#scnofnone

[roleplayerxshoutouts]

@viirales / scnofnone / @cursemcrked gets their characters so well. They're jumping out of the screen.

[parisian-eagle]

Orange, yellow, and violet! c:

Personality headcanons

Orange: emotional headcanons -everything about their emotions (do they have fears; what makes them excited/happy/anxious/sad/angry; do they have bad-temperament/triggers/self control; etc..)

Arno suffers from depression, or as they’d call it back then, Frequent and persistent melancholy, though not as frequent as it once was. On his good days he is jovial, often giving sarcastic and witty remarks, and making jokes, but most of the time he’s withdrawn emotionally. He has a fair temper, never really acting out of anger until pushed into it, he doesn’t yell very often either.

Not much makes him anxious, usually only when his loved ones are put into dangerous situations, or if someone from his past in Versailles starts poking around for fear they may still believe him to be François’ killer.

Yellow: mental headcanons -everything about their mind (are they intelligent/attentive/perceptive/intuitive/pragmatic/idealist/pessimist; do they have good memory; are they good a problem-solving/learning; etc..)

Arno is very pragmatic, while rather sensitive (Despite hiding it well) he doesn’t let his emotions take over his judgment often, not unless a loved one is in mortal danger.

As for attentive and intuitive, he was able to solve a 200 year old puzzle, as well as how to open the 1,000 year old temple door that no one else had been able to figure out, so I’d say he’s incredibly clever and intelligent.

Violet: habits headcanons -everything about their routine behaviour (good habits; bad habits; posture; mannerism; etc..)

Sunday is bath day. 100% only skipping if he’s sick or too busy to heat it. He LOVES baths, not for the cleaning aspect, but the warm water helps him relax.

His desk is a freaking safety hazard, books are piles dangerously high, bottles on their sides ready to roll and fall off, papers EVERYWHERE. His room is clean otherwise, but he’s lazy about making his bed and just throws his blanket across when he wakes up.

He’s one of the few who brushes his teeth regularly, toothbrushes were manufactured in bulk when he was 12 and Françios was pretty forward thinking, so Arno got into the habit early enough to keep his adult teeth pretty good.

Speaking of teeth, his sweet tooth is sometimes sickening, the man is a bottomless pit and can eat an entire cake to himself in one sitting, something he forces himself not to do. 

[ihavenoside]

📂

Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have.

Thanks to @hakamorraf for suggesting maybe he would have an odd collection? 

I think if he had any collection, it would have to be a coin collection, quarters specifically. It would probably start with collecting all the different state and then a collection by year and then a quarter from every country before he thinks to himself “Okay, I have a problem.”  

He’d also probably hide them all from Hank because Hank took the one he always used away because it was annoying him lol.

[parisian-eagle]

Continued from {X} @scnofnone

Arno had a nurturing nature. He gave all of himself to people, a bleeding heart seemed like a bad choice as an Assassin, but he was good at his job because it let him help those who could not help themselves, as well as those who believed in the same cause. Though despite his kind nature, he had an iron fist that could come down like the fury of God, or at least that’s the reputation his French Brothers and sisters had painted for him due to his brutality in fights, that was not the side he showed now.

“A quick cleaning and a dusting of astringent should have you right as rain. I knew a fellow who lost an arm from a papercut on his finger. Granted the hospitals are disgusting and haven’t changed their practices since the Plantagenets, but it’s better safe than sorry.” Arno could agree that it wasn’t worth much attention, but making sure it was clean and stopped bleeding was all he set out to do. He could trust that a grown man could keep it clean afterward.

After pouring a touch of alcohol on a cloth and dabbing it, he made sure to pat a mysterious blue powder over it to stop the last few trickles of blood, well, not so mysterious. Powdered forget me nots were his astringent of choice, he had grown this batch himself after years of failed attempts. 

“You certainly aren’t one for small talk. That’s good, it means we’ll get along just fine.” He joked before returning to the mutual silence. Small talk was a chore, jokes and sarcastic remarks on the other hand? Those came easy.

And just like that, his job was finished. Honestly, Arno was a hypocrite, offering to help others with scratches while he’d dug a musket ball out of his own arm to keep from taking up a bed in the infirmary. It wasn’t out of selflessness either, he’d not try to paint himself as some angel with no desire to be selfish, he was just stubborn and sometimes downright foolish.

