It was so stupid. All that was really needed was just three words, wasn't it? Three very short words. It hardly took more than a second to say, all in all, and then he'd be done with it. No more heartpounding moments of insecurity; no awkward silences when an idle joke came a bit too close to the truth; no having to scan every sentence beforehand for anything that could give him away; and above all, no more well-meaning attempts at 'guytalk', or even worse, trying to arouse his interest in some girl or other. Just three little words, and he would be free.
He couldn't do it.
He'd really tried, he had, but it was as if the words didn't want to be spoken. They tied themselves in a knot, made impossible shapes, and got themselves utterly stuck in is throat. All that came out was some helpless spluttering, half-formed variations of 'I' and 'um' and 'eh' that petered out into nothing as Spain watched him with gentle bemusement.
For a while, he simply gave up, spending a lot more time sulking alone and snapping moodily until even Spain's patience started fraying a bit. Maybe he was actually angry with him, because at least some of the obnoxious hints and forays into discussions of lady backsides or cleavages seemed to gradually die away. Which should have made Romano feel better, but it wasn't for the right reason, and it made him feel as if he was being shut out instead.
In the end, he ended up feeling as if Spain disapproved of him without even having said anything yet, and dreading what was going to come even more. It was ridiculous.
What he needed to do, he decided, was to tell someone else first, get some of that fear of using the wrong words out of his system. And it had to be someone that wouldn't lose their temper or get disgusted, someone he could convince not to tell anyone.
Well, the answer was obvious really. It was of course going to be a disaster, but maybe that meant that the next time wouldn't be so bad. One could always hope.
"Fratello doesn't usually say he wants to talk to me," Veneziano noted happily, grabbing a ciarduna from the plate neatly and managing to eat it in two seconds flat, somehow without covering himself completely in powdered sugar.
Romano was about to say something suitably venomous about that he didn't usually say that to rocks either, and while they were about as intelligent, at least rocks had the decency to be quiet. But no, he wasn't going to make this any easier for himself if he got his brother into a huff. And in some backwards way he supposed he was grateful to Veneziano for being someone he knew wouldn't hate him no matter what he actually felt about the subject. So he took a deep breath, curled his hands into fists, and forced the words out.
"I am gay." Veneziano blinked in surprise, tilting his head a little bit, and Romano just knew that in a few seconds he was going to say something about being happy, and then Romano would have no choice but to upend the damn cake stand over his head. So before Veneziano managed so much as open his mouth, Romano hurried to add: "I like guys."
There was still no reaction. Veneziano looked frustratingly puzzled. "So do I. Is there something wrong with that?"
God give him strength. "I mean... you know." He could feel his face growing warm. "...sexually."
He was going to die of embarrassment and he wasn't even sure for whose sake. "I- I like- Sexually. I'm attracted to men."
"Oh." There was another pause as Veneziano blinked slowly, chewing his lower lip. "Are we going to talk about sex now, because I've already-"
"No." Romano shuddered. "I don't know what's worse, thinking about grandfather telling you or Austria, because the former is terrible and the latter is just... weird. Anyway, this isn't about sex. I just- I thought I should tell you. Because... I don't know. It's important, I guess."
Veneziano's eyes widened, if possible, even further. Then his face broke into a smile, and he gave his stunned brother a quick hug before reaching for the cookies once more. "That's nice of you. Has it been bothering you?"
Romano was about to say no and let the matter drop, a bit shaken by how relieved he was despite having been so certain this would go well. But then he thought that well, why not? He might as well. "I- I've been wanting to tell Spain. But I don't know what to say, or when I should say it, or- damnit, I don't know anything at all."
Veniziano seemed to be listening, and despite seeming rather impervious to the fact that there was an issue - something Romano really should have anticipated - he actually didn't just dismiss the whole thing. "So... You're scared of telling, but it's something that's important to you? Really important, so you want him to know?"
"Yes, that's... Yes."
"How important?" Veneziano demanded earnestly, putting down the pastry in his hands and grabbing Romano's with slightly sticky fingers. "Because if something is so important that it feels bad not to say it, if it's- if it's something you feel right here," he freed one hand and pressed a finger right over Romano's heart, "then... well, I know that Spain would want to know it as much as you want to tell."
