#the italian one made history here but it's hysterical that they took a guy who literally Cannot sing. slay i guess

[theophagie]

[ragingbookdragon]

History In the Making PT. 2

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: None

Author's Note: It's about the set-up! Enjoy! -Thorne

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Jason leaned up against the brick wall of the bar, half nervous and ready to bolt, the other half bored. What a unique combination of feelings. He thought to himself, wondering how he let the man from last night talk him into a date the night after. Roy certainly hadn’t been a ‘good ole country boy’, but Jason knew from some stupid songs that country split across the U.S.

What bothered him even more was that for some reason, the man’s demeanor and dress didn’t bother him. Which was odd because if Jason had saw anyone else in faded denim jeans, a button-down work shirt, and a pair of steel toed work boots, he’d have laughed hysterically.

Low and behold though, he was enamored by (Y/N) the second he stepped between Jason at the bar, even more so when he’d gently, but firmly pushed him back down into his seat and asked Jason to let him handle the disturbance. Not many people would’ve done that. Most in fact, would have turned the other cheek and let it happen, but not him.

“Jason.���

He looked up from his phone and smiled at (Y/N) coming towards him. “Hey (Y/N). For a moment, I was worried you weren’t gonna show.”

(Y/N) shook his head. “Sorry, my schedule this mornin’ got messed up and I’ve been runnin’ a little late.” He offered Jason an apologetic look. “I hope my tardiness hasn’t put you off.”

Jason chuckled. “Man, you’ve gotta give the gentle-manliness a rest sometime.”

“So, givin’ this to you isn’t wanted right now?” he questioned, holding up a single red rose and Jason’s eyes widened. “Too early for romantic gestures?”

He took the flower and smelled it, feeling a flush creep up his cheeks. “No, it’s…I forgot that guys are typically the ones who give flowers.” He couldn’t help but smile. “It’s different to be on the receiving end.” The second the words left his mouth, (Y/N) cocked a brow and he spluttered, “T-that’s not what I meant! I just meant that I’ve never been given flowers before and—I’m going to stop digging myself in deeper.” he muttered and (Y/N) chuckled lowly.

“No, please keep diggin’. It’s amusing.”

Jason glared at him though it wasn’t as fierce as it could’ve been. “Jerk.”

(Y/N) winked and shoved his hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket. “Wanna get going? Isaia closes the store around nine-thirty.”

“Yeah, lead the way.” Jason replied, keeping in step with him as they turned the corner of the end of the street.

“Now, I do have to warn you that this place looks like a hole in the wall, but it’s the greatest pizza you’ll ever eat in your life.”

“Is it made by an authentic Italian man whose grandfather came to the Americas in the twenties and has been running this shop since then?”

“Well aren’t you right on the money,” he teased and nodded. “Tony’s family came to New Jersey in nineteen-twenty-one and opened the shop a few years later. They make pizza, pasta, anything and everything Italian cuisine.” He groaned. “It’s the greatest food you’ll ever eat if you’re never able to get to Italy.”

(Y/N) made a turn down a particularly dark alley and Jason couldn’t help but feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he followed, watching as he stopped at a door on the side of the building and pulled it open.

Immediately, he was hit by the mouthwatering scent of fresh garlic and bread and his stomach rumbled as he inhaled deeply. “Holy crap.” He breathed and (Y/N)’s face broke in a smile.

“Told you.” He gestured to the building. “After you.”

Jason stepped through the doors and was met by an older woman who looked him up and down with a curious expression until he felt (Y/N) behind him peering over his shoulder, and then she smiled. “Mio caro!” she greeted, pulling him into a hug, and Jason almost laughed at how (Y/N) practically towered over her. “It’s so good to see you!”

He laughed. “It’s good to see you as well, Signora Matteo. How’ve you been?”

Pulling away, she waved. “Isaia has driving me up the wall!”

“So, no different than normal?” he teased, shying away when she whacked his stomach.

