had to be careful what he wore. He had never been more aware of who he was before.

Another audio file was back with Aileen as Miriam who was being held by Nazis looking for an Artifact. They were telling her that all her allies were dead and Miriam said that the fact that he was here that they didn’t talk and neither will she. They then sound like they were torturing her and it effected Aileen and they had to pull her out of the animus. But something went wrong and Aileen ended up dying. The end of the tape had Vidic practicing his eulogy for Aileen and it honestly sounded like he was gloating. Hate that guy.

I didn’t know where last two computers were and looked everywhere but it ended up being in the lobby down near the entrance, the security doors. One of them had a last memo from Desmond to his father basically as a good bye. It was right before he died as he was talking about his memories of Connor and that they were going to the temple. And if something happened to him he loved him and his mom. It’s sad to think that his dad never got to hear these memos because Abstergo went in and took everything. His dad, Shaun and Rebecca didn’t have time to take Desmond’s body and his things.

The last computer was a correspondence between Olivier and Melanie with Olivier asking her to focus on where the Observatory was. She didn’t know how she was going to pass that off as part of their research, but he didn’t care. He was getting pressure from Laetitia who in turn was getting pressure from her boss. They didn’t care about their little game projects, only the results. Olivier just said to surprise them with food and liquor and I guess that was what they went with.

That was all of the computers hacked. I also found the last sticky note on the wall in the same room. Everything outside the Animus was now done. Nothing happened though.

I then went back into the Animus since there was still a few more things to do, like go after the last Legendary Ships. The first one was in the Navassa sea.

It was the HMS Prince and it looked like a Ghost Ship because there was fog everywhere. I went straight after it and it was surprisingly very easy. I thought I was going to have a tough time, but I just continued to circle it, blasting it with my cannons.

It didn’t take very long and it was only on the first try that I was able to sink it. Three down, one to go.

The last Legendary Ship was the La Dama Negra on the other side of the sea. It was really strong and I had a hard time with it. It had thick armor on it, but it was kind of slow. I had to use that to my advantage.

It didn’t seem to have any other attack except mortars but they hit pretty hard and were not completely accurate. I had to hit it straight on or from the sides. I would hit it with my own mortars when I could, but the cannons worked better. I would just circle the ship and kept blasting it. If I got lucky, I would weaken it and could hit it with the fire swivels.

It took me four tries before I was finally able to sink it and I only just barely won. One more hit and I would have had to start over. But I did it and all the Legendary Ships were sunk.

When I beat the last Legendary Ship I got a new ship attack, called Charge Attack. could ram other ships and it will take more damage. Nice.

There wasn’t much else to do except Abstergo Challenges, so I did those. There weren’t many to do since I’ve completed most of them. One of them was to Kill enemies with Head Shots. I just fast traveled to Havana and wen tot he most guarded areas and just headshot all the guards I saw until I completed it.

Moving on, I had to disarm and kill 3 agile guards with their own weapon. I didn’t know how to do it at first because when I disarmed them they would just drop it and I didn’t grab it. I had to look it up. Turns out they had a dagger so I just had to use the one I already had and killed the first one. Then the next one I disarmed and was able to equip it. Rinse repeat and I completed the challenge.

The next one was really easy. I had to dive into water from a height of 45 meters. I just climbed to the top mast of the Jackdaw and dived straight down. Challenge complete.

The next challenge was to kill a red howler monkey. There was only one place to find them, Isla Providencia. So I fast traveled there and searched for one and killed it. Another challenge complete.

Another challenge was to use the blowpipe to kill animals. So I went to an island that had deer and used the sleep dart on it so I could just go up to it and kill it. I had to do it 10 times before getting the achievement.

Next up was to defeat 5 ships I had previously tagged. I don’t really use that feature, so I had to go out and just tag a ship in the distance, sail out to it and sink it. Once I did it 5 times, I completed the challenge.

The next one was really fun. I had to use the rope dart 5 times. I found an island that had some Spanish and British soldiers fighting each other. I just used the rope dart on all of them and hung them from the same tree. Challenge done.

Same island, I had to use the rope dart on animals. There were those small rodent things I just threw the rope dart at it and it died. So it was easy. I had to kill 5 of them that way and then I completed the challenge.

There was just one more challenge to do and that was to kill 15 enemies with the rope dart. I just went to a place with a warehouse that had a lot of greenery so I could use the trees. I just used the rope darts on passing soldiers. You should have seen another tree I used, it had four hanging from it. I was able to finish the last challenge with no problem.

There was nothing left for me to do, so that is it. Kind of an anti-climatic ending for my game play, but that’s okay. I like a relaxing game play. I had a lot of fun playing this game, even if it took me a long time to finish. I’ll say more in my review, but I really loved this game and how it connected with the others. Thank you for following along this whole time and I can’t wait to start my next game that I’ve been sitting on for a while - Stray. Until next time. Happy Gaming!

#phoenix be gaming #Assassin's Creed IV Black Flag #PC Games #Steam Games #gaming #gameplay #playthrough #game #games #video games #gamer #gamer fun #gamer girl #gamer life #Entertainment #Nothing is Queue Everything is Permitted

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esamastation · 3 years

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AC x Dr. Stone crossover snippet

They never said how the device would work.

That's the bitter realisation Desmond is left with as he emerges from the cave, two weeks into the end of the world as he knew it, barely in time before his food supplies run out and far far too late to actually do anything. Two weeks of digging and almost completely ineffectual mining and hauling stone, trying to clear a path through the collapsed entrance while the earth rumbled and shuddered and the Grand Temple threatened to collapse around him. Two weeks of constant work and stress and unwillingness to give up in face of probably grim reality. Two weeks of trying, of hoping, of fearing.

Two weeks, and he finds not only a world in fire - but a people transformed.

The first one he finds is Shaun, fallen over by the van. He's frozen in the act of reaching for something - the door handle? Rebecca? Maybe he was holding something. Either way, his hand is so reaching out as he lies there on his side, like a statue tipped over, still trying to run. He was shouting - he looks like he's still shouting.

Rebecca is inside the van, still trying to put the seatbelt on, her hands gripping nothing. She's slightly tipped over too, her forehead resting where the window had been, glass shards at the bottom still clinging to the frame, scraping at her neck without doing any damage. Her face is twisted in a look of grief and determination.

Bill is sitting behind the wheel, still clutching it in one hand, his other on the gearshift. He's twisted around, looking over his shoulder - like he's about to back away from the cave mouth. His mouth is open in a snarl, like he'd been saying something - telling Shaun to hurry up.

Neither Minerva nor Juno said how the device would work, how it would save people. Only touch the pedestal and everyone will be saved.

The people, and not the world. The world didn't need saving. What did the planet care about a solar flare? It had gone through dozens of them and it shrugged them off like a bad case of cold - and if everything got burned and destroyed on the surface then… that was the surface's problem. Give it a couple hundred, thousand, maybe a couple hundred thousand years, and life would return. On a geological timescale, that's nothing.

The people will be saved. And they had been.

Shaun, Rebecca, Bill - all three are stiff, but not like stone. Rather, they are stone - three solid stone statues, forever caught in the act of trying to escape, frozen in place in and by a van that had been burned to a husk around them as the forest fires swept through Turin. The fires are still going and the earth is still shaking but it's not putting a dent on the people - because they'd been saved.

Perfectly preserved, exactly as they were, in granite.

–

Something like that.

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xadoheandterra · 3 years

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Series: The Heir, The Reader, and Clay

Title: Run It Again Fandom: Assassin’s Creed Characters: Desmond Miles, Malik al-Sayf, Altair ibn La’Ahad, Kadar al-Sayf Pairings: Altair/Malik Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII | XIV | XV | XVI | XVI | XVI Enabler: @kingbob2-0 @claire-the-dyke-dragon Tags: Time Travel, Dad Malik, Desmond Raised By Others, De-Aged Desmond, OC’s Galore, Feels, Emotional Trauma and Implied Near Death, Altair Is A Giant Mess, Malik and Altair Cannot Talk Without Fighting I Swear Summary: They hadn’t found an answer yet, and Layla was impatient despite the promise of the Grey being timeless in its nature. She didn’t want to have to search for an answer that might never come–so she made another suggestion. Why not just change it? Why not counter the Isu influence on the Pieces of Eden where it counted, and counter what Juno inevitably did to the Eye in the Grand Temple?

It was all the push that Desmond needed to let himself be just that bit more selfish. So selfish he chose to be, and there was one moment where the Isu’s hold on the Pieces of Eden had a profound effect–the Levantine Brotherhood. Altair Ibn La’Ahad. Al Mualim. There was just one problem–Desmond was eight, a child, and didn’t remember dying.

Layla at least had his back, even if she was just a bit fashionably late.

Altair went to the north, first, to seek out information he needed for Talal, to at least gain Malik's permission to hunt the man down. His shoulders were stiff as he moved, and he swore he caught flashes of white and gray in the world as he went but he quickly brushed the thought off. Most likely he was catching sight of some of Malik's Novices in the area as they ran errands or worked on their skills, so Altair would do them the service of ignoring their presence as best he was able. Except something niggled on the back of his senses, a familiar sort of taste or color to his mind that had him pause momentarily as he went about his business. He saw nothing, though, and so pressed himself onward to his tasks.

Like a beacon of importance, a cool-pale-gold-white caught Altair's attention inside the Mosque, the deep maroon of the guards in his way. He worked on a path inside--he couldn't waltz in even if he wanted, he was too heavily armed and obvious as to his profession and Altair knew that. He found a set of scholars, though, that were happy to loan him a cloak to cover his weapons if he aided them in recovering a brother--and once he secured so they escorted him inside in the middle of their number.

