To Be Written [1/?]
anonymous
January 23 2011, 03:15:14 UTC
I wasn't going to post the second fill originally, but for some reason I did anyways...strange how the mind works...lol xD
I finished this part a few weeks ago, just read the other update today and I was surprised to find that we both used Japan! Though in very different ways...
Antonio glared into the light of his screen as he felt like dragging the document icon into the recycle bin and destroying it for good.
There was a time, a ‘prime’ as most would call it, that he was the best author in the romance genre. At only eighteen, Antonio Carriedo Fernandez was a writing prodigy, and his novel topped the bestseller’s chart for weeks after the release of his first novel. Celebration and praise immediately followed, and he was interviewed repeatedly, women swooned in his presence, and his editor informed him that he was to be rewarded with a big fat award. He spent weeks partying with his high school buddies, Francis and Gilbert, without a care in the world, downing Tequila shots like water in Mexico; sleeping around with beautiful women; smoking weed like breathing air.
He was young and, frankly, very restless. Antonio was attractive, smart, fit, and an eligible bachelor. He thought he was on top of the world; while in reality, it was simply sitting on him.
An entire period of twelve months passed without writing a single sentence. The years following his ascent to stardom in the world of romance novels were riddled with failures. When the fame was gone, as it always did eventually, Antonio was filled with a void. The need to succeed engulfed him and drove him to spend hours in front of his laptop; typing his days away. His fitness decreased, his appearance grew wild, and his social life was fizzled out completely. But never again did any of his novels succeed.
The media threw scandal after scandal over his breakdown, and there Antonio sat, typing away, trying to reclaim his lost glory.
An article on his desk drew in Antonio’s attention as he contemplated deleting his current piece. It was a piece of shit. Love was a piece of shit. Life was a piece of shit.
“It sucks to be reaching the peak of your fame at such a young age. It must be tough, knowing that you just started becoming famous and you’ve already reached the end of it.” The article quoted in bold red letters the words of his editor, and he felt betrayed. Anger ripped through him. He grabbed the bunch of glossed paper and scrunched it into a ball, throwing the offending object into a nearly full trash can, where it laid in peace with all of Antonio’s shredded notes of ideas and inspiration.
He got up from his desk for the first time in hours and pulled on a sweater and a pair of jeans as he decided to head outside. Sunshine beamed down on him as he sulked down the street, looking for a quick fix. Seeing a bookstore on the way to his best friends’ shared apartment, he decided to check it out. It was the first time he had been inside a bookstore, and he felt slightly claustrophobic.
Writers were not supposed to read other’s works, in fear they would steal ideas unconscientiously and lose their own creativity. Well, that was Antonio told himself, but the truth was perhaps more so that he was simply afraid to see another person’s novel receiving more glory than his own.
A cigarette stuck between his teeth, he opened the door to the bookstore, which seemed family run, unlike the many chain stores that sold novels across the nation. Chimes notified the owner of his presence and a slap in the face woke him from the imaginary life he had lived in during the months he spent working in isolation.
“Ve~! Timmy, please don’t smoke inside! Do you see the no smoking sign? Though if you’re Italian too, I can let you, okay Jimmy? You can smoke allllllllll you want! Just don’t tell the nice police man that, Sandy, or he’ll call me racist. You want some coffee Sammy, my boy? I know you like coffee! Everyone likes coffee! Unless you’re a non-believer, than you must be shunned. Shun! Shun! Shun!” A smiling, cheerful looking man in his twenties exclaimed joyfully as he cornered Antonio by the door.
To Be Written [2/?]
anonymous
January 23 2011, 03:16:15 UTC
Antonio shook his head several times as he starred at the other man. He didn’t feel like he was drunk. Or high. He definitely did not recall blazing in the last twenty-four hours...was he dreaming or was this man insane?
“Ahhhhhh!” A quick yank of hair was all that was needed to make the strange Italian man slink away in horror as he was replaced by a slightly taller man that looked quite similar in appearance.
“Ignore my stupid little brother. He is weird and scares away the customers. Please come inside and I will give you free coffee for every book you buy, you like coffee, yeah?”
