#jacob frye rp

[piratekenway]

[leadrook]

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒  𝐎𝐅  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒,  𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐁  𝐅𝐑𝐘𝐄  ?  

INDIE.  SELECTIVE.  PRIVATE.  SIR  JACOB  FRYE  FROM  UBISOFT’S  ASSASSIN’S  CREED:  SYNDICATE.  est.  2018  under  syndicatemaster,  revamped  2021.  written  &.  adored  by  ewan  /  lucas.  please  read  rules  &.  verses  before  interacting.

*  personals,  do  not  reblog.   © 

[leadrook-archive]

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒  𝐎𝐅  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒,  𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐁  𝐅𝐑𝐘𝐄  ?  

INDIE.  SELECTIVE.  MUTUALS  ONLY  SIR  JACOB  FRYE  FROM  UBISOFT’S  ASSASSIN’S  CREED  SYNDICATE.  est.  2018,  revamped  2020.  written  &  adored  by  ewan.    please  read  rules  &  verses  before  interacting.  

*  personals,  do  not  reblog.  

[brashatted]

                        LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

                                       WE ARE JACOB AND EVIE FRYE

                AND AS OF THIS MOMENT YOU WORK 

                                               FOR US

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

" Ladies and gentlemen,

We are J a c o b and E v i e F r y e,

And of t h i s m o m e n t,

You all work f o r u s. "

------ Jacob and Evie Frye from assassin's creed syndicate, multimuse, semi-selective, oc friendly, a muse from red dead redemption 2 (some more that might be added in the future), and some oc's to be added in the future.

[hisimpetuosity-archived]

   ❛❛      I WAS  L I G H T N I N G  BEFORE THE THUNDER    ❜❜ 

                                                         meme boi by 🐝

[sirfrye]

Starter Call

“... Did you miss me?”

//OOC           like/reblog/respond to this if you would like to roleplay.

OPEN TO ALL. I’m not too sure who is active anymore, so even if we’re not mutuals feel free to respond! I’m looking for a whole bunch of new RP partners as well!

[worldly-diversity]

Jacob grit his teeth against the chilly night air and took another step, and then another. He had to keep moving or something bad would happen, he knew he couldn't trust himself not to right now. The street was swaying a little and his shoulder brushed the wall, kicking away from it again shortly thereafter. This wasn't how he'd expected his night to go...

Evie had been encouraging him to socialise a little more, maybe actually do something with the people he'd occasionally flirt with, but he'd never paid her any mind, never actually listened. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to, not quite. He'd tried a few times but he always backed away in the end. Nothing worked.

So when she was finally getting tired enough to tell him to 'suit yourself' and left for a mission somewhere further away for a while, he finally dared to sit down and sort through his thoughts. Why was it that every time he so much as thought of being with someone it made his chest churn so uncomfortably?

He'd figured out why... The memory of it stained in blood and wreathed in flames. 

"Shit—" He grit out, the wall coming closer again as his dizziness caused him to collide with stone again. He'd figured out why, and it left him in such a state of confusion that all his instincts were tearing him in different directions. The one he'd decided to indulge was the bottle, which somehow wasn't quite empty just yet and he'd managed to hold on to.

London was at peace now, Templar influence had been removed and the Blighters terrorised the streets no longer, meaning he had no one he could work his confusion out on. Somehow, perhaps unsurprisingly, he really wanted to make someone bleed. But that wasn't an option. Neither was the spectacular explosion he might have settled for otherwise.

The bottle had gotten heavier, he'd acquired a new one somehow, that he was nursing now. The scenery had changed as well. Looking up he was faced with a familiar building that wasn't quite... it wasn't what it used to be.

Tying the bottle to his belt he finds himself closer to the roof with a shot of his rope dart. The fresh air helps, he thinks, despite it not being any fresher here. Finally he drops down, back resting against a chimney of the rebuilt theatre and he lets out a dry chuckle.

"It seems you've left me in quite a state... My dear Roth."

The bottle was empty come sunrise.

[poorlydrawnsyndicate]

i have not drawn anything in months and i promise im not as funny as you all seem to think i am

[jfryc]

    Starter call #2! 

[leadrook-archive]

𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄  𝐘𝐎𝐔  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑  𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒  𝐎𝐅  𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑  𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒,  𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐁  𝐅𝐑𝐘𝐄  ?  

