#assassin's creed drabbles

[howtotrainabraincell]

Sweet head cannons about different Assassin's Creed characters

Henry Green: This man knows his flowers and does he ever spoil you with them. Whether they're given directly or left around for you to find, they always have sweet meanings and divulge his feelings for you in beautiful, colorful, little ways.

A pink rose once you two have known each for a time, symbolizing his vow of love and his desire to grow old with you. His hand was slightly shaking when he gifted it to you before he spoke gently to you in Punjabi, before telling you that he loves you and wishes to marry you in English. You both shed tears of happiness when you got engaged. It would be years later but when you learn enough Punjabi you would realize that he had told you "I wish to spend the rest of my life with you".

I have a feeling that he remembers the small things. If you two are out to meet a contact for information or out collecting intelligence for the Brotherhood, and you come across a store window where a beautiful cameo is on display, when you express appreciation for it or make a comment about how beautiful it is, he will remember that. Say this is in January....this man will surprise you with it months later on your birthday.

Malik Al Sayf: The thing about Malik kissing you if you are an assassin vs if you're not an assassin is this...he wants to, but it can be tricky. If you are an assassin, he'll kiss you on the cheek the same way all assassins greet each other and bid you 'Safety and Peace' as he would normally do with his fellow assassins, as he doesn't want to give any headway to any rumors about you two. But it's complicated. If he doesn't kiss you then questions will be asked (by Altair OFC who else?) but if he does kiss you, he has to be careful to not be too quick - to seem as though he has a crush and is flustered/he can't stand you (which is NOT true as you are literally the only person, he CAN stand lol). Then there's also the kissing you for too long bc he'll seem romantically interested (OH BOY IS HE) but he can't reveal that as much as he wants to.

Have a feeling the man is an overthinker haha.

If this is before Al Mualim that is - afterward he'll kiss you without a care and if Altair says anything he'll threaten to throw a knife at him lol. If you're not an assassin though, why would he have reason to kiss you??? But you better believe that he'll come out of nowhere when you're minding your own business, whisk you off somewhere where you two can't be seen and kiss you breathless.

Haytham Kenway: He seems like the kind of lover to be gone a lot, but he really tries to make up for it when he comes home. He understands that gifts and surprises don't make up for his absence - although each gift sent is silent sincere apology - but even if he's not there he'll provide for you.

I don't know why...but something tells me that the man gets matching things for you two. If you're wearing a blue dress, he's wearing a suit in the same color and you two always look very dashing whether apart or together.

You could wake up one morning expecting another day at home, when Haytham has instructed the household to make a nice to go breakfast for you and then for the groom to take you horse riding so you can get out of the house for a little bit. With Templar protection of course he's not taking any chances. He may also arrange a day in Boston for you to go shopping and stay in the city to unwind for a bit.  Expect gifts to be delivered when he's away. He'll have a dress made for you and have it sent a week after he leaves with a sweet letter alongside it as well. A flower delivery a few days later. He even surprised you with a spaniel puppy once.

[saberamane]

...so I have a very specific excerpt from a mid-work fantasy I had today.

All you need to know is Desmond is a bartender at a new bar, conveniently owned by Ezio's family in modern times (assassin's may or may not exist, it really doesn't matter). Giovanni still is the head of a bank and very Important and has decided to have a Very Important Bussiness Dinner at his son's (Ezio) restaurant. It's an authentic Italian place, of course, with all the recipes made by Maria. Friday nights have live, Italian music.

On this specific night, their live performers have failed to appear, and Giovanni's Very Important Bussiness Dinner guests are expecting authentic Italian cuisine and live music. Things are looking bad.

Desmond, newly hired bartender and trying to stay on his new bosses good side (Claudia and Federico also work in the restaurant, but Ezio is the 'main' boss), overhears their predicament and goes all 'I know a guy...'

Cue cousin Clay, who is a classicly trained pianist, being unexpectedly called by his little cousin for a favor.

Clay is not what the Auditore were expecting when he shows up. Ripped jeans, leather jacket, pierced ears, combat boots... Desmond did not mention Clay worked as a bouncer at a club, and dressed like he was in a biker gang...

'Don't worry, I'll fix him up before the performance.'

Clay, in the staff room, trying to squeeze into Desmond's spare uniform.

'Your clothes sizing makes no fucking sense Desmond. Tiniest waist I've ever seen on a man, but with a fat ass and thunder thighs to put a woman to shame. What the fuck is your gym routine?' The black dress pants Clay is currently trying to fit into are distressed where he is trying to pull up the zipper. The waist is just not big enough. The button isn't going to hold, the zipper won't stay up, the seams are straining...

Meanwhile, the Auditore siblings are huddled in the kitchen, eyeing their fathers potential new clients from the little windows in the kitchen doors. They look impressed, so far. The decor is high-end, the wine fantastic, the food both authentic and good...

The entertainment though... Playing the piano is all well and good, but the singer is usually singing in Italian... Would their father's potential clients still be impressed with an English singer??

Clay and Desmond set up on the stage, Clay looking... mostly presentable. There aren't many professional musicians that play classical music with that many studs in their ears...

But Clay plays beautifully, and Desmond can sing? And it's in Italian??

The night goes a lot better than expected after the last-minute canceling of their usual musicians. Desmond and Clay wow the patrons of the restaurant, their father's new clients sign on with enthusiasm.

Desmond and Clay are offered to perform every Friday, should they wish it. It earns Desmond not only an extra check each week, but also an uptick in his tips. Clay, even hating playing something as prissy as piano, can't say no with Desmond's big doe eyes staring at him.

And well...Desmond's employers are worth coming back around to see... Especially when Clay catches the eldest Auditore son eyeing him up and own covertly.

And besides... Clay would do nearly anything to help out his baby cousin. Even something as embarrassing as playing piano.

Especially if the promise of a certain man's attention is on the table.

[assassins-and-hidden-blades]

hello!! can you please write a drabble for connor with an s/o who just finished their last final, and now they just want to nap and cuddle with him? gender neutral please! thank you!!

05/03/2024: Hello! First ask of the year! I certainly can try, friend! Thanks for your undying patience! Shit has happened, bros, but I've just been re-reading my old fics and they've brought me some long lost joy, so I am trying to make a comeback! (Please reblog this so people know I'm posting again -- with evidence!) This is a perfect thing to write on the day of my exam results (we passed, guys!) so now I can reflect on the traumatising experience that was exam season.

The Complete Masterlist

Finally (Connor x GN!Reader)

You put down your pen with a sigh of relief.

Finally, it was all over.

These last few weeks were torture; hours of studying a day, taking a break only to eat or to steal some hours of restless sleep. Your brain fried while you studied, and you half wondered how you made it through exam season alive.

A few hours ago, you were on the verge of throwing up your breakfast. Now, as you turned the lock to your apartment door, you could only feel intense fatigue. Gentle noises from the kitchen put a smile on your face. Connor was never a loud person, in both words and actions.

