#ac rogue

[skxtchyghost]

been playing a lot of asscreed rogue lately

[jupiterbugle]

YO TS IS NOT THE ANIMUS 🗣‼️

Not my best work but I wanted to get it out before the backrooms hype dies down! I hope I did it justice.

[freysai]

i played rogue

[tearsa]

It's too late for therapy Now.

[tensleepmice]

Shay, at the Palace of Versailles.

I really want to know what Shay did after he finished taking the box. Ubisoft, have you really thought about this... The mission was completed in 1776 and he didn't return to America. Where exactly did he go?

[boon-mone]

Boon.Mone & Zong柊叶葵 合绘

[alrakia-serpent]

✨Merry Assassin Christmas✨

[bbearicca]

Shay Cormac woke and sat up, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his lower back. He pressed a hand there, hissing through the soreness. Still, he dismissed it. Pain was an old companion, after all, and one he had long learned not to complain about, especially when there were missions yet to be done.

His eyes moved around the room before landing on Haytham Kenway.

The Grand Master stood by the table, surrounded by maps, notes, and loose papers. He calmly sorted through them, hands shifting pages as his eyes followed the writing, already fully focused despite the early hour. He was always like this. Be it calm, poised and elegant, and commanding too, as if the world couldn't give him a break to ease up and let loose for once.

Shay exhaled softly.

“You ever stop?” he asked. “Feels like you’re always busy with something.”

Haytham didn’t look up. “Responsibility does have a way of demanding one’s attention,” he replied. “Being the Grand Master tends to require it.”

Shay snorted under his breath and rose to his feet, crossing the room. He came to stand behind Haytham, close enough that the warmth of him lingered against Haytham’s back.

Shay leaned in, the marks on his chest were laid bare, shamelessly blooming and red, but still very much fresh enough to remind him of the night before. One hand settled at Haytham’s hip, the other resting loosely at his side, breath ghosting along Haytham’s neck.

Haytham stilled. His hand hovered above the parchment, as he glanced over his shoulder.

“And what,” he asked carefully, “do you think you’re doing?”

Shay didn’t answer right away. Instead, his grip tightened just slightly.

“Stay,” he murmured. “Leave the work for now. Come back to bed. You don’t have to do anything, just… not this. Not for a while.”

Haytham sighed. His hand came down to rest over Shay’s at his hip, thumb brushing against his knuckles.

“Very well. Just for a while.” A faint smile touched his lips.

“After all,” he added, “you did ask nicely.”