Antonio shook his head again, somehow it felt like déjà vu, even though the voice speaking this time was very deep, much deeper than he had expected from the lithe looking young man. The older brother sighed as Antonio stared at him dumbstruck.
“Please, if you find me attractive, leave me your phone number after you pay for your bill, yeah? Now go buy some books so papa won’t be angry about our poor sales today,” the darker hair brother said as he waved Antonio into the depths of his store, giving him a vile looking smile as though he was a predator that wouldn’t let him out until he bought something. The younger brother’s cheerful demeanour returned as he returned to his post by the door, guarding it in case Antonio decided to leave without spending a penny.
Antonio heaved out a great sigh of frustration as his journey to Gilbert and Francis’ place was greatly delayed and he searched around the aisles to quickly buy something and leave. Piles of books were shoved aside as he tried to find a decent novel in the romance section to buy for his friends, perhaps one with lots of detailed sex scenes to appease their promiscuous minds. Flashes of crimson caught the corner of his eyes and he reached for the thick volume apprehensively, blowing away the dust from the top.
The Crimson Lottery, his first book.
Hollow steps approached him from behind, and he turned to face his onlooker.
“That book may have won awards, but it was awful. A real pain to read. The author must have been a German, he knows nothing about romance!” the older brother remarked bitterly, glaring at the novel in his hand. Before he knew it, the copy was removed from his hand and it was being waved in the air in the direction of the door.
“Brother, stupid brother, over here! You agree don’t you? This book is awful, yeah?”
“Ve~! That book has sex scenes written out of a science textbook! The author must simply be not as experienced as us! Terrible writer, but I heard the author is very handsome!” Younger Italian replied, grinning from ear to ear.
“Ugh! Tell me about it! The ladies are all over this guy! I heard Uncle Alberto’s second cousin’s niece’s half sister slept with him,” Older Italian dramatically put the back of his hand on his forehead as faked a swoon, “’oh he’s so handsome! He has such nice abs!’ stupid girls.”
The other giggled, cupping his mouth with both of his hands, “oh! Poor, poor Lovino! So unlucky with love! How many times have you been rejected this year, brother? Eleven? Twelve?”
“Don’t talk about it, bastard! Don’t announce my love life to the public!”
“But you already did it yourself, ve~!”
Antonio watched the whole scene with quiet fascination. In a time span of several minutes, he learned that these two bookstore owners hated his work, older brother was rather unlucky with love, and they were experienced in bed. Antonio never did guys before, but he had to admit that the two brothers were rather cute, though absurdly strange.
A knock in the door behind the younger brother halted their argument, and the door was let open to allow a meek looking Asian man into the store.
“Good morning Lovino-kun, Feliciano-chan. How is business today?” the Asian man asked as he manoeuvred a large cardboard box into the bookstore.
“Hello, Kenny! I see you got new books for us today?”
To Be Written [3/?]
anonymous
January 23 2011, 03:19:30 UTC
“My name is Kiku Honda, not...never mind,” the Asian man sighed, putting the box where he was told. He looked over to Antonio, who was forgotten amidst the childish banter between the two brothers.
“Ah, are you a customer?” the man named Kiku asked the author. Antonio nodded and Kiku looked slightly worried as he refused to meet his eyes.
“Then...you may want to buy something, or these brothers won’t let you leave tonight...”
“He was just about to, Kiku! But I was stopping him from buying this disaster of a novel!” the older brother, who was supposedly named Lovino, responded, shoving the book in the shorter Asian man’s face.
“How horrible! A man who wrote this must be such a terrible lover! Give him to me and I’ll teach him!”
That phrase shook Antonio from his absentminded thoughts. Okay, so maybe the guy didn’t like his writing, but that did not mean that he was a bad lover! He was very good, thank you very much!
“Isn’t that too much to say?! He’s probably a magnificent tiger of manly sexiness!” Antonio suddenly shouted, setting three sets of blank looking eyes staring at him. It took him a moment to realize that he sounded just as ridiculous as the two brothers.
Kiku turned scarlet from cheeks to ears as he felt greatly disturbed to be talking about sex so casually in public and hurried to excuse himself as he left the little shop. Antonio turned back to Lovino,
“But...but specifically, why don’t you like The Crimson Lottery? I’ve read it before and I think it’s very good.” Antonio said eyeing the novel he worked so hard on.