"I'm back," you announced, entering the kitchen to find Connor making two cups of tea.

"Y/n," he greeted with a reassuring smile. "How was it?"

"Not terrible, but could've been better," you shrugged. At this point, you really couldn't care. It was over, and that's all that mattered. A yawn overcame you. "Tired now, though."

Connor nodded, pouring water from the freshly boiled kettle. "I made us some tea. What would you like to do to celebrate?"

You thanked him gratefully, moving to take your favourite mug off of the counter. "Honestly? Can we go back to bed for a while? I want to sleep these past few weeks off."

"Of course." He followed you as you led the way to your shared bedroom. Teas placed on the bedside counters, you changed into some comfier clothes and all but collapsed into bed. Connor climbed in with slightly more tact, and you crawled into his arms. He pulled you close with one hand and opened a book he was reading with the other.

His thumb gently traced the skin of your arm, soothing and constant. It wasn't long before your eyelids began to close, fluttering in time to his heartbeat.

Sleep came soon after.

[rotp-on-ao3]

Have an Assassin's Creed drabble.

This drabble wouldn't leave my head. It's not much, but I thought it was interesting. It's implied soulmates with a twist?

Also, this was supposed to have cool text formatting, but I guess you'll have to go to my ao3 to experience it fully. (Here! Have a link!)

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As it always did, it started with a touch.

A brush of skin.

A spark of electricity.

The tugging start of a pull.

He raised his left hand above his face, his right pillowing his head. Turning the offending limb to look at it at different angles, the image split thrice before joining back together.

[Malik…]

<Leonardo…>

‘Shaun…’

Overlapping Thoughts filled his mind.

[Al Mualim cannot know about this! He will not stand for it.]

<Cazzo! The Templars would use this against us. I cannot say anything.>

‘What does this mean? Could Shaun feel-! NoYesMaybe?’

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‘Bloody fucking-! Of course it’s him! Can’t seem to get a twatting break, can I?’

<Amico mio… It seems my soul craves the beauty in danger.>

[My brother. My arm. Was that not enough? He had to take my soul as well?]

Overlapping thoughts filled his mind.

‘Desmond…’

<Ezio…>

[Alaïr…]

He raised his right hand above his face, his left pillowing his head. Turning the offending limb to look at it at different angles, the image split thrice before joining back together.

The tugging start of a pull.

A spark of electricity.

A brush of skin.

As it always did, it started with a touch.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Prompt: 4. “Excuse me—where is my Christmas kiss?” || Nice action ||

Character: Ezio Auditore da Firenze || Modern Ezio ||

Fandom: Assassins Creed

Ezio was a notorious flirt, the man would hit on just a lot anything with a pair of tits and nice legs. That was until he met you. It’s not like he stopped his flirting oh no, he just focused all that attention on you. The man never caring whet the setting or place might be. The man seemingly getting worse when you had gotten married though it seemed to get worse around Christmas. The assassin doing whatever it took to place affectionate kiss on you.

Wrinkling his nose, the man couldn't help but feel a little jealous watching you and his son. The three year old was clinging to your legs and he couldn't help but wonder if he was like that as a child. Stiffening for a moment he quickly adjusted his tie watching you place kisses over the boys face, the child squealing in happiness. Grinning he stepped closer to you, his hands placing themselves on your shoulder gently, his sons eyes lighting up once he caught sight of him.

"Papa!."

Stepping away, Ezio quickly caught his son. The little boy hugging him tightly as he babbled on about his letter to Santa but the man was having trouble focusing from how beautiful you looked, you seemed to glow in the lights of the Christmas tree. Nearly forgetting his train of thoughts, Ezio gave you a broad smile.

“Excuse me—where is my Christmas kiss?”

Blinking, you paused for a moment then let out a soft laugh as you stepped close to your husband. Shaking your head you gave his cheek a kiss. "Better?"

"Not exactly what I had meant Mi Amore I am sure you can make it up for me in the bedroom, yes?"

"Sure" Rolling your eyes you then grasped your coat. "Shall we head out?"

Tipping his head, Ezio couldn't help but smile at the night he planned for you.

[recreationalfanfics]

Omg yandere assasins creed I'm glad I found you it's really a shame with so many assasins game but there's little yandere content, now if we talk about yandere that's a broken man that afraid to fail you just like his wife before Edward kenway is the perfect man to it like do you remember the dream sequence were he was very insecure about his failure imagines that with his darling

I feel like all the assassin's in Assassin's Creed have the potential to be all yanderes but THE KENWAY MEN ESPECIALLY.

I'm not a huge Edward simp but ugh, yes just imagining that whole sequence except now he's thinking about his darling. How his past actions have caught up to him and how his darling will be condemned to the same fate as everyone he's chosen to love. The worst part is I can imagine he also feels a bit guilty for moving on with you because of his wife so he tried to keep his distance but when he sees his dead wife in his dream, cursing him out for failing you like he failed her, he wakes up in a cold sweat and even though it's over and it's just a dream, there's a new fire in his chest. Desire and desperation coming together and it leaves him standing outside your window. Watching you sleep soundly in your bed, before he slowly slides it open and carefully creeps into your bedroom.

Out of all the other assassin's, I honestly feel like Edward is the most likely to kidnap his darling. He's a pirate, after all! He steals and he takes whatever he wants but you're not just some Templar ship he's raiding or whatever. You're you. You're a delicate gem that must be given the utmost care or else you might break, you're so vulnerable at the mercy of this cruel world that Edward knows too well, and you're the most precious treasure that Edward would gaurd with his life.

Because he's not sure what he'd do if he ever failed again.

[teecupangel]

Have you seen the show Ultimate Beastmaster? Imagine if the assassins tried that thinking no one is looking and everyone is just staring at them shocked because they did the whole course flawlessly

“Okay, anyone wants to tell me how this catastrophe happened?” Bill asked thru gritted teeth as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Well, a few millennias ago, a race of powerful-”

“I am not talking about the Solar Flare and you know it!” Bill glared at his only son who had been a quiet obedient kid…

Until he became friends with the three banes of Bill’s existence…

The other three narrowed their eyes at him which Bill ignored.

They had always been a bit too protective of his son.

But that only served to spoil Desmond and Bill wished he could find a way to pull him away from their ‘influence’ but they were the best field agents right now and Desmond needed to learn from the best.

But that did not mean…

Bill turned his laptop around where a video titled “Awesome Beastmaster Clears By The White Hood Gang!” was paused. It already had 21 million views and it had only been a goddamn day since it was uploaded. That kind of statistic was simply too much and Bill was quite sure Abstergo most probably rewatched this… a lot.

“So… anyone wants to explain this to me?”

All four men remained quiet and adopted blank expressions on their faces.

“Did none of you even consider that those cameras would have been recording even IF the shooting was scheduled tomorrow?!”

