#Syndictober
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It’s Syndictober time again on our server <3
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Syndictober: Pressed Flowers
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The Art of Loving While Being Criminals
Syndictober’s drabbles and one-shots are now collected in the anthology:
The Art of Loving While Being Criminals on AO3
Enjoy!
#Rothfrye#maxwell roth#jacob frye#ac syndicate#Assassin's Creed Syndicate#writing#almawardy#syndictober#fanfiction
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Syndictober: Corgi
Jacob wondered what sort of “exciting news” Mrs. Disraeli had to share with the twins. The letter was a bit vague. Still, he and Evie answered the summons. One of the Disraelis' servants answered the door and admitted them into the drawing room. There was an awful lot of barking going on.
“Is Desmond having a play-date?” Jacob asked. Evie could only shrug her shoulders.
It turned out not to be a play-date, exactly. Mrs. Disraeli was sitting in one of the chairs watching a litter of puppies grapple with each other as an older dog tried to herd them into some sort of order. The similarities between the older dog and the puppies made the relationship quite obvious. Mrs. Disraeli turned from her canine charges to greet the Frye twins.
“Isn't this wonderful?” she gushed. “Desmond is a father!”
“Congratulations,” Evie said with an indulging smile. Desmond turned at his name and wagged his stubby tail. The puppies stopped barking to investigate the two new humans. The twins both got down and held out their hands so the puppies could sniff and lick.
“The mother's owner and I have been talking of what to do with the puppies,” Mrs. Disraeli informed them. “She has a few people who are interested, but I insisted on letting you get first pick.”
“Us?” Jacob echoed with a raised eyebrow.
“Of course! You saved my dear Desmond and my husband. It's the least I can do to repay you.”
“That's very generous of you, Mrs. Disraeli,” Evie began, “but--”
“Oh, come on, Evie,” Jacob interrupted. “You and Greenie should take one with you to India. It'll be like having a piece of London. See, that one likes you already.” He pointed to a puppy currently licking Evie's hand.
“And what about you, Mr. Frye?” Mrs. Disraeli urged.
“I've got a cat. I'm not sure how they'd get on. I suppose I can try it.”
“I do so hope it works out,” Mrs. Disraeli smiled. “I love the idea of the two of you taking care of Desmond's children.”
A carriage rolled by that sent all the dogs barking like mad. Yes, Jacob thought. These are definitely Desmond's children.
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Welcome, October! And welcome to Syndictober as well!
What better way to spend the Inktober month than a list of 31 Syndicate prompts brought to you by our amazing RothFrye Discord community? Get your pencils ready and share your entries with the #syndictober hashtag!
Have fun! 🎩❤️
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Syndictober RothFrye list.
Day 3: Pressed Flowers
#assassin's creed syndicate#acs#jacob frye#maxwell roth#rothfrye#syndictober prompt list#watercolor#my art
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Syndictober: Train
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So, this is happening.
Definitely not sure I’ll be able to keep up with it, but I’ll try.
One drabble a day, that’s the goal.
Today is train.
*
Jacob was standing on the freight train about to stop, licking his split lip while waiting for one man to appear, in particular: a mercenary for whom which side to take was often less important than how much fun he could have. They were not exactly the same, the two of them, and yet… the last mission was fun, he had to admit; perhaps he would get some wine as compensation for his lip. The train stopped and Jacob saw him there, with a black suit and his hands behind his back: he was waiting for him.
“Welcome back, darling.”
Maxwell said, stretching his hand out. He was home.
#Rothfrye#Assassin's Creed Syndicate#drabble#syndictober#Maxwell Roth#Jacob Frye#writing#fanfiction#almawardy
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Syndictober: Tea
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Syndictober: Necklace
Jacob ran his thumb over the shilling's metal. Over the course of the night his little pile of coins had grown larger and smaller depending on his luck. His eyes flicked to the current pile and then back to the single coin in his hand.
“Fold,” he called out loud. “I'm done for the night, lads.”
“Are you sure?” one of the other gamblers asked him. “You might still win the pot.” That was true; he could still win this game. His hand was very good. But then he could lose it in the next round with not even this single shilling to show for the evening.
“I've won plenty.” He rose, pocketing his remaining shilling and leaving the group to finish their game without him.
As he walked, Jacob thought about that shilling. So many worked hard for hours on end to earn that coin, and it was all they would see for their whole day. Some wouldn't even be that lucky. Jacob was in a privileged position that he could gain and lose handfuls of coin and still go home to a bed and warm food. It set his teeth on edge to think that there were so many around them who needed help but Father wouldn't let Jacob or Evie go out.
