“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was always just red.”
— Kait Rokowski
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Anonymous asked:
Hi! I love all the fics you've been posting, thank you so much for sharing them with us! If I can add to your pile of requests, how would you feel about some Nico/Gio bonding? Have a lovely day!
azozzoni answered:
It only happens because Martino is sick with the flu and refuses to let anyone see him, even Nico, that Niccolò finds himself down at the bar with Gio. In the many months that Niccolò has been with Martino, he doesn’t think he and Gio have ever actually spent any time together alone. It’s always with Marti or at least one of the other guys.
Not that Niccolò minds. Gio’s a cool guy. It’s just that he doesn’t really know him all that well in a personal sense.
They’re playing foosball, one on one, and Gio grimaces as Niccolò scores another goal.
“That’s it,” Gio says, resetting the ball. “You’re always going to be on my team from now on.”
Niccolò laughs. “Don’t like losing?”
“Hell no,” Gio replies. “Especially to Elia. He’s insufferable when he wins.”
Niccolò knows. He’s seen the boys play FIFA together, the way Elia shoves people with his elbows as if they’re really playing on the field.
“So,” Nico says after a minute, not quite sure what to talk about. “How are things going with Sofia?”
Gio wrinkles his nose slightly, as though he doesn’t know exactly what to say now. “They’re going alright.”
“Just alright?” Niccolò asks, resting his hands on the handles. Ever since Christmas, Gio and Sofia have been dating, as far as Niccolò can tell.
Gio shrugs. “I’m just not sure… I mean, she’s pretty and all, and she’s nice but…” He doesn’t finish and Niccolò nods slowly.
“Eva,” he says, and Gio looks up, surprised. “Martino told me.”
Gio deflates slightly as he nods. “Yeah, Eva,” he agrees.
Niccolò doesn’t know the whole story. It’s obvious from anyone watching that Gio still cares about her, and Niccolò knows they broke up last year. Martino has sort of danced around the subject which makes Niccolò think there’s more to the story that Marti’s not ready to share. Or maybe it’s not his to share. Nico doesn’t know.
Gio shakes his head, flicking the ball back on the table, but Niccolò doesn’t play along, watching Gio instead.
“It’s stupid,” Gio says when Nico doesn’t play. “We broke up for a reason. We both did dumb things, hurt each other. But I just…” He sighs.
Niccolò hesitates. He and Gio aren’t that close, not like Gio and Marti, who share practically everything, from earbuds to textbooks to shirts and, of course, secrets.
“Can I offer some wisdom maybe?” Niccolò offers after a second and Gio’s eyebrows go up.
“Go ahead,” he says, gesturing with his hand.
Niccolò isn’t sure how much of an expert he is on these matters considering how much of a mess he made with Martino in the beginning, but he likes Gio. He wants him to be happy.
“It seems like, to me, that you guys need the space to change, to grow up maybe, and if it’s really meant to be, you’ll come back together when the time is right.”
“So just wait?” Gio asks and Niccolò smiles.
“Yeah, but don’t sit around doing nothing. You have to keep moving forward or you’ll never meet her again. The lines have to cross, but that won’t happen if you’re sitting still.”
Gio doesn’t reply for a moment, as though absorbing Nico’s words. He smiles after a second. “You’re not bad at the advice,” he says finally, and Niccolò laughs.
“Well, I’m no Love Wizard, but I try.”
Gio snorts. “Marti told you about that?”
Niccolò tilts his head to the side. “You and I both know Martino isn’t that smooth.”
Gio nods knowingly. “The poor boy is a mess. But at least he’s got you.”
Niccolò smiles. “And at least he’s got you.”
Reaching for the ball, Gio holds it up. “One last goal then we force our way into Marti’s apartment with chicken soup?”
Niccolò grins and nods. “You’re on, Garau.”
