#edward kenway fic

[auroramoon-draws16]

Alright fellas, not a crossover, but I got the goods

Assassin’s Creed Shifters AU

Eagle vision? Nah, full Eagle at will.

I mean, duh, they still have Eagle Vision, they get all the good shit, but they can also turn into a bird at will. It’s not always an eagle, but most of the time it’s raptors. Unless you’re the Frye twins, because Corvids, caw caw bitch.

Desmond freaked the fuck out the first time he shifted, he knew about it, sure, but hell if turning into a goddamn bird wasn’t something to lose your shit about.

Assassins through history could turn into birds at will to help scope their prey- I mean targets- fuck with the Templar’s plans, and get to places faster. (Leonardo would have loved that shit, Ezio, go help your homie learn to fly)

Although that means it’s anyone who have Eagle Vision strong enough can Shift.That means arial fights, claw each other to death bitch.

Also getting kidnapped while shifted and shoved into a cage, look, it’s hard to shift back to human form in small spaces without horrific consequences. Luckily, Assassins keep their human minds while shifted. Oh you wanna keep me hostage? Bitch, I’ll be a fucking problem.

On a lighter note: bird instincts. The best Assassins have them and it can be hilarious.

Have fun fellas!

[teecupangel]

New idea:

Something happens, Desmond time travel to the past... But...

He become something like the Eldritch! Desmond, except that:

He adopts the child versions of his ancestors (and the others protagonist).

Like he take Arno just after his father dies.

Or he just adopt them before the canon is about to start or the start of the canon (like Shay is recently survived the Lisboa).

The Eldritch God Desmond idea that technically has an ending. Sorta.

He can only leave the Gray thanks to this holes that he can crawl out of.

The holes turn out to be the shadows underneath the bed or the shadowy part of a barely opened closet.

His form takes on a grotesque turn, as if reality itself tried to create a form for something shapeless enveloping the Gray.

That’s right.

We’re turning Desmond into the boogeyman that visits children at night XD

He first visits Altaïr after the death of Umar. The chest that held Umar’s possessions was left slightly open, almost empty because Assassins have already taken some of them back. He finds Altaïr crying and missing his father. The child wasn’t even afraid of him, not at all.

He was too tired from crying but he couldn’t sleep because, when he closes his eyes, he would see the head of his father rolling in the ground.

Desmond comforts him each night after their meeting, staying by his side and letting the boy sleep on his monstrous inconceivable body.

He was there when Abbas’ father tried to take his own life and all the Brotherhood knew was that he had gone inside, calling Altaïr a monster in his grief-stricken madness.

Altaïr grows up under the care of the monster inside his father’s closet and he’s… strange. He doesn’t see the world the same way others did. He had no loyalty to the Brotherhood. He stayed because Desmond told him he had to stay.

When he saw what the treasure was, he knew immediately that Desmond would want it.

.

Ezio is different. He first saw the boogeyman when Claudia was born. He had screamed in fear and the boogeyman left.

The next time he sees the boogeyman, it was when Petruccio was born. He thought he was just dreaming and ran away to Federico’s room to hide.

The final time he sees the boogeyman, it was the night before the Auditores would be arrested. The boogeyman crept from underneath Cristina’s bed and pinned Ezio, covering his mouth before he could say anything. Cristina slept peacefully as the creature whispered to Ezio.

Ezio thought he was just dreaming.

Then he learned his father and brothers were arrested and…

The creature grabbed his hand just as he opened the chest that held his father’s Assassin robes.

He whispered the same thing once more.

“Give the evidence to House Medici. Uberto Alberti betrayed your father.”

Ezio was scared, of course.

But…

He also knew that the creature was trying to help.

So he heeded his warning and went straight to House Medici.

.

Ratonhnhaké:ton first encountered him his first night in Achilles’ home. The closet door creaked open and he slipped into Ratonhnhaké:ton’s room. A being older and more powerful than anything Ratonhnhaké:ton had ever seen.

But he wasn’t afraid.

There was no need to be afraid.

He knew that he had not done anything to offend the being so he greeted him in his native language.

He used a thousand voices that whispered all over the room.

He simply told Ratonhnhaké:ton to not forget to eat dinner next time and left.

He became a nightly visitor, sometimes moving out of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s room to wander the manor in one of their regular walks.

Achilles confronted Ratonhnhaké:ton one morning about his nightly visitor.

“He’s a ghost that has haunted the Brotherhood. Seeing him means he’s marked you.”

“Marked me?”

“You will do great things, Connor. Maybe you will guide the Brotherhood and lead us to greater heights. Maybe you’ll leave the Templar Order in a storm of fire and ashes. You will leave your name in the Brotherhood and one day… you will disappear from this world and will never be found.”

.

Other possible adoptions:

- Edward would start seeing him in the chest in the captain’s room in the Jackdaw.

- Arno would see him underneath the bed in the room he was given in the de la Serre mansion. He runs away from the de la Serre once Desmond learns they’re Templars and ‘whispers’ to Arno that Monsieur de la Serre may have something to do with the death of his father.

- Jacob and Evie starts seeing him after their mother died and their father left for India. Desmond has his own ‘room’ in the train where he would slip in and out of.

- If you want to include Shay, Desmond could slip out underneath his cot in Morrigan’s captain room after they left Lisbon and Shay starts seeing him as a ‘nightmare’ haunting his guilt over what happened in Lisbon.

- Bayek would start seeing him after Khemu’s death and he thinks he’s one of the old gods, reminding him to avenge his child. (maybe Khemu even talks about Desmond as a friend who helps him sleep)

- Instead of Kassandra, we can make Desmond adopt Alexios as Deimos and turn this into ‘tired dad and chaotic mass murdering gremlin’ XD)

- Basim starts seeing Desmond in the shadows of Alamut and tries to ignore him, thinking that a spirit haunting this place would not ‘talk’ to him if he pretends that he can’t see him. Jokes on him, Desmond is there because he can ‘see’ the Isu sleeping inside Basim.

- Eivor sees Desmond her first night in Ravensthorpe and assumes he’s a spirit of the land so she treats him with respect.