“Asino,” she hissed, then glanced at Jason. “Who is this (Y/N)? Is he your amore?”

(Y/N) sighed. “You gonna ask that for every guy I bring here?”

She scowled. “You never bring anyone here! How am I supposed to know!” whacking him, she said, “Go! Siediti al tuo tavolo!”

He obeyed, though he was still chuckling when he sat down, Jason taking the seat across from him. “You seem to get along with them well,” he remarked and (Y/N) nodded.

“When I first got up here in Gotham, I didn’t really know anybody. Isaia and Gabriella were kind enough to let me hang around and fix up any problems they had with machines here.”

“You’re a mechanic?” Jason asked.

“Handyman is probably the better term,” he replied. “I went to an applied technology school right outta high school and learned mechanical maintenance electrical and instrumentation.” (Y/N) cleared his throat. “My papa used to run a garage when I was a kid too, so I helped out ‘round there.”

Jason hummed. “So, you’re just an all-round knower of machines, huh?”

He smiled. “I try to pick up skills where I can. Helps with the resume.” Nodding at him, he inquired, “What do you do for a living?”

“I travel a lot. Freelancing work.”

(Y/N) could understand that Jason was being cagey with his answer, but he let it go, not wanting to dig where he wouldn’t get. “Do you work for a secular company or multiple?”

He nodded. “Both. Though I work for Wayne Enterprises a lot.”

“No kidding!” he exclaimed. “I ran into Mister Wayne this morning!”

Jason blinked. He hadn’t been expecting his father to run into (Y/N) anytime soon. Not in this big city. “Really now? What happened?”

“Oh, he had some car trouble. A bad spark plug and a ruined belt.” He handed Jason the menu. “Gave him an address for an older man I worked for a year or so ago that’ll fix him up in no time.” He smiled. “Mister Wayne was a wonderful man to meet. He was absolutely polite the entire time and even tipped me for taking time to look at his car.”

“How much?” Jason knew Bruce probably gave him at least two hundred.

“Two hundred dollars.” He shook his head. “I tried to give him the money back, but he just wouldn’t hear it and insisted I keep it. Even asked me for one of my business cards.”

“You’ve got business cards?”

(Y/N) shot him a look. “You don’t?”

“Touché,” Jason retorted with a grin and Gabriella came back over with two wine glasses and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

She poured the glasses half full and said, “I put in your order already. It’ll be ready soon.” And she was off again, leaving (Y/N) amused and Jason rather confused.

“Does she do that often?”

“What? Bring your wine and tell you she ordered for you?” (Y/N) smirked. “Only for the customers she likes.” He grabbed the wine stem and raised it to his nose, inhaling deeply. “If I had to take a guess, she probably put in an order for margherita pizza. Pinot Grigio pairs well with that pizza.”

“You know wine?” Jason raised the wine glass to his nose and smelled before tasting it. “It’s dry. But good.”

“It’s surprising that a southern man knows wine, but how do you know wine, Jason?”

He chuckled setting the glass down. “My dad is…influential with big cities. I grew up attending galas.”

“Are you and him close?”

“Not…as much as we probably could be.”

(Y/N) nodded with a knowing look in his eyes. “I know what you mean.”

“Telling me the fruity southern man has daddy issues?” Jason quipped.

He barked a laugh. “Oh, the biggest.” He shot Jason a glance. “Something tells me you got ‘em too.”

“Ah, we all wish our relationships with our fathers could be perfect, huh?”

“Cheers,” (Y/N) agreed, raising his wine glass to clink it with Jason’s.

***

“And I told Tucker that he could either get out and push or we’d be stuck in the mud until his daddy came with a chain and his truck.” Jason buried his face in his hands and laughed, bending over the railing and (Y/N) watched him with a grin of his own on his lips. “Ah, you should’ve seen the two of us when we got back to his mama’s house. Covered head to toe in mud and chiggers.” He shook his head. “I took three showers that night.”

Jason turned his head and looked at him, tears in his eyes. “How many ticks did you get?”

