#The Brotherhood Trilogy

[brotherhoodnovel]

Happy New Years everyone! People keep asking me about New Years Resolutions, and I usually reply by saying something I can’t control (like recovering from my injury, or not getting into another accident, or being free from incompetence and bureaucracy, esp. the former, or finally having the right woman in my life, or getting more recognition or “greater” assistance for my literary work, etc.).

I realize then that a resolution is something you can control—but then, I’m pretty much living a balanced life through and through. Outside of building on what I’m already doing (finishing Bad Americans, doing even more literary events, building The New Wei lit/art movement, hanging out with great friends, meeting more people, exploring the world etc.), there’s not much I would change about my own behavior right now.

That’s not to say 2022 was a perfect year for me, far from it, but despite the setbacks I still progressed on the whole, and very little of the bad stuff was in my control. I couldn’t control the accident, or how the insurance companies tried to screw me, but I could control how I responded, and I think that was pretty well, with honesty and force. I didn’t get two grants that I wanted, including for a dance musical based on The Dance Towards Death, but The Brotherhood Chronicle has won 15 literary honors to date, most in 2022, which is out of this world and which I could have never have imagined.

Of course independent writers are banned from the major literary awards like the Pulitzer Prize, National Book Award, Edgar Awards, so if I want more recognition, it seems Bad Americans would have to be published by a major publisher, which is trickier than it seems even for a complex and compulsively readable literary book, given its grittiness, honesty and provocative nature, but especially because, like Good Americans before it, it doesn’t fit into a solidly defined market, but rather seeks to expand it: it challenges what a literary book can be and redefines its possibilities. Publishers are rarely interested in such things, for whatever reason, even 10 years down the line, but I’ll have to make a greater effort this year on the conventional literary front (agent, editor, publisher, whatever).

That said, while I finished the second draft of Bad Americans, it still needs more work. I’m hoping the third draft will be the final one, and given how it’s progressing, that’s seeming more and more likely. I’ll give myself another year to work out the kinks. It could take another year after, but I’m hoping not. The goal is to produce the best book possible, not the timeline, of course.

Thanks to the many beta readers and others who’ve helped me on Bad Americans-I’ve gotten tours, held hours’ long-phone conversations, even with people in foreign countries, and gotten detailed (and I mean very detailed) feedback from many, many skilled volunteers. Also thanks to all the reviewers, readers and editors at many award contests/institutions, I really appreciate the time you took to read The Dance Towards Death especially, which can be a sometimes trying although wholly exhilarating/riveting experience, and of course to lauding the book’s merits.

And thank you to the many, many readers my books gained this year, these books exist primarily for you and to exist in your imaginations.

So my primary resolution is to keep on building this year. Except that I do want to change two things too. I consider myself a pretty even-tempered person, but there have been times when I’ve snapped, esp. at people I love, so I do want to get back to being more even-tempered. I feel like that changed after the accident and due to the stress I’ve been under, but that’s not enough of an excuse, and I want to do better. And also, I find some people assume me to be a fairly selfish person, which I think is unfair since I’m very social and generous at times, but I do want to be more generous this year—though not to the extent that people will take advantage of me.

So there it is. I’m looking forward to 2023!

[demigoddessqueens]

Happy 565th Birthday Ezio!!!

[navstuffs]

civillains when bumping into ezio, causing him to roll into the floor: MOVE OUT OF THE WAY!! ARE YOU STUPID?

civillains being shoved/hit by bayek of siwa: YES SIR SORRY SIR I APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE, THANK YOU FOR BUMPING INTO ME, HAVE A GREAT DAY SIR

[gabsskkk]

this scene of ezio walking in and finding out claudia owns the brothel never fails to make me laugh

[old-skyguy]

I'm halfway through FMA: Brotherhood and I'm absolutely obsessed with it. if you know anything about me, you know I am also very much an Ace Attorney fan and I have a habit of assigning characters in new shows I like their own AA alignments and I just had to share this.