[dazed-poltergeist]

hiii, call me 🍀 anon :D

can I get some relationship headcanons with Edward Kenway since the fandom is kinda lacking in those 👉👈 btw I love the pirate theme on your blog

Hhhhgysygddisdj dearest 🍀anon I feel the need to tell you that youre my first request and I feel honoured lol,, thank you for the compliment and for the request :DD

Idk if I did enough of them though ( TT0TT) you might be getting less than you asked for

__

How did the two of you even meet? Or fall in love? That is a mystery up to your imagination :) There are so many possible scenarios here and I won't tackle any of them

After you two get together, Edward becomes more mindful of the activities he drags you into, whether you're capable of handling yourself or not

For example, he doesn't visit taverns that frequently anymore and makes sure to stay out of fights as much as possible whenever the two of you end up going.

That also applies to sailing out at sea with him. Ofcourse he lets you come with him since you insisted, but with you he tries to stick to waters where the ships aren't as formidable as a frigate or a Man o' War: Mostly some schooners and brigs.

But!! That doesn't mean he will become a pacifist towards enemy ships whenever you're on board. Hint hint wink wink

One time though, he did go into more dangerous waters near Kingston for harpooning, he caught a hammerhead shark to impress you

I don't see Edward as big fan of PDA, but whenever he does anything like it, it's subtle, like little kisses on your face and wrapping an arm around you. He prefers to keep everything more than that behind closed doors and away from prying eyes.

Besides physical affection, he likes to spoil you with gifts sometimes, like beautiful clothing or accessories if you're interested in these, or some treasures he finds from shipwrecks and convoys, or perhaps other kinds of trinkets that you like or that remind him of you.

You end up making some new friends out of his own friend circle, "mi amigo es tu amigo" [my friend is your friend], if you may. James, Anne, and Adewale are who I have in mind mostly, they appreciate your company and the impact you have on Edward. Although they would make you nag Edward a bit on not pirating as much as before lol

[beeboos-creativecorner]

artefact - an assassin's creed au

For day 2, I uncover an Assassin's Creed Kenway family AU I made back in 2021 for an English creative writing assessment. Everyone was none the wiser hehe. I adore this one for its concept, if anything, because after reading it over recently, I don't like the style it was written in, but that may be due to my skills and tastes changing over the last few years. The whole AU was inspired by fanart of Haytham Kenway in Assassin attire, taking on the role of what could have been if things were different AND the clean version of the song We're Good by Dua Lipa (specifically due to the lyrical difference from the original version of the song). Each character's names were changed, but it's pretty easy to figure out who's who from characterisation alone (a highlight of this piece imo !!) - aside from Avis and Wren, a couple of OCs I entirely made up there and then just because. Let's ignore the fact I copied a section straight from the Forsaken novel, shall we ? I look upon that bit with unmeasurable disdain and disappointment. I've rambled enough. Have at it <3

Fic under the cut x

TW for blood and canon typical violence

Mist curled around his feet as the world constructed before him, a recognisable venue fading into view. The tendrils of mist dissipated, the draught and eerie ambience easing off. An evening chill nipped at the bare fingers of the man scouting the abandoned streets. His breath clouded as he adjusted the faint-coloured tricorne upon his head, collecting his thoughts, preparing his speech wisely. To him, this was a regular occurrence, a meeting pre-planned, messages exchanged to arrange it in secret. So far, it was effective and the opposition hadn’t the foggiest clue of the gathering taking place. To him, this was normal, this was business. To his descendant, however, this was wrong, all wrong. 

—

Descendant: an observer, witnessing only the events that took place through this machine. He shouldn’t be back with this ancestor, he lived out enough of this man’s time. Where was the life he was meant to be reliving? Descendant could not affect space and time, though he could file a complaint to his team outside the machine. And that’s exactly what he did.

        “Guys, what’s going on? What- what’s happening?” he spluttered, refraining a panicked curse, failing to articulate his thoughts. Wait… he could speak now? A rushed response from his female companion, Crane, clarified next to nothing.

        “It seems we have stumbled upon some kind of glitch or something. I’ve done a couple diagnostics and- well… I can’t pull you out of the machine right now. It’s too big of a risk, we need to get back on track with the original timeline, but I gotta do it from the inside. I don’t know why we’re back here, with this ancestor specifically, since we were much further ahead yesterday. Anyway, my advice is to just play this out and see where it goes. I’ll work on repairing and rearranging the data, so we can go back to searching for the artefact.”

        “So what you’re saying is the machine has glitched, and I can’t go back to the previous save state?” Descendant asked, a question too evident now. “Huh, it’s kinda like a video game,” he added to himself, forcing himself to make light of a dim situation.

        “No, this is not like a video game, Des. A video game will glitch and often crash. This, this is more like you’ve suddenly discovered a secret level and you can’t get back to the main game until you complete it,” came another voice, more masculine, more matter-of-fact. Descendant’s other loyal colleague, friend second; his words. They called him Robin, believe it or not. None of these names were particularly inventive, considering being labelled after birds, but it was the best one could do whilst being a fugitive from a technology company that integrated itself so smoothly into society. Nothing was ever easy when one was dubbed as the ‘bad guys,’ despite being anything but.

        “Uh, okay. So, does anyone know how this actually happened?”

        “I don’t know how, but your brain is fighting the machine. I knew this could happen, though not like this. It appears your brain is subconsciously withholding information and is altering events to its preference. Maybe,” replied the technician, sharing her uncertainty and plausible theory.

        “Maybe?” Not all took her words with a grain of salt though. A well-known fact about Robin was that he was quite analytic, making him sound arrogant and pompous at times, which got on everyone’s nerves. Especially now, when everyone was feeling pressured to repair the errors that had mysteriously generated before them. “Even your car is in a better state than your theory, Crane.”

        “I don’t see you handing out any bright ideas,” she snapped, leaving no beat between Robin’s insult and her venomous retort. “Just play the thing out, Des. Hopefully I can get you outta this.” And, as the body of a familiar stranger, Descendant took his first step into a new world.