"Your exit is your own," one of the whispered and Altair ducked his head as he dipped out of the group and sought the closest bench, eyes now focused in that second sight on his targets. He kept his head bowed as he listened to them discuss--something. Raided caravans, things of little interest. Altair pressed his lips together and flared his nostrils--a bit of gold caught his eye toward the entrance to the Mosque and he tilted his head and tried to piece together what he saw when his two loudly talking sources of information mentioned archery and slaying a group of brigands single-handedly.

Perfect. Altair scowled, waited, but they seemed disinclined to give him any more useful information so he got to his feet and looked for the burst of gold across his senses--and froze. Altair blinked, gaze normal and stared at the grey-hooded, clean shaven face of a dead man who looked right at him and smiled, then slipped into the crowd and disappeared. His breath stilled as his heart beat a sharp staccato and--fuck, Altair shook himself and decided he was imagining things. He had not nearly slept enough on his journey from Masyaf to Jerusalem and it was only now coming back to bite him.

Altair would have left his thoughts there if at each location he visited under Malik's suggestion he didn't see the same flash of gold and same face peer at him from the crowd with the same stupid grin. It should have been impossible as that face was the face of a deadman but even as he stood there in the shadows of the market, newly scribbled poor-mans map in hand Kadar stared at him from around the corner. And again in front of the Church, as he'd taken a second poor-mans map off of an unsuspecting fool--and again as he beat and bullied the fool in front of the city gate for more information--and again, and again, and again.

By the time Altair made his way back to the Bureau he was thoroughly unsettled and the sun was setting in the sky and Altair wasn't certain what was going on, only that Kadar kept showing his face and Kadar was dead. He was being stalked by a ghost or a djinni--Altair wasn't sure which only that he felt the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end with each sight, his breath catch in his throat, his lungs still as he struggled to fight down the initial panic of Kadar's ghost that stalked him like one stalked prey with that eerie, ridiculous grin across its face.

The roof of the Bureau was a welcome sight, and Altair dropped into the garden on quiet feet. He stalked around the corner and back into the main room; Malik was already there. He faced the door, gaze off in the distance, but his head snapped to Altair as soon as Altair stepped past the threshold between the garden and the main Bureau. Altair paused in his step for a moment, and then pressed onward with a soft, "Malik."

Malik breathed in, sharp through his nose and Altair waited for the sharp words to follow, before Malik seemed to just shake his head and gesture for Altair to come to the counter. Cautiously Altair stepped forward and Malik said, "Well? Share what you have found." Altair opened his mouth, but stopped when Malik raised his hand and looked to the door with a frown. HIs gaze slid back to the garden and he nearly flinched at the sight of six Novices all crowded in the doorway.

"Get in here, each of you," Malik said sharply. "Do not loiter in the door."

"Yes Dai," the Novices all said softly and Altair watched as they shuffled into the room.

Once each Novice had settled around Altair, all on silent shuffled feet, Malik looked them over and clucked his tongue for a moment. Altair decided to pay them little mind aside from the shock of their sudden appearance. He was distracted--nothing more, nothing less. It was the lack of sleep, Altair was certain, and not that Malik was raising a small hoard of secret djinn in the heart of Jerusalem for the Brotherhood. Altair tried not to think of the way six pairs of eyes all stared at his back, or how his shoulders wanted to inch up around his ears.

"You will watch, quietly," Malik said, words sharp, "as Altair provides me with what he has unearthed in the city. Then you will share what you have found, in the same fashion. Am I understood?"

"Yes Dai," came the faint replies and Altair forced himself to look at Malik with his eyes wide at the sudden attention.

Malik just smirked; of course he'd take pleasure in Altair's discomfort. For a second Altair shifted, grimace cross his face, and Malik made a quick gesture of 'well' with his hand that forced Altair into action. He must set a good precedent for these Novices, he knew that. He knew what exacting standards Malik had, too--and that Altair had never quite met them well enough. After a second Altair forced himself to breath, nod, and straighten his spine.

"Talal is a man who traffics in lives," Altair said, words succinct in nature. "He takes Jerusalem citizens and sells them to slavery. He keeps them in a warehouse and is an archer of some skill and renown." Altair fished out his two poor-mans maps and set them onto the counter. "I was able to procure two maps, the first details Talal's most frequent escape route. The second details guard positions around the warehouse." Altair stepped back as Malik unfolded the maps and looked over the marked positions. He reached below the shelf and pulled out a much larger roll of paper that he carefully unraveled. Altair watched him place rocks to hold the map in place, surprised to see it a detailed map of Jerusalem.

"Is that all?" Malik questioned, and raised his eyebrows when Altair didn't speak further. "Nothing on the location of this warehouse, I see."

Altair pressed his lips together and looked to his poor mans maps; Malik was a talented cartographer, but even Altair could admit they were particularly unskilled enough that perhaps he should have bothered the Informants he'd seen in the city. He didn't want to be tested, especially not with Novices certainly about and not with a ghost following him, but he could see potential folly in not doing so now despite his pride. With a sigh Altair shifted and said, "Can you not tell? I thought you had skill in cartography, Malik," instead of admitting his own fault.

Malik's eyes narrowed and then he gestured to the Novices, "Well? How did Altair do?"

Altair grimaced at the clear dismissal and watched as one by one each Novice stepped forward and began to speak. They verified what Altair had provided--Talal was a slaver, who had a warehouse, and that there were two maps held by two men that Altair had picked the pockets of--where were these children when Altair was working? He hadn't even seen them! The next two however shifted forward, one of them by far the shortest of the lot. Altair tilted his head to the side and let his eyes slip into his second sight at the clear child.

"The warehouse is located in the north of this district," the first Novice said, the taller one with a growing deep voice. Altair paid him little mind and raised his brows at the other; a girl? Altair blinked and glanced to Malik out of the corner of his eye as Malik spoke words of thanks and then looked to the second Novice--the girl, which Altair was still puzzling over. A girl and under ten--he'd not once seen Al Mualim accept a girl into the ranks of Brothers although Altair always wondered why that was.

The Flowers in Masyaf could be so utterly terrifying given the right circumstances, after all, and Altair knew just how well some women could be with a blade in their hand. He thought of Adha for the briefest moments, a small smile across his lips at the memory of her fierce nature as he chased after her--he shook himself a second later as the Novice spoke in the high, too-young voice.

"The warehouse is inside the Barbican, which is what the maps are supposed to be of, and Talal is preparing to move shipment soon," said the girl, and Malik nodded sharply.

"Thank you Jamal," Malik said, and Altair blinked as something shifted home in the way the Novice stood. Altair thought, ah, so that is how it is, and neatly slotted the Novice under 'Jamal' and figured he'd treat Jamal the same as any other young brother unless told otherwise. It wasn't any of his business either way, no matter his curiosity over the matter. Altair titled his head as he looked to Malik who gestured then to each of the Novices and said a succinct, "Dinner is on the stove. Help yourselves."

Altair watched each of the Novices as they shuffled into the door to the house, and then looked to Malik who hauled a large book onto the counter and began to flip through the pages. For a long while Altair remained silent; he watched as Malik moved through page after page, before he finally settled upon one and grabbed his brush and bottle of ink. Altair waited as Malik wrote, and then waited some more as Malik set down his brush and placed a simple, white feather onto the pages of the book.

Eventually Malik raised his head and looked to Altair, then gestured to the feather in place in the book.

"Your information was lacking," Malik said, words slow as Altair took a step forward. "I am certain you know this." Altair dipped his head. "I need you to tell me why, Altair. Why did you not bother to ask the Informants for information? I know they were plainly visible. I know you could have easily obtained that which they had for that which they sought. So why didn't you?"

Altair looked to the ground; he thought about the ghost and that the Informants were plainly clear--they were there for Novices and while Altair may not be back to his rank of Master Assassin he had no need for superfluous training disguised as information gathering; not when they were clearly there for Novices in the city. If he did their tasks he would be taking from the children--and Altair loathed the thought of displaying his own skills needlessly. He might be called arrogant and prideful, but Altair did not like to show off if it unnecessary.

"I am not a Novice," Altair said instead, and Malik scoffed.

"Oh are you not?" Malik looked him up and down, lips pressed thin. "I see no mark of Dai, so obviously you have lost the rank. I see no mark of a Master, either--been demoted, have you?" Altair grit his teeth with the burn of shame that roiled through him. "Hm, I thought as much. Ah, look, the mark of an Assassin--so poorly placed, as if you had barely been given leave to wear it." Malik reached out and plucked at Altair's sash and Altair went stiff at the gesture. "So, Novice, too good then are you to take the task offered at hand?"

"That is not what I said," Altair ground out. "You know that is not what I said."

"Is it not?" Malik narrowed his eyes.

"Malik I am not a Novice," Altair repeated; why was Malik not listening? He knew Altair's skill level, he knew Altair--and yet he refused to listen to what Altair said plainly. Altair wanted to scrub his hand against his face out of frustration--to scream about it, because for what reason would Malik have to not even listen?

Malik opened his mouth to say something else, probably just as scathing given the way his face pinched and Altair resigned himself to take the verbal punches and then leave. He had a job to do either way and he would do it with or without Malik's permission if he must. He did not have much time to waste after all, and Altair could see the writing on the wall of this conversation clearly enough.