INDIE.  SELECTIVE.  MUTUALS  &  DASH  ONLY  JACOB  FRYE.  BY EWAN.

* personals  do  not  reblog.

[iomhair]

Count Bodies Like Sheep

It is almost quiet when Jacob walks through the night that surrounds London. The sound of firm steps over the cobblestone breaks the silence and holding the springs of his excitement all coiled up. He saw this city from above, he was an invisible witness to its secrets, he could run its roofs with the eyes closed, but now it was the time to face London from beneath. Jacob breathes in fully, watching the bright moon over the roofs, and touching his brass knuckles with the bare fingertips. The hood falls down and Jacob smirks into the darkness – tonight he is just Jacob Frye and he will claim this city once and for all.

He can already feel it – the growing sound of panic and disarray in the distance, the scent of fear and rage. But there was nothing that could stop him at this point. Strand was the last borough to claim, the Rooks were getting ready for this night and Jacob knew that he would not let them down.

The streets around him are slowly getting alive, and Jacob senses every single movement, sees every shadow, he even feels the vibration of the cobblestone. He stops for only a second and steps on the white armband with the bright red symbol on it, denting it into the dirt.

Jacob sees the light of torches as he keeps on walking forward, finally leaving the shadows behind, finally seeing his targets in the distance, finally ready to strike. The crowd of templars ahead is growing, it’s easy enough to notice them, but Jacob is not scared at the slightest. His smile is almost devilish, his hands are steady, and the beating of his heart matches the sound of his steps.

Ten.

- Isn’t that a Frye boy? Heard you’d be coming to play tonight. Should have brought your sister, I bet she is more fun. I heard that she-

The laughs in the distance are getting louder as Jacob walks forward, parting the live corridor of men and striking without any delay, not letting the templar finish the sentence and quickly cutting his throat.

Nine.

The lifeless body falls on the road in a complete silence. First blood is now flowing over the stone, colouring it crimson red and dissolving into the dirt.

- I don’t think you quite understand, lads. The price for talking out loud just got raised. And I doubt any of you could afford it.

The silence around him is almost deafening.

Eight.

The first hit is very much expected and Jacob dodges it, piercing the blade into the templar’s chest, quickly getting ready for the second strike, which follows almost immediately.

Jacob laughs as the next attempt to kill him fails miserably. The crowd of templars is getting bigger, but he moves through it graciously, striking with the absolute precision, seeing the blood dripping off his blade. The red trail follows Jacob further, deeper, it’s getting wider, it is covering his tracks and leaving absolutely no doubts in his intentions.

Seven.

His Rooks appear as if from nowhere, surrounding the Blighters. They run through empty streets and alleys, blocking all of the exits and sparing none of the templars, and the growing sound of his personal army is one of the best sounds that Jacob has ever heard in his life.

Six.

Jacob’s hands are soaked with someone else’s blood. Blood covers his jacket, drips off his face, getting mixed with sweat and soot. His head is spinning of this endless agitation, adrenaline kicks in and Jacob moves even faster, screaming with rage and some kind of euphoria, cutting through the crowd of templars on his way.

No one can match him. No one can stop him. And no one can survive his blade.

Five.

Jacob breathes in, looking around almost hazily through the eyelashes. Pile of bodies surround him, and he walks forward, stepping over the dead templars. The air is filled with the smell of gunpowder, smoke and explosives. Jacob already knows that London will never forget this night. It will stay on the streets of this city as another scar, cutting right through the middle of it and reminding the people of the newly crowned king of the streets. Oh, the stuff of legends.

Four.

The bright lights of Alhambra are getting closer and Jacob’s heart beats in the anticipation. Isn’t this why he is here? Isn’t this his final destination?

- You just wait…

The whispers slips off Jacob’s lips, and he licks them immediately, feeling the unmistakable taste of blood.  

Three.

He finally walks to Alhambra, raising up his head and seeing the familiar silhouette in one of the windows. Roth…

Two.

Jacob wants to run. Everything inside him beats in the burning excitement and a painful longing. The drums of war are almost deafening and Jacob knows that he needs to finish it here and now.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.

One.