Bonus: wow! Cute workplace ship! I sure hope nothing bad happens to them!! :D

(no spoilers)

[rozesmiana]

Every so often his existence activities some part in my brain and then I have to draw him

[emiibunny]

for those whom also simp for ezio...I got caught in 4k simping over 51/52 yr old ezio by:

THE ASSASSINS CREED TIKTOK ADMINS.

please let me peacefully pass

enjoy my embarrassment, someone should lol

and then a few friend's responses

[thegirlwiththeblush]

Topolino

Ezio Auditore x Reader

Summary: A pickpocket runs into an unusual altercation on his way home from his daily antics. 

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Swearing in Italian

Special thanks to @vorsdany, one of my fav humans who courageously proofread for me once again (love ya bro <3)

i hope at least one person enjoys this because i have no fellow assassin's creed fan friends :,D

The wind whistled lowly through the alley I crouched in as I counted my day’s worth of findings. I shook the florins into my hand, trying not to grab the attention of passersby. Counting money wasn’t a crime, but had I been lucky, the total would’ve been incredibly suspicious.

But unfortunately, the victims of my shenanigans that day must not have been as wealthy as I would’ve liked, because I hadn’t even come close to my goal. I grumbled softly as I spilled my findings back into my leather purse, pulling the strings taut before stowing it in my shirt.

Findings, plunder, dirty money, call it what you want.

I rose to my feet with little enthusiasm; I didn’t like going home without hitting my target. Maybe on my way back I could sneak a couple more florins, just for the satisfaction. I’d have enough to buy something substantial for breakfast the next morning before starting up my escapades once again.

Peeking out of the alley, I joined the crowds with the smallest movements possible, careful to avoid the attentive gazes of any nearby guards as we headed into the town square. The sun sank lower in the sky as I shifted through the streets, jumping from group to group, never walking alone. People were quick to recognize a pickpocket, and if I ran into anyone I’d previously preyed on, my small collection from the day would be the least of my problems.

Shopkeepers all around were packing down their stalls, and travelling doctors were packing up their equipment. No doubt they all had families or friends to go home to, wives to complain to their customers about, frustrating children who took up their personal space, neighbours who intruded at the most inconvenient times. They must consider themselves so unfortunate, and yet I’d give anything to be in their shoes, instead of going ‘home’ to an abandoned, dilapidated gondola. I sighed heavily and shifted from the crowded town square into a narrower street, gently pushing aside an obnoxious minstrel as I went.

Only to stumble upon two figures dueling around three corpses.

I ran and grabbed a ledge nearby, hoisting myself up to avoid the clashing swords as the two of them moved up and down the alley with ease, their swords still swinging back and forth. I crouched and observed in stunned silence; one of the figures, garbed in a white, flowing cloak, appeared to be gaining the advantage over the other, who, upon closer inspection, I recognized as a guard, as were the bodies sprawled over the path. This guy appeared to be in over his head.

“It's a good thing I needed an excuse to test out this new blade of mine,” the mysterious man remarked. “I must be lucky, stumbling upon an eager idiot like you.”

I was shocked to hear the confident tone coming from the cloaked figure. He sounded young, but bold, and his wisecrack didn’t slow him in his advances.

“I wouldn’t call a man who lost his father and brother in one fell swoop ‘lucky’,” the guard sniggered in retort, and the cloaked figure’s strikes became swifter and even more aggressive as he growled lowly, “Fottiti, bastardo!”

The guard stumbled back, and the vigilante didn’t miss a beat; sheathing his sword with one hand and drawing a short blade with his other, he grabbed the guard’s shirt front with his now free left hand and spun him round, wrapping his arm around his neck. He held the blade to the man’s throat, his hood keeping his face out of my sight.

“Please,” the guard whimpered, “have mercy on me!”

The cloaked figure shrugged. “Va bene,” he relented, before sliding the dagger clean across his gullet. “I’ll make it quick.”

The guard crumpled to the ground, a few strangled moans escaping his mouth before he went silent. The cloaked figure knelt and wiped his blade on the guard’s shirt, and he snuck his hand into the leather pouch at the waist, withdrawing a few florins with a smirk.