"I think that might've been my fault, actually, Malik," Kadar interrupted--and Altair let out a faint wheeze at the sight of the ghost in his presence, wide smile across his face.

"Kadar," Malik greeted; his face instantly softened and Altair took a quick step back and away from the clear djinni.

"I saw Altair at the Church," Kadar continued, "and I may have decided to keep an eye on him." He offered a smaller smile, less sinister with a faint shrug and Malik sighed.

"Of course you did, you damned fool." Malik turned toward Altair next, who kept his gaze focused on Malik and less on the apparition that should not be, breathing quiet and heart beating fast in his chest. Malik paused, then said with more caution and concern than Altair was used to in one moment, "Altair?" He quickly stepped into Altair's space, over the counter in a single leap to raise his hand up with a frown. "You are pale."

Altair's gaze flickered to the djinni wearing Kadar's face and wondered if it had offered something to Malik--if it had tricked him in some way. His gaze shot back to Malik in an instant, only to see Malik looking at the djinni with an open frown and a furrowed brow, eyes lightened as if he realized something as he turned his gaze back to Altair.

"Ah," Malik said, soft, "Altair. Kadar is alive."

"What?" Kadar leaned forward. "How many people did you tell I died, Malik?"

"I had thought you were dead at the time, clearly," Malik replied dryly.

"Ugh." Kadar threw his hands into the air and turned toward the door to the house. "I am not dealing with this."

Altair watched the exchange warily, only relaxed slightly when Kadar was out of view and looked to Malik again--Malik who stared at him openly amused and concerned and it made Altair just a little warm to see. He took in a slow and deep breath as Malik said softly, "I was mistaken when I reported Kadar dead."

"Mistaken?" to Altair the words that came from his mouth were faint, distant things. "Did you not say he was stabbed?"

"Kadar was stabbed, yes," Malik agreed, words soft.

"Then how is he here?" Altair gestured with one hand, even as the other slipped to his waist in memory of a blade.

"You are here," Malik said, and reached out for a moment with his hand. Altair watched him wide eyed, watched as that hand hesitated over Altair's arm, the one placed just over his abdomen, then pulled away. "Is it not so strange then that Kadar is here?"

"I--was not stabbed?" Altair frowned, head angled downward but still tilted slightly. He wasn't sure why it felt he needed to question that fact; he had not in fact been stabbed. Al Mualim had faked the whole thing--hadn't he?

Malik breathed in, short and sharp, and Altair forced his head up as Malik stared--stared at his hand, at the way Altair pressed it against his waist and he had to force himself to move it away. He wasn't sure why he had held it there in the first place, just that the memory and thought of a stabbing had him moving subconsciously in ways that made him a little uncomfortable when brought attention to it. Altair shifted a bit back, form tense, and for a moment there was silence as Malik stared at him--and then Malik turned away in a sharp jerk and a short breath.

"Malik?"

Malik breathed out, slow and measured. He said, "I was told you were put to blade." Altair froze stock still, like a deer caught in the eyes of a predator. He didn't know what to think of that. "I mourned you." Slowly Altair felt his gaze drift downward, his thoughts eerily still like calm waters before a storm. "For days I had to listen as our Brothers recounted the way the held you down. The way Al Mualim took blade to flesh and how flesh parted--how they enjoyed the way you writhed and gasped in their arms--and I could say nothing."

Altair could remember how Masyaf turned into a sea of red--how sick it made him to think about. At every corner what had once been a Brother now not even a friend--the cell he'd woken in became a cold comfort; Malik's unconscious presence a balm. Kareem had been a steady rock in the tumultuous time, one that not even Al Mualim could be in those days afterward for all the Master deigned to pay him any attention.

"I...woke in the cells," Altair said haltingly. He'd woken naked, stripped of all clothing. It had been odd, but Altair had tried not to think of it--the oddness of his clothes taken from him. There'd been a shirt and trousers for him to wear instead, anyway, so he'd brushed it aside as punishment and left things be. "I was told it was all a trick."

"They described the way you bled, how is that a trick?!" Malik snapped, a sudden forceful twist of his person back around. Altair flinched and took a surprised step back, hand already back to his waist as he sucked in a sharp breath at the statement.

"I--Malik I do not know," Altair said softly. "I was not stabbed and I do not know how." He remembered the blade, he did--he remembered the pain of it too. Altair knew he thought that--he should be dead. Why wasn't he dead? Why had he survived when Al Mualim clearly meant to kill him?

The Master hadn't meant to kill him though, only to teach him a lesson. It was all a trick--a trick. The Master said so!

Altair shook his head and dug one of his hands into the curls beneath his hood as he hissed between his teeth. It hurt to think about; he'd rather not ponder what had happened any more.

"I was not stabbed," Altair said through gritted teeth. "Malik I was not stabbed."

Malik reached out and grasped his arm, the one pressed to his head and not the one pressed to his belly. Quickly, softly, Malik said, "I know."

"I was not stabbed," Altair repeated, eyes bright and golden and reflective as he stared at all of the colors Malik bled--the comfort in the twilight view and the way Malik stood before him still Malik, still unchanged--he relaxed.

"I know, Altair," Malik said, words gentle and soft and needed. "I know. I believe you."

I believe you, Malik said, and like that Altair slumped forward into Malik, pressed his head into Malik's collarbone as he bent himself and breathed. He did not know how much he needed to hear those words from Malik's lips until that very moment, until all of the tension just left him and he couldn't hold himself upright anymore. Malik didn't even grunt from the force of Altair's weight; instead he raised a hand up to the hood, brushed it aside and combed his fingers into Altair's hair.

"I believe you," Malik repeated.

Neither remarked on the tears, or the way Altair grasped Malik's robes.

Kadar slipped into the family room, that is his, Malik and Desmond's room because his brother was possessive and clingy and wanted them near, in search of Desmond. He knew that Desmond was having an off day--he'd left on his errands and training runs with the other Novices rather reluctantly. Malik assured him he knew what to do on days like this; that he'd seen Altair where his head hurt and his eyes hurt and he had talked with Altair about it before. Kadar didn't know what Malik talked to Altair about, but his brother was older and wiser and probably knew what to do better that Kadar did.

"Desmond?" Kadar asked, voice quiet as he slipped through the door. He had a soft treat that he got at the market; he hoped Desmond would feel up to it. The few times he worked with Desmond when the boy's head ached, or his eyes ached, had been dreadful enough. There was a reason why Kadar had Desmond working on exercises with his eyes, and why he put rules in place even if Desmond liked to ignore them half the time.

The blankets shifted on the bed, enough for Kadar to know at least Desmond could hear him so he shuffled over to the pile and set himself down just to the edge of Desmond. Desmond was curled up under the cloth, head buried in as dark as space that he could manage--but it was probably hot and stifling and Kadar felt himself frown with the thought. He hated being overly hot; Kadar wondered if Desmond preferred it.

"Is it comfortable under there?" Kadar asked, voice measured and quiet. He watched the way the blankets trembled, and then presumably what was Desmond's head shook no. "Can you come out?" Another trembling shake. "Why not?"

The words were muffled, but Kadar thought he heard a whined and garbled, "Too bright," from Desmond which had his lips turned down even further. He glanced around the room; the room itself was rather sparsely lit, only one real lantern light available over by the desk. The curtains were drawn down and tight not that they did much against the fading light, really. Overall it left the room rather dark and barren.

"What is too bright, Desmond?" Kadar asked, and the blankets shuffled enough that he could see the corner of Desmond's eye peek out, bright gleaming golden that shined whenever it caught the edge of a flicker of light. It always reminded Kadar of a birds eye--the way they gleamed all reflective-like from just the right angle. It was enough of a sign for Kadar to know that Desmond was looking through his second sight. "Too bright with your eyes closed, too?"

Desmond whined faintly and nodded his head. Kadar sighed and reached out with one hand to feel Desmond's forehead. Warm, Kadar noted with a frown, and then gently coaxed Desmond out from under those blankets.

"Have you drank any water recently?" Kadar asked and Desmond made another faint noise, not really an answer, as he curled up against Kadar's side and Kadar sighed. "Has Malik given you tea?" A more positive sound and a slight move of his head that at least made Kadar a little more comfortable. Desmond should probably drink some water thought, it might help. "Where is the brightness coming from?"

Desmond whined, buried his face into Kadar's stomach and said, "Papa," and then made a floppy gesture with his hand. "Alty." After a second Desmond tilted his head and glared at the wall toward the kitchen. "Loud," he hissed, and quickly buried himself back into Kadar's side.

Kadar breathed out slowly. Alright he could work with this; the Novices were 'loud' probably because they were as excited as Kadar was to see Altair, although for Kadar that was quickly tampered thanks to Malik's implication that Altair thought him dead. Really those two should communicate more; Kadar glanced to the wall where the Novices were beyond. He'll have to send them to meditate; it might help a bit. Then there was Malik and Altair--he slotted away 'Alty' for later musing because that was cute and also Kadar was certain Altair was only mentioned a handful of times around Desmond and it was never explained who the man was, so Desmond's clear recognition of him bore thinking about--later. Kadar shook himself slightly; best chance to get those two to quiet their emotional stupidity was to get Altair and Malik either to go outside and talk--out of Desmond's radius and hopefully ease the brightness or--

"Hurts, Kadar," Desmond whined. "Want papa."

"Alright," Kadar said, words soft. "Is the incense helping at all?"

"Nnnooo," Desmond gripped Kadar's robes right and Kadar carefully pried his fingers off.