“We inhabit a deeply imagined world that exists alongside the real physical world. Even the crudest utterance, or the simplest, contains the fundamental poetry by which we live. This mind fabric, woven of images and illusions, shields us. In a sense, or rather, in all senses, it’s a shock absorber. As harsh as life seems to us now, it would feel even worse — hopelessly, irredeemably harsh — if we didn’t veil it, order it, relate familiar things, create mental cushions. One of the most surprising facts about human beings is that we seem to require a poetic version of life. It’s not just that some of us enjoy reading or writing poetically, or that many people wax poetic in emotional situations, but that all human beings of all ages in all cultures all over the world automatically tell their story in a poetic way, using the elemental poetry concealed in everyday language to solve problems, communicate desires and needs, even talk to themselves. When people invent new words, they do so playfully, metaphorically — computers have viruses, one can surf the internet, a naive person is clueless. In time, people forget the etymology or choose to disregard it. We dine at chic restaurants from porcelain dinner plates without realizing that when the smooth, glistening porcelain was invented in France a long time ago, someone with a sense of humor thought it looked as smooth as the vulva of a pig, which is indeed what porcelain means. When we stand by our scruples, we don’t think of our feet, but the word comes from the Latin scrupulus, a tiny stone that was the smallest unit of weight. Thus a scrupulous person is so sensitive he’s irritated by the smallest stone in his shoe. For the most part, we are all unwitting poets.”
— Diane Ackerman, “Language at Play,“ In Fact
howthemoonsuitsthenightsky asked:
I can totally get why you’re tempted to go and you need to do what’s best for you but I hope you also remember that people’s opinions are just that, opinions. Everyone has different opinions on things so try, as easy as it is to say, to not let them get to you :) mean people suck though I’m sorry
solo-silenzio answered:
No, you’re totally right, they’re just opinions, but it wasn’t easy to be stuck on this website for 2 months and a half while skamit s2 was airing. I had to block lots of people, I kept receiving hate and I never left because I was translating and I didn’t want to disappoint all of you, you know? Since I had promised to do that with the whole season, I couldn’t just leave. I stayed because I love the skamit fandom and you’re super nice and I love being a part of it, so I’m gonna come back for skamit s3 so I can analyse it with you and translate the social media part, but I wasn’t feeling that well either. It was tough. I want to enjoy skamfr s3 and I don’t think being here in the next months would help 💔
Skam Italia season 2 episode 1
In which I partly, and inefficiently recap the first episode through recounting my favourite moments. Without farther ado:
(1) Martino enumerating the Argentinian girl’s friends present at the party, whom are certified attractive by the lads sans himself.
Marti, love, you couldn’t be more obvious even if you tried to; I assure you.
(2) Incantava’s seductive verbal sparring (it’s flirting high on sexual tension; I can’t be convinced of otherwise), during which Edoardo gets cheeky about England.
(3) The look on Marti’s face when Gio embraces him.
(4) Marti surrendering the bed for Gio. Best friends or not, Giovanni Garau is Giovanni Garau, and you can’t sustain any close physical contact with him in bed, without incurring a man boner, a lady boner, or any boner.
(5) Gio’s eagerness about Eva; the look in his eyes when he’s talking about his failed encounter with her; how he’s jumpy about the thought of her. Gio still has residual feelings for her; I can’t tell to which extent, but the point is, Eva’s still got a place in his heart. I’m spazzing.
(6) Gio’s sexy tone and enunciation when he says “oh so she’s texting you/you two text each other”. I’m a molten puddle. I’ll listen to this, the way he says okay, and well anytime, anywhere.
(7) Gio being an utter dear to Marti’s mother.
I know I know, the whole list is becoming Gio. Well, sue me! I stan the man with my whole being.
(8) Marti’s gay ass being hilariously frightened of graphic descriptions of heterosexual sex. He’s so precious.
(9) The excellent comedy of Marti, and Fede being of extremely disparate wavelengths. Sorry, Fede, darling, females aren’t exactly his type.
(10) Sana exploiting the weed to get Marti and the lads to attend the radio meeting, while keeping a straight face throughout.
I stan a fucking legend, I do.
(11) When Niccolò is finally within proximity of Marti, with sounds hushed out, and a strong tinnitus overlaying the scene. It’s beautiful, because it’s a simple, but effective depiction of the complete occupation of one’s senses with their interest. It’s like the whole atmosphere, and environment turn into a vacuum that only you, and them exist within.
(12) Niccolò partially illuminated by sun rays. Niccolò’s eyelashes, Niccolò’s raven curls, Niccolò’s smile, Niccolò’s eyes in basically every moment he appears in thereafter.
(13) It’s intelligently symbolic how the flick of a light reveals Niccolò’s person from its previous state of concealment.
(14) Niccolò and Marti’s banter on the balcony. Marti averting his gaze every now and then in an unprecedented flusteration (isn’t he cute?), while in contrast, Niccolò is unrestrained, and spontaneous. They have such a sweet dynamic. I love the close-ups of their faces as they take in each other; their curiosity and interest so young, spilling through their eyes.
On an unrelated note, Emma resembles Marion Cotillard, i.e., she’s stunning.