They all looked at one another before Ezio, their usual spokesperson, explained, “We were running away from Templars after acquiring the POE they had been delivering nearby. We noticed the obstacle course and decided it would be much faster to proceed thru it than to go around it, perhaps even lose some of our pursuers in the course itself and give us more time to get away.”

Ezio was surprisingly serious as he concluded, “It was a calculated risk we needed to take to accomplish the mission.”

Bill stared at him with a ‘don’t bullshit me, kid’ expression as he pushed the spacebar.

The laptop’s tiny speakers soon let out Ezio’s holler of “You gotta be faster than that, fratello mio! My younger brother is faster than you!”

Ezio didn’t twitch even as Bill said, “And was trash-talking Altaïr also necessary in completing the mission?”

The video kept playing and they heard a commentator that had been added to the video announce, “Oh! White Hood No 1 just grabbed 2 from the back and pulled him down! He skids- AND he’s able to hold on to the chains!”

Bill turned his not-angry-only-disappointed-and-having-a-headache-because-of-your-stupidity expression at Altaïr, “And sabotaging Ezio? Was that also necessary?”

“It was planned,” Altaïr replied vaguely and all four kept their blank expressions on.

Bill glared at the supposed prodigy of their Brotherhood and wondered if Rashid would mind if he hit his grandson on the head with a rolled-up newspaper.

Repeatedly.

“And 3 and 4 just jumped over 2! 4 is even laughing and-”

“A little help?!”

“You can do it! We believe in you!”

“-It seems 3 and 4 will not be helping 2 up!”

Bill turned to glare at his son and Ratonhnhaké:ton who he had thought would be above all this.

It seemed he had been wrong.

Bill finally clicked the spacebar once more to pause the video and rubbed the bridge of his nose again as he announced, “All of you are off the field until further notice. You will all be in support duty while Erudito cleans up your mess. Report to Shaun for further instructions.”

“Yes, sir.” They all answered curtly.

“Dismissed.”

He waited until they were all out of his office. Then waited a couple of minutes more to be sure they wouldn’t see him in their Eagle Vision before groaning as he slumped into his seat. He took the secret bottle of scotch he had in the bottom drawer of his office desk and didn’t bother to take the glass next to it, simply twisting the cap off and taking a large swing from the bottle itself.

Maybe he should just ship them all to Achilles.

Make them do actual ‘field’ work as punishment.

Then again…

Achilles would probably hunt him down and cane him in a week or so of having to deal with their own brand of bullshit.

[maddiethecanadianassassin]

Jokes! Jokes! Jokes!

A Jacob Frye Drabble - dedicated to @ramshackledtrickster and inspired by their animation!

Tags: Implied relationship, features OC, dancing, party, at a pub, drinking.

Warnings: PG - no major earnings except for decapitating a stuffed dummy

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The pub was lively that late afternoon as Jacob Frye and his merry band of Rooks threw a little get together. The company was lovely, the food and drink refreshing, and the entertainment was a laugh. Literally.

One of the Rooks, a natural pianist was going at it on the instrument, his fingers seemed to dance on the keys. His buddies clapped and cheered him on as they each toasted their mugs, drinking and singing along to his tune.

Speaking of performance...

Madeline Shrike sat with the Rooks, a drink in hand as she glanced over to see Jacob practically waltz over to an open area of the pub floor. His Rooks applauded his arrival, hooting, hollering, even some banging their fists on the tables. Madeline reached for her glass, saving it so it wouldn't topple over from all the excitement.

It had been a few months now since Madeline had first joined Jacob Frye and his band of Rooks after first moving to London for a fresh start, a new life outside of the comforts of her family home in Scotland. She had never been on more fulfilling adventures in her life before setting foot in this city, and her heart swelled with pride over the good she had helped take part in to protect the city from the Blighters, especially protecting the young, innocent and unfortunately poor orphaned children forced into horrendous child labor.

She looked at Jacob, seeing his smile, the playful gleam in his eyes. After his last few missions the past couple of weeks, he needed tonight. A well deserved rest and respite. Well. . . maybe minus the rest for now. Definite respite.

Madeline glanced over to see Jacob dragging along a bean bag dummy. He effortlessly lifted it up, its arms flailing in the air as he made it bow in greeting and the Rooks laughed, followed by a cheer. Where Jacob found it, either in a trunk somewhere at her Theatre or buried somewhere in his train hideout, Madeline didn't know.

But if there was a stage prop missing when she'd go into work the next morning, she'd know who to speak to.

Madeline pressed her elbow onto the table, holding her head up with her hand as she rolled her eyes in a teasing manner at the gang leader. Jacob caught the glimmer in her eye, his own eyes dazzling to match his mischievous grin.

He cleared his throat, getting into position.

"The curtain rose, the scene was set They danced a murderous duet~"

His voice projected across the bar as he stepped up onto his stage, twirling around with the dummy before leading it into what looked like a waltz.

"And much deserving blood was let Up to!"

He dipped the dummy down as if he were seducing a woman with his moves before shooting back up right, his eyes going wide as he made a motion with his finger, slicing across his throat.

He tossed the dummy up before grabbing it by the back of its neck, showing it off to his audience.

"The scene wherein they disagreed On who should live and who should bleed?"

Jacob poked at the dummy with an accusing glare before pointing himself before tossing the dummy again, grabbing it by its shoulder and held it in front of his body to shield himself. His fingers wiggled in anticipation before activating his hidden blade, with a flick of his wrist, he sliced the head of the dummy clean off, stuffing falling everywhere on the floor.

That dashingly mischievous grin returned.

"And Maxwell Roth he then received A very bad review~"

The Rooks cheered at the performance, whistling and hollering. Madeline couldn't help it herself as she clapped along with them. Jacob glanced over towards her, taking his top hat in his hand and offering her a performative bow at the waist as the Rooks continued seeing the chorus. Madeline offered him a glimmering smile as she bowed her head in kind.

Jacob approached Madeline's table where Jacob's drink lay waiting for him. He gave her a smile as he reached for his mug and downed another gulp of his drinks. How he was able to drink this stuff like guzzling water, Madeline hadn't had the foggiest.

"You seem quiet," Jacob spoke up, leaning forward slightly to make sure his voice could be heard over the crowd.

"Just tired after a long day is all," Madeline shook her head before giving Jacob a reassuring expression. "I'm alright, Jacob, I'm content sitting on the sidelines and watching you and the Rooks celebrate. You've all earned it. Especially you,"

"Kind words, Miss Shrike," Jacob smiled as he crossed his arms over the table. "I'll admit I was a little nervous. Here I was thinking you'd be a more stern judge of my performance,"

My eyes glanced over to the now decapitated dummy, seeing a group of Rooks playing around with it. They looked like they were playing hot potato with it.

"You played your part flawlessly, Sir Frye," I grinned back at him.

Jacob rolled his eyes at the young woman, though there wasn't any sign of actual hurt in his eyes. "How many times have I asked you not to call me that?"

"It's a title! Why not use it?" She asked him honestly.

If I had been given the title of Dame by the Queen herself, I'd be absolutely beside myself. Madeline thought to herself.