"I am going to go get Malik, Desmond. Stay out of the covers. Drink the water." Kadar quickly got up and went to bring water into the room for Desmond before he slipped past the Novices and back toward the Bureau entrance.

Altair and Malik weren't upright, and weren't arguing which Kadar counted as a win but he couldn't quite see them well enough from just the doorway--he could hear his brother thought, speaking softly words of reassurance which curdled something in Kadar's gut. He wasn't meant to walk in on this, whatever this was between Malik and Altair and yet--Kadar glanced back toward the rest of the Bureau where Desmond lay, obviously in pain, and the way he asked for Malik. Kadar breathed in heavily and stepped around the counter and stilled. He had never seen Altair with tears on his face before, but something about the sight pulled angrily on Kadar's heart and he had to shake himself.

"Malik," Kadar said, and watched as his brother shifted and turned his gaze over his shoulder in Kadar's direction. Altair seemed to just slump harder into Malik's chest, breathing even despite the tears across his face but there was something more to the hunched posture now--something embarrassed, Kadar figured. "Desmond is calling for you."

Malik frowned, asked a short, "What is wrong?"

"His head is aching," Kadar said softly. "He is also warm. I found him under the covers." Kadar glanced between Malik and Altair and said carefully, "He said it was bright and loud."

"The novice from before?" Altair asked, voice with a bit more of a rasp to it. He pulled himself away from Malik then, straightened as he got to his feet and Malik shifted to his own as if nothing had happened and Kadar had not interrupted a rather intimate moment between the two men.

"Desmond is not a novice," Kadar said as Malik replied with a succinct, "No," to which Kadar rolled his eyes. "Desmond ibn Malik," Kadar continued with a pointed look to his brother, "is a child we found directly after the mission went awry."

Altair's gaze darted right to Malik, eyes wide even as Kadar watched his brothers cheeks pink slightly as Altair asked, "Malik?"

Malik clenched his fist at the question and then breathed out a slow, steadying breath as he said quickly, "Kadar was dying. Desmond stumbled into the cave I had sequestered us into and happened to have necessary medicine to improve Kadar's situation." Malik paused for a moment, then added softly, "He also has clear Assassin training, although whomever his teacher is, is a rather poor one." At the way Altair tilted his head Malik said, "The boy has scars."

"I have scars," Altair pointed out. "So do you and so does Kadar."

"Not from training," Kadar shook his head, then added, "and not like this. Malik?"

Malik nodded sharply and started toward the door to the Bureau. "Is the incense burning?"

"Yes, but Desmond says it is not helping. I told him to drink some water," Kadar reported. Kadar glanced to Altair who followed after them in contemplative silence. "He called the Novices loud, and obviously you and Altair are bright." Malik paused as he crossed the threshold of the Bureau entrance into the Bureau proper and looked at Kadar with a raised brow.

"I told him to stop," Malik said, words sharp.

Kadar grimaced and said a quick, "Malik I do not think he can right now." Kadar weathered the searching glance Malik gave him, and then waited until his brother sighed explosively and nodded his head.

"Go and handle the Novices, and get some food yourself. Altair with me," Malik said. "I need your help."

"Yes, Dai," Altair said; Kadar blinked at the clear respect Altair gave the words, the slight reverent tone he used for his brother, and then decided he did not want to know and quickly made his way to the kitchen and the clearly excited Novices. Malik and Altair would handle Desmond and themselves and it will be fine.

#assassins creed #fic: run it again #fanfic #desmond miles #altair ibn la'ahad #malik al sayf #kadar al sayf #time travel #altmal #altmal raises baby desmond #wip #fic: the heir the reader and clay

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technicallyr43 · 2 years

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Bnha and assassins creed crossover, Bc I’m a simp for Desmond. Basically, after Desmond uses the Eye, he has that brief second to do anything he wants. He doesn’t want to just leave everyone to Juno’s mercy so he decides to change humans just a tweak. Enough that the Pieces of Eden no longer work on them fully, and In doing so, causes the first child to be born illuminecent. And thus, the age of quirks began. As more people with quirks pop up over the years, and the Assasins and Templars finding out that the POEs don’t work anymore, they’re slowly lost to time and wars. Juno spends her time trying to find a way to sway humans back to her but fails constantly, until the Quirk Wars devastate the facility she’s holed her data in and she’s destroyed.

Now, some centuries later, Desmond awakens in an old Abstergo facility that’s been abandoned and forgotten. As he explores, he finds that he’s actually in Japan, and through clumsy charades and translating, finds himself a man out of time. With a new lease on life, he tries to learn the language(ends up learning it from an ancestor) and find a way of living. And then, he finds out about the Isu temple underneath a school that functions like a castle. He needs to break in and find out more, but with this ‘UA’ sitting on the entrance, he’ll find it a bit hard to do. Luckily, he’s got his ancestors and his skills to get him through this strange ordeal.

#desmond miles #assassin's creed #the eye #fuck Juno #bnha prompts #bnha #mha prompts #mha #UA #eraserhead #present mic #nezu #all might #Deku

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teecupangel · 4 months

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Me again, can't believe I'd forgotten Jennifer in my recent ask, lmao XD

Also, in your opinion, do you think, in an alternative time-line, Ratonhnhaké:ton could have had a sister?

(Totally not asking because I made an OC that is Conners younger twin sister named Laura. XD)

The “How Haytham would have ended up as an Assassin and married to Kaniehtí:io” ask that I think is talking about this.

Hahahaha, it’s okay. You did remember Jennifer, you just gave me an excuse to not make Edward realize that he should let her be an Assassin XD

I think that Kaniehtí:io and Haytham would have a marriage where only having one child would have been a miracle. They’re attracted to one another (and love one another) so being married will only give them the green light (especially Haytham) to act on that attraction in a more physical sense.

As for children…

Yeah, Ratonhnhaké:ton would definitely have a younger sibling and one of them could have been a girl. He would have probably had 2 younger siblings to be honest.

But I wouldn’t necessary think it would be a twin sister because the Calculations is set for Ratonhnhaké:ton to be their eldest child.

So we have two options:

(1) Let the Calculations win this time and Ratonhnhaké:ton is born alone or (2) We find some way to mess it up by messing up the conditions of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s conception (3) We just chuck the Calculations out of the window the moment Edward survives his fated death

(3) is the easiest to do but (2) is doable by setting up the conditions of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s conception. He is fated to be conceived in sometime in July 1755 in the entrance of the Grand Temple so if we write it that he is not conceived any time in July AND anywhere not near the Grand Temple, we have enough leeway to add in a twin sister during his conception.

This will mess up his birthdate (unless this becomes a case of a ‘premature birth’ to ensure he is still born on April 4) but that’s a small sacrifice to make XD

I do like to suggest that Ratonhnhaké:ton’s sibling(s) would have 2 names like him. 1 Kanien'kehá:ka name and 1 ‘English’ name. So Laura would also have a Kanien'kehá:ka name that her siblings, mother and tribe uses.

Since Ratonhnhaké:ton had 2 daughters and 1 son in canon, maybe in this one, Ratonhnhaké:ton would have 1 younger sister (Laura) and 1 younger brother?

And because I love Desmond too much, I second @seelezeit’s reply:

Ok but consider: the second child is Desmond. He gets a much more stable and happy family life this way :3

Make Desmond the youngest of the three! Spoiled and loved by his entire family!

If you don’t want him to remember who he is, the memories of Desmond Miles can stay as nightmares that are only hinted on in the background XD

#i sound like an isu scientist planning to fuck the calculations up XD #i can just imagine an isu scientist going “fuck the capitoline triad!” while drunk and explaining how they would fuck the chosen calculatio #assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #haytham kenway #kaniehtí:io #ratonhnhaké:ton #connor kenway

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fallen-feather1992 · 2 years

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Winding the Future - An Unwinding Future Oneshot

Hi guys! I decided to write a oneshot set in my Unwinding Future universe! I'm going to post the link to it on AO3, as well as post it here, under the cut! Here's the summary!

Summary: How exactly did the future become so bad? How did Hershel, Desmond, Flora, and Luke get captured, while Raymond managed to rescue Alfendi? What led to London’s downfall, and the rise of the Family? This is what originally happened, when Al and Future Luke did not go to the past to warn their future selves.

I suggest reading Professor Layton and the Unwinding Future first before reading this.

Alright, the story is under the cut. Or you can use the link to read it on AO3. Have fun!

Professor Layton frowned slightly as he entered his flat, twenty-minutes to one. He’d noticed, for the past two days, two people following him.

He was… worried, to say the least. Because of this, he cancelled his afternoon classes, planning on picking the kids up from school, just in case.

But until their school let out, he was trying to figure out all he could about those following him. Yesterday, it was a sweet, little old lady, but he wouldn’t put it past the possibility that it was someone in disguise.

The other person following him, who had been since the middle of the week, was less subtle. It was a man in a suit and sunglasses.

He sat at his desk in his home study, looking through notes on previous cases, trying to figure out who would follow him now, and why. He wasn’t able to get through much, however, before there was a knock on his door. He stood, dropping a bookmark into the book on his desk, before answering.

“Desmond?” he gasped, staring at the man.

“We don’t have much time. I know I’m ten minutes early, but if we’re going to deal with whatever’s going on, we need to do it now.” Desmond pushed Hershel further into the flat and closed the door behind them. Layton simply let him, shock rolling through his body.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” Layton said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Your letter? Friday, at one?” Desmond pulled the letter from his suit pocket, holding it up. “The second message in it?”