—

The roads weren’t well lit on this particular night, the only providers being a few oil lamps in the distance and the natural beams of moonlight, casting a soft glow on the cobblestone beneath Griffon’s tan boots. The resplendence of the streets at this hour were immense, considering the lack of bustle in the surroundings, though he hadn’t the time to appreciate such small moments alone. Missions to complete, people to report to. Busy, busy, busy. Much unlike the scene outside the venue.

        His chin tilted up to set his gaze on the building’s sign, cautious about the headpiece he wasn’t accustomed to donning. To Griffon’s distaste, this was a formal gathering, one not appropriate to wear bloodstained robes to. Also not one to bring an arsenal of weapons to, which came as another reason not to be attending the performance. But one man can’t have it all. Fortunately, if the worst case scenario comes into action, he’d be prepared. Besides, he could use the bare minimum - his hands - to disable an enemy. He would kill if need be, if a threat presented itself. He was an adept in the art of death; he was taught to be that way. He took no pleasure in it. Simply, he was good at it. When one was taught swordcraft as soon as one could walk, this was how one would see themselves. This was how Griffon’s brothers-in-arms saw him: a talented death dealer. 

        Anticipating the unexpected, the killer disguised as a nobleman entered a whole new atmosphere.

—

“Father,” Griffon hummed low, eyeing the stage and surreptitiously taking his seat at the booth. “What news on the artefact?” Both his father and sister had arrived at the meeting ahead of time, varied reactions between them. His sister, Branwen, clad in voluminous purple fabric, gave a tight-lipped acknowledgement to her younger sibling. Their father, Corbin, much more forbearing and glad for Griffon to join the party.

        “Your sister and I were wondering the same. How did your previous search fare?” His father’s eyes, flecked with steel, yet held such patience; this was a man that raised a strategic murderer. This was a man who could hide his true intentions behind a smile.

        “Fruitless, I’m afraid.”

        “Ah, no matter. Your sister, in fact, has found a lead.” Branwen smirked, arrogant, not catching her father’s stern eye as she did so. That was deliberately for Griffon’s notice, and hit its target dead on, a rippling effect of envy and fury spreading throughout his body. “Which is why we’re here today,” Corbin finished, setting his hands face down on the table. Griffon repressed a grimace. There it was. If there was one thing he could rely on about his father, it was that. There was never a family get-together without the mention of business. Not anymore, not since he was in his tender years. Corbin gestured towards his daughter and she took the liberty of presenting the information herself.

        “A flock of little birdies told me,” she paused, winking at her own awful pun, “that an influential figure is in possession of the artefact. As luck would have it, they’re said to be attending the performance tonight. Which is exactly why we’re here instead of the chocolate house a few blocks down.” Corbin’s lower lip jutted out at the mention of the chocolate house, his mind set on a hearty tankard of ale, which would never come to be.

        As soon as Griffon opened his mouth to further the conversation, a thunderous applause erupted from the audience, forcing him to cut himself short and turn his head. A woman cantered onstage, the band playing behind her incredible vocals. He was caught gazing upon her figure, though not out of lust. As upon her neck, was the artefact. She had the amulet. 

        This meeting wasn’t a waste of time after all, Griffon relished in that knowledge, bringing his boiling blood to a settled simmer. That brought him a sense of solitude, albeit a temporary one.

        “Oi,” Branwen elbowed her brother to attract his attention. “Does she look familiar to you?” He squinted, as if his eyes could zoom in on the performer, who was busy singing something about feeling distant from an old lover and how they weren’t meant to be. Not that any of this concerned him to any extent, he was trying to determine who this woman was. Squeezing his eyes shut and opening them, he focused in again, using the gift that he was endowed at birth. He could see her now. And then it collided with him head-on. By the Spirited Eagle, it was her.

        In an instant, she wasn’t any performer and these words she was spieling off were no longer meaningless. He cursed himself for how ironic this panned out. It could have been anyone, a wealthy aristocrat perhaps, or a corrupt member of Parliament, but no. It had to be his ex-lover, Avis, reappearing into the world after being declared missing seven years ago. Missing, that eventually concluded to the status of ‘deceased’ when he abandoned the search for her with reluctance. His jaw clenched, how dare she show her face again. His mind refused to register it, she was dead to him. She should be dead. Although, he couldn’t deny the flutter of hope that his heart manifested, that animated feeling he hadn’t felt in an eternity. No, he shoved it to the back of his mind, where the notion was meant to belong. For now, he’ll bide his time, watching, listening to the song that was - upon analysing - written for him. It was a song at the minimum, a message at the maximum. That’s what this was, he gathered: a message. A beckoning. He’d made his decision in a heartbeat. If he was being called, he was going to answer.

—

“Uh, we found it, guys. You can take me out now.” Descendant’s voice wavered, a tone of fatigue hitting his final word.

        “In your wildest fantasies, maybe,” Robin spat over the intercom.

        “You gotta keep going, the end of the memory is close. You’re doing fine, just hang in there a little while longer. I think I almost cracked the code.” Crane, however slight, was more optimistic regarding the conditions. Descendant groaned, throwing aside any composure he had in reserve.

        “Okay, quick question before I keep going: who’s the chick? You know, the one that has the amulet.”

        “From the scrambled data we can gather, she seems to be a past lover of Griffon’s, which doesn’t make sense because- well, his son- we already know the messy details,” Robin reported in a split second. He was in charge of linking these historic events, yet the way he pieced it together was unnatural and expeditious.

        “Maybe this is like the whole ‘memory inside a memory’ thing, except this is more your ancestor’s dream-like state. Basically what I’m saying is that your brain is fighting the programming, but it’s not you who messed up the machine.” Crane pitched in with another theory. Descendant sighed,

        “That’s a relief.”

        “I think this is what Griffon wanted to happen, instead of what really went down.” She sounded sure on that one. Robin grumbled a few profanities under his breath about her speculations. Akin to their first spat, Crane told Robin to shut his mouth, before she sewed it shut for him and bade Descendant to keep moving forward. Which he did, to avoid becoming a part of his friends’ disagreement.

—

“Father, sister, if you’d excuse me-”

        “So you do recognise her?” Branwen interrupted, with the air of a child who was desperate to know a secret. Corbin raised a hand to halt further questions, oblivious to their conversation.