"As my sweat sister has once said, there is a time and place for everything. I'm simply waiting for the right moment," Jacob chuckled softly before taking another sip of his drink.

"And what moment would that be?" Madeline asked curiously.

Jacob looked towards Madeline with an equally curious gaze, his lips twitching into a playful smirk as he pushed himself off from the table. "How about this?"

He walked around to her side, offering her another bow, more. . . posed actually, even for Jacob, "Madeline Shrike," He straightened, offering the Magician his hand. "How would you like to dance with a Sir tonight?"

Madeline's cheeks flushed a light shade of pink at Jacob's playful delivery. She smiled up at him as her petite hands glazed over his black gloved hand. "I'm not much of a dancer, but. . . just this once, Jacob Frye,"

"Just this once," Jacob repeated, nodding his head in agreement.

Jacob gently brought Madeline along to the open floor of the pub, his other arm around her waist. As the Rooks cheered and continued to sing the song, the pair started their dance.

"Jokes, Jokes, Jokes! Make ‘em laugh until they choke~"

Madeline followed Jacob's steps, his movements lively with the music as they danced and laughed together. Madeline couldn't remember laughing this much. She yelped suddenly when Jacob twirled out of his hold before spinning her back into his embrace, sidestepping as part of his chest pressed into Madeline's back.

He had a big grin on his face as he started singing along with the Rooks.

"Fairly slay ‘em in the aisles Maidens fair and Princes charming~"

Her cheeks darkened as Madeline gawked at the man, his mere teasing. Madeline rolled her eyes as Jacob gently spun her back around to face him, his arm finding its way back looping around her waist as they continued their merry dance.

Jacob had always been a tease. A mischievous, playful, devilish tease. But he was also brave, cunning. A man that Madeline was proud to work with and fight alongside to protect London from the Blighters. A great leader, and a good friend.

Although if she was being honest with herself. . .

"Thrills, Thrills, Thrills! Dashing feats and bloody spills And I guarantee You’ll never see The ending coming!"

Madeline miss-stepped and found herself falling back. She shut her eyes, anticipating hitting the harsh floor below. The music stopped, there was chatter among the Rooks, cooling down from the song as she opened her eyes slowly and found Jacob staring back, his face ever so close to her own. He had caught her before Madeline could hit the floor.

Perhaps. . . there was something more?

Jacob slowly pulled her back up right, his free hand moving away from cradling the back of her head. His other arm stayed at her waist as he spoke, "Shall I escort you home, Miss Shrike?"

[aiza-luna]

Assassin's Creed - Syndicate Drabble: Nightly Chat

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"You know? Maybe my stay in London won't be so bad after all..."

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Hello, Hello, everyone! This is Aiza here, once again, this time, bringing something a bit different... A little draft I did of my AC: Syndicate AU and showing a bit more of my OC for the game! I hope you guys enjoy it since is my first time posting a small writting of mine, here! 🥹🩵

Without further ado, let's go!

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The darkness of the London's sky was comforting... At least at that moment. The cool breeze hitted her face, moving her braid softly against the wind.

Her dark copper hair glowed under the faint moonlight that timidly shined through the dark clouds. The weather was always so dark, so cloudly... Was it because of the constant smokes coming from the factories? Or simply the natural disposition of London's climate? She couldn't tell...

She kept cleaning her blade. The red hankchief she carried helping to hide the blood trail. The silver-colored weapon returning to it's shimering with every stroke she performed in it.

"... Y así pasan los días

Y yo desesperando

Y tu, tu contestando

Quizás, quizás, quizás...

... Estas perdiendo el tiempo

Pensando, pensando

Por lo que mas tu quieras

Hasta cuándo, hasta cuándo..."

The woman started to hum idly as she completed her task, her voice was of a Mezzosoprano tone, singing in a melodic but quiet pace.

So immersed on her work, she didn't noticed the light steps approaching her by her back in the cold rooftop. And she would have imediatly draw her blade on the stranger's throat, if it wasn't for the voice she quickly recognized.

- What are you doing here, little Hoopoe? - Spoke a male voice with an english accent, to which made her lower her guard and turn to face him. She looked a bit startled, and annoyed, but relieved it was a familiar face.

- I just needed a moment for myself, Mr. Frye... - The Spanish woman started, raising an eyebrow at him. - ... What are you doing here? Do not tell me you were indulging on those pubs again. -

The woman asked, knowing the Assassin's habit of drinking with his gang members until the late hours. And considering their expantion over London has been quite succeful those days, she was pretty sure he had been out drinking.

Her only reply was a humorous laugh, as he standed besides her, looking down at her as she was sitted in the edge of the rooftop.

- Is that how you see me? As a drunk scoundrel that only 'indulges himself on those pubs'? I feel hurt. - Jacob asked with a sarcastic and playful tone, smirking as he watched the Spaniard's cheeks heat up and gain a faint shade of red, barely visible with her olive complexion and the dim light of the street lights.

- ... You know that is not what I meant... - Solange argued in a murmur, visibly embarassed to have possibly offended him and not following the proper politeness she was taught.

Jacob sitted besides her, taking a look in the view and then at her, before speaking again.

- And you still haven't awnser my question, little Hoopoe. - He pointed out, seeing how vague her reply was, and how strange it was to find her at that hour. It was usual for him and Evie to roam the streets at the late night, but Solange? She usually would spend her evenings indulging herself in those pompous (and awfully demanding) social events of the high-class.

- Wouldn't you preffer to spend your "time for yourself" in your aunt's estate? I believe a warm long bath and the bed of the guest's room would be much more enjoyable than feel the cold night wind while sitting in a dirty rooftop. - The British Assassin commented in a light manner, in his typical charming manner.

Always a charmer, always charismatic...

...Was he always like this? It was both irritating and heart-lighting... Solange envied how well would he take things. How he always had this smooth-talker way of dealing with everything. This captivating energy that neither She nor the Evie had.

- ... Believe me, Mr. Frye... Is nothing. - The Spanish Assassin commented in a serious tone, before sighing heavily. - Starrick's influence in the British court is more than we expected... -

She started with a more firm tone, making the British man frown besides her. - What did you found? -

Solange mimicked his face expression, looking at her blade.

- James Brownlow William Gascoyne-Cecil, the Marquess of Salisbury, is another noble that is joining the Templars. - The Spanish Lady informed, her expression more worried. - We also suspect Lord Wensleydale may be connected to Starrick. Not as a member, but as an ally... Two nobles and a Judge. -

The Assassin concluded worried, clearly impressed that would be more Templars inside the court than just the Earl of Cardigan.

- Starrick is securing his strings in the Parlament too. - Jacob concluded with a more serious and somber voice, the brunette only nodded.

- I believe Starrick also have plans for my uncle, Tía Desirée is trying to use that in her advantage to approach and discover their true intentions. - The Spanish Assassin explained her family's course of action, placing her red hankchief on her lap.