“Letter? But I didn’t send—I thought you were dead.”

Desmond froze, gaping at his younger brother.

“What?”

“The last time I saw you was at the ruins of the Azran Temple while it was falling apart…” Layton said, pulling the brim of his hat lower to cover his eyes.

“Hershel, I—”

BANG BANG BANG

Both men jumped and turned to the door, which shuddered in it’s frame. Desmond’s eyes widened at that.

“We don’t have any more time. Do you know what’s going on?” he demanded, backing away from the door. Hershel shook his head.

“No idea,” he said.

“Then I suggest—”

BAN-CRASH

The door slammed inwards, and three men forced their way into the flat, crowding the entrance hall. Hershel and Desmond quickly backed away.

“Boss says yous have to come with us,” the first man said, wearing a nasty grin.

“And who are you?” Hershel demanded, the anger only just contained to his voice at these men breaking into his home.

“You can call us… The Family.” The first man lunged forward. Desmond darted forward as well, jumping up and landing a wheelhouse kick on the man’s face. The man stumbled backwards into one of his companions, but the third managed to jump out of the way, grabbing Desmond by the back of his coat before he could land, and throwing him into the living room. Desmond hit the floor and slammed into the side of Hershel’s couch with a groan.

“Desmond!” Hershel yelled, before turning to face the men, the second having recovered. Both moved to grab him, but he jumped back, grabbing his coat rack and flinging it across their path as he moved, causing one of them to trip. Desmond let out a soft groan and started to push himself up, much to Hershel’s relief, but he knew they had to get out of there. He darted into the living room, dragging Desmond the rest of the way up and with him as he did so, and over to the window that faced the back alley, where the Laytonmobile was parked.

“Hershel?” Desmond muttered.

“Get to my car. I’m right behind you,” he said, pushing Desmond towards the window. He then turned to face three members of The Family, and his blood ran cold.

They had guns.

As the first lifted the gun towards them, Hershel dove towards an end table, grabbed the first thing his hand landed on (a rare puzzle box), and threw it at the man, distracting him from taking aim. The gun went off, the bullet striking the ceiling above Hershel, but it was enough time for him to dive out the window after Desmond. The two ran for Hershel’s car, and he tore out of the alleyway.

***

“Argh! Why are all the other kids at school so stupid!” Seven-year-old Alfendi trailed after Flora and Luke as they got off the bus, not too far from the Professor’s flat.

“Not everyone can be as smart as you, Al,” Flora giggled, glancing back at the boy she saw as a little brother.

“Still,” Alfendi huffed. “It’s almost like they try to be stupid.”

“I doubt that,” Luke said, shaking his head. “But maybe you should try to be nice to them? It’s what a true gentleman would do.”

Before Alfendi could respond, a hand grabbed his arm in a tight grip, yanking him backwards. He went to yell for help, to alert Luke and Flora who were in front of him, but a rough hand was pressed over his mouth.

“Alfendi?” Luke asked, glancing over his shoulder, just in time to see the young boy bite down as hard as he could on the hand covering his mouth. The man holding him yelped and released him. Alfendi tried to scramble away, but the man recovered and grabbed the back of his coat, yanking him back again, this time wrapping an arm around the squirming boy’s neck.

“Alfendi!” Luke gasped, while Flora covered her mouth in fear. “Let him go!” he yelled.

“Hmph. I don’t think we will. Especially not after the little brat bit me.” The man’s arm tightened slightly, and Alfendi’s eyes widened in fear. He grabbed at the arm, twisting and squirming, but was unable to get free.

Luke growled at that, flinging his satchel off of his arm, and launching himself at the man, surprising him enough he did let go of Alfendi for a second time.

“RUN!” he yelled at the other two as he punched and clawed at the man’s face. Flora grabbed Alfendi’s hand, and the two took off.

“Wh-where are we going?” Alfendi asked, blinking hard in an effort to not cry.

“Home! Hopefully the Professor is there,” Flora said. Alfendi nodded and glanced back, just in time to see the man yank Luke off of him and toss him to the ground. Luke gasped in pain, trying to push himself up as a van pulled up. Before the boy could react, a pair of arms reached out of the side door of the van and yanked him in.

“No…” Alfendi whispered, before narrowing his eyes, staring at the license plate and memorizing it.

He and Flora then whirled around a corner, getting to the street they lived on, and froze.

A few men, like the first one, milled around the flat, the door broken in. Another black van was parked outside.

“Flora… you don’t think…” Alfendi whispered, scared.

“I… I don’t know,” Flora whispered back.

Just then, more men spotted them. Flora tightened her grip on Alfendi’s hand, and ran in a different direction, pulling him along.

***

Hershel flew through the streets of London, glancing in his rearview mirror every now and again to make sure they weren’t being followed. He was trying to get to the school, to grab the kids, while also trying to figure out what to do. Desmond sat silently in the passenger seat, rubbing the side of his head, where he had smacked it when he’d been thrown.

“Who were those men…?” Desmond finally asked, looking over at Hershel.

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them before,” Hershel said, slowing to a stop at a red light.

“But in your letter, you encoded the word ‘trap’,” Desmond frowned. “You clearly knew something was going to happen today!”

Hershel frowned at the light turned green, and he started through the intersection. “Desmond, I did not send you--!”

CHRASH

The Laytonmobile skidded sideways as a black van plowed into the driver’s side. Hershel’s head slammed against the side with a sickening crack. Desmond fared better, being on the passenger side, and simply hung on until the vehicle came to a complete stop.

“Hershel?” he said, turning to the Professor, whos eyes were closed, breathing ragged. He reached over, grabbing the man’s shoulder, only to jerk back when Hershel flinched in pain. “Hershel, wake up! We need to go!” he said, looking through the window at the van, and the men getting out of it.

“Leave… me…”

Desmond’s head snapped down, and he looked at his brother. His eyes were slightly open.

“I can’t,” Desmond said, shaking his head. Before he could say another word, Hershel’s door was yanked open, metal squealing against metal, and two sets of hands were pulling the professor out roughly. Desmond scowled at that, ready to jump them, to protect his brother, but froze when they leveled a gun to the side of Layton’s head.

“Come quietly, and we won’t hurt him,” the man said. Desmond’s eyes flickered between him, the gun, and the semi-conscious Hershel, before he sighed, lowering his head, lifting his hands in surrender, and getting out of the ruined car.

***

Flora and Alfendi ran as hard as they could, but soon found themselves surrounded. The men closed in on them, boxing them into a corner.

“Flora…? What do we do?” Alfendi whimpered, his breathing quick and shallow. Flora glanced down at him, recognizing the signs that he was on the verge of a panic attacks.

“We stay calm, Alfendi. We try to keep a clear mind. Can you do that for me?” she asked. Alfendi hesitated, before nodding slightly. His eyes then widened.

“Flora!”

Just as he said it, a pair of arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her side. Flora gasped, and struggled, but was no match for the man holding her.

“Boy, up here!” an accented voice suddenly called. He looked up, noticing the ladder to the fire escape they were under had been lowered, and threw himself at it, climbing as fast as he could. One of the men tried to grab him, but a flower pot dropped from above, landing square on the man’s face. Alfendi managed to get to the first landing.

“Don’t stop thar, lad. Keep climbing!” the voice barked from above.

“But Flora—”

“We’ll worry about her once you’re safe!”

Alfendi hesitated only a second more, before continuing to climb. Once he was at the top, the roof, he looked back to see the men watching him, and Flora was gone…

He turned to spot his savior, an elderly man with a hook nose, wearing a red suit.

“They… they took her… you said we’d save her too, but we’re too late!” Alfendi whimpered. The elderly man patted his shoulder.

“Now, now, lad. Please, calm down. We will save her, and the others. It just might take us some time,” he said softly.

“The others…? Wait! Luke and Dad? DAD was taken!?” Alfendi wrapped his arms around himself, trying not to give in to the panic that was filling his mind with static. “Who are you? Are you with them?”

“Of course not, lad. I’m… an acquaintance of the Professor’s. My name is Raymond.”

#professor layton au #professor layton #luke triton #alfendi layton #flora reinhold #desmond sycamore #raymond #unwinding future #unwound future au #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own #the family #hershel layton #tw: kidnapping #tw: car crash #tw: car accident #Winding the Future

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cath-with-a-c · 4 years

Text

Believer

Pairing: mild ShaunDes Wordcount: ~3500 words

Summary: Minerva stops Desmond from getting to the Eye. Desmond finds another way to fulfill his role. AN: I wrote this on a whim, physics? What physics. Proceed with caution.

ao3 link

The moment the key they fought so hard to get, touches the wall, Desmond feels that something is really, really wrong. The sense is overwhelming, and his stomach drops when a figure appears behind the barrier.

“Minerva, what the fuck?!” he demands angrily, terror tearing down his spine. The Isu just looks at him, and, if he squints, he can picture a little sympathy in her eyes.

“I am sorry, Desmond. I cannot let you do this,” she says and her voice, muffled by the shimmering wall, is as flat as ever. “If you touch the pedestal, Juno will be set free, and I cannot allow that.”

No. No-no-no- “And if I don’t, everyone will fucking die, you dimwitted ghost!” Desmond doesn’t care that he is yelling hysterically, he can almost feel the time running out. “Let me through!!!”

Minerva regards him impassively as if he is a screaming toddler. “Some will survive. The human race will thrive again, free and unburdened by past mistakes,” she gives him a slightly irritated look. “You should be grateful - your life would be spared.”

