hi. I needed a place to yell about assassinās creed. Yes itās been 10 years since i last was in this fandom, no i wonāt accept any āgo back to bed grandmaā.
call me Fleur, i may be slow but i do write on occasion and i need you guys to sit me down and make me do it. English isnāt my first language.
What have i played?
all games 1~3 except revelations.
Currently playing: AC Rogue
Next up: AC Odyssey, maybe AC liberation or the AC3 DLC (unless you come into my ask box and tell me to play unity)
Eventually in the near future: Black Flag Resynced
What you can request, rules etc:
Yell about whatever character you want in my askbox, especially Connor, i have so many thoughts swimming in my head about him!
Give me ideas for my next drabbles/headcanons/longish one shot~ here is some guidelines on what i will write.
NSFW Is Ok, with some exceptions. I wonāt write about fetishes bodily fluids, extreme violence, raceplay, ageplay, underage. (age gap relationships where both characters are 18+ is ok though).
Iām ok with most thematics, angst, fluff and smut
Characters from AC 2, AC 3 and AC Rogue are ok!
Whoās my favorite character
tie between Connor and Haytham. I donāt think iāll ever be able to choose one or the other, they represent the two kind of characters i love the most in media. Ezio is in there too, maybe for a sense of national pride, maybe because his were the first games i playedā¦ who knows.
One fun fact before i leaveā¦
my gaming/writing time is a bit limited due to the fact that itās mostly dedicated to raiding in ffxiv. (Looks at /playtime with terror and despair). My favorite character from that game is pretty similar to one of my AC ones and i only noticed super recentlyā¦ i might have a type lmao
I have put some rules for requests/askbox usage, if youāve been tempted to send me something check my pinnedšš the rules literally summarize to dont be a weirdo so iām sure youāll do fine
At the beginning, Lieutenant de Grasse isn't very convinced of Connor's abilities or the Aquila's capabilities. Together with two French ships, we're ordered to hold the bay until reinforcements arrive.
During the battle, our two allies are destroyed, leaving Connor and the Aquila to hold the bay on their own. At that moment, a man o' war arrives and destroys all of the Aquila's cannons.
Mr Faulkner and the crew are quite desperate, probably thinking they're facing their ends.
But badass fucking Connor doesn't even flinch and RAMS that massive ship in order to BOARD it ON HIS OWN.
And he does that. He kills the captain and shoots the powder barrels so that the entire ship explodes.
Connor then casually jumps off the ship at the last second, picks up his hat like nothing happened, and takes the wheel again. š
He's so badass and so nonchalant with it help.
Connor and the Aquila are surely a legend among sailors.
That has to be one of the story he'll tell his children when he's older. And he has every right to do so. Yes kids, your father is a fucking beast.
HAYTHAM MY BELOVED HUSBAND!!! Iām so glad that i get him back even if for a little bit. Also Shayās new outfit makes him look mega handsome, dunno if i prefer it to the prev one. Templar outfits in this era eat
I gave myself the challenge to write something different and quicker. I thought Iād need an hr max but no it was more like 3, and I managed to make myself cry. Wonderful.
Warnings: No NSFW, angst with a happy ending, implied suicidal ideation, so much trauma, mentions of death, mentions of injuries.
Everything around him felt like a blur.
To be completely honest, it had felt like the world around Connor had twisted into a delirious, confusing mess for way too long at that point. Once he arrived to what he knew was Charles Leeās hiding spot something amidst the general chaos had hit him on the back of the head; it was too late now to ponder on whether it had been the last, desperate attempt of one of Leeās men to protect their Grandmaster or if it was just a cruel twist of fate. The only thing he knew was that something wasnāt right with himself, the adrenaline-fueled surge of strength that had coursed through his flesh and blood was suddenly gone, as if he didnāt experience enough betrayal for one lifetime it was now his body that pathetically yielded under the ever growing weight of his duty. Duty towards the people who needed his protection, towards the phantoms of the dead that never let him rest easy at night.