- But in all honesty? I just did not wish to take part in tonight's gathering...- She commented quietly, looking down at the streets. The other Assassin looked at her surprised.

- What? Why? I thought you enjoyed "spending the night dancing your fears always and hoping to find a gentleman to wed."- Jacob commented with a smile, remembering what he heard his partner-in-Creed commenting with her aunt while he and his sister visited their estate. Solange chuckled and held her hands together.

- You're correct. However, is not that I do not like the events, is just that... - The Spaniard started, but her voice died down, as did her gaze. Jacob looked at her, eager for her to continue her phrase. - ... My aunt was trying to find me another suitor. Edward Marjoribanks, the son of the Baron Tweedmouth. -

She revealed, sounding a bit more nervous. Jacob looked at her confused.

- Well, aren't those good news? - He asked, his voice still laced with puzzlement. - You wished for a suitor, doesn't that overjoy you? - The British asked, going straight to the point.

Sometimes, his directness was a bit disconcerting.

- Yes, it was... - Solange confirmed in a tensed tone, before she let out a deep sigh. -... I know I should not oppose to this, and heavens knows how lucky I am a man even try to show interest in me while being... Una defectuosa enferma. - She murmured the last part with bitterness, although despite being in her mother-tongue, by the frown on his face, it was clear Jacob had heard it as well, despite not understanding the words exactly, he could recognize the tone. - But I... I simply do not know. - The brunette concluded in agony.

Jacob frown, still not really understanding.

- You do not know if you wish to wed him? - He asked, and the girl nodded.

- Do not get me wrong, he seems like a good gentleman, but... I simply do not wish to marry him. - She stated in a sad tone. - I... I know a marriege with him would be of great help for the Assassins, and would help strenght our influence inside the Parlament, but I... - She started to explain her thoughts, until she was stopped.

By the Assassin besides her, that had a clear frown and a face of disapproval in his face.

- Oi! Listen to me - Jacob started, sounding weirdly serious. A jarring contrast of his usual carefree tone. - You do not have to marry some Boujee to help the Brotherhood! We can overthrow Starrick without locking you on a Marital Prison! - He stated. Despite his tone becoming a tid more playful in the end, she could still feel the seriousness of his words.

He mean it. He really meant every word he spoke... She didn't knew wether to feel touched by his concern for her opinion, or she pitied him for not knowing the prices of the high-class. Solange sighed once more.

- Mr. Frye, I appreacite your words, truly... - She started, her voice calm and collected as ever, despite her hint of sadness. -... But I know my responsabilities, as my status demand...-

- Solange. - He started, calling her by her name, knowing this would get her full attention. - Before being a Noble, before being an Assassin, you're a bloody person. - Jacob affirmed seriously, even if his tone was not harsh. But it was evident that he hated that.

He hated to see how much Solange would put herself down, beat herself for not fitting what was expected of her... And mostly importantly, he hated how she was ready to sacrifice herself to fullfil those expectations. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't.

- Please, listen to yourself. To what you are saying! Do you believe trapping youself to an unhappy relationship is worth it? We can fight Starrick, and we will free London. - Jacob said with confidence, as to inspire her. - You do not have to go to such limits for the sake of a "good alternative". -

She looked at him. For the first time, the honey-colored eyes met his hazel ones... And she smiled. A simple, timid but sincere smile. Despite the layers of make-up that covered her disease, her face seemed to glow in gratitude.

-... I can not run from courtship forever, Mr. Frye... - The Spanish Assassin argued, her tone sounding more soft, even relaxed, as she spoke now. Jacob smiled slightly, looking at the scenary.

- Why do you insist so much on this, Lady Cotoner? - The British Assassin asked, with curiosity in his voice. He knew noblewomen usually married off early, but the way she took it so desperatly, definetly felt a bit... Strange, to not say obssessive, to him. - Wouldn't you rather wait until our mission is over to look for a man to betrothed you? -

Solange's eyes quickly shifted towards the street, as she bit her bottom lip light, in a discreet nervous gesture.

- Yo... - She started, her tone hesitant and heavy. -... I'm not like the other ladies, Mr. Frye... - The brunette stated, her voice disappointed and quiet. -... I fear no men will desire to wed a woman like me, for something I carry. - She concluded in a short and simple manner, clearly not wanting to elaborate the topic further.

Jacob looked at her for a few moments in silence. He wanted to ask her more about this "thing" she "carried with her", but he could also feel how that bothered her... And he did not wished to make her uncomfortable. Specially at that hour.

- Lady Cotoner... - He started, his voice sounding understanding and sympathetic. - We may have only known each other for a few days, but, if I may say: I found you an incredibly capable and beautiful woman. - Jacob said, his tone full of sincerity and animosity. - I cannot imagine a man on his right mind, specially a noble one, rejecting your hand to be claimed. -

Despite their differences and personalities, Jacob admired Solange. The Spanish Lady was a kind, sweet soul as much as she was a deadly Assassin. Her devotion, her understanding nature, her curiosity... Jacob admired them. And he did considered the Spaniard a friend, despite not knowing if the feeling was mutual.

At his words, Solange looked at him surprised, her mouth slightly agape and her eyes bright in desbelief and flattering... Did he really mean it? She hoped, deep down, he did. That those weren't just words of consolation, but of sincere admirament.

Once again, she smiled a soft smile, a hint of blush in olive her cheeks by the flattering his words caused on her... Her expression softned.

- Thank you for your words, Mr. Frye... - She started, her elegant voice filled with gratitude for such caring words directed at her. Then, she stood up slowly, looking at the sky. -... We should better go, is getting late and we will continue our moviments early morning. - She stated casually, feeling the wind move her royal-blue coat and hood against it.

Jacob smiled, as he stood up, but he did not walked towards her.

- Will you meet us in the train? - He asked, already knowing the awnser. This was becoming a routine since they had defeated Keylock and as she introduced herself as another Assassin from the Spanish Brotherhood.

- Yes, as always. - Solange confirmed in a more content tone, standing in the edge of the rooftop, before turning slightly back towards him. - Oh, and Mr. Frye... - She started, catching the British's attention, as he raised an eyebrow, waiting for her next words. - ... I also find you a capable Assassin... And a great leader. - The Spaniard stated in a warm tone, smiling to him, as she said "Good Night" and jumped off to another rooftop, running and moving in the night swiftly as a shadow.

Jacob smiled to himself, feeling the familiar cool breeze of London, and the smell of heavy smoke from the chimneys as he watched her disappear in the darkness of the night . - Good Night, little Hoope. -

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

✨ CREDITS TIME! ✨

Writting Inspirations: @nemo-of-house-hamartia @thatcrazycrowgirl

Images: From Pinterest.

Characters:

• Master Assassin Solange Cotoner (OC by Yours Truly 🩵)

• Master Assassin Jacob Frye (By Ubisoft)

Universe: Assassin's Creed Syndicate (By Ubisoft)

Themes: Nightly talk, friendly-chat, historical references, just two (future lovers) having a light talk, self-esteem issues hinted, begining of the Syndicate story.