Desmond wants to screech, to tear through the barrier and into the Isu, to shake her until she understands. “I don’t want it!” he replies barely managing to keep his voice more or less even. “Not like this, not by killing everyone else! Seven billion lives, Minerva!”

The woman just gives him another unimpressed look. “It is decided, Desmond Miles. This is the better way,” she says. “The barrier stays.”

And with that disappears, leaving Desmond speechless, gaping at the shimmering wall in front of him. The now-useless key hits the stone floor. Desmond turns slowly, to find everyone else staring at him with the same horror they probably see on his face.

Desmond feels numb. The fight drains out of him as if a plug is pulled.

It was all for nothing.

“How long till the Flare hits?” he asks, throat sore from screaming, and refuses to look anyone in the eye.

It’s Rebecca who answers him. “Three hours, tops,” her tone is quiet and flat, she is pale as a ghost. Desmond nods slowly.

“Can we at least try getting anyone to safety, Dad?” another almost pointless question.

William shrugs, shoulders slumped. He looks uncharacteristically disheveled and almost lost. “I’ll call everyone, three hours is enough to find some shelter,” there is no certainty to his answer.

Desmond gives another nod. It’s probably the best they can do. What else is there to do?

After they’ve done packing and moving stuff deeper into the Temple (pointless shifting things around, but still better than to sit and wait on the impending doom), and Dad returns after making every single call possible, Desmond strides to the exit, muttering a generic excuse about getting some fresh air.

Everything seems so... normal. The life is about to get toasted off the surface of the earth, and it still is a normal day outside, if maybe a little warm. Desmond breathes in and out and just stays, a few feet away from the cave entrance, all but unable to move. He doesn’t want to move.

He’d failed.

Someone approaches him, stands close, their shoulders brushing, and Desmond inhales the familiar mix of coffee and mint and old paper. Shaun.

“It’s not your fault,” he says softly, and Desmond leans on his shoulder letting their fingers tangle.

“Isn’t it?” he replies a bit bitterly and then sighs, as Shaun opens his mouth to argue. “I know, I know. You’re right.”

“Of course I’m right, you stupid git” Shaun shoots right back, like everything is a-okay, and his hand is warm, and Desmond can’t help but smile a little at the weird normalcy of this.

They stay like that for some time, watching the horizon, that gets a slight reddish tint. Talking seems redundant, what is there to talk about?

“You know what,” Shaun says suddenly. “For what it’s worth, I think I’ll enjoy spending however much time we’re gonna get after this with you.”

Desmond wants to answer him but his throat suddenly closes, and he can’t breathe, and he just wants to scream, because the world is ending for everyone else, and the radiation after will probably kill them really fast, and he just wants to do something-

“Hey,” Shaun gently cups the side of his face, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Desmond, look at me.”

Desmond looks. Shaun’s eyes are red-rimmed behind the glasses, and still the most beautiful sight Desmond has ever seen.

“I know it hurts like hell, and I am sorry, but there’s nothing we can do,” Shaun says and his voice is firm and unwavering and is a singular solid thing in the whirlwind of Desmond’s mind. “We can’t stop the Flare, we can’t wish it away, we can’t run from it to the Alpha Centauri. It’s happening and it’s happening now. But we’re going to get through it. You get me?”

Desmond wants to ask how he can be so calm, when a thought strikes him like a lightning. A stupid thought. “Yes,” he says, pushing it away for a moment and pressing into Shaun’s palm, all but melting into the touch, savoring the contrast of the cool air and Shaun’s warm fingers. “We are going to get through this. Together.”

Shaun’s lips curl up in a semblance of a smile. “Damn right,” he says and Desmond leans forward, briefly pressing their lips together, like it can soothe the burning aftertaste of the lie.

When they break up, Shaun leans in, pressing his forehead to Desmond’s, and he can’t help but just look at him, knowing it’s the last time he sees that stupidly beautiful face.

Desmond doesn’t want to let go. Ever.

“I’ll be down in a bit,” he whispers, leaning away and giving the skies a sidelong glance. “Just need a few more moments.”

Shaun smiles sadly. “Sure,” he nods and pokes Desmond in the chest. “Don’t stay out too long, you’ll get a heatstroke.”

At that, Desmond can’t help but chuckle. “Lame!” he calls at Shaun’s retreating back and the historian flashes him a bird.

Desmond watches him disappear in the mouth of the cave, before looking around again. The air is hot enough that the snow melts, the forest turning from whitish to evergreen again, and Desmond breathes in the smell of pines and humid moss, and his heart is racing.

The Apple in his hand gives a slight static sound as he pulls it out of the pocket and squeezes, focusing. A moment later, his own doppelganger appears from the strings of golden light and looks at him expectantly.

“Go after Shaun,” Desmond commands aloud. He doesn’t have to, but it just feels right. He slips his phone in the other’s hand. “Behave naturally, don’t draw attention to yourself.”

Not-him nods and heads for the entrance, but before he is gone, Desmond calls after him.

“Tell them I’m sorry before you disappear,” he says, as his chest constricts painfully. He wishes he could be with them, just as Shaun said.

But he can’t.

The doppelganger gives him an almost pitying look and nods again, fading into the darkness. Desmond closes the cave with the Apple and starts walking away. They can open it from the inside in time, but for now, he can’t risk his only family getting hurt.

He manages a few hundred yards into the forest before coming across a clearing and stops. That would do just as nicely as anything else. Stomach heavy, Desmond looks at the sky.

It is now creepily reddish, like in a light-polluted city at night, sparse clouds molten-orange. The sun just above the horizon looks bigger, edges loose, jagged. And it gets brighter.

He has minutes.

After a moment of hesitation, Desmond takes the Apple out of his pocket again and looks at it for a long moment. The air around him gets a little hotter by the second, and the dry wind ruffles his hair. Desmond desperately doesn’t want to be alone, not right now, so he wills another doppelganger to life.

“You are an idiot, you know that?” a familiar voice that’s definitely not his own, asks him, and Desmond opens his eyes again.

“Sixt- Clay?” he corrects himself, which earns him a scoff. “How are you even-”

Clay looks almost apologetic. “Well, Seventeen, I hitched a ride in that big head of yours -- so much empty space, you really should have done something about that-” Desmond can’t help but laugh a little at the ridiculousness of it all, and Clay gives him a little smirk. “-and I guess the Apple decided that if you summon the same guy, it’s technically still alone, so here I am.”

Desmond sighs. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says, and that’s not a lie. “Y’know what I’m about to do?”

“Something monumentally stupid,” Clay supplies helpfully with a shrug, and Desmond smirks sardonically, even if it’s really strained.

Shaun’s words sparked that idea, stupid and incredibly unrealistic as it was, it was still a sliver of a chance. A tiny, almost nonexistent sliver.

“Wish it away,” he had said, and Desmond thought of the Apple, of how Juno had shown that it was used to make people wish things into existence. She did say they couldn’t create a shield, but Desmond wasn’t after the shield. He wasn’t about to protect the whole planet single-handedly -- or single-mindedly.

But what if he could reduce the Flare? Maybe not by much, maybe just a little, maybe up the survival count from ten thousand to say fifteen or twenty? A drop in the ocean now, but it could change so much for the future of the human race in the long run.

Desmond wasn’t about to let this chance go to waste.

And all he has to do is use the Apple and believe. Believe that he can withstand the Flare, believe that he can focus it on him, until everything he is would be reduced to less than atoms, to electrons, protons and neutrons, and that would be enough to save some people.

He never was much of a believer, yet here he is.

“You can still go back,” Clay says softly. “There is just enough time for you to run back into the Temple before it hits.”

Desmond looks at him and smiles. He is shaking a little, but it’s genuine. “Yeah, I know,” he shrugs and grips the Apple tighter. The air around them is almost painfully hot and orange-red. The end of the fucking world. “But that’s not why I’m out here.”

Clay smiles back at him. “You’re such an idiot, Seventeen,” he says, shaking his head.

“What else is new?” Desmond chuckles and lifts the Apple up, towards the bright, flaming sky. “Don’t go just yet,” slips out of his mouth, as embarrassing as it is.

“Have nowhere else to be,” Clay steps a bit closer. ”Good luck, Desmond.”

Desmond closes his eyes and wills himself to believe. To forget everything else, to put everyone out of his mind, no doubts, no attachment, just his belief in himself and the might of his blood, genes, whatever made him that special snowflake Juno needed. He knows enough to be aware, that it’s impossible, but hey, wishing a tree or a wall into existence wasn’t supposed to be possible either, and that didn’t stop the Isu.

The Apple in his hand makes a tiny melodic sound, sending a power surge down his hand, and that’s the last thing Desmond hears before the Flare comes crashing down on him like a tidal wave of what feels like pure fire, roaring in his ears and drowning out everything else.

He doesn’t die immediately. There is a searing pain tearing his body apart, but he doesn’t die, and that makes hope bloom in his chest. He is alive, it’s working! Desmond grits his teeth, willing himself to believe, to become nothing but a beacon of unchallenged will.

It’s like something breaks, something that was holding him back, and Desmond takes one hard, labored breath that burns him from inside out and soars.

He is everything. He is the ground, charing under the relentless heat, he is the stones, the vapor streaming up, he is the sunlight and the burning trees. He is the earth, and the air and the skies. He is cities and mountains, animals and plants.

He is people. He is amongst a group of assassins, watching the roof of the shelter with bated breaths, he is a little boy, no older than seven, looking at the metro ceiling through the pitch-dark curly fringe with confusion. “You will live through this, buddy,” Desmond thinks affectionately before the image of the boy fades.

