Quando Parli [3 a / ?]
anonymous
March 8 2010, 19:28:58 UTC
Romano had wished for no more complication. Of course, this was a very difficult thing to ask for when you were South Italy, place ruled by the mafia, and as unfortunate as him. "So, what do you expect from me now you morons ?" "We heard you were feeling a little better those times, what about give us a little more of that money so that we ca-" "You got me kidnapped... for that ? BASTARDI ! PENSATE CHE POTETE VENIRE QUI PER SCOCCIARMI COME NIENTE FOSSE ?!" Silence. "The Spanish peninsula is troubling you again ?" Seriously, why was he a country again ? If these men where able to tell things he didn't even want to think about ? His mouth stayed wide agape from the previous screaming, and the lack of reaction made one of the taller mafiosi (was he a capodecina ?) laugh out loud, literally. As in, throwing his head back and almost chocking himself on his breath. Romano seriously hated the mafia. And he really felt in no way guilty when a few of those had decided to go to America. Hamburger bastard deserved it any way. "None. of. your. business." he screeched in a tone he would later affirm to have been perfectly manly, and not something that would be worth a teenage girl when seeing her favorite band on TV. As one of them began to untie the rope he had been immobilized with, he began to fear what they were planning to do. Especially since the others had gathered and were now discussing something he doubted to be cooking recipes, one of them sometimes looking back at him with a playful smirk and nodding before turning around. They weren't going to kill him. Nobody would be stupid enough to kill their country. He couldn't die anyway. But he would rather not spend a few decades attached to a cement block in the Mar Tirenno if he could avoid it. He unwillingly jumped when they all turned around in one swift motion, his back was somehow against the wall now, and they all glanced at him, barely acknowledging his presence, looking serious. Business serious. "Okay, boss. We have something we would like to discuss. What about a deal ?..." This was heading nowhere good, and Romano now really, really regretted not to have stayed in bed that morning. "What... what would that be ?" he tried not to sound scared, what he actually almost managed to, and took a step forward. One of the men lit a cigarette and started smoking it in an over-dramatic manner, and when he blew out the smoke, responded "We get you rid of Carriedo and you let us finish whatever we started in your country. Sounds fair, right ?" Silence. "You want to kill... Spain." "Well- " "A country." The mafioso looked around, asking for support. Another one interrupted them. "We would just send him into the sea with a one-way ticket and a little cement." Romano rolled his eyes, he knew those guys only too well. "What makes you think I want to get rid of him ?" he tried not to blush, and at the stunned look on the face of "his" men and the snickers that followed told him that he had, indeed, failed. One of them came closer, sat on the ground next to him, and then whispered "Wanna tell Signor Gianni ?" The fuck ? "What the hell do you mean... ?" He understood when a gun was pointed toward him and the other man made a hand motion to make him sit. "This is Gianni, my best friend. I'm sure you'll have a nice talk." Still smiling. Romano sat down, more out of shock than obedience or fear. So he was the country... representing them. No shit. Well, in that case he never wanted to meet any member of the American mafia. And even less the Russian mafia. "There is nothing you would need to know. I would love you to get the hell out of here, but if it's not possible, at least don't mess with my personal life !" Silence once again. "So it DOES have something to do with Spain !" "FUCK YOU, EVIL MUFFINS !"
Quando Parli [3 b / ?]
anonymous
March 8 2010, 19:50:13 UTC
~ ~
They finally had let Romano go. What time was it ? He was tired, annoyed, lost, irritated, cold and hungry. If anyone happened to pop up next to him in the next half an hour, he might kill that person. There is just so much an Italian can stand before screaming bloody murder, and that limit had been exceeded when they decided to play psychologists with him. They had forced him to talk about his personal life (THEIR OWN COUNTRY !), and then they had told him he needed to go home to "solve some sexual tension". What. Was. Wrong. With those people ? HIS people ! Why was everyone so perverted ? The potato bastard and his dissolved country of a brother, the French bastard, the generally angry Briton, the sushi-eating freak and his breast-groping fan, the frying pan wilding bitch, the tomato bastard... And the list could go on and on if he really cared for all those people. But really : "sexual tension" ? Between him and... him ?! And why had he told them the thing with Spain speaking Italian ? … Right, he had landed there because of Spain, his stupid talking, and his stupid brother. "ANTONIO, FELICIANO, BE DAMNED ! BOTH OF YOU !" he shouted with such a vehemence he thought his vocal cords would be sore for the next two hours. His back might too, because he was assaulted by something shorter and younger but just as Italian as himself and fell down. "VE, FRATELLO ! ERO ANSIOSO ! I was driving through Rome and people would keep on not paying attention and I had multiple accidents and because of that my car had difficulties turning on again when it broke down later and then I received this call from your mobile phone but it wasn't you and then a guy called Alfredo, which by the way is a very horrible name, said that you were going to be here and you are and, more importantly, ARE YOU OKAY ?!" Veneziano was now panting heavily, and even if Romano was used to it, he sometimes didn't know how his brother could talk for one minute straight without breathing in between. Or randomly appear out of nowhere. And to be honest, he hadn't really understood anything besides that he was worried and wondering if he was fine. Something with a phone too. And accidents. The lack of reaction made the northern half of Italy snap, but before he could go on another half an hour rant about what a terrible brother he was and how he should have taken Spain (and his war ax) with him, Romano interrupted him with a simple "I'm fine, idiot. What time is it, anyway ?" Veneziano didn't seem offended in the least, if not even relieved his brother was alright, and looked at his mobile phone. "Eleven twenty in the evening." he chirped happily. "You've only been gone for five hours and a half, ve !" "Only... Great. Where is your car ?" Romano didn't even make an attempt at understanding how his brother could have made math this fast. "Over there !" Veneziano said, still very happy, although looking thoughtful for a second. "Ve, big brother... Where is your Vespa ?" Romano's cursing could be heard until Milan.