(Y/N) groaned, pressing his forehead into Jason’s shoulder. “So many in so many unsavory places.” The two of them fell back into laughter, practically falling into each other as they did.

A few moments later, they were staring out at the water, the moon high in the sky. “I had fun tonight, Jason.” He said quietly. “A lot of fun.” Taking a leap of faith, he reached over and took Jason’s hand. “I’d like to do it again…if you wanna.”

Jason gazed at their hands, silent for some time, then he nodded. “…Yeah…I’d like to do this again too.” He glanced at (Y/N). “Say…next Friday morning? Brunch?”

(Y/N) smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

[something-fanfiction-ie]

I Love You 3000

Reader: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Death, Small Endgame spoiler, I wrote this hoping to make you cry

A/N: Hey guys! Two days in a row! How about that?! Getting back in the game baby. Anyways, hope you like this. Remember to like and reblog, but also comment and send me love. You know I love your attention. As always, thank you for coming to my little blog and I hope you cry your eyes out! Enjoy my first Peter Parker imagine!!!

___

If his life were a movie, the opening scene would be a white hospital room, filled to the brim with people. The steady beeping of a heart monitor and raspy breathing would be the only audio as the camera panned to the hospital bed. In that bed was you, the love of Peter’s life, desperately fighting a losing battle. Peter sat to your right, running his fingers along the veins and lines and scars that littered the front and back of your palms. 

Aunt May stood just behind him the way she had done so many years ago at Tony’s funeral. The memory made his throat close up and his heart squeeze around a very spiky ball in the center of his chest. He squeezed your hand a little tighter as you let your head roll on your pillow to look at him. You gave him the smallest of smiles. 

It was your time. You knew when you heard the sound of that baby girl pierce the air around you. When they placed her in your arms, and you looked at that tiny little face that already looked so much like her father’s, you knew it would be one of the last times you would ever see her. 

It was less than five hours later when the doctors came in to give you the news. Your body couldn’t handle the healing process. Something about years of weakening around alien radiation and how, as sad as it may be, it was a rapidly climbing problem in women giving birth today. So far there was no treatment. 

Two days after giving birth, Peter, Aunt May, the baby, your parents, your friends, and the rest of your makeshift family came to say goodbye. At this point, your body couldn't hold anything down, no medicine was responding due to the mutations their radiation poisoning had caused, and you were on the brink of death. It was very hard for you to come to terms with. 

You would never see your baby girl smile for the first time, or say Mama, or Dada. You would never see her walk for the first time, or run for the first time. You would never show off pictures of her in your phone to anyone who was willing to watch you gush. You would never see her graduate, or go to prom, or get married, or meet every difficulty with strength and determination. 

Everything you ever imagined about having a daughter, a baby, a family, would never come to be because here you were, just two days after bringing a life into the world, and you were losing your own life. To be entirely honest with yourself, you always thought you would die of old age. In your home with Peter, that was full of memories from your children growing up to have children of their own. 

But you couldn’t think about that right now. You had your time to cry in the shower earlier. Now it was time for your family to mourn. You had to be strong for them. So you had straightened your shoulders as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

“I have no regrets.” You said to yourself. And somehow, that was all you needed to say before you went back out into your room. 

Peter was in pieces. As you said your goodbyes to everyone in the room, giving hugs and kisses and tearful laughs, Peter clung to your hand like it would keep you from leaving him. When it was just you and him, he looked at you with those big brown eyes that already brimmed with tears. You made room for him up on your bed, and you lifted your blanket to welcome him beside you. 

“Get up here.” You smiled, snuggling into his side when he finally settled onto the uncomfortable mattress. His lips were as soft as silk when he pressed them to your forehead. You could feel his tears running along his face and it stabbed into your chest, but you were his rock now. 