He is inside the Temple, and it’s alight with energy, sparks and flairs running up and down walls in a continuous stream of gold and blue, and he sees his dad, and Shaun and Becca watching the show with shadows dancing over their faces, making everything surreal.

He is everywhere. He is everywhen. He is Altair, seeing the map of the whole world for the first time, he is Ezio taking his first Leap of Faith, he is Connor looking at the night sky from the Homestead roof, he is Haytham watching the horizon on the bow of the ship, he is Edward, lying ashore, laughing and coughing up water after almost drowning, he is Flavia running across the rooftops of Firenze, he is Sef sparring with Darim, he is-

The Apple in Desmond’s hand starts to give way. He gives in too, bit by bit, clothes and hair burning, skin bubbling and sizzling, and chipping away, and he breaks apart, surrounded by fire, turning into ash, to atoms, to nothing-

“That’s it,” Desmond thinks with sudden ease and the darkness takes him.

AC_AC_AC_AC

“-enteen? Desmond?!” the voice cuts through the darkness, loud and frantic. “Seventeen, I can see you breathing, wake the fuck up!” Oh. That’s right, he is breathing. Desmond breathes in and out, and after a moment of struggle, opens his eyes.

“Thank fuck,” comes a relieved sigh, and Clay’s concerned face swims into view.

“Sixteen?” he blinks and sits up, slowly, suddenly acutely feeling the muscles moving under the skin. “What happened?”

Clay scoffs-laughs. “I was about to ask you the same thing, you know,” he says and spreads his arms, prompting Desmond to look around.

The sky is clear again, watered-down winter blue, tinted pink with the rising sun - the first safe sunrise in the next seventy-five thousand years. There are lights there, like huge swaying green and violet curtains hanged from the heavens - aurora borealis, fading, but still visible.

The forest is no more, there are just planes of charred black ground spreading as far as the eye can see. It looks lifeless, but in the distance, Desmond sees the town, Turin, and it doesn’t look like a pile of smoldering ash, and he breathes out, relieved.

And looks down at his hands.

His right hand is… weird. It looks like it was dipped into tar, with silvery First Civ designs running across the palm and up the forearm to the elbow.

“What the actual fuck?..” Desmond whispers.

“I guess that’s what’s left of the Apple of Eden,” Clay chimes in, looking at his hand with interest. “The pattern looks really close to it. You somehow managed to fuse it into your hand?”

He is right, Desmond thinks, the pattern in the center of his palm does look like an Apple’s imprint. “Wait a hot second,” he says and looks up at Clay, squinting. “That shit isn’t working now, I’m not even sure how to get it to work.”

Clay cocks an eyebrow at him. “So?”

“So... how are you still here?” Desmond asks slowly, gently, and Clay all but startles.

“I-,” he starts, eyes going wide and then blinks a few times. “I didn’t think-” he lifts his arms to his face and examines them closely, counting finger, before biting himself.

“Wow, dude!” Desmond exclaims out of surprise, but Clay seems to not hear him, eyes wide and looking at the indents on the meat of his palm.

“I am a real boy,” he whispers, and a huge grin, genuine and ecstatic breaks on his face. “I am a real boy!!!”

He jumps in place a few times and does a cartwheel. “Amazing!” he exclaims after he can’t stick the landing properly and falls over, landing face-first, and rolls over, smearing his clothes with coal dust. “Wow, that’s still pretty hot, I gotta say.”

“Um, you okay, Sixteen?” Desmond asks him and Clay turns to him, smiling so wide it seems his cheeks will split any second.

“Never better, Seventeen!” he assures and jumps up, like on springs, grabbing Desmond in a full-on bear-hug. “Thank you,” his voice suddenly hoarse, raw.

Desmond pats his back awkwardly, hiding his face in Clay's ash-smelling shoulder for a moment. “I literally have no idea how I did that, but you're welcome.”

“Who cares how,” Clay laughs again, a bit watery, looking around with the face of someone, who’s seen the light of day for the first time in years. “We are both alive, Desmond! All thanks to your stupid sacrificial ass,” his face turns serious. “Don’t pull that shit ever again.”

Desmond makes a face. “Hey, it worked,” he points out. "And the others would care, wait till my dad throws a tantrum about you being the Templar spy or some shit.”

Clay cackles. “I recognize dear old Bill,” he says and pushes Desmond into the general direction he came from. “Let’s get back to the Temple then, I’m dying to hear some nagging.”

“I’d do without,” Desmond mumbles just to be contrary and looks around, uneasiness creeping in his gut. “Do you think we did it? Save the world, I mean.”

“You tell me,” Clay replies, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. “That thing in your hand must work somehow.”

He is probably right, Desmond thinks and looks at his right hand again, at the Apple’s imprint. And then, on instinct, closes his fist, squeezing his eyes shut, concentrating. The rush of electricity is immediate, and he can’t see it, but he somehow is aware of the edges of the burnt forest, as if he can feel it. They are standing in the middle of a burnt spot, just a few miles in diameter, and beyond that everything looks… normal. The trees are alive, untouched by the flames, and he even feels a couple of small animals nesting in the branches.

The world didn’t go up in flames.

“It worked,” Desmond whispers to himself, releasing the breath he didn’t realize he was holding and notices something else. The Grand Temple cave wall is raised.

Desmond’s eyes fly open. “Come on, we gotta go,” he tells Clay and takes off running.

The others are standing at the mouth of the cave, and Desmond breathes a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging. They are safe.

Rebecca, hair sticking in every direction more than usual, stares at what from a distance looks like a bastardized Geiger counter in her hands.

“-idea how it’s possible,” Desmond hears her tell disheveled Shaun as they approach. “Not even a trace of radiation, like it didn’t happen, and that shouldn’t be-”

“Son!” his father exclaims in a voice that sounds close to desperate and takes a step to him before he notices Clay. “What the?..”

“Desmond!” Shaun sees him too and rushes out of the cave, despite Becca’s protest. He reaches Desmond in a few long strides and grabs him by the collar.

Desmond expects shouting, maybe a shake or two, but Shaun just fists both hands in the fabric of his hoodie and looks at him, like for the first time, and his eyes are so beautiful, Desmond almost gets lost in them.

“You absolute bloody twat,” Shaun finally says, almost calm, measured, but his voice is shaking a little, as do his hands. “I will kill you myself if you do that again, I swear.”

He kisses Desmond, hard, almost bruising, and Desmond pulls Shaun into his chest, a tiny moan escaping his lips.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as they part, and Shaun looks like he is about to cry.

“You better be,” he replies, hands still on Desmond’s collar. “Arsehole.”

There’s a loud “ahem” coming from the rest of their party, and Desmond gingerly turns his head only to lock eyes with his father, finally realizing what has just happened.

“I can explain,” he blurts out and sees Becca snicker behind his father’s back.

William looks from him and Shaun, to his Apple-fused arm, to Clay, who is watching them with the smuggest grin on his face, and back to Desmond. “I hope so, son,” he says mildly and opens his mouth to add something when the phone in his pocket starts going off.

He fishes it out, looks at the screen and after a moment holds it out for Desmond.

“It’s for you, son,” he says, and Desmond takes the phone, confused, pressing it to his ear.

“Bill? Thank heavens, what happened?!” the familiar voice fills his ears, and just like that, Desmond is left breathless, eyes widening. “Bill?”

He has to swallow the lump in his throat before he can speak. “Hi, mom.”

On the other end, Maria Miles gasps. “Desmond!” she exclaims, just like she would all those years ago, when he was little, and his vision goes a little blurry. “Oh, sweetheart... Are you alright?”

Desmond wipes his eyes, and looks around, at the smoldering remains of the forest under the winter sky, at his Dad, giving him a tiny, understanding smile, at grinning Clay and beaming Rebecca, at Shaun, holding his hand, and smiles himself.

“Yeah, mom,” he tells her honestly. “I really am.”

#Assassin's Creed #Desmond Miles #shaundes #Shaun Hastings #assassin's creed fanfiction #fanfic #i'm gonna regret this #happy bday desmond

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michelles-garden-of-evil · 3 years

Text

Episode 37 Review: The Message in the Sand

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }

{ Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

Last episode, Jean Paul Desmond’s attempt to contact his late wife Erica via séance came to a crashing halt (literally) when the chandelier hanging directly over the glass-top table fell, knocking medium and Conjure Woman Vangie Abbott into a zombie-like catatonic state. Although the séance ended before anyone could establish contact with Erica, the prisoners on Maljardin did receive a message from the beyond in Quito’s writing box. Unfortunately, the only one among them fluent in the ancient language is Vangie herself, who is unable to communicate due to the spell cast over her by THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES. Raxl has some knowledge of the ancient language, but it is only enough to get the basic gist and not the whole message, which means that another mystery ferments the brew of darkness on the Island of Evil.

According to Raxl, the grains of rice warn of more accidents and spirits whom Jean Paul has angered, but that is not the entire message. Will she learn what the entire message says before Jacques causes even more disaster on Maljardin?

Jean Paul cannot believe, after all his playing God and tyrannical behavior on Maljardin, that the spirits could possibly be angry with him.

Don’t act so shocked, Jean Paul.

Like the last episode, this one picks up where the last left off--meaning, in this case, right after the cliffhanger ending with the writing box. This time, there is no mention of another impending accident, but instead of a much dire consequence of the next séance. “The ancient symbols, the ancient tongue of my people can be translated in many ways, but they all warn of death!” Raxl proclaims.