        “Do what you must, son. I give you leave to go. Bring us the honour we deserve.” ‘I give you leave,’ that was a phrase Griffon wasn’t attuned to hearing. Straying away from his superiors for an extended period of time had allowed him to abide by his own laws. He never needed anyone’s permission on what leads to pursue and whose life to put an abrupt end to. For years, Griffon had played the role of ‘lone wolf’, and in that moment he realised, he desired to keep it that way.

        Corbin presented Griffon a discreet gift under the table: a feather-shaped blade that - in spite of the low lighting - winked at its new owner, welcoming the new partnership. The son grappled onto his newly acquired asset, testing its weight. He slipped it beneath his cape, to not arouse suspicion. He hoped that there wouldn’t be the necessary means for his blade to taste blood, nevertheless, it would suffice. Branwen intoned,

        “May the Spirited Eagle guide your hand, brother.” Her prayer fell on deaf ears, as Griffon was passing through the crowds, on the path to success.

        This path steered him down various halls, tracking the footsteps of his target. His advancements reduced the distance between them. Better yet, his prey was unaware of being tailed, giving him the upper hand. A wry smile contorted his features, drawing his hat lower on his face to obscure himself from any potential witnesses. He was able to detect her footfalls, his sharp hearing continued to prove valuable. Then, the rhythmic clapping of steps ceased. 

        Griffon skidded to a stop, scanning the surrounding hall. Everything looked the same in this accursed place. Panic surged through his blood, the pattern of his breathing matching that of a feral beast. I can’t lose her. Damn this interminable labyrinth! Unconsciously, he fumbled with the knobs either side of him, as if either would open and give him resolution. Neither did, as they were locked. On the verge of another outburst, his fit was prevented by a slam of a door in the nearby area. All his senses activated at once, bolting down towards where the sound originated, discovering a door in which the lock was absent. Without a moment to lose, the man shoved it open, coming face-to-face with the one he sought.

        “I suppose you got my message then.” It struck him that it was indeed her. Back from the dead, Avis. Distance couldn’t deceive him anymore.

        “Hmm, quite,” he replied, and he could never be so quick to sour. His sight went wandering from her complexion to the pendant resting on her chest. Her expression relaxed and she laughed, flitting a hand to a sunken-eyed pianist. They played a melodious tune, while Avis opened her arms, leaving herself vulnerable.

        “Once more for old time’s sake?” Griffon was plunged into conflict. Every muscle yearned to hold her again. Still, there was that nagging in the back of his mind, telling him to drive his blade through her heart, to punish her like she did to him. No, he assured himself. Now is not apt. Years ago, he vowed that he wouldn’t be fooled twice. And he was going to stick by it. Stepping into her embrace, he needed no words to affirm that he was to play her little game.

        They swayed to the music, the way they used to do as children. Whatever the pair shared in the past had diminished, nothing was the same. His hands crept upwards to her neck, her breath hitching at the contact. This was not a display of affection, in spite of her response. The dance was a ploy, his fingers were following his crafted method. His nail caught the knot of the amulet, having it within his grasp. The woman was almost distracted enough to dismiss the thievery. Almost, but wasn’t. Griffon’s fist retracted, coming away with his prize. Mission accomplished, or so he thought.

She wormed her way out of his clutch, an evident mark of betrayal etched on her face. The pianist hit a false note and sent a wary glance over at their employer, discontinuing to play once assessing the situation. Griffon passed the amulet through to the inside of his sleeve, putting on a ruse that he hadn’t nicked a thing. She shook her head, she wasn’t ignorant.

        “You’ll regret this,” she said, folding her arms over her chest as if to protect herself.

        “No, I rather think I won’t.” He reversed, exiting the room before overhearing the words:

        “Wren, get the boy.”

        Griffon had himself a new enemy.

—

“I ask for a simple trade, Griffon. Don’t make this difficult for yourself, or for the boy. Come on, where is it? Where is the artefact?” Avis barked, deluded. The wind whipped at her hair on the rooftop, an utter change in scene from inside the theatre. She was trembling, possibly because of the evening air or the young boy struggling against her arm.

        “Father, help! Help me!” The boy began to sob, choking against his words, the lock on him tightening. The child was about four, yet intelligent for his age, much like his father.  Griffon had reached an impasse: sacrifice his son for the artefact, losing the one reminder of genuine, pure love to save the world from being cast into eternal shadow. Or, save his son, surrender the artefact to her and fail his mission to endanger everyone. The kid wailed as his father devised a plan of attack. 

        His child, Corvus, was his treasure; a product from a feeling so broad, so true. His mother wasn’t present, hadn’t been for years and she wasn’t here, on this rooftop. She had remained in her own country whilst Griffon trained their son to fill boots too big for him. Irresolution struck him at point-blank, staring into the glossy eyes of his son to find some solace. What he did discover though, was that same raw strength and defiance that attracted him to his mother. Gathering these memories and feelings, he would use them, or at least try to. As much as he’d want to speculate how his son made it to the theatre, the clock was ticking so it would have to wait. The choice had been finalised, he knew what he had to do.

        “Alright,” he called, keeping his voice level in the circumstances. The amulet was out in the open once again, a pulsating glow spreading over his hand. “Here.” He tossed the artefact to her, watching it skitter across the surface like a skipping stone on a lake. She released the boy at the sight of the pendant, scrabbling at the floor to repossess it. Griffon wanted to laugh: she always used to be his little magpie. Used to.

        “Father!” Corvus scrambled over to his father, clinging to his leg with a leech-like grip. He caressed his son’s head, relief washing over him.

        “Corvus, I want you to go downstairs, back to your grandfather. Can you do that for me?” The lad nodded profusely, already out of view within the passing seconds. He prayed to the Spirited Eagle that Corvus would be seen home safely. Griffon would have followed suit, but he had some unfinished business to attend to. It seemed that Avis did too, as she was facing him again, the cord of the amulet dangling between each of her digits.