“Why don’t I like it? Because it’s unrealistic! Romance doesn’t work like that! It’s like that Oscar guy said, ‘when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what world calls a romance.’”
Antonio frowned and shook his head in disagreement, “Romance isn't about deceit! Romance is about love, and the human need to be wanted, to find someone who is ‘special’ only to you!”
“You live in the eighteenth century. Anyways, I highly suggest you buy something else. I suggest this one, if you like romance novels,” Lovino said as he picked up a novel from the front shelf, “it’s called, A Day of Danger, by Arthur Kirkland. It’s very popular. The prostitute woman betrays the hero and stabs him to death in bed.”
Antonio glared at the book’s cover. So this was the man who took away his fame, money, and glory, this Arthur Kirkland fellow!
“Don’t gawk, buy already!” he sighed as took his position by the cash register. Feliciano continued to block the exit.
Deciding to at least try to find out about the enemy, Antonio went to the front counter and bought the book, pocket feeling lighter after spending over thirty dollars on the hardcover version, which Lovino insisted he needed.
“Please sign the bill,” Lovino remarked, sharing a sideway glance with Antonio as he passed him the receipt.
“Huh? I don’t have to sign when I pay with cash, do I?” Antonio asked suspiciously. The Italian man coughed into his fist, looking away as a blush covered his cheeks.
“Your number. You said you would give it to me earlier?”
Antonio wasn’t sure he promised any such thing, but he had feeling he wouldn’t be able to leave the store without doing so, and scribbled a chain of numbers onto the slip of paper.
“Errrr...I’ll be going now...” he said as started moving towards the doorway.
“Don’t you want coffee?! It’s-it’s not spiked! I give free coffee to everyone who buys a book, remember?!” a voice called after him, but it was too late. Antonio had already forced his way out of the store and promised himself never to return. No matter how many times the gay Italian phoned him, it wouldn’t work, because he had long since memorized the number for the rejection hotline.
He turned a corner towards his destination when he saw a garbage bin sitting by the sidewalk. Seeing no one else around, he chucked the book. It was then that he had an epiphany. He didn’t care if the bookselling brothers were weirdoes and that he older one liked his ass; he would prove him wrong about romance! And he would prove to the world that Antonio Carriedo Fernandez was still the best romance author on the market!
Re: To Be Written [3/?]
anonymous
January 23 2011, 14:52:49 UTC
Reading this, the only thing I could gawk out was "....T-they're Italian...."
The Italies were so Italian. I wish more people wrote them like this, they were still IC, BUT THEY WERE THE ITALIAN WOMANIZING, LOUD, ROMANTIC, USING-MANY-HAND-GESTURES, CHAOTIC ITALIAN MEN THAT NO ONE EVER MAKES THEM.
Which on the contrary they are.
Marry me? Please? Love this fic more than I should, oh, and Antonio was written nicely as well! As someone above me said before "this compliments the other fill" well, they're not lying.
I'm Italian, so seeing the brothers act the way that they really are meant to act brings tears to my overly dramatic Italian eyes.
Author!anon
anonymous
January 24 2011, 03:08:09 UTC
I haven't met any Italian-Americans, and I don't know how they act. Apparently they are more stereotypically 'Italian' than Italians, which I find kind of ironically hilarious. I just used the 'don't know what your name is' from the youtube video actually.
My headcanon says this story happens in Canada, because I know too little about America to use that setting, since I've never been there before. (yes, I'm Canadian and never been to America, yet has been to Europe and Asia, wtf?) I actually based the brothers on two of my Canadian-Italian friends, who are pretty normal except they are very energetic, friendly and slightly eccentric at times. Please don't be offended by their characterizations. ^^;
Re: Author!anon
anonymous
January 24 2011, 03:16:38 UTC
I'm the anon who assumed the setting was America; if I can't tell the difference between Canada and America and Canadian-Italians and Italian-Americans, this is yet more proof that we're more alike than either of us entirely want to admit. We love our bros, but we're still worried about your spelling, guys. XD
But seriously? My impressions of my travels in Canada was a child were always, "Wait, isn't this just like America, only with better weather and more French? And with nicer, slightly quieter people?"
