he's great stfu

It’s been 4 years since CW brought back Whose Line on July 16th, 2013 and I am still as much in love with the show as ever.
I hope it’ll be on air for many more years to come.

“And here I was thinking I had moved into one of those sleepy towns where nothing ever happens… That’s some morning news. Where did they say they found those bodies?”

Night Skies

Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad x Reader

Words: 1269

You couldn’t help but notice it was a beautiful night; the stars twinkling brightly in the darkened sky, the gentle breeze rustling stray leaves upon the streets, the soft glow of candlelight in the distance. One could have never guessed the amount of blood that had been shed in the name of freedom. You sighed heavily from your perch atop the citadel, enjoying the rush of wind and adrenaline as you fell freely towards the earth, landing with a loud thump into a musky pile of hay. 

Jumping out of the pile, you barely dodged the second figure following your movements, his land somehow more graceful than your own. It couldn’t be helped, he was the great Altaïr, the youngest Master Assassin, your Mentor, and most importantly, your friend. His hood covered most of his features, the glow of moonlight only showing occasional glints of the beautiful golden eyes that lie beneath, the breathtaking features of the man behind the mask. 

Just the thought of him gazing at you without the shadow of his hood made your heart beat faster within the confines of your chest, your hands automatically fiddling with your white robes in a nervous gesture.

“You did well.” He complimented, his voice as neutral as ever. The silence hung over the two of you as shouts could be heard from the distance, the thrum of guards looking for battle disturbing the peace of the city.

“Thank you, Mentor.” You replied just as professionally, hating that he almost always preferred to act so stoic. There were rare times when you’d talk and he’d show emotion in his voice, expressions clearly moving across his face. Not only that; he’d gaze at you with affection, his tone meaning exactly how it sounded. It always put you in a good mood, hearing him like that. 

This, however, always seemed to dampen your spirits. You had hoped that Altaïr had seen you more as just another novice, more as just another assassin. You held in your sigh of disappointment, nodding to your Mentor as you fled back into the shadows, his footsteps barely audible as he followed behind. You had been an exceptionally fast learner, mastering the blade and the art of stealth in mere months. 

Perhaps that was why Altaïr originally found interest in you; your ability to learn so quickly absolutely stunning him. Of course, you weren’t nearly as good as Altaïr. Something that he reminded you of all too often. Luckily for you, Malik always seemed to knock him back into his place with a few well-placed jokes. Although, you mused, dropping down into the bureau with a soft click of your boots, Malik also seemed to infuriate Altaïr at times. 

You had only made it a few steps into the darkened room when Altaïr followed suit, his movements once again much quieter than your own. It was surprising, to say the least, that he could be so quiet despite him probably weighing more than you. The bureau was too quiet for anyone to be inhabiting it, obviously meaning that the bureau leader had long since called it a night, retiring to their quarters for rest. You couldn’t blame them, wishing you could just fall into a deep sleep, forgetting the world and all the issues it presented for a while. Unfortunately, you never were that lucky.

“Grab your belongings, we leave for Masyaf tonight.” Altair stated stiffly, his back straightening at your scrutiny.

“I understand your wish to return home but I need rest, it has been a long few days.” You said back, your voice laced with professional stoicism.

“You may rest once we return, until then, you are to follow my orders.” You scowled, fixing a glare on the man. Even beneath the shadows of your hood, you knew he could see it.

“But, Mentor-,”

“Enough, (Y/N),” he hissed, his jaw visibly clenching. “We are leaving.” You blew out a puff of air, stomping your feet rather childishly as you went to collect your things. You couldn’t help it, Altaïr was acting like a child! You were just asking for a little rest, there was nothing wrong with that. You kept your gaze to the dirtied ground as you slung your light pack over your back rather roughly, stopping before Altaïr. 

He seemed to accept that as your readiness, climbing up the uneven stones of the bureau. You followed without question as he disappeared into the night, all the while glaring at his back.

The silence was overbearing, the night sky not looking nearly as beautiful as it had only the night before. You could feel every muscle of the horse beneath you move under it’s shining mane, the constant click of hooves hitting dirt annoying you almost as much as the man riding in front of you. Each second was proving more exhausting, your body having to catch you more than once as you began to doze off on the horse, almost falling off it’s back in the process. 

Your eyes stayed glued to the white robes illuminating the road in front of you, your anger the only thing keeping you awake at the moment. You were surprised Altaïr hadn’t caught fire yet, the heat in your gaze searing through his clothing. He knew it, the way he shifted uncomfortably, his muscles tense in his back betraying his thoughts. The bastard knew you were angry yet he continued to trek on as if nothing was wrong, keeping stubbornly silent. It was just you, the click of hooves, and your maddening thoughts as you continued on your journey, the night sky at your back.

“If you wish to speak, speak.” Altaïr finally bit out, the anger in his voice only fueling yours.

“I just do not understand why we couldn’t rest, Mentor.” You spoke through clenched teeth, a fire behind your words.

“I have work that needs attending to, I do not need to waste anymore time with novices.” Annoyance was heavy in his tone, the blow to your rank causing you to clench your fists.

“If you’re such a busy man, why come with me at all in the first place?” Your questioned echoed in the crisp air, Altaïr seeming to react heavily to your words as his horse stopped, his stiff back to you. You could feel your blood boiling, the thought of him becoming enraged by your question making you absolutely livid. 

Lifting the reins ever so slightly, you stopped your horse by his completely shocked to see a light blush littering his tanned skin in the moonlight. You furrowed your brows, a little frown forming on your features. “Altaïr?” He muttered inaudibly to himself, his posture tense. “Pardon?”

“I said,” he repeated haughtily, “I only wished to spend more time with you.” His face was the perfect mixture of embarrassment and anger, heat creeping up your own neck at his words. He wanted to spend time with you? Why would he want to spend time with you? Unless… you smirked, your eyes shining with mischief. Altaïr could almost sense your train of thought, spurring his horse forward before you could question him further. 

A soft chuckle rang out into the night, your own foot tapping lightly against the side of your horse to move forward. Maybe you had been wrong; Altaïr didn’t see you as just another novice. And boy, didn’t that make you feel empowered. Your exhaustion was all but forgotten for the moment, your mind too busy thinking of ways you could use this for your own benefit. Oh, this was going to be way too much fun.


literally the reason totty is being secretive about everything he does is because he thinks he is the only one who can help his brothers break free from their current lifestyle, and his idea of achieving that is climbing the social ladder himself and then pulling up everyone behind him. does he still think lowly of his brothers? yes. does he hate how his life is because of them? yes. does it seem like his willingness to aid them is less of a “kindness” and more of a “duty” thing? yes. but this doesnt erase the fact that he is trying: hes learned to be sly, adaptive, manipulative, he goes out and socializes, builds connections, even gets a job, and yet his brothers always drag him back to zero out of pure jealousy. this is why he never tells them anything or doesnt even feel the need to tell them anything, this is why genuinely caring about anyone is such a faded, mythical concept to him. you turn immune when even helping each other out happens in a war zone.

and still

“if i cant bring all of them, why bother”. so he chooses none.

not even himself.