        “It’s funny, we’ve been at this for centuries - searching for these artefacts to keep them from the clutch of our enemies, to supposedly ‘save the world’. But, have you noticed, Griffon, that all it’s ever done is caused dispute? Wars that raged for years because either side refused to find common ground with those we deemed wrong for the world. Does it humour you that we insist on repeating history over and over? Or are you just as much of an imbecile as the ones you call brothers?” Griffon composed himself and denied himself the right to speak. “If we had an open mind, if we had it in our hearts to forgive our rivals for the mistakes of the past, would we be better off? Could peace be attained? But no, you and your ilk are the reason why peace cannot endure. You speak often of unity, but do you know its true meaning? Of course not, which leaves me one option left: this.” The amulet left her hand, tossed off the roof and began to plummet. Griffon stood both shock and awe of her action, seeing the glow dissipate and plonk into a stream metres below them. It was gone. Washed away with the flow of the current. He wanted to scream, thrash about violently, dive recklessly after it, but he knew it was hopeless. The sounds never came, nor the movements. He was stuck. More importantly, he had failed his mission, his family, himself.

        “Aren’t you burning with a passion to kill me? Aren’t you furious like your brothers of old that I have demolished your goals? Go on, draw your weapon. Kill me.” She was goading him, that was all too obvious. Then why was it he let the thought in? Why did he consider unsheathing his blade? She wasn’t the woman he grew up with, she wasn’t the one he spent endless nights with. She was a monster. A monster who’s incessant ranting filled his ears.

        “I’ll give you a head start,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Do you remember when we spent an entire night talking on and on about our future? How we vowed to live by each other-”

        “And die by each other,” Griffon finished, the words programmed into his brain by the stain of a memory. “How fitting.”

        “I’ve thought a lot about this day and what it stands for us now. Which is why I said that we’re not meant to be, that’s never going to change. So let’s at least agree to go our separate ways, huh?” It all clicked into place, her song. She had seen this play out beforehand, but how? “The decision is yours to make, but I think I already know which side you lean towards. I’ve played my part in all this, I assume you will honour yours. Let’s end this like we should.” Hunched over, she took a few more steps, being now in close proximity. Griffon’s head hung low as he procured the dagger from his cape, turning it over thrice before asserting himself. The artefact may be lost, but he could still finish the final stage of his mission. Applying pressure with the tip of the blade against her chest, he heard a squelch as he punctured through a vital organ. He was already lowering her to the ground during her dying breaths, focusing in on the crimson blood blooming from the void, his hands slick with it. She had space for her final words.

        “We’re good,” she burbled before the blood spilled from her mouth, and the last of her life ebbed away into infinity.

—

“Wow,” Crane exclaimed, baffled as anyone else about what unfolded. “You’re good now, Des. I can get you out. Welcome back.” The alternative reality dissolved, pulling Descendant back into the present day.

        “Man, that was insane. Does anyone have any idea of why that was so messed up? What kind of happy dream world was that?” Descendant rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. In fact, no one could gather a clear concept.

        “We don’t know, but I’m glad we got you outta there. Robin was worried about you.”

        “I was not!” Robin defended, flapping his arms about like a crazed octopus.

        “Anyway, I’ve rearranged the data and deleted some unusual codes I found while you were in there. We’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

        “Thanks.” Descendant gave his gratitude to his friends that had worked overtime to save him from another perilous situation. He lay down on a nearby mattress, allowing his aching muscles to relax. “By the way guys-”

        “Yeah?” Crane shot back. The escapee of the machine spoke the words that were at the front of his mind.

        “We’re good.”

[awriterlivinginaconstantdream]

You told me sweet lies

And I trusted you because you’re the only one left alive

Sam, don’t do that again

[troublemakingrebel]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Assassin's Creed: Black Flag Rating: Mature Warnings: nuh Characters: Edward Thatch/Edward Kenway, Charles Vane/Jack ‘Calico’ Rackham (if you squint), Kenway’s Unnamed Son (not Haytham!), Adéwalé, Anne Bonny, Mary ‘James Kidd’ Read, Stede Bonnet mentioned once Additional Tags: Modern AU, No Assassins/Templars AU, Referenced Character Death, Caroline died and Kenway is in too deep, Widowed, Grief/Mourning, Coping, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Single Parents, Single Father Edward Kenway, Epic Friendship, Epic Bromance, Supportive Friends, a friend in need is a friend indeed, Families of Choice, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, from life-long friends to confused dads to idiots in love, Calico is the best uncle (he's not but let him think he is)

Edward Kenway is a widower and a single father. He doesn't know how to handle a helpless child in his arms, and the grief is trying to break him like a twelve-point storm. However, he's not alone on this wreck of a ship.

[imnotadogiswear]

Governor Torres doesn’t get nearly as much attention as he deserves in this fandom

[piratekenway]

for @codextober day thirty: peace.

“This was your grandson’s home, though,” said Mary. Edward said nothing, because—she had a point. This was Connor’s home, once upon a time. This whole village had been under his care, and it had thrived well past the Assassins’ time here, although no one seemed to remember it now. If he stepped inside, he’d be walking in his grandson’s footsteps, and who knew what he’d find waiting for him at the end of it. He breathed out. “I have to do this,” he said. “Then I do too,” said Mary, and opened the door. Pieces of Mohawk art lined the walls, paired with plaques that told of their origins. One seemed particularly old and well-cared for, with a plaque that dated it back to the American Revolution. Framed paintings hung alongside them, depicting the most notable inhabitants of the village. The first face to greet Edward and Mary was Connor’s—he had dark eyes, dark hair tied back, brown skin, and, ah yes, the Kenway nose and mouth. This painting had been done when he was older than Mary was—forty-five, perhaps, if Edward were to guess from the lines on his face, the few streaks of gray in his hair. He stood next to the homestead’s flag, clearly not quite comfortable in his fine clothes. Edward couldn’t help a smile. In that, they were very similar.

[sc4llywag]

Nothing Less | An Edwalé fanfiction

Summary : Edward and Adéwalé chat on their newly stolen ship, the Jackdaw, and head back to Nassau for a quiet night of drinking and thoughts.