Romano batted his brother's hand away, embarrassed, but in truth he'd never thought about it that way before. It wasn't as if he could really ask Spain's opinion on the matter. But when he actually thought it over, he would have to agree that between him telling something that might make Spain a bit uncomfortable, or keeping quiet about it and feeling progressively worse, he also knew what Spain would prefer him to do.
It was always embarrassing to admit that Veneziano was so much better at things like this than him - but as oblivious as he could be, he had always known how to express his feelings. Romano... didn't. It was so very confusing, trying to figure out what you were supposed to say and not, and in the end it was easier to just get angry, and express that anger. Anger he at least knew what to do about.
Veneziano was watching him a bit apprehensively. "Are you going to tell him?"
Romano drew in a deep breath, and then nodded. Veneziano beamed and gave him another hug, and Romano even allowed him to for a short while before fighting him off.
(Not OP)I'm in love already! Veneziano's and Romano's interaction is wonderfully in-character and very sweet. I can't wait to see part two! Keep it up! (:
Thank you very much! I think that N. Italy's reaction is really in character... and mentioning the cliche 'like happy?' thing without doing it earned you brownie points in my book. :) Thank you so much, and I'm very interested in seeing what comes next!
Ahahaha I was a bit hesitant about the "happy" part since. uhm. well, they really wouldn't be speaking English xD But since I don't speak Italian it was the best way I could convey that using slang words or euphemism can cause confusion ^^ <3 I hope you will be happy with part two, it was a bit delayed by the powers of No Internet.
The talk with his brother really had made things a bit... well, if not easier, then at least less complicated to deal with. It wasn't really as if he had that many options, after all. Either he told Spain or he didn't, and it struck him that if he didn't and Spain found out anyway somehow, he was probably going to feel hurt on top of whatever else he was feeling. And sooner or later he probably would find out.
So really, no alternatives at all. That was a frightening thought, but strangely comforting as well.
He told Spain he'd do the cooking that night, endeavoring in some small way to make up for what he was going to spring on Spain, he supposed. Not that he really should have to, and then thought made him scowl down at the bubbling pots and pans, but every little bit probably helped.
"No frowning in the kitchen. You'll turn the food sour."
Romano jumped and blushed guiltily for no real reason at all as Spain stuck his head in to the kitchen, grinning widely.
"Don't do that, you bastard. See if I cook for you ever again."
"Of course you will," Spain said in that infuriating way of his, not leaving like Romano had hoped, but walking into the kitchen like he owned the place. Well, he did, but that was hardly the point.
Spain reached out one of those endless arms of his and attempted to ruffle Romano's hair, and the younger nation squeaked in horror and fended him off with a ladle. One day he was going to gather enough courage to tell Spain why he was never ever ever allowed to touch his hair and that it had nothing to do with vanity. As it was Spain rubbed away some pipérade from his arm and feigned a hurt look for a split second before laughing.
"Get out of the kitchen if you're just going to be a damn nuisance. I'll tell you when it's ready. Go on."
Spain gave him that look which had been annoying enough when he was a kid, but now when he was almost an adult it was the most frustrating thing in all of the world. It was the kind of look that patted you on the head and called you cute when you were actually being serious. But Romano bit down hard on his tongue and didn't accompany Spain on his way out of the kitchen with a tirade of expletives as he so sorely wanted to. At least he was alone once more.
Except apparently Spain had paused in the doorway, because suddenly his voice came from behind Romano, this time a bit tentative. "Roma... are you not feeling well? You seem a bit strange."
Romano froze where he stood, staring down at the sizzling meat, a big lump in his throat. Since when was Spain ever attentive enough to notice when something was wrong?
"Only... you've been acting even angrier than usual, and I thought maybe that was because you're growing up so I should leave you alone, but... well, I asked around, and no one else had noticed any difference. And I just wanted to know if there's anything I've done, if you're maybe upset with me, or... or something?"
Oh god, what was he doing? He was almost a man, damnit, he couldn't seriously be crying, right? But he could see water dripping down into the food, hissing as it hit the pan, and he wiped furiously at his own face, embarrassed. He didn't want to cry, he was acting like a girl, he-
"Roma?" Spain sounded so lost, great bumbling fool that he was. "I'm really sorry. Please just tell me what-"
"It's not you." Romano didn't like how his voice came out, but at least he was able to form words. "It's... It's about me. There's something I've wanted to tell you." He'd been meaning to wait with this until after the dinner, but maybe it was better like this. The sooner the better, and he wouldn’t have it hanging over him while they ate.