Aaah I'm so glad you chose to upload it after all <3
The Italies made me laugh xD I don't even care if it's a stereotype or not, I just like the way they act in this. They're really cute.
I especially liked Lovi's "casual" asking for Antonio's number xD Aaaaand the fact that Arthur stole Antonio's fame with a novel like this xD The summary made me laugh so hard!
I'm already looking forward to the next upload ♥
btw, I'm a bit confused over the word count. 210'205 words... wouldn't that be like, novel-lenght? O.O
I finished this part a few weeks ago, just read the other update today and I was surprised to find that we both used Japan! Though in very different ways...
BTW, Feliciano was inspired by this 'Italian stereotype' in case you were wondering if he was on drugs: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fv3fkcCrn6k
---
Word count: 210,305.
Antonio glared into the light of his screen as he felt like dragging the document icon into the recycle bin and destroying it for good.
There was a time, a ‘prime’ as most would call it, that he was the best author in the romance genre. At only eighteen, Antonio Carriedo Fernandez was a writing prodigy, and his novel topped the bestseller’s chart for weeks after the release of his first novel. Celebration and praise immediately followed, and he was interviewed repeatedly, women swooned in his presence, and his editor informed him that he was to be rewarded with a big fat award. He spent weeks partying with his high school buddies, Francis and Gilbert, without a care in the world, downing Tequila shots like water in Mexico; sleeping around with beautiful women; smoking weed like breathing air.
He was young and, frankly, very restless. Antonio was attractive, smart, fit, and an eligible bachelor. He thought he was on top of the world; while in reality, it was simply sitting on him.
An entire period of twelve months passed without writing a single sentence. The years following his ascent to stardom in the world of romance novels were riddled with failures. When the fame was gone, as it always did eventually, Antonio was filled with a void. The need to succeed engulfed him and drove him to spend hours in front of his laptop; typing his days away. His fitness decreased, his appearance grew wild, and his social life was fizzled out completely. But never again did any of his novels succeed.
The media threw scandal after scandal over his breakdown, and there Antonio sat, typing away, trying to reclaim his lost glory.
An article on his desk drew in Antonio’s attention as he contemplated deleting his current piece. It was a piece of shit. Love was a piece of shit. Life was a piece of shit.
“It sucks to be reaching the peak of your fame at such a young age. It must be tough, knowing that you just started becoming famous and you’ve already reached the end of it.” The article quoted in bold red letters the words of his editor, and he felt betrayed. Anger ripped through him. He grabbed the bunch of glossed paper and scrunched it into a ball, throwing the offending object into a nearly full trash can, where it laid in peace with all of Antonio’s shredded notes of ideas and inspiration.
He got up from his desk for the first time in hours and pulled on a sweater and a pair of jeans as he decided to head outside. Sunshine beamed down on him as he sulked down the street, looking for a quick fix. Seeing a bookstore on the way to his best friends’ shared apartment, he decided to check it out. It was the first time he had been inside a bookstore, and he felt slightly claustrophobic.
Writers were not supposed to read other’s works, in fear they would steal ideas unconscientiously and lose their own creativity. Well, that was Antonio told himself, but the truth was perhaps more so that he was simply afraid to see another person’s novel receiving more glory than his own.
A cigarette stuck between his teeth, he opened the door to the bookstore, which seemed family run, unlike the many chain stores that sold novels across the nation. Chimes notified the owner of his presence and a slap in the face woke him from the imaginary life he had lived in during the months he spent working in isolation.
“Ve~! Timmy, please don’t smoke inside! Do you see the no smoking sign? Though if you’re Italian too, I can let you, okay Jimmy? You can smoke allllllllll you want! Just don’t tell the nice police man that, Sandy, or he’ll call me racist. You want some coffee Sammy, my boy? I know you like coffee! Everyone likes coffee! Unless you’re a non-believer, than you must be shunned. Shun! Shun! Shun!” A smiling, cheerful looking man in his twenties exclaimed joyfully as he cornered Antonio by the door.
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“Ahhhhhh!” A quick yank of hair was all that was needed to make the strange Italian man slink away in horror as he was replaced by a slightly taller man that looked quite similar in appearance.