Word Count : 1036

Pairing : Edward Kenway/Adéwalé

Notes : This was a cute request from a commenter from this post I did a while back. Thank you so much for requesting! I've really wanted to rewrite this scene, it turned out pretty good in my eyes :)

Adéwalé's voice rang out into the crew's ears as they scurried around the newly stolen ship.

Edward laid his hands onto the wheel of the ship as Adéwalé stepped up onto the main deck, "I've made my choice Adé. I'm calling her the Jackdaw. A sly bird I loved as a child back in Swansea." His eyes glazed over the horizon of water in front of the ship as its name rang out in Adé's ears.

"A dark little creature, no?" Edward looked at the man now, one hand still clung onto the wheel, "It didn't rub you wrong when I took this brig as mine own?" Adé chuckled as he approached the adventurous pirate, "It was a sort of rub I have learned to enjoy. Sailing among faces of such...fairness." His head tilting with some snark, implying a dark story behind the man.

Edward dipped his head down, turning away to look at the crew, "It's true. Most of these men wouldn't accept you as a Captain." Adé watched the crew as well when Edward paused, "So what fair role would compliment such...unfairness?" His tone mimicking the same as Adéwalé's. Adé paused and stepped further away from Edward to lean against the railings, "I'll be your quartermaster, nothing less."

Edward furrowed his brow, squeezing his hand to the wheel still, "Being anything more wouldn't fancy you, would it?" Adé shifted against the rails, smirking at the comment, "Experience is important I suppose." Edward turned away, regretting his odd push for flirtatious comments, "But, you seem to be a fair captain. I'll be your quartermaster aye, perhaps more, if you'll have me." Edward smiled and grasped the wheel with both hands now, "Alright. And as quartermaster, have you any immediate counsel for this tyro-captain?" Adé turned and placed his rough hands against the railings, "Rest and repast would do us good before Nassau." Edward nodded to himself as he watched Adé's movements, "Water for drinking, hunting for food and repairs." Edward mused, watching the spray of the sea, "A break from the adventures would help. Let's find somewhere to drop anchor."

Adé kept his word, the counsel he requested of Edward was fair. They rested silently in the warm night of Nassau after picking up resources and repairing certain inconsistencies on the Jackdaw.

In Edward's eyes, their choice of rest and leisure was always to be the tavern their mates flaunted and threw away all their money away at. Only for rum and women, of course. Perfect for a nice night of relaxation.

As the crew drank and sang shanties on the deck just in range of the inn, Edward and Adé reminisced on their recent adventures. The Captain swirled his shot glass in his hand as he watched the tight nit crew sing and dance on the tavern deck, "Ruffians they are, hm?" Adéwalé's voice rolled thickly off his tongue as Edward stared down at him. Adé had plopped himself into a rickety white chair with a map laying in front of him on a small round table. Edward leaned back against the inn's outer walls, tipping his head back as he finished his shot, "Aye, they are a wild lot, but useful none the less..." He paused and looked out to the sea that kissed the horizon closely, "...and crazy to the boot." Adéwalé chuckled, turning his head to gaze at Edward's face, studying its fairness and the blue eyes that nearly gleamed in the darkness, "I'd trust you to take care of the crew after their drunken adventures." Edward nodded, he'd be responsible for some of the crew getting into fights if not housed due to their troublesome addictions.

Adéwalé stood and gathered his things, approaching the inn silently, "Take care of yourself Edward." He nodded and watched Adé retract into the inn for rest. Edward wanted to sleep but couldn't shake the odd rush of wanting for alcohol, speeding up the tavern stairs before it closed out for the night. Nassau wasn't famous for closing their taverns with how many drunks would come and go for drinks and a night out. So Edward of course, drank. He drank until he couldn't feel the dizziness in his head and the slight squeeze of his armaments around his body.

He couldn't remember the feeling after that, waking up in a bent-over tree and bottles of hard liquor beneath him. Adé stood next to the man, shaking his head at the sight, "I take it you didn't fully understand my words last night?" Edward lifted off of the tree, slamming his boots onto the ground and squeezing his eyes shut as the hangover set in. He quickly stumbled, leaning onto Adé for support, almost being rejected and left on the grass until he made some sense of himself. But Adé wasn't a cruel man.

The quartermaster carried him through the crowds of people in Nassau, his front half hanging over Adé's shoulder and legs swinging behind his back. Edward fluttered his eyes open and became slightly aware of his current situation, head pounding from the blood rushing to it in his upside down position. He groaned and fiddled with his sleeves which were pulled past his elbows uncomfortably, "Don't worry Captain, the ship isn't far." Adé grasped Edward upward, his grip almost loosening when Edward's would wiggle his body in discomfort. He continued towards the Jackdaw anyway.

Adé reached the ship and, sadly, struggled to push open the Captain's cabin doors with the hungover man between one of his arms. Once he got in he gently put Edward down into the cushioned chair at his desk, ready to leave the man and retrieve the rest of the crew, with less care of course. Edward mumbled again, opening his eyes to Adéwalé hovering over him as he placed him down, "Are you leavin' me now?" Adé just smiled and shook his head as he left the drunken Captain to his quarters, turning to the doors to retrieve the rest of the crew, "I'll be back captain." And that's all he left the hungover man with, cramming his head into his arms as his headache set in further with red tinting his cheeks.

[rev-wrath]

Assassin's creed has me on a chokehold, and even though I haven't even started on the Ezio soulmate guide au fic, I have already picked out soulmate guide animals for Altaïr and Ratonhnhaké:ton. As well as their Rs' patron Endless (who were chosen mainly because I've always focused more on Dream and Death- Albatross has made me become infinitely more fond of Desire though).

Ezio's R is a shy, easily flustered human aid of Desire and Despair. There's R's guide- a Golden eagle- and Ezio's- a mourning dove.

Altaïr's R is snappy, sarcastic and about as stubborn and prideful as he is and they're the human aid of Destruction. Altaïr's guide is a Honey buzzard whilst his R's is an Eastern Imperial eagle.

Ratonhnhaké:ton's R's flirty and extroverted, and they're Delirium's human aid. His R's guide is a Stellar's Sea Eagle whilst Ratonhnhaké:ton himself has an Albatross.