He could hear Spain moving closer behind him, but he didn't say anything yet, and maybe that was just as well.
"I wanted to say that... I think maybe I'm-" No words that could be misconstrued, no euphemisms. It took a bit longer to say, but at least he wouldn't have to say it twice. "-homosexual. And you've been trying to talk girls with me and you've been- I don't know. That's why I've been acting angry." And then, forcing the word out, he managed to add a, "Sorry."
There was a long silence, and Romano felt just about ready to sink through the ground, when a choked sound from Spain made him whip around. He’d been expecting outrage, which was bad, or just discomfort and embarrassment, which was worse. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t what he found upon turning.
Spain was laughing.
Humiliation rose quickly like a horrible heat in his stomach, just as fast as the horrible suspicion that maybe Spain thought he’d been joking, maybe it was going to be even worse because of that. He just wanted to die, to sink through the earth, to just disappear… and it was all Spain’s fault.
Romano exploded. “Don’t laugh, you asshole! I’m serious! What the hell kind of fucking parent are you supposed to be, laughing at something-”
Spain finally held up a hand, looking apologetic even though he was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It’s just… I’ve been worrying so much about this, thinking it was something horrible, thinking that you hated me for some reason.” He drew in a deep breath that came out as a chuckle. “You see, Roma? I’m laughing at myself. It was a bit self-absorbed to assume something like that, right? And I’m laughing because I’m relieved too.”
The world appeared to have decided to shift and throw Romano right off it, leaving him to fall as his head spun in confusion. “Relieved?” he echoed, cringing internally at how dumb and young he sounded.
“Yes, of course.” Spain’s expression softened a bit. “I thought it was something terrible. And then it was… well, just this. This isn’t so bad. Ah, what am I saying? If it’s something that makes my little Roma happy, it’s a good thing.” And then, before Romano quite managed to get his bearings or protest, Spain had wrapped him in a rib-crushing bear hug. His voice even sounded a little bit wobbly when he spoke next, soppy bastard. “I’m sorry you’ve been worrying about telling me. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
There was no way Romano was looking up or saying something right now, because now he definitely was crying. He pressed his face against the rough material of Spain’s shirt, fists balling around the textile and pounding ineffectually against him a couple of times. It felt as he’d been getting several months’ worth of running up and focused all his energy on trying to beat down a door that wasn’t even locked in the first place. He was angry, so very angry about it, but even though he wasn’t going to let Spain off easily or anything, he knew that he was mostly angry with himself.
He really should’ve known.
For a long while they simply stood there, Spain making a couple of low comforting noises until Romano raised a fists without looking up and ordering him in a voice that wouldn’t quite hold to shut up. Finally, Spain gently took Romano’s shoulders and pushed him away, smiling at him. “Your meat is going to burn. Don’t worry about it, let me finish the food, you can sit down for a while.”
“Like hell you are.” Romano wiped at his nose, still embarrassed about the large wet stains on Spain’s shirt and not wanting to look at him. “While I’m cooking this kitchen is mine, so get out of it already. I’m not letting you spoil the food.”
Spain didn’t protest, didn’t even linger obnoxiously like he usually would, just nodded and backed out, allowing Romano some time to himself. Time to save the meat and turn down the heat on the simmering pots, time to wipe his face on the kitchen towel and draw a deep breath of relief. He’d done it. Even if it hadn’t turned out like he’d thought, he’d still done it. All on his own. Lifting his chin a bit and allowing himself a proud smile when no one saw, he finished the best damn dinner he’d ever cooked.
The evening wasn’t perfect in any way – Spain didn’t magically stop being annoying just because Romano was out – but that didn’t matter so much. And later that night, when Spain fell asleep on the couch and snored loud enough to drown out the radio, and Romano found himself losing at Solitaire for the fifth time, he wondered if he’d ever been as happy before.
That didn’t stop him from kicking Spain awake, though. That hadn’t changed either.
This thing made me squeak in delight. Damn you, Author anon, for making me question my awesomeness.
Anyway, I have quite the habit of reading Romano out loud with a really bad Italian accent, and on that line with the "what the hell kind of fucking parent [...]" I pretty much died. (Honestly, Author anon, try reading that out loud. With the worst stereotypical kind of mafia Italian you can manage. It's hilarious! You should feel proud of yourself!)