“Ignore my stupid little brother. He is weird and scares away the customers. Please come inside and I will give you free coffee for every book you buy, you like coffee, yeah?”
Antonio shook his head again, somehow it felt like déjà vu, even though the voice speaking this time was very deep, much deeper than he had expected from the lithe looking young man. The older brother sighed as Antonio stared at him dumbstruck.
“Please, if you find me attractive, leave me your phone number after you pay for your bill, yeah? Now go buy some books so papa won’t be angry about our poor sales today,” the darker hair brother said as he waved Antonio into the depths of his store, giving him a vile looking smile as though he was a predator that wouldn’t let him out until he bought something. The younger brother’s cheerful demeanour returned as he returned to his post by the door, guarding it in case Antonio decided to leave without spending a penny.
Antonio heaved out a great sigh of frustration as his journey to Gilbert and Francis’ place was greatly delayed and he searched around the aisles to quickly buy something and leave. Piles of books were shoved aside as he tried to find a decent novel in the romance section to buy for his friends, perhaps one with lots of detailed sex scenes to appease their promiscuous minds. Flashes of crimson caught the corner of his eyes and he reached for the thick volume apprehensively, blowing away the dust from the top.
The Crimson Lottery, his first book.
Hollow steps approached him from behind, and he turned to face his onlooker.
“That book may have won awards, but it was awful. A real pain to read. The author must have been a German, he knows nothing about romance!” the older brother remarked bitterly, glaring at the novel in his hand. Before he knew it, the copy was removed from his hand and it was being waved in the air in the direction of the door.
“Brother, stupid brother, over here! You agree don’t you? This book is awful, yeah?”
“Ve~! That book has sex scenes written out of a science textbook! The author must simply be not as experienced as us! Terrible writer, but I heard the author is very handsome!” Younger Italian replied, grinning from ear to ear.
“Ugh! Tell me about it! The ladies are all over this guy! I heard Uncle Alberto’s second cousin’s niece’s half sister slept with him,” Older Italian dramatically put the back of his hand on his forehead as faked a swoon, “’oh he’s so handsome! He has such nice abs!’ stupid girls.”
The other giggled, cupping his mouth with both of his hands, “oh! Poor, poor Lovino! So unlucky with love! How many times have you been rejected this year, brother? Eleven? Twelve?”
“Don’t talk about it, bastard! Don’t announce my love life to the public!”
“But you already did it yourself, ve~!”
Antonio watched the whole scene with quiet fascination. In a time span of several minutes, he learned that these two bookstore owners hated his work, older brother was rather unlucky with love, and they were experienced in bed. Antonio never did guys before, but he had to admit that the two brothers were rather cute, though absurdly strange.
A knock in the door behind the younger brother halted their argument, and the door was let open to allow a meek looking Asian man into the store.
“Good morning Lovino-kun, Feliciano-chan. How is business today?” the Asian man asked as he manoeuvred a large cardboard box into the bookstore.
“Hello, Kenny! I see you got new books for us today?”
“Yes, though my name is Kiku, not Kenny.”
“Kevin, please put them by the counter, ve~!”
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“Ah, are you a customer?” the man named Kiku asked the author. Antonio nodded and Kiku looked slightly worried as he refused to meet his eyes.
“Then...you may want to buy something, or these brothers won’t let you leave tonight...”
“He was just about to, Kiku! But I was stopping him from buying this disaster of a novel!” the older brother, who was supposedly named Lovino, responded, shoving the book in the shorter Asian man’s face.
“How horrible! A man who wrote this must be such a terrible lover! Give him to me and I’ll teach him!”
That phrase shook Antonio from his absentminded thoughts. Okay, so maybe the guy didn’t like his writing, but that did not mean that he was a bad lover! He was very good, thank you very much!
“Isn’t that too much to say?! He’s probably a magnificent tiger of manly sexiness!” Antonio suddenly shouted, setting three sets of blank looking eyes staring at him. It took him a moment to realize that he sounded just as ridiculous as the two brothers.
Kiku turned scarlet from cheeks to ears as he felt greatly disturbed to be talking about sex so casually in public and hurried to excuse himself as he left the little shop. Antonio turned back to Lovino,
“But...but specifically, why don’t you like The Crimson Lottery? I’ve read it before and I think it’s very good.” Antonio said eyeing the novel he worked so hard on.