Connor couldnāt help himself and chuckled at the thought. In his head it made sense, whatever unknown forces were reigning on this cruel, unforgiving place decided to finally punish his bravado- Calling the plan he devised risky was a gross understatement. Thinking he could execute it and leave the fort unscathed was a naive fantasy, just like the thought that Haytham- his father would listen to him in the end, that just this one time peace could have been an option and his blade wouldnāt have to sink into anotherās throat. The part that it was his own blood he was forced to kill didnāt make his thoughts any happier. Perhaps to protect himself, to delay his processing of such a scarring event a big part of Connor thought that what happened after the hit wasnāt real. In reality he was killed by the hit, locked away in some sort of eternal limbo where the events he wanted (needed) to happen would become reality but as a punishment for his hubris he was forced to witness his very being be contorted into something that stopped resembling him all together .
A figure was staring at him from the murky depths of a fishing pond, its dark eyes, drowned in uneven smudges of black paint were unfocused and devoid of any emotion. Pain had been the only companion in what Connor was sure would be his last journey, the constant that kept him anchored to reality and instilled doubt in the fact that maybe- just maybe what he was feeling was his personal purgatory. He wasnāt living in a limbo made to avenge all the lives he had taken, regardless of whether it was right or not of him to do it. Despite it being the only tangible feeling he could make out from the whirlwind of broken pieces his mind had become, the pain felt impossibly far and disconnected from his body, less than any other sensation but still dull enough to where reality itself was still hazy around the edges. The relentless pounding at the back of his head made his vision blurry, the image staring back at him from the tranquil waters didnāt become any more recognizable with the occasional ripple of the pond. Connor forced his eyes to focus, to try and stare back at the reflection. The only thing he received in return was a pair glimmering tears further clouding his vision, slowly slipping on his burning cheeks as the ache in his body grew.
Trough the static-like ringing that wouldnāt leave his ears Connor heard footsteps in quick succession, the only words he could make out from the panicked crowd were about someone killing Charles Lee; he didnāt even have to tell his body to slip away from the small fishing pond and sloppily stumble into a patch of tall, snow covered grass. He was conscious enough to muffle the pained groan that escaped his lips, despite his muscle memory having come to his rescue once again it had also driven some of the wooden splinters deeper into the gash on his flank. A searing pain flashed from his abdomen toward one of his muscular legs, it hurt more than before but he still couldnāt find it within himself to care. It threatened to give out; for the second time his body was betraying him and protesting, signaling to the assassin that he needed to rest or else the death he had been trying so hard to elude - just for a little longer, until his duty was complete - would claim with the same indifference he reserved to his pain, his feelings. He would return to the land unbeknownst to anyone just as he had fulfilled his purpose and avenged the dead, so close but oh so far away from homeā¦
His body started moving anew, renewed energy coursing through his veins while his mind was still trapped between dream and reality, deep-rooted survival instincts took over and told him to run. The footsteps were now far away now and almost imperceptible against the tinnitus that plagued his ears, the search party sent to kill him had probably scattered; he couldnāt let go now, he was so close to the homestead that even with how shaken up he was the roads still felt familiar enough to regain some sense of orientation.
Connor had always known that the majority of people would consider him a ruthless criminal, his fatherās last words about the Templars being ever resourceful still a grim reminder, yet there was one person who he knew would never be swayed by any amount of misinformation or propaganda about him. If he died right there, away from prying eyes, he was sure there would be one place and a person in particular who wouldnāt just mourn him and move on. Just imagining your reaction on finding his cold body buried under who knows how many layers of snow broke Connor in ways he thought werenāt possible anymore, the throbbing pain in his head got insistently stronger and the gash on his side ripped due to the sheer intensity of his running. He couldnāt- wouldnāt allow himself the selfishness of drowning into the comforting arms of death just yet. Letting go would propagate the sorrow and grief to the one he had sworn to protect the most, he knew that you always preferred actions to words and his loss would lead you down to the exact path that he had once embraced; you would take the remaining Templars down one by one to drown the grief, make sure nobody else had to suffer the death the man they loved just like you did, and then youād find the same soul-crushing numbness he found at the end of the path.
The air felt stifling, as if Connorās throat was being constantly constricted by a tight would string- The chase after Lee was maddening and littered with all the anger he tried to repress when his mother died, the moment when she made him promise that he would make it out alive was permanent seared in his memories. Inside that inflamed building he had inhaled who knows how much smoke and his lungs were giving out, but the path to your house was close, he knew it by heart so he pushed trough the pain, the cynical thoughts and the part of himself that desperately wanted to let it all go. It was his only chance of seeing the future he had relentlessly fought for, he needed to resist just a little longer.