Some day Jacob would earn his place among the Assassins and then he would help all those who were oppressed. And he would keep this shilling close to remind him of all those people, and how much one small thing could do to make a meaningful impact.
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Syndictober: Letter
To Mr. Jacob Frye,
I have recently received word of your exploits here in the city. Those incredible fights, how you have formed a gang, and of course those kills against rival gang leaders across the boroughs. Three are now dead and I believe it is past time you and I meet.
If you are so inclined, it would be a pleasure to welcome you to the Alhambra for dinner. Please send back a reply as soon as possible.
Regards,
Maxwell Roth
Jacob read the words over and over again. The sharp lines and elegant curves of the handwriting were imprinted in his mind by the time he was done.
Evie scoffed at the letter. “Obviously you're not going.”
“Of course not,” Jacob agreed. Though he was only saying that to appease her. The Rooks were his idea from the start. He recruited the members, he helped think up their uniforms, he designed their flag. Yes, Evie was considered a co-founder and she helped bring in funds, but she wasn't nearly as invested as Jacob.
It was his gang, and Maxwell Roth, head over all the Blighters, knew this. The letter was specifically addressed to Jacob alone. Evie really had no say in the matter.
To Mr. Maxwell Roth,
I was surprised to receive your letter. I agree that it is far past time for us to meet in person. I accept your invitation and look forward to dining with you this evening.
Regards,
Jacob Frye
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Syndictober: Brass Knuckles
The first time he was gifted brass knuckles, he wasn't sure exactly what to think of the gift. He was pleased, of course-- he loved getting new weapons. The fact they were from Maxwell did make them more special. Then there were those letters engraved onto each knuckle. That really stunned Jacob when he saw them.
Did Maxwell know that the word was there? Did he commission these and instruct the maker to engrave that word, or did he just happen to find them and thought of Jacob? He wanted to ask but his tongue felt so heavy in his mouth. He just didn't understand this gift or the feelings it invoked in him.
This time Jacob knew exactly what these knuckles meant; he understood how they made him feel. He flexed his fingers, smiling at the perfect fit. There was no word he could see and at first he was disappointed. But then he slipped them off and he noticed something engraved on the metal.
Amore.
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Syndictober: Diary
Entry 1
Jacob received a letter from Maxwell Roth, leader of the Blighter gang. According to its contents, Mr. Roth is interested in dining with Jacob at his hideout in the Alhambra theater. This is clearly some ploy by the gang leader to get Jacob alone and hurt him. I urged Jacob to refuse the invitation and he assured me he would... in that dismissive way of his that leads me to believe he isn't taking this seriously.
It's a foolish risk to go into enemy territory alone, which is why I have no doubt that it is exactly what Jacob plans to do. This time I'm not going to clean up his mess. He'll just have to live with the consequences.
He'd better come back from that dinner alive.
--
Entry 2
Jacob won't tell me what happened at his meeting with Mr. Roth; he won't even admit he was there, though I am certain he went to the Alhambra against my advice. The meeting was clearly not a ruse to harm him as I feared, but what was Mr. Roth's actual goal? Why did he send that letter? What did they discuss during their dinner?
--
Entry 3
Jacob has been acting very strange lately. He's always been the sort to smile and joke, but recently this tendency has grown. I don't think I've ever seen him quite this happy before.
The Rooks report that there was a series of explosions at a train station the other day. Weapons bound for Starrick were destroyed and the train meant to transport them hijacked. I have no doubt Jacob is responsible for this. His blatant disregard for our tenant of hiding in plain sight is really getting out of hand. When I try talking to him about it, he just laughs and calls it an “amusement”.
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Entry 4
Nobody has seen Jacob all day. I've asked our Rooks, Robert, Ned, Agnes, even our conductor and Bob. No one has seen him since yesterday evening. He and I are often passing each other on our way to a mission but I haven't even seen signs that he came back to the hideout to sleep.
It is possible that Mr. Dickens allowed Jacob to stay with him for the night, or perhaps Mr. Bell offered his lodgings. Still, I wish Jacob would check in. Not knowing his whereabouts makes me uneasy. I just need to know he's okay.
Addendum: I can't believe he made me worry like that. Apparently he lost track of time. Honestly! Though I couldn't help noticing that despite “losing track”, he found the time to wash up a bit before making his way back to the hideout.
--
Entry 5
I think Jacob has a sweetheart. I can't prove this but he is showing all the signs: he's sneaking out, he often stares off into nothing with a smile on his face, when he comes back from wherever he goes he's always glowing and happier than when he left.