Really good fill--the comedy was appropriate, it didn't feel wrong or unrealistic, and it was really, really nice. Keep up the good work!
Very believable characterisation you used here, also probably the best portrayal of a non-romantic Spain and Romano relationship. I cried a bit. good work!
This fill was so sweet and very nicely done! I love how you characterised N.Italy - how simple and sweet he is. It was lovely to see the brothers interacting so well! Also, "No frowning in the kitchen. You'll turn the food sour." I just really liked that line, it's such a Spain thing to say.
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Words, Part 1a/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 02:55 pm (UTC)(link)He couldn't do it.
He'd really tried, he had, but it was as if the words didn't want to be spoken. They tied themselves in a knot, made impossible shapes, and got themselves utterly stuck in is throat. All that came out was some helpless spluttering, half-formed variations of 'I' and 'um' and 'eh' that petered out into nothing as Spain watched him with gentle bemusement.
For a while, he simply gave up, spending a lot more time sulking alone and snapping moodily until even Spain's patience started fraying a bit. Maybe he was actually angry with him, because at least some of the obnoxious hints and forays into discussions of lady backsides or cleavages seemed to gradually die away. Which should have made Romano feel better, but it wasn't for the right reason, and it made him feel as if he was being shut out instead.
In the end, he ended up feeling as if Spain disapproved of him without even having said anything yet, and dreading what was going to come even more. It was ridiculous.
What he needed to do, he decided, was to tell someone else first, get some of that fear of using the wrong words out of his system. And it had to be someone that wouldn't lose their temper or get disgusted, someone he could convince not to tell anyone.
Well, the answer was obvious really. It was of course going to be a disaster, but maybe that meant that the next time wouldn't be so bad. One could always hope.
"Fratello doesn't usually say he wants to talk to me," Veneziano noted happily, grabbing a ciarduna from the plate neatly and managing to eat it in two seconds flat, somehow without covering himself completely in powdered sugar.
Romano was about to say something suitably venomous about that he didn't usually say that to rocks either, and while they were about as intelligent, at least rocks had the decency to be quiet. But no, he wasn't going to make this any easier for himself if he got his brother into a huff. And in some backwards way he supposed he was grateful to Veneziano for being someone he knew wouldn't hate him no matter what he actually felt about the subject. So he took a deep breath, curled his hands into fists, and forced the words out.
"I am gay." Veneziano blinked in surprise, tilting his head a little bit, and Romano just knew that in a few seconds he was going to say something about being happy, and then Romano would have no choice but to upend the damn cake stand over his head. So before Veneziano managed so much as open his mouth, Romano hurried to add: "I like guys."
There was still no reaction. Veneziano looked frustratingly puzzled. "So do I. Is there something wrong with that?"
God give him strength. "I mean... you know." He could feel his face growing warm. "...sexually."
Words, Part 1b/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 02:56 pm (UTC)(link)He was going to die of embarrassment and he wasn't even sure for whose sake. "I- I like- Sexually. I'm attracted to men."
"Oh." There was another pause as Veneziano blinked slowly, chewing his lower lip. "Are we going to talk about sex now, because I've already-"
"No." Romano shuddered. "I don't know what's worse, thinking about grandfather telling you or Austria, because the former is terrible and the latter is just... weird. Anyway, this isn't about sex. I just- I thought I should tell you. Because... I don't know. It's important, I guess."
Veneziano's eyes widened, if possible, even further. Then his face broke into a smile, and he gave his stunned brother a quick hug before reaching for the cookies once more. "That's nice of you. Has it been bothering you?"
Romano was about to say no and let the matter drop, a bit shaken by how relieved he was despite having been so certain this would go well. But then he thought that well, why not? He might as well. "I- I've been wanting to tell Spain. But I don't know what to say, or when I should say it, or- damnit, I don't know anything at all."
Veniziano seemed to be listening, and despite seeming rather impervious to the fact that there was an issue - something Romano really should have anticipated - he actually didn't just dismiss the whole thing. "So... You're scared of telling, but it's something that's important to you? Really important, so you want him to know?"
"Yes, that's... Yes."
"How important?" Veneziano demanded earnestly, putting down the pastry in his hands and grabbing Romano's with slightly sticky fingers. "Because if something is so important that it feels bad not to say it, if it's- if it's something you feel right here," he freed one hand and pressed a finger right over Romano's heart, "then... well, I know that Spain would want to know it as much as you want to tell."