Quando Parli [3 - notes]
anonymous
March 8 2010, 19:54:06 UTC
Character limit uh D: Writer!Anon apologizes.
The mafia indeed appears in this part. Very shortly, but I love that mafia. Poor Lovi, you D: Gianni is the first Italian name that popped into my head so I used it. I have seriously nothing against the name Alfredo, btw, I just thought fashionable Feli would, I dunno :3 [I didn't even notice it was America's name until before I posted this ._.'] Veneziano totally is hysterical in here, hope he's not too OOC.
Translations BASTARDI ! [...] FOSSE ?! : Bastards ! You think you can come here to piss me off as if nothing happened ?! I believe this is correct, shoot me if not D: FRATELLO ! ERO ANSIOSO ! : Brother ! I was worried !
Additional notes : * The Mar Tirenno is the Italian name for the Tyrrhenian Sea, located on the western coast of Italy, it is surrounded by different parts of the country : Corsica and Sardinia in the west, Tuscany, Lazio, Campania, Basilicata, and Calabria in the east, and Sicily in the south. [wikipedia] As you can see, a big part of South Italy, and also including Sicily, birthplace of the Mafia. * A capodecina is a "rang" in the Italian mafia : you have the boss, then the underboss, and then the capodecina, at the head of about 10 people. * Also, the Italian immigration spread the mafia in different countries such as the USA or Canada. No need to explain the Russian mafia, I believe :3 * The story takes place somewhere near Rome. Actually, Rome is considered part of Central Italy, but Himaruya-san made it South Italy, whatever. Milan is a city in Northern Italy though, and a little less than 600km away / 5h30 by car. Quite a big distance, Romano has good vocal cords, huh ?
Re: Quando Parli [3 - notes]
anonymous
March 11 2010, 16:36:34 UTC
Writer anon is happy you like it (especially Veneziano <3) ^^ And no problem for the abscence, I know how it is to have a lot of things going on. The next part should be up rather soon (as in "maybe today"-soon).
Romano's just awesome like that, let's just face it :'D
"So, what do you expect from me now you morons ?"
"We heard you were feeling a little better those times, what about give us a little more of that money so that we ca-"
"You got me kidnapped... for that ? BASTARDI ! PENSATE CHE POTETE VENIRE QUI PER SCOCCIARMI COME NIENTE FOSSE ?!"
Silence.
"The Spanish peninsula is troubling you again ?"
Seriously, why was he a country again ? If these men where able to tell things he didn't even want to think about ? His mouth stayed wide agape from the previous screaming, and the lack of reaction made one of the taller mafiosi (was he a capodecina ?) laugh out loud, literally.
As in, throwing his head back and almost chocking himself on his breath.
Romano seriously hated the mafia.
And he really felt in no way guilty when a few of those had decided to go to America. Hamburger bastard deserved it any way.
"None. of. your. business." he screeched in a tone he would later affirm to have been perfectly manly, and not something that would be worth a teenage girl when seeing her favorite band on TV. As one of them began to untie the rope he had been immobilized with, he began to fear what they were planning to do. Especially since the others had gathered and were now discussing something he doubted to be cooking recipes, one of them sometimes looking back at him with a playful smirk and nodding before turning around.
They weren't going to kill him. Nobody would be stupid enough to kill their country. He couldn't die anyway.
But he would rather not spend a few decades attached to a cement block in the Mar Tirenno if he could avoid it.
He unwillingly jumped when they all turned around in one swift motion, his back was somehow against the wall now, and they all glanced at him, barely acknowledging his presence, looking serious. Business serious.
"Okay, boss. We have something we would like to discuss. What about a deal ?..."
This was heading nowhere good, and Romano now really, really regretted not to have stayed in bed that morning.
"What... what would that be ?" he tried not to sound scared, what he actually almost managed to, and took a step forward. One of the men lit a cigarette and started smoking it in an over-dramatic manner, and when he blew out the smoke, responded "We get you rid of Carriedo and you let us finish whatever we started in your country. Sounds fair, right ?"
Silence.
"You want to kill... Spain."
"Well- "
"A country."
The mafioso looked around, asking for support. Another one interrupted them.
"We would just send him into the sea with a one-way ticket and a little cement." Romano rolled his eyes, he knew those guys only too well.