I want to confront him about this. With the way he's been teasing me about my supposed attraction toward Henry, it would be nice to turn the tables.
--
Entry 6
This is difficult to put into words. Jacob has a new pair of brass knuckles with engraved letters spelling out the word “love”. That was such a clear sign I had to question him. He admitted they came from someone special to him but wouldn't tell me their name. He claims I wouldn't approve. Which, I admit, is a fair assumption. Personal attachments will only compromise our mission.
He did tell me one thing about his sweetheart that I won't repeat here. It's something our society highly disapproves of and would put him in danger should it ever come out. Jacob never did have much regard for the rules. Though in this case, it's a rule of our society rather than of the Brotherhood.
I don't even believe Father would have a problem with it in theory; rather, he would disapprove of any relationship due to its threat to the mission. But even knowing this, I can't bring myself to discourage him.
The one who gave him those knuckles understands him. Jacob deserves that.
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Syndictober - Day 15
And today is corgi.
*
Jacob was lying on the bed playing with Desmond, while Max was sitting at his desk trying to work on some drafts – surrounded by whimpering and laughs.
“Jacob… is he really allowed on the bed?” Max asked with a tired sigh.
“Desmond is spotless.” Jacob replied, and Desmond licked his cheek.
“Hm… and do you really need to be the one dealing with him?” Max insisted.
“It’s called dog-sitting, and I get paid for it.”
Max raised his head from his drafts, hit his papers with the palm of his hand, and exclaimed – grumbling:
“If you needed someone to lick your face you could have just asked me.”
#Syndictober#Maxwell Roth#Jacob Frye#Rothfrye#almawardy#fanfiction#writing#ac syndicate#Assassin's Creed Syndicate#drabble
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Syndictober: Leap of Faith
Going through the ceremony might have been the official way initiates became full Assassins, but climbing to the top of a building and jumping was the unofficial way. And it was the bit Jacob was looking forward to.
Of course he was excited and proud to have learned enough to go through the ceremony. It proved that he was right and he didn't need to listen in on every one of his father's boring lectures. Jacob spent his nights out on the streets and still passed all the same tests as his sister Evie. He was going to be given his official Assassin clothing and hidden blade. All very exciting things.
But the idea of tumbling from the top of a building down to a haystack waiting below was absolutely thrilling. Up until now their jumps were small-- no higher than the roof of their own house. Their father promised them they were going to the highest point in Crawley for their first true leap.
The highest point in Crawley... Their town wasn't very big so that wasn't going to be an impressive height, but it would definitely be higher than anywhere they'd been before.
Ethan led the way with his children following. Another member of their Brotherhood was there to stand as witness as the twins took their leap.
Jacob and Evie stood together on the small ledge, their father and the other Assassin just behind them. The siblings exchanged smiles.
“Have fun,” Jacob said to her.
“Don't die,” she returned.
The two of them took their leap together.
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Syndictober: Mustache
The first time Maxwell kissed him, Jacob had been too surprised to register much of anything. All the sensations hit him at once and it was all over before he could really figure them out. It was only until later when he was out in the fresh air that he could think clearly enough to get a sense of what just happened.
There was the rough pressure of Maxwell's lips against his, the heat of the gesture, the shape of those lips, and that mustache. Jacob brushed a finger across his own upper lip reliving that particular sensation. The way it tickled his skin and nose was strange. He had no idea if he liked it. He didn't know if he liked any of it. How could he when the gesture shocked him and had ended in seconds.
Jacob had to know for sure. So he went back to the Alhambra and waited until he could get Maxwell alone. The older man had a little smile on his lips like he knew exactly why Jacob was here. That annoyed Jacob. He grabbed Maxwell, forcing their lips together in the same way Maxwell did to him. Only this time Jacob made the contact linger.
The heat was just the same, the way their lips shaped together thrilling. As for that mustache, it still felt strange pressed against his upper lip, but he was getting used to it. Maxwell's lips were starting to soften and respond to him. It felt good, so good, the lips just rough enough as they moved along his own. Jacob gasped for breath and caught a distinct smell from Maxwell's mustache, clearly some sort of scented oil he used.
“What's that smell?” Jacob wondered.
“Smell?” Maxwell repeated.
“The scented oil you use for your mustache. What is it?”
“Lavender. I read somewhere that it's an arousing scent.” Maxwell's smile grew mischievous. “It must work, as I didn't expect you to kiss me back.”
Jacob laughed, delighted and flattered that Maxwell would put in the extra effort. He leaned in as if to smell it again but ended up just kissing the man instead. He doubted the lavender had anything to do with his interest in kissing Maxwell.
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