Romano batted his brother's hand away, embarrassed, but in truth he'd never thought about it that way before. It wasn't as if he could really ask Spain's opinion on the matter. But when he actually thought it over, he would have to agree that between him telling something that might make Spain a bit uncomfortable, or keeping quiet about it and feeling progressively worse, he also knew what Spain would prefer him to do.
It was always embarrassing to admit that Veneziano was so much better at things like this than him - but as oblivious as he could be, he had always known how to express his feelings. Romano... didn't. It was so very confusing, trying to figure out what you were supposed to say and not, and in the end it was easier to just get angry, and express that anger. Anger he at least knew what to do about.
Veneziano was watching him a bit apprehensively. "Are you going to tell him?"
Romano drew in a deep breath, and then nodded. Veneziano beamed and gave him another hug, and Romano even allowed him to for a short while before fighting him off.
"So... Have you got a boyfriend?"
"Veneziano, eat and shut up."
Re: Words, Part 1b/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 03:54 pm (UTC)(link)A!A
(Anonymous) 2013-05-05 04:23 pm (UTC)(link)Op
(Anonymous) 2013-05-03 08:19 pm (UTC)(link)A!A
(Anonymous) 2013-05-05 04:26 pm (UTC)(link)Words, Part 2a/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-05 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)So really, no alternatives at all. That was a frightening thought, but strangely comforting as well.
He told Spain he'd do the cooking that night, endeavoring in some small way to make up for what he was going to spring on Spain, he supposed. Not that he really should have to, and then thought made him scowl down at the bubbling pots and pans, but every little bit probably helped.
"No frowning in the kitchen. You'll turn the food sour."
Romano jumped and blushed guiltily for no real reason at all as Spain stuck his head in to the kitchen, grinning widely.
"Don't do that, you bastard. See if I cook for you ever again."
"Of course you will," Spain said in that infuriating way of his, not leaving like Romano had hoped, but walking into the kitchen like he owned the place. Well, he did, but that was hardly the point.
Spain reached out one of those endless arms of his and attempted to ruffle Romano's hair, and the younger nation squeaked in horror and fended him off with a ladle. One day he was going to gather enough courage to tell Spain why he was never ever ever allowed to touch his hair and that it had nothing to do with vanity. As it was Spain rubbed away some pipérade from his arm and feigned a hurt look for a split second before laughing.
"Get out of the kitchen if you're just going to be a damn nuisance. I'll tell you when it's ready. Go on."
Spain gave him that look which had been annoying enough when he was a kid, but now when he was almost an adult it was the most frustrating thing in all of the world. It was the kind of look that patted you on the head and called you cute when you were actually being serious. But Romano bit down hard on his tongue and didn't accompany Spain on his way out of the kitchen with a tirade of expletives as he so sorely wanted to. At least he was alone once more.
Except apparently Spain had paused in the doorway, because suddenly his voice came from behind Romano, this time a bit tentative. "Roma... are you not feeling well? You seem a bit strange."
Romano froze where he stood, staring down at the sizzling meat, a big lump in his throat. Since when was Spain ever attentive enough to notice when something was wrong?
"Only... you've been acting even angrier than usual, and I thought maybe that was because you're growing up so I should leave you alone, but... well, I asked around, and no one else had noticed any difference. And I just wanted to know if there's anything I've done, if you're maybe upset with me, or... or something?"
Oh god, what was he doing? He was almost a man, damnit, he couldn't seriously be crying, right? But he could see water dripping down into the food, hissing as it hit the pan, and he wiped furiously at his own face, embarrassed. He didn't want to cry, he was acting like a girl, he-
"Roma?" Spain sounded so lost, great bumbling fool that he was. "I'm really sorry. Please just tell me what-"
"It's not you." Romano didn't like how his voice came out, but at least he was able to form words. "It's... It's about me. There's something I've wanted to tell you." He'd been meaning to wait with this until after the dinner, but maybe it was better like this. The sooner the better, and he wouldn’t have it hanging over him while they ate.
He could hear Spain moving closer behind him, but he didn't say anything yet, and maybe that was just as well.
"I wanted to say that... I think maybe I'm-" No words that could be misconstrued, no euphemisms. It took a bit longer to say, but at least he wouldn't have to say it twice. "-homosexual. And you've been trying to talk girls with me and you've been- I don't know. That's why I've been acting angry." And then, forcing the word out, he managed to add a, "Sorry."