No one stops him when he enters the theatre and walks right to the open scene. The theatre is quiet, unlike the London streets, and almost none of the chaos that he has caused made its way into the gloomy halls of Alhambra. The darkness parts as Jacob walks forward, stepping through the heavy curtains and letting the chaos in with him.

And there he was.

Maxwell Roth was sitting on some sort of throne, surrounded by the flickering candlelight, holding the goblet in his hand. His thin fingers were running over the heavy metal cup, stroking the intricate ornament. He seemed to not even pay attention what was happening around, but Jacob realized that it was just an illusion – Roth saw everything what happened. He knew.

- And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

The hoarse voice echoes in the empty hall, making Jacob stop just for a second. He knows these lines, he has heard them before. Jacob smirks, touching the gauntlet and unsheathing the hidden blade, still stained with templar’s blood.  

- And not just one, - he shows off the blade, openly bragging, - You know, there are better weapons than the… vorpal sword if you ask me.

Jacob watches as Roth laughs out loud and raises his goblet before making a sip.

- Darling. I have never doubted your intelligence.

The power balance between them shifts before Jacob could even notice it. Each step brings him closer to Roth, and each step makes him lose the unspoken sense of control. The invisible strings are getting loose one by one - Jacob can feel them slipping through his fingers, dissolving into the shadows, burning in the dim light. It should make him panic – but it does not. He steps closer, now walking right to the scene, openly staring at Roth. Daring. Provoking.  

- I have just killed the last ones of your gang. Shouldn’t you be worried at the very least?

At this point Jacob does not even recognize his own voice. He is almost shaking when he walks to the dark throne, eagerly stepping into the shadows that surrounded Roth and watching the man from below, breathing in deeply, desperately trying to calm himself down. Jacob knows that he exists on a sheer adrenaline now. He is a match that needs a single sparkle. A bullet that is ready to be shot. A last drop of blood that balances the scales of life and death.  

- Not at the slightest, my dear. I always knew who you were. In fact… I welcomed you. I always will.  

Roth stands up, stepping to the edge of the scene and suddenly Jacob feels the cold hand on his cheek: delicate fingers are stroking his face, while gently removing the dried blood and smearing the dirt over. Their eyes meet and Jacob’s heart stops beating for a second. The tension is getting unbearable at this point, and just like that Jacob realizes that all his remaining confidence dissipates with a single touch, giving way to something unknown, something that he was terrified to even think about.

And Jacob succumbs.

With the quiet sigh he leans into Roth’s hand, allowing the touch, ready to accept whatever happens next, diving into the abyss, just like he did earlier on the streets of London. Roth’s fingers are stroking his temple, his cheek, they run down to Jacob’s lips, opening them oh so slightly, and Jacob tries his best to hold the needy moan, as he feeling the familiar taste of iron that was now somehow getting mixed with the taste of wine. He can’t even look away, getting completely lost in the gaze of the cold green eyes, staring back at him.

Roth’s fingers are now stroking his hair, letting the messy strands slide over this palm. The grip of his fist is getting tighter, but Jacob does not care. In fact, he welcomes it.

- My dear boy. So much I want to show you…

It is almost a ritual, some sort of a dark and twisted baptism, but Jacob is barely able to process this realization. Instead he is pressing his lips right to the Roth’s palm, gently sliding them down to his wrist just so he could feel the other man’s pulse, desperately wishing it to match his own.

- Come with me. Tonight we celebrate. 

And it does match.

OST: 

Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drums

The Untold

My huge thanks to @jocobof and our nightly discussions <3 Oi, listen, it did not end up like I planned, but I hope you’ll enjoy it nonetheless. 

[brashatted]

                                   I’ve changed since the years of lessons from my father                                            and my sister evie pushing me constantly to improve.                                            Now i’m strong enough to run free and wild through                                                                     the streets of london.

                                           And run i will

indie & semi-selective Jacob Frye of Assassin’s Creed Syndicate

[sharp-teeth-and-archived]

( Starter call - Jacob Frye )

Hit the heart if you want a starter from Jacob! Might be a one liner.

[thank-god-its-fryeday]

So, I really wanna RP with “Jacob” but do you have to have an OC or canon character you RP as or can you RP with a character as yourself? Also I have no idea where to start and am actually quite shy lol plus I just wanna be selfish and ship myself with him *ahem*

[hisimpetuosity-archived]

                              ❝   AND RUN WILD, I WILL.   ❞