But Jean Paul doesn’t care. In front of almost the entire cast, he begins a soliloquy about he was so close to making contact with his dear, sweet Erica, and that matters to him far more than either Vangie’s life or his own. But then, along comes SCENE INTERRUPTING DAN, asking him again about the falling chandelier:

Colin Fox is way overacting in this scene, even by Strange Paradise standards. I don’t think I’ve ever seen even Cosette Lee or David Wells overact this hard.

He marches away to his bedroom and Raxl tells Quito that they need to keep the message intact so that Vangie can read it when she recovers from her trance. Once again, she has forgotten the name of the spirit who is meddling in the affairs on the island:

Jacques: *pouting* “Oh, Raxl, you forgot about me already? I thought for certain I was far more memorable than that.”

Meanwhile, Jean Paul clutches a bedpost in his fabulous bedroom and ponders who could have stopped him from making contact with Erica:

Really, Jean Paul? Dan says you have an IQ of 187. You should be able to figure this out.

While Dan recaps to Tim all about the chandelier and about all the suspicious things that happened on the island during the previous week and a half, the master of Maljardin enters his hidden monitor room through his bookcase and records a message to his dead wife:

Erica, you must be near tonight. For a fleeting moment, the séance seemed to have brought us together. When you are alive again and hear this, you will know that I have risked everything to bring you back from your long, lonely sleep. Oh, Erica, I knew the risk, but I must be stronger than that devil on Maljardin! I will win, because nothing must prevent you from joining me again in life! If I lose, I will join you in death, my Erica, and anyone who interferes with us being together again will die!

Yandere Jean Paul once again.

Just before this scene, we get a really good shot of the bookcase that disguises the entrance to Jean Paul’s monitor room. I have a weakness for both this bookcase and the ones in the drawing room at Desmond Hall, because the books on them look like the ones in the older sections of the stacks at the library where I work. How I wish I could read their spines and see what kinds of books he’s into!

This shot when he enters the hidden room makes him look tiny.

His recording to Erica is unusually long in this episode, probably to make up for the lack of tape recorder journal scenes in Week 7. While Tim (who seems to believe Dan’s theories) tells Holly that he believes that Jean Paul slashed Erica’s portrait, the recording continues:

No one will touch you, Erica, or the instruments of your preservation. No man living, no man dead. Oh, my Erica! I can say no more today; I’m tired, but no one must know this, only you because-

Taken out of context, the dialogue in this scene sounds rather rapey.

Usually, I think of Jacques’ attempts to take over Jean Paul’s body as fantasy metaphor murder. He wants to steal his body and his entire identity, becoming the new Jean Paul Desmond and leaving the old one’s soul either trapped in Hell or suspended in time as indicated in Episode 60. (That is, if we assume that they’re not different sides of the same man and Jacques isn’t just the evil side to his own personality.)

This time, however, all Jacques’ talk of wanting to “use” and “enter” Jean Paul’s body in that menacing yet smarmy tone make me think instead of fantasy metaphor rape. Vampirism may be the most popular fantasy metaphor for rape in fiction, but this scene with its sexual undertones presents demonic possession almost in the same light, at least in this scene. We already know that Jacques isn’t above sexual encounters with questionable consent and that he’s more than willing to seduce women while impersonating Jean Paul (which would equal rape by deception if it led to sex), so it really isn’t much of a stretch.

“Jacques Eloi des Mondes is coming aboard,” THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES announces, and he takes over once again:

HEADACHE FACE!

Jacques grabbing Jean Paul’s face seems to be the show’s new way of indicating his possession.

Jacques after he has taken control. His hair even looks a little messy, too, like Jacques’’ in the flashbacks.

He catches a glimpse of Raxl and Quito in the crypt and decides to spy on them. Conveniently, they happen to be discussing the message in the writing box, which we now learn contains symbols meaning “conjure doll” and “silver pin.” She tells Quito that she can’t read the rest of the message, which directly contradicts what she said about it telling of accidents and death last episode and at the beginning of this one. Assuming that this is just a continuity error, we know the following about the message so far:

Another accident is going to take place.

The spirits on Maljardin are mad at Jean Paul. We don’t know which spirits, but I would hazard to guess Dr. Menkin, the Conjure Man, and Erica.

DEATH!

Something involving the conjure doll and the silver pin.

Raxl reading the message. It looks like a complicated script to read, even compared to the Aztecs’ pictographic writing system and the Incas’ quipu.

“Now I know your secret,” Jacques smirks, “so I can turn you off, Raxl--perhaps someday soon for good.” I’m confused: what secret of hers did he just learn? He already knows that she’s a voodoo priestess and that she’s been searching for the missing conjure doll and silver pin ever since he hid them back in Episode 2. It can’t be the Temple of the Serpent, either, because they go back upstairs instead of entering it at the end of the scene. So, by process of elimination, the answer can only be that he just learned that she can read the ancient language of her people! And, if Jacques doesn’t also know how (and he most likely doesn’t), then the Conjure Man can still communicate with her from beyond the grave!

Back in the Great Hall, Tim and Holly are chatting and he suggests that there might be a hidden tunnel somewhere on the island where they could escape. Just then, Jacques interrupts their conversation and leads Holly away for a private discussion--which turns out to not be so private, because it’s in the dining room, but that’s probably why Quito is standing off to the side of the doorway.

Sorry, Tim!

While they’re together for their little semi-private meeting, Jacques decides to promote underage drinking:

Jacques pouring out some wine for himself and Holly like the cool stepdad who lets you drink at 20.

I love the epithet “prince of the sea” for both Jean Paul and Jacques. It fits both of them so perfectly with their elegance and outwardly regal demeanors.

Quito blocks Tim from entering, but then leaves to visit Raxl again--and yet Tim does nothing while he’s gone? Seriously? Has even Ian Martin gotten bored with Boring Artist Tim now? Or did he just forget about him during his hasty rewriting spree?

Meanwhile, Jacques pressures Holly to reveal the subject matter of her and Tim’s conversation, and she reluctantly agrees after he starts carrying on about secret tunnels:

More confirmation that Jacques did not build Maljardin. (Remember the Raxl line from Episode 32 where she mentioned that kings inhabited the château before him?)

“I heard Matt Dawson speaking about secret places in the crypt,” she says. “I don’t know where or what; he wouldn’t say! He said it was a secret, that he had given his word.” This is a major change from Martin’s original plans for this episode, which we can see in its Lost Episode summary.

The summary indicates that originally, instead of asking Jacques about secret passages, Holly would have told Jean Paul about the Temple of the Serpent. The version of the summary published in the Cleveland Plain Dealer (October 31, 1969) indicates that “she does not know it is a Temple,” but she probably wouldn’t tell him about the room if she didn’t sense that it was important in some way.

Yet another version--this one from the Fitchburg Sentinel (November 4, 1969)--states that the Temple “could be used to destroy Jacques Eloi des Mondes,” which is fascinating. I won’t analyze this bit, though; Curt has already done a brilliant analysis of this summary and how it connects to one of Jacques’ lines from Episode 2, and it’s better and more in-depth than my analysis would have been. I highly recommend it, but beware of spoilers through the end of Maljardin if you’re worried about those.

He calls himself “Jean Paul Desmond” three times during this scene, as though he’s desperate to prove to her that he’s not Jacques Eloi des Mondes, but Jean Paul Desmond. It’s hilarious.

But back to the broadcasted version of the episode. Jacques is intrigued by what Holly says and tells her to search for the passage with him in the crypt. Once again, she agrees, being as captivated by Jean Paul Desmond as she is.

On their way down to the crypt, Jacques tells Dan that he can leave the island when he wants to, and Dan responds by threatening again to tell the cryocapsule. Needless to say, Jean Paul is going to reverse this when he finds out what Jacques said, thereby making him look even more insane than before.

When they arrive in the crypt, Jacques asks Holly where she thinks the secret room is, but she doesn’t know. Somehow neither she nor he has ever found the glaringly obvious door on the crypt wall. I have a headcanon that centuries have gone by without anyone discovering the not-so-hidden door on their own, simply because Raxl and Quito haven’t pointed it out to them. Somehow no one notices the doorway, and it stretches my willing suspension of disbelief farther than anything else on Maljardin.

Jacques tampering with the Conjure Man’s message.

But he drops the subject of the secret room as soon as he finds the writing box. He crosses his hands on top of it, lifts them, and poof! The message is rearranged. And then, through the power of Headache Faces™, Jean Paul regains control over his body:

This is his ugliest headache face so far.

Here, have a photo of Jacques smiling from earlier in the episode to wash out your eyes.

Jean Paul chases Holly out of the crypt and tells Quito that he must stay in the crypt and guard the capsule. He pronounces it the British way (”cap-syuel”) instead of how he normally says it (”cap-suhl”). Since normally only Alison and Vangie pronounce “capsule” that way, it appears that their pronunciation of the word is rubbing off on him. (It’s already rubbed off on me. I’m not kidding. The more time I spend re-watching this show instead of socializing, the more I start to talk like these characters--and I don’t even mind.)

Raxl and Quito--who came running back to the crypt when Jean Paul shouted at Holly--go to retrieve the writing box and bring it into the temple, which they decided not to do earlier when they really should have done so. But then she opens it and discovers that most of the message is gone!

Raxl: “There is only one message now: death!”

Coming up next: Alison discovers more clues to the mystery of Erica’s death.

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