[beforenothing]

@scnofnone [Ask turned thread]

Maria had the upmost faith that everything would be fine as she watched from her spot by the doorway, trying not to let out a laugh at her soon to be assassin children, trying to mimic what they’ve seen the novices in training do and trying to apply what they’ve been taught. This was her husband after all and in the safety of what they called home and ears as shape as ever. She had no doubt Altair was at the very least, alert enough to be aware of his families presences in the room. Something she both admired him for as well hated, wishing she could be as in tuned with her soundings as he was.

The children giggled amused, and yelped at being grabbed. Sef simply accepted his fate at being caught, continuing to try and tickle his father before giving up. Darim on the other hand was determined to squirm his way out of his father grasp, going as far as to use his feet feet against Altair's side to try and give himself enough leverage to brake free.

It was only until Altair had moved that Maria laughed momentary at the chaotic scene. The poor quail fluttering back and forth before settling on a table in their room. Only when things had settled down did Sef asks this question. 

“Baba? Can we go watched the sunrise on top of the castle?” He asked, reaching his hands out to the bird and without hesitation, the bird returned close enough that Sef could pet it. This, was the intended plot for the morning, the sun having turned the once patch black, starry sky into a light hue of blue, soon threatening to makes its appearance in not so short a time. It wasn’t often they were all up at this hour or at least not without some from of distress that called for it. Everyone that should be sleeping, should still be sleeping but of course, if that so happened to what Altair planned for his morning to be, to return to sleep, the children had agreed to accept it.

[ihavenoside]

Unknown meme / liked for a meme || Always accepting.

@scnofnone​​ asked:

"When something is this strange, one shouldn’t assume to understand anything specific about it at all."

He LED spun red, startled by the voice that came from behind him, a rare instance but after the day he just had, no one would particularly blame him for being jumpy. After all, he had deemed the rooftops to be the safest place to rest and reorganize his thoughts.

For starters, he’d have liked to know what he did to cause, what he determined to be the authority figures for this area to act like that. Also, why had they looked different from those he saw before. Part of him wondered if he just wondered into some sort of LARPing fair but everything around him was... slightly different when he had the moment to pay attention. Jer.usalem wasn’t the most technology advanced city in the world, in fact, it’s because it wasn’t and so full of history, that it was one of the reasons he was excited to take a trip here, even if it meant he had done it alone.

The day started out pretty normal for the week he had spend here. Today, he wanted to do a little souvenir shopping before moving to his next location. Generally, even thought he got some strange looks from time to time, because Jer.usalem wasn’t known to have androids, they were somewhat aware of their existence, but mostly using the ones made from Ru.ssia or Chi.na given that they were cheaper and not as advanced the ones U.S had made them.

He had stopped by what seemed to be an antic’s booth, being a person who liked odd things, he took a look. Lots of old books, some paintings, pottery. things being marks as genuine when they were clearly fakes with a simply scan. There had been some over priced jewelry that caught his eye. One in particularly because his scans read it as real. An 11th century fatimid gold armlet. It was discolored and looked to be missing the gems it once held. He had put it on his right wrist and thought about it. It was much to small to fit around his arm but he was reconstructing the idea that maybe it could be used as a bracelet and thinking about which friend might have liked it.

Suddenly, the band shrunk to the size of his wrist and the world around him seemed to slow, including himself. It was a strange sensation before everything resumed again. The thing that first caught his attention was his systems telling him his communications and navigation systems were unresponsive, which was weird. Then the gasps grab his attention, the LED on his right temple, spinning yellow as he took in the new information round him. He was confused and knew he stood out before as a tourist in his gray suit, black jeans but now he just plan looked out of place. The authority figures that once carried around assault rifles had been replaced with men in chainmail, bows and swords, and the stand he had been in front of was no longer there.

Before he could really process what was happening, the guards started shouting at him, telling him to stop what he was doing, which had only been standing there, and when he didn’t seem to comply with what they expected him to do, two raised their bows at him. First of all, their placement was bad, standing opposite sides from another, in each other's cross fire and secondly, the area was crowded. If they released there arrows and he dodged, it would strike the other or worse, someone else. Two others stood beside the drawn bowmen, having their swords drawn. He wanted to defuse the situation and raised his hands but action was apparently taken as hostile and the bowmen sent the arrows flying.