"What makes you think I want to get rid of him ?" he tried not to blush, and at the stunned look on the face of "his" men and the snickers that followed told him that he had, indeed, failed. One of them came closer, sat on the ground next to him, and then whispered "Wanna tell Signor Gianni ?"
The fuck ?
"What the hell do you mean... ?" He understood when a gun was pointed toward him and the other man made a hand motion to make him sit. "This is Gianni, my best friend. I'm sure you'll have a nice talk." Still smiling.
Romano sat down, more out of shock than obedience or fear. So he was the country... representing them. No shit.
Well, in that case he never wanted to meet any member of the American mafia. And even less the Russian mafia.
"There is nothing you would need to know. I would love you to get the hell out of here, but if it's not possible, at least don't mess with my personal life !"
Silence once again.
"So it DOES have something to do with Spain !"
"FUCK YOU, EVIL MUFFINS !"
Reply
They finally had let Romano go. What time was it ? He was tired, annoyed, lost, irritated, cold and hungry. If anyone happened to pop up next to him in the next half an hour, he might kill that person. There is just so much an Italian can stand before screaming bloody murder, and that limit had been exceeded when they decided to play psychologists with him. They had forced him to talk about his personal life (THEIR OWN COUNTRY !), and then they had told him he needed to go home to "solve some sexual tension". What. Was. Wrong. With those people ? HIS people ! Why was everyone so perverted ? The potato bastard and his dissolved country of a brother, the French bastard, the generally angry Briton, the sushi-eating freak and his breast-groping fan, the frying pan wilding bitch, the tomato bastard... And the list could go on and on if he really cared for all those people. But really : "sexual tension" ? Between him and... him ?! And why had he told them the thing with Spain speaking Italian ?
… Right, he had landed there because of Spain, his stupid talking, and his stupid brother.
"ANTONIO, FELICIANO, BE DAMNED ! BOTH OF YOU !" he shouted with such a vehemence he thought his vocal cords would be sore for the next two hours.
His back might too, because he was assaulted by something shorter and younger but just as Italian as himself and fell down.
"VE, FRATELLO ! ERO ANSIOSO ! I was driving through Rome and people would keep on not paying attention and I had multiple accidents and because of that my car had difficulties turning on again when it broke down later and then I received this call from your mobile phone but it wasn't you and then a guy called Alfredo, which by the way is a very horrible name, said that you were going to be here and you are and, more importantly, ARE YOU OKAY ?!"
Veneziano was now panting heavily, and even if Romano was used to it, he sometimes didn't know how his brother could talk for one minute straight without breathing in between. Or randomly appear out of nowhere. And to be honest, he hadn't really understood anything besides that he was worried and wondering if he was fine. Something with a phone too. And accidents.
The lack of reaction made the northern half of Italy snap, but before he could go on another half an hour rant about what a terrible brother he was and how he should have taken Spain (and his war ax) with him, Romano interrupted him with a simple "I'm fine, idiot. What time is it, anyway ?" Veneziano didn't seem offended in the least, if not even relieved his brother was alright, and looked at his mobile phone.
"Eleven twenty in the evening." he chirped happily. "You've only been gone for five hours and a half, ve !"
"Only... Great. Where is your car ?" Romano didn't even make an attempt at understanding how his brother could have made math this fast.
"Over there !" Veneziano said, still very happy, although looking thoughtful for a second. "Ve, big brother... Where is your Vespa ?"
Romano's cursing could be heard until Milan.
Reply
The mafia indeed appears in this part. Very shortly, but I love that mafia. Poor Lovi, you D: Gianni is the first Italian name that popped into my head so I used it. I have seriously nothing against the name Alfredo, btw, I just thought fashionable Feli would, I dunno :3 [I didn't even notice it was America's name until before I posted this ._.']
Veneziano totally is hysterical in here, hope he's not too OOC.
Translations
BASTARDI ! [...] FOSSE ?! : Bastards ! You think you can come here to piss me off as if nothing happened ?! I believe this is correct, shoot me if not D:
FRATELLO ! ERO ANSIOSO ! : Brother ! I was worried !
Additional notes :
* The Mar Tirenno is the Italian name for the Tyrrhenian Sea, located on the western coast of Italy, it is surrounded by different parts of the country : Corsica and Sardinia in the west, Tuscany, Lazio, Campania, Basilicata, and Calabria in the east, and Sicily in the south. [wikipedia] As you can see, a big part of South Italy, and also including Sicily, birthplace of the Mafia.
* A capodecina is a "rang" in the Italian mafia : you have the boss, then the underboss, and then the capodecina, at the head of about 10 people.
* Also, the Italian immigration spread the mafia in different countries such as the USA or Canada. No need to explain the Russian mafia, I believe :3
* The story takes place somewhere near Rome. Actually, Rome is considered part of Central Italy, but Himaruya-san made it South Italy, whatever. Milan is a city in Northern Italy though, and a little less than 600km away / 5h30 by car. Quite a big distance, Romano has good vocal cords, huh ?
Reply
Romano is very good at yelling, you know how it is xD
*will be checking back a lot now*
Reply
The next part should be up rather soon (as in "maybe today"-soon).
Romano's just awesome like that, let's just face it :'D
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