All three Rs die though, before the end of each respective game (I have yet to play AC1 or AC3 so the both of the latter fics won't get written until I finish them) because everything must lead to the creation of Desmond, and for that to happen, Ezio has to have children with Sofia. Altaïr has to have children with Maria. Ratonhnhaké:ton has to marry and have children that leads to William Miles, and later Desmond Miles to be born.

However, the Endless aren't going to watch false gods as the Isu meddle with their aids' happiness and life. Thus the reincarnation. Death is fond of her siblings- one way or the other- and if four of them come to her with the exact same request, who is she to say no? It also does help that Destiny too, is a little peeved by the Isu's rampant interference.

(The Kenway line is honestly super interesting and after the three fics + a fourth one where they all come together to have Desmond not die and save the world in their own way, I'll write something for Edward and Haytham too. Maybe Shay too, if I get around to playing AC Rogue- this is a ramble btw, feel free to ignore the info dump of random names)

I genuinely thought you would have started on it by now not gonna lie. Even with exams. But other things!!

I love all of these animals already, they sound so cool. All of their personalities also match with their patrons in a way and I am so intrigued.

It’ll also be interesting to see what kills an Endless’ aid who is also the partner of an assassin. And then another two times. (Love that you’re playing them out of order)

I actually didn’t take notes so I need to go back and read over what information I do have about the Isu. Destiny and Death work together a little to make sure Desmond is still born, but that the aids still get to live a proper life with their lovers.

(Look at all those names I don’t know. I’m nodding along either way. But fourth fic!)

[auroramoon-draws16]

Alrighty, hear me out here

Assassin’s Creed x Star Wars

Assassin ghosts.

Let’s say a character finds an isu artifact, one connected to the assassins, how’d it get to this galaxy? Who tf knows. But now the memories/souls/versions of the main Assassins wake up and go “wtf, are we in SPACE???” It’s great, really.

You know who finds it? Boba fuckin Fett, lost one dad? Fuck it, here’s like 12.

They help guide Boba into a better life and maybe, sort of, save the Galaxy in the process. He also gets Eagle Vision, because hell yeah.

Baby Boba becomes even more badass and stable, congrats lil man.

Oh, also PLEASE accept the clones as your brothers, PLEASE!!! I beg of thee!

You get my point, somebody write this shit.

[teecupangel]

How would Ezio react if Desmond and the other assassins walked in on him getting it on with some random girl he brought home?

Desmond The first few times it happened, he’d apologize and close the door even if it means locking himself out of their shared apartment.

Later down the line, he just sighs, reminds Ezio to wear a protection and also stress that Ezio was going to clean the room he’s having sex in… twice.

Altaïr

Ignores them and continues to do what he’s supposed to do. If they’re in the kitchen getting frisky, this man would absolutely prepare tea and take food out of the fridge to bring to his room or the living room, depending on where he’s doing his research. If they’re in the living room and Altaïr needs something in it like a book or something, this man would absolutely not care of how rude he was being and continue to just do whatever he was about to do.

Any attempts to invite him by Ezio’s current paramour is met with a look that showed Altaïr’s total disregard for their feelings and his unimpressed expression that do not hide how stupid he thinks that suggestion is.

Ratonhnhaké:ton

The first time it happened, he froze for a second before silently walking about.

Will never walk in on Ezio after that incident. It’s like he has developed a sixth sense and knows when to evade the apartment. Would usually text Desmond to warn him to stay away as well.

Edward

Absolutely starts lying about how proud he was that Ezio could finally get hard again after [insert the most ridiculous lies he could think of and changes every time this happened like it was his own personal ‘do you want to know how I got this scar?’ meme].

Arno

Apologizes, gives Ezio an awkward thumbs up then leaves. It’s the same thumbs up and awkward smile each time. Honestly, Ezio is wondering if Arno has that as his specific ‘I saw Ezio fucking someone’ reaction.

Jacob and Evie

Jacob suggested he join them and Evie drags him away while apologizing furiously to Ezio’s partner (but not Ezio himself, she can’t look at him at all). Ezio knows twins both looked at his dick.

Bayek

Quietly leaves, prepares food for the girl, talks to her a bit, escort her out of the apartment then goes and talk to Ezio about the ‘proper way’ to cohabit with other Assassins so this doesn’t happen again.

Basim (Mirage version)

Absolutely balled a cat at Ezio while he was ‘busy’ and it scratched his back. Every time Basim walks in on them, he will pick up the nearest animal he can find and throw it at Ezio then run away. One time, he threw a raccoon and Ezio caught it, getting into a staring contest with said raccoon longer than necessary.

[thats-by-the-by]

Familial Curse

This fic is crossposted on Ao3. Find it here. Mind the tags.

Edward is going to be better than his parents.

He's already missed so much of Jennifer's life - she relates far more to her mother than to him, and rightfully despises how he left her and her mother for so long. He's working on mending that relationship, and Tessa is helping him as he goes. Jenny seems to be warming up to him, at least.

But he's going to be better than his own parents.

Haytham is a small baby, one that mostly cries and babbles. Edward refuses to miss his sons early years, not like he did with Jenny. He refuses to be so neglectful that he doesn't know anything about his son until he's seven years old. He will be better, do better.

Jenny approves, Tessa approves. Caroline approves, her ghost hovering over Haytham's crib and cooing back to the baby. Edward is going to be here for every step of his sons life. For every future step of his daughters life. He's going to help them, raise them high. He won't be like his parents - even if both his children choose to become Templars, he will never discard them, never disown them.