The calculation was easy and with a twist, he was able to catch both arrows, one in each hand before dropping them to the floor, rendering them harmless. That caused the other two with swords to charge, which with some basic defensive moves, he was able to disarm one before the other by dodging. The two bowmen then pulled their own swords and started charging at him.

As much as he wanted to stick around and understand what he had done to anger them and clear up whatever misunderstanding. Their body language told him they weren’t in the mood to talk and with the commotion that was being caused, he could hear more coming, which is when he decided it was a good time to run. Around each turn, it felt like he kept running into more and more of them and with his navigation system offline, he was running blindly. Turning another corner had him halt momentarily at the dead-end. 

Another quick calculation later and he was able to determine he could scale the wall by kicking off either side and grab the ledge, which he did with moderate easy, however, he registered an impact to his left side and remembered hearing one of them shout the Ara.bian word for assassin. Once on top, he could see several rooftops had ladders and with quick look back and a dodge of another arrow what flew past his face. He saw the people that were chasing him rounding the corner and likely heading for the closest ladder next to him.

They might have not been able to scale the building the same way he did but at least it bought him time. This wasn't how he expected to spend his last day here, running and jumping uphill from rooftop to rooftop in the afternoon sun but as he suspected, his pursuers quickly gave up and lost track of him. Which he settled  at resting under a weird rooftop awning. 

This was when his bad habit of talking to himself came into play. The first thing he did was discard the arrow that nicked his side and had become stuck in his jacket. He discarded the arrow tip laced with blueblood to the floor of the roof, an injury he wasn’t at all concerned with. Was this all that it was about? His reputation from overseas being a deviant hunter was now causes some sort of international incident? Could that make sense? Why else would someone yell assassin? Media information was lost in translation all the time or rather purposely for propaganda but he couldn’t be that infamous, could he? Why was his communications and navigations programs unavailable? It still meant they were working, just he wasn’t getting a signal. Was he malfunctioning? Was this a weird cyberattack on him? 

All questions he spoke out loud in English before he was surprised by the white hooded man and took on a defensive stance. The remark seemed innocents enough and even the way he spoke it seems non threatening but either this man had been here the entire time, which he was sure he hadn’t give he’s been pacing the roof top in thought or he had climb the side of the building, without a ladder and hasn’t made a sound while doing it.

“Identify yourself.” He demanded, auto defaulting to speaking fluent Arabic as a means of respecting the culture he was visiting, despite the other speaking to him in English, a stress related mistake. The other didn’t look like any of the ones that has been chasing him but he could also see the other was armed and while he, himself held no obvious weapons, he also had an air about him that spoke he shouldn’t be taken lightly in a fight. His LED spinning blue, ready for pretty much anything. He was still breathing heavy, trying to keep his systems cool but it was hot out and hotter up on the roofs.

[hunters-house]

“It looks worse than it is. I’m sure it’ll be gone in a couple of days.”

“And that, sir,” Mac said as she poured antiseptic onto a cloth, “shows just how much you know about medicine.”

“Though I will say, I am impressed that you’re keeping a level head about this. Not many people could be this calm after a crossbow bolt to the knee like that. I have a friend who was shot in a similar area, and his leg had to be amputated because he let infection set in.”

Mac was working for the Relief Corp again, this time in their capacity as “The Order of St. Damian.” At the moment, she was helping a man who had crashed through her ceiling.

“Now, this is going to hurt. But that means it’s working.”

She pressed the disinfectant-soaked cloth to the man’s knee, one hand on the patient’s chest just in case he reacted badly to the pain.

[ihavenoside]

Unknown meme / unprompted ask || Always accepting

@scnofnone​ asked:

"I tried to make ramen in the coffee pot and I broke everything."

He wanted to laugh but he was very good at keeping his amusement to himself, not wanted to add insult to injury. 

“Everything might not actually be broken.” He encouraged. “It’s not the coffee’s pots intended use but it can be done, I imagine you simply put to much water in and it over flowed? I’ve seen it happen a few times at work, people forget to empty the pot when they make a new batch and coffee ends up all over the floor but it often still works.” He explained.

“Though, I am interested in knowing, is this something you learned from a 5 minute craft video or a logical thought?”