“Why don’t I like it? Because it’s unrealistic! Romance doesn’t work like that! It’s like that Oscar guy said, ‘when one is in love, one always begins by deceiving one's self, and one always ends by deceiving others. That is what world calls a romance.’”
Antonio frowned and shook his head in disagreement, “Romance isn't about deceit! Romance is about love, and the human need to be wanted, to find someone who is ‘special’ only to you!”
“You live in the eighteenth century. Anyways, I highly suggest you buy something else. I suggest this one, if you like romance novels,” Lovino said as he picked up a novel from the front shelf, “it’s called, A Day of Danger, by Arthur Kirkland. It’s very popular. The prostitute woman betrays the hero and stabs him to death in bed.”
Antonio glared at the book’s cover. So this was the man who took away his fame, money, and glory, this Arthur Kirkland fellow!
“Don’t gawk, buy already!” he sighed as took his position by the cash register. Feliciano continued to block the exit.
Deciding to at least try to find out about the enemy, Antonio went to the front counter and bought the book, pocket feeling lighter after spending over thirty dollars on the hardcover version, which Lovino insisted he needed.
“Please sign the bill,” Lovino remarked, sharing a sideway glance with Antonio as he passed him the receipt.
“Huh? I don’t have to sign when I pay with cash, do I?” Antonio asked suspiciously. The Italian man coughed into his fist, looking away as a blush covered his cheeks.
“Your number. You said you would give it to me earlier?”
Antonio wasn’t sure he promised any such thing, but he had feeling he wouldn’t be able to leave the store without doing so, and scribbled a chain of numbers onto the slip of paper.
“Errrr...I’ll be going now...” he said as started moving towards the doorway.
“Don’t you want coffee?! It’s-it’s not spiked! I give free coffee to everyone who buys a book, remember?!” a voice called after him, but it was too late. Antonio had already forced his way out of the store and promised himself never to return. No matter how many times the gay Italian phoned him, it wouldn’t work, because he had long since memorized the number for the rejection hotline.
He turned a corner towards his destination when he saw a garbage bin sitting by the sidewalk. Seeing no one else around, he chucked the book. It was then that he had an epiphany. He didn’t care if the bookselling brothers were weirdoes and that he older one liked his ass; he would prove him wrong about romance! And he would prove to the world that Antonio Carriedo Fernandez was still the best romance author on the market!
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Interesting role reversal too, without being too far OOC. After all, canon is stereotypes ;)
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And Spain. What a waste of a perfectly good book! D:
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The Italies were so Italian. I wish more people wrote them like this, they were still IC, BUT THEY WERE THE ITALIAN WOMANIZING, LOUD, ROMANTIC, USING-MANY-HAND-GESTURES, CHAOTIC ITALIAN MEN THAT NO ONE EVER MAKES THEM.
Which on the contrary they are.
Marry me? Please? Love this fic more than I should, oh, and Antonio was written nicely as well! As someone above me said before "this compliments the other fill" well, they're not lying.
I'm Italian, so seeing the brothers act the way that they really are meant to act brings tears to my overly dramatic Italian eyes.
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My headcanon says this story happens in Canada, because I know too little about America to use that setting, since I've never been there before. (yes, I'm Canadian and never been to America, yet has been to Europe and Asia, wtf?) I actually based the brothers on two of my Canadian-Italian friends, who are pretty normal except they are very energetic, friendly and slightly eccentric at times. Please don't be offended by their characterizations. ^^;
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But seriously? My impressions of my travels in Canada was a child were always, "Wait, isn't this just like America, only with better weather and more French? And with nicer, slightly quieter people?"
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The Italies made me laugh xD I don't even care if it's a stereotype or not, I just like the way they act in this. They're really cute.
I especially liked Lovi's "casual" asking for Antonio's number xD Aaaaand the fact that Arthur stole Antonio's fame with a novel like this xD The summary made me laugh so hard!
I'm already looking forward to the next upload ♥
btw, I'm a bit confused over the word count. 210'205 words... wouldn't that be like, novel-lenght? O.O
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