“I’m gonna be fine, Pete. I’m gonna out of this bed by the end of the week and we’ll finally go on that babymoon you promised me while I was pregnant.” He laughed, wiping at his wet cheeks. His hair was very curly today, all fluffy and springy in a way that let you know that he hadn’t bothered with it in the slightest after he stepped out of the shower this morning. 

You always loved his hair like that. It reminded you of waking up in his bed for the first time. Two seventeen year old kids, blinking away the summer sun that spilled in through his uncovered window, sleepy smiling at each other as you basked in the warmth that young love had covered you in through the night. 

It reminded you of driving back to your hotel from the beach on your honeymoon. He drove, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your thigh. The tropical breeze was cool as the sun sunk into the horizon and the air whipped in through the rolled down windows. His cheeks were pink with the slightest of sunburns and his hair had curled with seawater. He risked a glance as you to flash you a smile that said everything you ever needed to hear. You could help but lean over and place a feather light kiss against his bare shoulder.

It reminded you of a lot of things that raced through your mind in a matter of seconds, and as much as you loved his hair like that, you were glad that he wore it like that today. 

“Duty always calls.” He teased, pulling your intertwined hands into his lap so that he could continue to fiddle with your fingers. 

“Daddy duty calls now. We should have done it before we had a baby to worry about, now we’ll have to take a baby with us on vacation.” You let your head rest on his shoulder, trying to commit everything about him to memory. You focused on the way he took each breath, and the way his mouth shaped around every word. 

“It’ll be fine. If she is anything like you, she will love everything about traveling.” 

“I hope she is only like you. With a head full of curls and big puppy dog eyes.” Your husband laughs, shaking his head. She was going to have his hair, and you hoped she had his laugh and smile, his drive for greatness and his enthusiasm for life. You hoped that people stopped them wherever they went together to comment on how identical they were. 

“Whoever she is going to be like, she better get used to traveling with you. Where was it that you said we should go for the babymoon?”

“Italy.” 

“Ah yes, Italia.” You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of your chest. Peter laughed to, reminiscing about his trip to Europe in high school. You hadn’t gone on that trip just because your family hadn’t had the money to send you with the school, but you made sure to get a job that let you travel as much as you want to make up for it. 

“You will love Italy, babe.” Peter said, looking at you with watery eyes. We smiled weakly back, trying so hard to keep yourself in the moment. 

“Tell me what we’ll do there.” You said. And he did. He told you about the history you could feel in every brick around you, and the way the sun looked in the sky when you looked up at it and instead of skyscrapers reaching up, there were cathedrals and museums. He talked about how everyone would hate the both of your on the plane ride over as you both tried to calm your crying baby, because as much as you both dreamed, there was no way that she wouldn’t be a little terror for eight hours. 

“But she’ll love it when we get there. She’ll love it so much that when we leave, our daughter will have become Italian. There is no question.” You didn’t have it in you to laugh, but you smiled as you closed your eyes and drew the picture in your mind. 

“We’ll go to every restaurant and visit every beach they have. The Italian beaches aren’t like the beaches here. The water is so blue and clear that it’s amazing. You could drop a penny and be able to see where it lands and just swim down and pick it up. Even the sun feels different, whether its because you're in Italy or because everything seems better on vacation, I’m not sure.” You could hear the tears in his voice as it shook. He was really trying not to cry, but he was. If he held onto your hand any harder then you were sure it would break. 

You took a raspy breath and it rattled in your chest. You didn’t have much longer, and as much as you wanted to open your eyes and look at your husband in your final moments, you knew it would break your heart. You wanted to remember him happy, so you remember the Peter who woke up next to you in that bed so long ago and you remember the Peter who drove back to the hotel and you imagined the beaches of Italy with clear water and a beautiful sun. 

“We’ll lay on the beach and make sand castles with our daughter, and then we’ll all go out and wade into the water. She’ll be so big by then, wearing a little sun hat and a little swimsuit.”

“She’ll need a lot of sunscreen.” You whisper, the mental image of Peter holding your daughter in the clear water as they both smile at you, carefree and beautiful. 