Only then did I realize my mouth had been agape as I’d watched, and a short involuntary noise of shock flew out before I could shut it. The man spun round to face me, holding his dagger in a defensive position as he looked me up and down.

“Merda,” he murmured somewhat nervously. “What do you want? What are you doing here?”

“I- I-” I stammered, but before I could come up with an answer, he was on the ledge next to me in two or three steps.

“I didn’t even see you sneak in here,” he said, tilting his head like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. “You sly devil; were you sent to spy on me?”

“No, no, not at all,” I hurriedly assured him, my hands raised slightly, afraid he might not believe me. “I swear, this is my route home and I stumbled upon your little conflitto, and I did not wish to interrupt.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Conflitto, hm? You think that’s all it was?”

He acted as if he wanted me to call him out. “What, are you some kind of dangerous criminal? Or did they call you bambino and hurt your feelings?”

He inhaled sharply and stepped toward me, and suddenly I lost my newly-found confidence and raised my hands once again. “Just a joke, just a joke!” I protested, and gave a short laugh as if to prove it. He rolled his eyes and turned away from me, climbing down from the ledge.

I blinked in confusion. “Y- You’re just gonna walk away?”

“I have better things to do than entertain a little intelligentone who’s up past their bedtime,” he replied without turning his head. “I’m going home.”

I was no longer impressed by this guy; now, he was getting on my nerves. I jumped down after him, and before he could turn to face me, I snuck his stiletto out of its place in his belt, slipping it complacently into my own.

“What do you want, birbante?” he demanded roughly, swinging something around on his finger by the drawstring.

My leather purse. How the hell-

“Give me back my blade and you can have your dirty money, fair and square.” He held his hand out patiently, and I handed him the dagger with little hesitation, reaching for the purse. He smirked at my desperation, and I scowled. “You think you’re clever, hm, furfante? You want to play a little game?”

I couldn’t say I liked the patronizing tone he’d taken on, but after that stunt, his proposition was enticing. I wanted to know what else this mysterious and strangely dressed young man had up his sleeve.

“All right,” I relented. “What did you have in mind?”

He turned to face the town square behind us, his gaze settling on the tallest building, and he nodded to himself. “I want you to race me to the top of that building.”

I blinked once again, but I let the moment of hesitation pass. “Sure,” I agreed, folding my arms confidently. I had no doubt this man was incredibly agile, but I was not going to back down after he challenged me like I was a toddler.

He cracked his knuckles and smirked at me. “On my count, then.” He took a deep breath and shook out his legs and arms in preparation. “One, two-”

“Three!” I could not possibly have resisted the opportunity; I took off, leaving him in the dust and reaching the base of the tower in seconds. Leaping up and grabbing a small outcrop with both hands, I resisted the temptation to look down and check his progress. I reached up with smug satisfaction, sure that my surprise was enough of a headstart to ensure my victory.

Until a light grunt a few palms away from me startled me out of my reverie.

He was not climbing, but rather, leaping; as he flew up from each perch, he reached for the next, clasping with both hands and using his incredible upper body strength to hoist himself up.

Unlike me, he was unable to resist the urge; he snuck a peek down at me and sent a charming smirk my way before resuming his ascent.

I groaned in frustration when I realized I’d come to a complete stop to watch his method. I continued climbing, reaching for anything I could get a decent grip on. I was fast, but nowhere near fast enough; by the time my blistered hands had gotten me half-way, he was dangling his legs over the edge of the top, watching me with his chin in his palm and his elbow resting on his thigh.

“You’re like a little mouse,” he taunted. “You scurry, but ever so slow! If I’d known you were going to take so long, I’d have brought some bread and wine up with me; I’m starving up here.”

“Maybe I did this on purpose, then, to give you a taste of my life,” I retorted bitterly. “Not everyone can just go around murdering soldiers when they want to break the law.”

As I pulled myself up the last few arms and up onto an overhang, he narrowed his eyes at me. “You think I was fighting because I had to steal food?”