Words, Part 2b/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-05 04:21 pm (UTC)(link)Spain was laughing.
Humiliation rose quickly like a horrible heat in his stomach, just as fast as the horrible suspicion that maybe Spain thought he’d been joking, maybe it was going to be even worse because of that. He just wanted to die, to sink through the earth, to just disappear… and it was all Spain’s fault.
Romano exploded. “Don’t laugh, you asshole! I’m serious! What the hell kind of fucking parent are you supposed to be, laughing at something-”
Spain finally held up a hand, looking apologetic even though he was still wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It’s just… I’ve been worrying so much about this, thinking it was something horrible, thinking that you hated me for some reason.” He drew in a deep breath that came out as a chuckle. “You see, Roma? I’m laughing at myself. It was a bit self-absorbed to assume something like that, right? And I’m laughing because I’m relieved too.”
The world appeared to have decided to shift and throw Romano right off it, leaving him to fall as his head spun in confusion. “Relieved?” he echoed, cringing internally at how dumb and young he sounded.
“Yes, of course.” Spain’s expression softened a bit. “I thought it was something terrible. And then it was… well, just this. This isn’t so bad. Ah, what am I saying? If it’s something that makes my little Roma happy, it’s a good thing.” And then, before Romano quite managed to get his bearings or protest, Spain had wrapped him in a rib-crushing bear hug. His voice even sounded a little bit wobbly when he spoke next, soppy bastard. “I’m sorry you’ve been worrying about telling me. I’ll make it up to you somehow.”
There was no way Romano was looking up or saying something right now, because now he definitely was crying. He pressed his face against the rough material of Spain’s shirt, fists balling around the textile and pounding ineffectually against him a couple of times. It felt as he’d been getting several months’ worth of running up and focused all his energy on trying to beat down a door that wasn’t even locked in the first place. He was angry, so very angry about it, but even though he wasn’t going to let Spain off easily or anything, he knew that he was mostly angry with himself.
He really should’ve known.
For a long while they simply stood there, Spain making a couple of low comforting noises until Romano raised a fists without looking up and ordering him in a voice that wouldn’t quite hold to shut up. Finally, Spain gently took Romano’s shoulders and pushed him away, smiling at him. “Your meat is going to burn. Don’t worry about it, let me finish the food, you can sit down for a while.”
“Like hell you are.” Romano wiped at his nose, still embarrassed about the large wet stains on Spain’s shirt and not wanting to look at him. “While I’m cooking this kitchen is mine, so get out of it already. I’m not letting you spoil the food.”
Spain didn’t protest, didn’t even linger obnoxiously like he usually would, just nodded and backed out, allowing Romano some time to himself. Time to save the meat and turn down the heat on the simmering pots, time to wipe his face on the kitchen towel and draw a deep breath of relief. He’d done it. Even if it hadn’t turned out like he’d thought, he’d still done it. All on his own. Lifting his chin a bit and allowing himself a proud smile when no one saw, he finished the best damn dinner he’d ever cooked.
The evening wasn’t perfect in any way – Spain didn’t magically stop being annoying just because Romano was out – but that didn’t matter so much. And later that night, when Spain fell asleep on the couch and snored loud enough to drown out the radio, and Romano found himself losing at Solitaire for the fifth time, he wondered if he’d ever been as happy before.
That didn’t stop him from kicking Spain awake, though. That hadn’t changed either.
~FIN~
OP
(Anonymous) 2013-05-05 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Words, Part 2b/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-05 04:58 pm (UTC)(link)Anyway, I have quite the habit of reading Romano out loud with a really bad Italian accent, and on that line with the "what the hell kind of fucking parent [...]" I pretty much died. (Honestly, Author anon, try reading that out loud. With the worst stereotypical kind of mafia Italian you can manage. It's hilarious! You should feel proud of yourself!)
Really good fill--the comedy was appropriate, it didn't feel wrong or unrealistic, and it was really, really nice. Keep up the good work!
Re: Words, Part 2b/2
(Anonymous) 2013-05-05 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)Re: Words, Part 2b/2
(Anonymous) 2013-07-17 01:14 pm (UTC)(link)Also, "No frowning in the kitchen. You'll turn the food sour." I just really liked that line, it's such a Spain thing to say.