.

Thank you so much for reading! 🩵

════ ⋆★⋆ ════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

[howtotrainabraincell]

Head cannons bc I can - Celebrating Altair's birthday (bc it's not something he does and also something he missed out on)

Altair doesn't strike me as a man who would enjoy a huge birthday celebration, more so he either sees it as just another day (NOT ON MY WATCH) OR he would prefer to celebrate with his love. Just the two of you while he bathes in your loving attention all day long, eating.it.UP.

Letting him rest for a little while longer after she wakes up before waking him up with kisses, which brings a grin to those scar bearing lips of his, before he wraps her up in a bicep burrito and holds her close. You plan on leaving that bed? Good luck. Because unless he has work to attend to - which you made sure he DID NOT bc his birthday is NOT a day to work - you two will spending much need alone time together...

Knitting for him most likely an under shirt, which he would LOVE, seeing it as a way to keep you close to him as he goes about his day. It's infinitesimally better because he wears it underneath his robes and chain mail directly on his skin, so it's like you're touching him all.day.long and that is NOT something you will find the assassin EVER complaining about lol

Also sewing him a few shirts bc they he needs as many clean ones as possible. Asking him for measurements is a little strange but he doesn't object because it involves le touchy touchy and he ends up distracting you with something else...(you remember the measurements though! But barely)

He loves it even more because thinking about the effort you put into it makes him realize how much you love and care for him. He loves you even more if it's possible.

Giving this man a few Damask roses because he's beautiful just like this flower. (Enjoy his reaction because he WILL blush even if he turns away that handsome face will be as red as the roses. To say nothing of activities later on in the evening...expect petals on the bed...)

Making delicious food for him because he deserves good food everyday but especially on his birthday. - baking bread that's fluffy on the inside and lightly crispy on the outside, making this man some Mshabak a traditional Syrian dessert and drizzling it in honey, getting him honey dipped dates if you ask him, he'll deny it, but he LOVES them, fruits such as grapes, Jaffa oranges, and many other fruits.

Making him Anise and Thyme tea because both are tasty and with that Thyme she's trying to keep him healthy on the inside too seeing as he's already VERY healthy on the outside...

GET THIS MAN SOME CHOCOLATE DIPPED ORANGES JUST - TRUST ME

A massage with jasmine oil and a bath with you if he wants it. While she works the kinks and stiffness out of his muscles, he lays back against her trying not to make any noises until she reaches a certain spot, and he lets out a low groan. The massage completely relaxes him, and puts him in the mood to do something else... And if she takes a bath with him? Altair, plus the one he loves exposing lots of skin? Equals very steamy encounter... (Who am I kidding he's still very drawn to her even with clothes on, this man is a corner smoocher! He pulls her away into corners and gives surprise kisses)

Getting this man ANOTHER knife lol but this one is special. With a specially carved hilt, that has something sweet in Arabic, expressing her love for him. He stares at it for a few moments before pulling her to him and thanking her softly in Arabic, overcome with emotion that someone would do something so nice for him.

Herbs for him to carry if he gets injured to stop bleeding and cut pain. Goldenseal Root Powder - to soak up blood and promote clotting. Yarrow - which constricts blood vessels and reduce bleeding, able to be applied directly as a poultice. Shepherd's Purse - with similar properties of yarrow and it's able to be directly applied to wounds.

Journals for him to write about anything he wants whether it be his travels, day to day life, or knowledge he's acquiring about the Apple. (If you ever get nosey when he's not around and read his journal filled with excerpts from his day-to-day life? get ready to cry because some of the SWEET things that this man writes about his love is breath takingly romantic. Altair as a poet/man who better expresses his love through written words just seems right to me)

Lots and lots of kisses on his sweet.assassin.face because he deserves all the kisses and him just standing or sitting there and taking it. (I thoroughly believe that the man is touch starved)

Repairing and deep cleaning his robes bc they NEED IT. This sweet man gets bloody. But when you're done? They look brand new and pristine, which surprises him, but he appreciates because he could never quite get that one blood splotch out. AND they smell good too?! She better stop being so good to him and working her womanly magic on him, or he's going to have to marry her.

Giving him a little something extra underneath the stars when the day has ended...and then him keeping you up all night until the early hours of the morning.

[saberamane]

Desmond, chilling at home.

*phone beeps with a text alert*

Clay 😈: SOS

Clay 😈: Send halp

Clay 😈: *help*

Clay 😈: I'm dying

Desmond blinks, confused.

Desmond: I thought you went out to eat with Federico??

Clay 😈: I've been poisoned 🤢🤮😭

Desmond pauses, before sighing.

Desmond: Did you go to that authentic Italian place?

Clay 😈: yes! Send help!

Desmond: You order something with cheese?

Clay 😈: ...yes

Desmond: Forgot your lactose pills?

Clay 😈: ...yes 😞

Clay 😈: And now I dying.

Desmond: Your not dying, just full of gas. 🙄

Clay 😈: I'm literally going to explode.

Clay 😈: I need your help.

Clay 😈: I can't ask Federico.

Clay 😈: It's too soon in our relationship to let him know I do such things...

Desmond: You're not a woman Clay, I promise he knows you poop.

Clay 😈: THIS IS NOT MERE POOP DESMOND!!! THIS IS GOING TO BE AN UNHOLY ABOMINATION!!

Desmond: Federico should know what he's getting himself into by dating you.

Desmond: Especially when you have dairy and forget to take your pills.

Desmond: 😈

Clay 😈: ...you're a monster...

Desmond: love you too Clay 😘

Desmond: see you when you get home.

[elsdaydreams]

Selfish (requested by anonymous)

Malik x Gender-Neutral!Reader

Warnings - none.

Word Count - 592 words.

Description - The days in which you and Malik slept in were few and far between. So perhaps it's not selfish for you to revel in the rare moments. | “Playing with their hair while their head’s in your lap.” For Malik Al-Sayf if you have the time, thank you!

Authors Note - In a completely shocking not at all expected turn of events, I went m.i.a. on this page. My love for these characters, however, never left. I am active occasionally, just have had major, major, things going on in my personal life. It's such a safe space for me to take time off from writing, but to come back is so relieving. I love writing, and this page will always be the place I come back to. If you're still here, still looking to see if I've written something new, still liking my old works, know that I appreciate you infinitely. I'm never far off, so if you ever feel like leaving me an ask, you can always do that (even if I don't respond, I do see them!) I hope you enjoy this little drabble that I absolutely did not proofread at all. Ella

Your body woke up before your mind did. Shifting underneath a familiar weight, you felt groans of protest from the man laying on top of you. Your hands flung up to what you assumed was his head, his short fluffy hair meeting your fingertips affirmed to you that it was. Sleepily, and with your eyes closed you stroked aimlessly.

