#artistscreed

[centerednscholared]

simple reminder. #mantra #motivation #artistscreed #responsibleartistry #poetry #literature https://www.instagram.com/p/B3cSDNbjcSB/?igshid=j6jokbq6z24

[turkeyhawk-blog]

Secret Santa gift ayyy

Prompt: Genderswapped!Connor/Charles Lee

Rating: Gen (so far, maybe not in later chapters)

Gift for: sincethewreck

Plot: Connor doesn't know what came over her. Was it a sense of pity? 

---

Oh, the searing pain.

She could barely walk straight with that stupid injury on her side. She was so close, so very close to killing but no, her aim missed, and pretty badly too. The assassin dragged herself to a small alley, isolating herself from the mess she'd created. Collapsing on her knees, she groaned.

'Connor' pulled up her shirt gently, trying the best she can to avoid making her injuries worse. She took off the bandage around the chest and wrapped it tightly around the injury with hopes that the bleeding would just stop.

There is no time for modesty, she thought.

For a little while, she regained her breath. In and out, slowly, she whispered to herself. With much difficulty, she hoisted herself up again, her nails raking the rough brick wall in response to the pain on her side. She made her way to the tavern, slowly shuffling. She was tired of this all, she's tired of this conflict, of the templars and assassins alike. She just wants this to be over. All this trouble, all this pain. All of the people she's lost, including her father. Oh, how she had wished to understand him better, and earlier. But oh well, she has gone too far. Too far from redemption, too far from her original goal. She has delved too deep in revenge and her sweet slender hands have been soaked in too much blood, too much violence. There is only one thing she can do, try and set things right for one last time and end the order for once and all.

Connor shuffled into the Inn. It was worn and quiet, people minding their own businesses. In there, she saw him. The man who started the burning fury inside her and the one who will hopefully end it. She walked up to him, He went to an Inn and got himself drunk instead of treating his injuries. She thought to herself. The man was either too drunk or too absorbed in pain to notice.  They were both in no condition to fight, she knew. Hell, they both knew. She sat near him, none of the two would break the silence. Lee grabbed the bottle next to him and took a swig before offering it to the assassin. Connor reluctantly took it, chugging down a mouthful to nullify the pain on her side.

"All this time and I've never noticed," he said wearily.

"Noticed what?" she replied

"You're a lady all along,"

"And that makes a difference?" She said sharply, with a glare.

Charles held his tongue.

Connor groaned and rolled her eyes like she always does.

"Sorry," he mumbled, his voice soft and low.

Connor passed the bottle back to him. Sighing. He doesn't take it back.

The two shared eye contact for a moment, a silent apology from one to another. Accepting his fate, Charles nodded, ever so slightly. He hopes she understands. Oh, surely she'd understand! She's been yearning for revenge since forever surely she'd understand...

 It was an odd feeling, accepting death. He knew the assassin was bound to get him in the end and oh, how he used to fear it. But now, the when she's right in front of him, the fear just disappeared, just like the order over the past few years. There was no more fear, just acceptance. He could no longer decide whether it was excitement or nervousness when he saw her lean over to him, her hands ready to strike and her eyes murderous. He almost could not wait to feel the kiss of her blade but instead, all he felt was the rough, hard texture of leather against him. Charles fell over, a crowd forming around the two, interested in a good brawl. Connor stood up and pulled him up, not so gently either.

"It's not over yet," she growled to his ears before dropping him back to the ground. "Go, we shall settle this later," she continued, kneeling down next to him and taking the amulet from him. She limped out, slowly out of the Inn, leaving the man to his own devices.

[jonphaedrus]

“I’m going out,” Ziio says, brushing past Haytham, her hair knotted into some complex kind of bun, dark skin heightened with what he’s almost certain is golden eyeshadow. “With some friends.”

“Okay?” he replies, standing there awkwardly in their tiny apartment kitchen that barely has enough room for him, let alone anybody else, and starts to juggle the frying pan full of egg he has as Ziio leans in and hands him Connor.

merry christmas domjiji! on today's episode of modern family shenanigans, haytham tries (and fails) to appease a very small child. i hope this works for connor being cute? regardless, i hope your holiday has been good!