I shrugged slightly as I crawled carefully over to where he sat on the edge. “How should I know? I just met you.”

He grunted. “Fair point.” Sighing deeply, he added, “It’s far more complicated than that, I’m afraid.”

Unsure of what to say, I nodded slowly, waiting to see if he would continue.

“My name is Ezio,” he explained. “Ezio Auditore.”

I recognized the name. After a moment of contemplation, I remembered where from; two men by that name had been hanged a few weeks ago, for a crime I could not recollect.

“My family was falsely accused of treason,” he added, as if reading my thoughts. “I seek to avenge them. That is all you need to know.” He looked so sad as he finished this statement that I felt a twinge of pity for him, forgetting our petty competition. I had no doubt he was telling the truth.

“Well, I live in an abandoned gondola and I steal money from people,” I said, “so, if that makes you feel any better...”

He chuckled lightly, and smiled at me; the gesture filled me with a warmth I had not felt in years; something like what I’d felt when my mother or father would smile at me, but, a little different.

Before I could express any sort of feeling, he rose to his feet, dusting himself off. “Well, topolino,” he said, “this was fun. We should meet again and have a rematch someday.”

I laughed. “Topolino, hm? That’s quite an upgrade from birbante.”

He grinned mischievously, tousling my hair and filling my stomach once again with warm butterflies. “Like I said,” he whispered, “like a little mouse.”

He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, perching on the overhang I’d pulled myself up on earlier. Turning back for one last look at me, he beamed and winked at me, before leaping over the edge.

My jaw dropped as he disappeared, but I breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of his body hitting a wheelbarrow full of hay below. I peeked over to watch him sprint away, already missing his charming aura, wily as it was.

Reluctantly, I began my descent, wondering if I’d ever see the hooded vigilante ever again.

Translation Guide: fottiti: fuck you bastardo: bastard va bene: all right merda: shit intelligentone: wiseguy/know-it-all/smart-ass birbante: rascal furfante: scoundrel topolino: baby mouse

[musewrangler]

The Admiral's past as a pirate hunter comes back to kidnap him and leave him to die in a most unpleasant way. Can his people get to him?

[that-dude-ash]

Part 1 of ?

Drawing all the main characters of the games I've played :3

[sothisisablog]

This situation with Sister just further proves my theory that Star Wars “fans” don’t know how to read. If they did they’d know that she was introduced over 2 years ago and has been in two CANON novels since then.

[demigoddessqueens]

Imagine Ezio being a super sweet sugar daddy for a very confused artist

Bonus points for Leo having to sit you down like an older brother and explain it

omggg 😆

Masterlist 10

Headcanons include…

Leo and you are close, so of course you know Ezio just as much as Leo does

Of course the Assassin turns on the charm and bats his eyes at you whenever he “visits”

The artist can’t help but try to hide his amusement whenever he sees Ezio hover around you

Whether or not you’re catching on to Ezio’s behavior, whatever you so desire (big or small)

The most offhand piece of clothes/jewelry? It’s there. Books or journals you like? Surprise!

And of course he always comes around to see if his tesoro got his little gift

Even the physical touching speaks volumes! A hand on your back, shoulder, hands around your waist, kiss on the cheek, etc.

At times you play along, but you also are overwhelmed by the attention sometimes and even Leo sees that

The first few times you told him, he couldn’t help but laugh a bit but then he sees your serious

Let’s just say the more you piece together what he’s saying, the redder your face gets.

[thefandomlifechoseme]

Gilberto, meandering along the rooftops: making my way downtown, walking fast-

Giovanni, infuriated, behind him, rapidly gaining speed: VOLPE!!

Gilberto, bolting instantly: -walkINg fAsTeR

[reyol]

im unemployed again

[gabsskkk]

i want a prequel where we play as young giovanni auditore rn

[tireur-de-carte]

Playing Assassin's Creed Brotherhood for the second time (childhood memories are hazy) but are the followers of Romulus aware they basically enter their lairs by doggy doors, and if yes, furries???