Behind your eyelids the sun gleamed onto the two of you. It was unusual for the two of you to be in bed so late, but the lack of urgency to be up and doing something was relaxing. Even now that your mind had begun the process of waking up, aware that it was daytime and there was likely things you could be doing, ultimately it was easier to bask in the sun with the love of your life curled up next to you.

You were positive that the pair of you hadn't gone to sleep this way, with him practically on top of you. The nights brought a chill that the day did not have, and as natural as it was during the day for you to find each other, your bodies seemed to unconsciously do the same during sleep. Maybe it was the fact that you were already starting to feel the uncomfortable heat from the sun that caused you to stir. It didn't help that Malik was practically a human furnace, his body temperature always unusually warm.

Against your chest, you heard him begin to stir, your eyes not open still to preserve the laziness you felt in your bones, but the groggy mumblings seemed to draw you in. Knowing that he would be the one you could look at seemed worth breaking the peace of sleep. Finally, prying the sleep from your lids, they peered into the familiar room, locking onto the man with a sense of deep love. It wasn't often you got to feel protective over Malik. He was often reminding you, chastising you that he was grown, that he could take care of himself, that he had for many years. When he was resting, however, you got to enjoy feeling a bit protective over him, cuddling into the rather cozy feeling it brought you.

You'd memorized everything there was to know about the man, yet your eyes took him in with reverence. The scar that was just barely there above his eyebrows, which were thick and almost always in a deep scowl. The sleep warded that away though the remnants of it were still there, in the wrinkles that remained as a permanent reminder of the familiar face. Your eyes traced down from the etched lines to his nose, and his lips, and the stubble along the cheeks and jawline. He would probably shave it down soon, Malik liked a shorter facial hair himself, protested when it got too long. You didn't mind the peculiarities that he had, in fact you reveled in them, in him.

If he knew what you were thinking about, he would likely stoically roll his eyes at you, once again reminding you that he was not a novice assassin that you trained. Still, the blush on his cheeks would betray him at once, promising an appreciation of someone caring so deeply for him.

For now, you would enjoy the feeling, of caring for him freely in the sanctity of the space the two of you created. For now, you would enjoy the warmth between the two of you, the hair so familiar underneath your fingertips. For now, you would simply watch him sleep.

[baronetcoins]

Ya idu kuda sam tsar' idet peshkom ("It stinks")

(title from the Tom Lehrer song Lobachevsky)

For the home of a society of assassins, the underground chambers of the council were remarkably clean. Maybe the deep red carpets had been chosen to hide bloodstains, or maybe his fellows were just more conscientious than he was. Arno’s half-smile was a little vindictive as he trudged up the stairs, squelching with each step. 

“Le Roi des Thunes is dead.” He announced from the doorway, dripping. 

“Glad to hear of your success.” Mirabeau half-nodded from his seat at the table. “Did you learn anything—what in the name of god is that smell?”

“I had the pleasure of traipsing through half the city’s sewers.” Arno brushed a lock of loose hair off where it was plastered to his face. It left a trail. “But I thought it best not to delay.” 

“Clean yourself.” Mirabeau waved a magnanimous hand. “We can meet further in the morning.” 

“Of course, mentor.” He dipped his head and spun on his heels. He'd rinse himself in one of the fountains before subjecting the Café to this stench.

[jofie-does-things]

~950 words. Had a few ideas about a reader from modern times. The result?? Writings of an author possessed.

“Your hair.”

It was a simple enough statement, but the tone in which he said it had you sparing a curious glance over your shoulder.

“What about it?”

“It’s different now.” You raise a questioning brow. It’d always been different to him. He’d eyed it curiously for a whole week after you met. The burning feeling of those watchful eyes led to your newfound affinity for bonnets.

But now, with nothing to cover the strands up, you tense.

You turn to meet the gaze of the man standing at the table, but the look you’re expecting is different. In the beginning he looked at you like you were a puzzle he’d just started to solve. A puzzle that infuriated him. This one is more like he’s just slot the last piece into place and is admiring the finished result. It catches you off-guard with its intensity and almost has you retreating.

A strand of hair falls into view and you idly toy with it, wrapping it around your finger and untwisting it.

“I hadn’t noticed. It’s been so long since…” Since you’d landed here. Since you’d stumbled to the doorstep of the homestead. Since you’d seen your family. Since everything you had ever known was ripped from you without warning.

Warmth settles on your shoulder and you realize that you’d been all but tugging the piece from your scalp in your spiral. You follow the hand resting on your shoulder up to find a face full of sympathy and there’s an odd wiggling behind your ribs that has you shifting from side to side.

When you first met the young assassin, talking to him, being in his mere presence even, felt like ‘baby’s first waltz.’ Stepping on feet, awkward conversation, fighting over who should lead and who should follow. He didn’t trust you and you couldn’t blame him (especially with the life he led), but it definitely didn’t help your hysteria at your new routine.

It took months for Connor to let you have a peek at the hidden training room below the house and even longer for him to show a hint of relaxation around you. Seeing him put himself in such a vulnerable position had your head spinning in a way that made you wish it wouldn’t ever stop. Especially with the gentle circles he’s carving into the side of your collarbone.

“I understand. I’m sorry for mentioning it.” You shook your head at that, placing a hand over his and your heart hammers at the unyielding weight of it.

“It’s fine. I guess I never realized that I’ve been here for a while. I’ve gotten…comfortable.” With a nod, seemingly satisfied, he turns to retrieve the vegetables that he was hard at work cutting to add them into the stew on the hearth. The loss of the simple touch left you feeling cold, despite the heat of the fire crackling beside you. A simple “I’m glad” is mumbled over his shoulder. You barely catch the sentiment lacing his soft tone.

You turn to your own portion of the stew. He approaches with quiet steps, vegetables in hand.

“I never asked, but I’m curious…” He trails off, almost unsure of himself. Watching him shift left and right on his feet, you decide, with some level of amusement, to throw him a lifeline.

“What’s up?”

“How exactly did your hair change like that in the first place?”

“Well, uh, back in the year I’m from, it became really popular to change your hair color. Some get colors in their hair, like pink or blue. Others decide to add different natural colors to it, like blonde in brown hair.” You bury your face in the steam wafting up from the pot, feigning a check to the stew as you realize that Connor stares at you, completely enraptured by your explanation.

“The chemicals that we use are designed to make the color last a long time, so it never really goes away until you cut off the dyed sections or you dye it back to its original color.” He makes a noise of interest. A few pieces of hair fall from where they’re pinned back, into your face. Those brown eyes follow the shape of the strands as you finish your explanation.

It’s an odd topic to have as your first conversation about your time. Other than your emotional confession outside Norris’ little shack in the woods. The blood, the stress, and screams had your fear-stricken body jumping in to use what you had to help. When the agonized wails and pools of red subsided, you’d excused yourself and the dam broke.

It’d been weeks since then and he never asked about anything relating to your time until now.

“Normally I’d get it redone, but I guess it’s time for me to cut it off.”