Edward is going to be a good father. Wanting is not enough. Edward will be a good father.

~~~

Haytham will never be a father.

Ziio has left him brokenhearted, though he can't exactly blame her for wanting him gone. Braddock could have survived his wounds, and Haytham had lied to her. Ziio was the only woman he could see himself settling down with, the only woman he could see himself starting a family with.

Haytham will never be a father.

Even still, he doesn't find himself mourning the lack of prospects. The colonies have plenty of orphans, and the Templars are some of the richest people here. If he desires to become a father in his later years, he can simply adopt an heir. But he doesn't desire fatherhood. His examples of fathers aren't exactly great - a pirate and his killer.

Edward was a good father, from what he can remember. From what he can admit to himself. Attentive and caring, one who both wanted Haytham to have fun and also to have stability. Even for a pirate, for an assassin, Edward Kenway was a good father when Haytham was a child. Haytham can admit that.

It's Birch's example that makes him hesitate.

How much of him, moulded by Birch, is rotten? Would he be better than the man, the one who the boy he used to be still loves? Would he mould a child into a warped mirror of himself, someone aware of the worlds problems, yet unable to change anything? Would he be forced to teach his own child how to kill his father's allies? Would teaching a child the sword end up with the weapon put through his own neck?

Birch killed his father and raised him to adulthood, and for that crime, Haytham killed him. Could he accept that fate for himself?

Haytham will never be a father. Even if he wants to become one, he will never sire a child. He will never bring a life into this cruel world.

~~~

Ratonhnhaké:ton is a good father, in his own opinion.

His children all love him, constantly climbing over his tall frame and running under his feet. His wife, and her family, seem to adore how attentive and caring he is towards not only his own children, but also all of the children in their village. Ratonhnhaké:ton carries all of the small stones his son gives him, all of the flowers his daughter gives him. He even carries the small shells Io:nhiòte sneaks into his pockets - even though the majority of them still smell like the ocean.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is a good father, but he's not sure if he was a good son.

Ratonhnhaké:ton doesn't often visit his Father's grave. He visits Achilles' grave far more often, making the trek to the Manor after the birth of each of his children to tell the old man about his children. He ventures there for every milestone, after every event. He's told all of his children of his old mentor, retelling the tales he still doesn't really care for, though he takes care to ensure that every word he says is the same. But he doesn't tell them about his Father, and doesn't tell his Father about them. He really isn't sure how to.

Ratonhnhaké:ton never had a strong relationship with Haytham Kenway.

But here he stands, at the edge of the cemetery, waiting for Shay Cormac to finish talking to his Father. Io:nhiòte had asked questions of his father, and Ratonhnhaké:ton is proud of his children, is proud of the man he grew to be, and the people his children are growing into. He wants to tell his Father of his children before he tells his children about him. So he waits for his Father's last soldier to finish his report to the cold soil, patient to share his fortune with the man he had to kill.

Ratonhnhaké:ton is a good father, even if he was never a good son. The Kenway name ends with Connor Kenway, and his children will be free of the shackles of that name. He is a good father, a terrible son, and the last person to bear the Kenway curse.

[awriterlivinginaconstantdream]

A Piece of Eden

Teaser 1

Tears falling

Scars forming

How do I get out of this alive?

Images are found on Pinterest

[missiemoosie]

Fanfic writer interview~

Thank you for the tag, @sotwk~!

A note: I put links to each of the fics that get mentioned, but only logged in AO3 users can see them.

How many works do you have on AO3?

8

What's your total AO3 word count?

1,698,209

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Her Dreams Became Nightmares [The Hobbit, Thorin x f!oc]

Of Sparrow and Drystan [PotC, Jack Sparrow x f!oc x genderfluid!oc]

Azying [The Hobbit, Bofur x f!oc x m!oc and rewrite of Finding Their Place]

Finding Their Place [The Hobbit, Bofur x f!oc]

Daughter of Death [Mulan (1998), no romance, f!oc]

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to as many comments as I can, though sometimes, I just don't have the energy. The ones I do reply to are usually ones that make me laugh or have non-spoilery questions~

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Daughter of Death, definitely. Though, it's sequel, Daughter of Rebirth, might be tied with it.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Taming a Monster. Only because, other than the aforementioned Mulan fics, it's the only fic on my account that's actually finished LMAO

Do you write crossovers?

Not really. I do sometimes sneak little easter eggs into my fics, though. Like in Finding Their Place/Azying, Ned the Piemaker from Pushing Daisies is the brother to Adela. And in my PotC fic, I plan on Emil running into Edward Kenway from Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag (among others).

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeah. Some people didn't like that my oc for Taming a Monster was dark skinned. Not that she was half troll, but that she was dark-skinned in a Viking-Based fandom. Also got one hate comment on Of Sparrow and Drystan because someone was pissed Emil was actually a woman....But that's about it.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I sometimes do, but I don't post it. Because I don't need all my kinks out in the open. I'm nervous enough posting my drawn smut LOL

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I...don't think I have. I do know someone was translating Taming a Monster into Russian, so if ever anyone ever came across that, please know it was done with permission.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Speak of the devil, I just mentioned this =D

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope. My friend and I were going to try co-writing an Avengers fic a few years ago, but we never got around to it.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

We talking canon x canon? Or can we include oc x canon? Because, tbh, I don't really hardcore ship any canon x canon ships, aside from Will and Elizabeth from PotC or Kaz x Inej from Six of Crows. So maybe those? Or Bofur x Thorin. Otherwise, my favorite ships are mostly ot3s with an oc involved.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Daughter of Life, the final part of my Mulan series. I just got so incredibly burnt out on it that even thinking about it makes me feel like that one meme of Ben Affleck smoking.

What are your writing strengths?

People tell me it's my descriptions and keeping the characters...well, in character.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with shorter stories and that, in turn, gives me burn out. I've gotten better about writing shorter chapters over the last couple of years, though.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I do it sparingly, unless it's a made up language like Khuzdul. But even then, I try to keep it limited because I know there are people who actually speak neo-Khuzdul and would probably want to strangle me for the way I write it LOL

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

None, really. I just want to be able to get the gumption to work on my own stories soon LOL

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Since you say 'written', I'm assuming this means finished fics. So in this case, it'd have to be Taming a Monster. If we're talking fanfics in general, then Azying. It's got more of my headcanons and worldbuilding in it for the Hobbit than HDBN, since I allow myself more freedom to play around (and did I mention it's an everyone lives AU?)

Time for tags~! Most of the people I know who write fics have already been tagged, so there aren't too many I can add to the list. However, the ones I will add:

@arcadian-dragon-riding @kotaka-kun @oh--you--pretty--things and whoever else would like to do this~!