“May I?” A hand outstretched halfway in the distance between you; not pressing the boundary, still and steady. You nod.

Gentle, calloused hands carefully card through the strands, tracing the lines of color in contrast to your natural hair. Like cupping porcelain and the touch smooths along the jagged edges of you. Edges haphazardly glued together in your effort to survive, to belong. The cracks of them feel almost nonexistent with him here.

It’s a vulnerability that you shy away from, but you know he has the patience for it.

“It’s beautiful.” Whispers of words fill that space between you, his eyes are on yours and the fire reflecting in them disarms you, has your breath catching in your chest, scaring you.

But it’s the comfort you find in him that scares you the most.

[teecupangel]

Shoutout to @fanworldbuildingfun for adding this fantastic comment to my post about the Altaïr armor in the Destiny-AC collab:

This stupid attractive overachiever almost managed to replicate Isu technology with only 12-century tech and an Apple

LET'S TALK ABOUT THE ACTUAL ARMOR IN AC THEN

So this is the Armor of Altaïr that we all know and grieved over (curse you, Cesare Borgia!!!! I spent hours trying to get this armor!)

We might even say that some of us have yet to move on from such devastating loss (fuck you, Cesare Borgia)

Anyway, from that image alone, it's hard to distinguish which is part of the armor and which is Ezio's fashion sense.

Here's another image then:

Looks better? Is the white undershirt really part of it? How can we be sure which is actually a part of the Armor and not simply added by somebody else before it was locked underneath Villa Auditore?

So how about how it was sketched in the Codex then?

Simple. Almost looks like Altaïr only did the chest armor and the rest were added later on (or, perhaps, Altaïr only sketched the chest armor)

The sketch does make it easy to compare it to a similar armor: The Isu Armor from Origins and Odyssey (Valhalla not included because that Isu Armor looks totally different)

If we compare the Isu Armor (using the Odyssey ver because it's clearer) to the sketch of the Armor of Altaïr:

We can make an argument that the sketch looks like what a 12th century scholar would draw after having a (perhaps a bit blurry) vision of the Isu Armor.

We might even say that the sketch is most probably the final draft based on the Isu Armor, focusing more on defense by developing a closed area on the chest instead of the Isu's open chest area.

The entire Armor of Altaïr was created during Altaïr's time. He's noted as the only creator which meant he probably did everything by himself like the overachiever that he is

. This includes the materials he used for it which he created thanks to the Apple.

This page from the Codex meant that, not only did Altaïr create his own version of the Isu Armor, he actually created a similar (how similar it was would be questionable because of the 'further refined' that he mentioned) metal to what is used by the Isu Armor.

And there is one metal that we are sure that the Isus used.

(Does it have a similar color to the Armor of Altaïr?)

Which meant that Altaïr was able to recreate (degree of success questionable) Adamant in 12th century Levant.

Alone.

And Adamant is known as:

Considering there was no mention of the Armor of Altaïr having mind control capabilties, it's probably safe to assume that Altaïr was only half-succcessful in recreating Adamant because whatever metal he used in the armor was definitely nearly indestructible.

You wanted me to imagine Altaïr with 21st century tech at his disposal, @fanworldbuildingfun? Here's my initial analysis made with not enough sleep + trying to finish this while eating lunch at work:

The creation of the Armor of Altaïr was due to the Apple providing him with the information. If he has an Apple under his control in the modern day (or if he is a reincarnation of the 12th century Altaïr with all his memories intact) and enough resources, he will definitely create a better version of this armor using a more refined version of the Adamant metal. Depending on how much resources he manages to acquire, making more armors is not out of the question.

If he doesn't have the Apple providing him with this information and only has, maybe, stories about how Ezio Auditore used to have an 'invincible' armor?

He'll have debates with Shaun about it. Shaun will be on the side that the armor is as invincible as the stories say because of his love for conspiracies and Altaïr will argue that the 'invincible' part could simply just mean that it was strong enough to block arrows and blades. It would be useless if hit by a bullet or a cannon ball.

This debate will annoy both of them so much that Altaïr will go "You want invincible? Fine! I'll show you what an invincible armor should be!"

And, propelled by annoyance and the desire to have the final say, Altaïr will make his own 21st century version of the Armor of Altaïr.

During the initial planning stage...

"Oh, cool. You making an Ironman suit?"

"........."

"uuuhh... Altaïr?"

(furiously destroys everything he's already made) "Desmond."

"Y... yeah...?"

"Not a word to anyone about this."

He will later present a detailed schematic of an armor set that can, in theory, be created using 21st century tech.

It must be stressed it looks nothing like an Ironman suit.

(for the record: the early concept for the armor does say that it's meant to be Leonardo Da Vinci's invention but they later pushed it to be Altaïr's instead, probably to further develop Altaïr's 'sorta mentorship' setup in AC2)

All images from AC Wiki (you guys are the true MVPs of this fandom)

[worldly-diversity]

○ 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕓𝕓𝕝𝕖 ○

          ⤷  『  Arno Victor Dorian  』

When Arno first encountered Bellec and was shown the power that was hidden within his blood, he could not have imagined the sights and hardships that would follow his choice to ally himself with the man and his order.

Any connection to his father had seemed worthwhile back then, especially considering that connection had saved him from certain death within the crumbling Bastille. And yet, though he had been given the chance to save many lives in the process, perhaps that death would have been the kinder fate afforded to him.

There had been no end to the strangeness on his journey to becoming an Assassin, and in his quest to reunite with Elise. A hidden sect of powerful people pulling the strings, their obsession with ancient relics that as it turned out were far more powerful than he could have imagined, hidden lineages in not only himself but also monsieur Germain who had suffered from unbelievable visions that had rendered his mind… Well, it was a difficult thing to comprehend even after having lived through it.

The rise and fall of Assassins and Templars both, all centered in Paris and yet there was one thing that he felt had been the most difficult to overcome throughout it all… That being the pitfalls of his own mind. Or at least that was what he considered them, for what else could they be?

He's thankful it didn't happen every time, but high profile and high import kills had always had a certain effect on him. It was as though within a split second he gained a great understanding of the person whose life he had just taken… He knew what their actions were likely to have been in a given situation, and on occasion he could unearth the memories relevant to the quest he was on.

Such a thing surely could not be normal, and his retreat had been affected the first time it happened, to be ambushed so suddenly with such a wealth of information that it made his head throb miserably with the density of information received. The first time he had all but stumbled towards safety and received a scolding from Bellec for his troubles, no doubt the other having thought his reaction had come from the blood that had been shed by his hand.

Arno had to adapt quickly to not be phased by what was happening to him, the visions that he could puzzle out later but could not share with anyone else. After all, the one time he'd tried to figure out if Bellec experienced something similar he had been brushed off and his subtle questioning attributed to drink. He had never asked again.

Perhaps he would never know why he sees the things he does, or learns the hidden secrets of his enemies as their blood cools on his skin. All he knows is that he cannot share ability this with anyone, and that the only way now is forward, as it has always been.