“Yes, yes she will. We’ll have to remember to put like three bottles of sunscreen into the diaper bag that day.” Peter sniffles, ready to launch into the next part of your trip before you reach out with your free hand and place it on his arm. 

“I love you so much.” He pulls you close, trying to hold back anymore tears by scrunching his nose. 

“I love you so much.” He chokes, his voice cracking. 

“Tell my baby I love her.” And then you’re gone, the beeping of your heart monitor turns into a steady ringing. It takes everything he has not the go into hysterics, trying to shake you awake. When the doctors come in and Peter has to leave, he goes back to Aunt May who sits beside Pepper and Morgan. Morgan is holding the baby when she looks up and catches Peter walking toward them. 

His cheeks are wet and his eyes are bloodshot. The first thing he does is take his baby back into his arms and he cries into her little head. The only little bit of his world that wasn’t crashing down around him was in his arms, sleeping through the storm. 

[bffhreprise]

Entry 304

   “James, did you eat some of my share!?” I asked, uncertain how he had managed it.  For our Valentine's Day date, he had taken me to a park where we were having a catered picnic.  The food provided by the Intergalactic House of Awesome Sauce was beyond incredible.

  “Of course not.  Dessert just goes all too quickly.” replied James, looking sincere.

 “That was…” I started, unable to decide on an adequate description.  Even 'incredible' seemed lacking when my craving for more was far from satiated.

 “Out of this world?” suggested James with a grin.

 “I suppose that would be one way of putting it, yes.” I admitted, though I felt that was lacking in profoundness as well.

 Evanna, our sole caterer, had smiled at James' remark.  A number of things were off about her, enough that I couldn't decide which bothered me most.

 “Are you human?” I questioned gazing up at her.

 She laughed and said, “Of course.  What else would I be?”

 “Can’t you tell?” teased James.

 Their relationship was odd for one.  Practically everyone flirted with James due to his magic.  Though Evanna appeared perfectly human, no human could resist such magic without aid—even I could not—and yet they seemed to be friends, despite her only attending parties when paid.

 I sighed and said, “I can tell she appears human, but the phone in her pocket is not any model I’ve seen.  Neither was the one she had at Aaliyah’s party, so tell me who would carry such an advanced device and trade it within a year?”

 “Evanna, obviously.” replied James, barely restraining from laughing.

 Evanna did laugh again, rolling her eyes at him.  She didn't even seem to question how I knew.

 “Are you flirting with her?” I asked, hoping to get a rise out of them.

 With Evanna still smiling, James hugged me and said, “Don’t be foolish.  Evanna’s a friend and probably would like us to leave, so she can finish cleaning up.”

 “But James…” I protested, very curious how such a feast was brought here with no carts, baskets, or other aids.

 He quickly placed a finger over my lips as he said, “You’ll find out all you need to know soon enough.  I promise.”

 “Not really much to find out.” insisted Evanna.  “If anyone’s strange around here, you two are, but I’ve found that the strange ones are the ones most worth knowing.” She seemed quite sincere, which only increased my desire to know more about her.

 James smiled and stood.  “Thank you.  Please give my compliments to Carl.” he stated, nodding too Evanna.

 I sighed, stood, and said, “Thank you for the meal.  My compliments to the chef.”  I knew that attempting to argue this would not get me anywhere pleasant.  James could be incredibly stubborn, and his backing was unbeatable.

 “How would you feel about a gondola ride?” he asked, smiling at me pleasantly.

 “Wha-”  My senses took a moment to fully comprehend appearing in Italy, but this was certainly Venice.

 “I asked Aaliyah for a favor.” explained James, looking quite proud of himself.

 “But what about Evanna.  We were standing right next to her!” I pointed out, completely failing to remain composed.

 “Evanna’s fine.  She’s seen stranger things, I assure you.” replied James smugly.

 I felt that I was missing a joke, but I didn't pursue the matter, not wanting to encourage him.  James was likely the only man on the planet capable of surprising me so easily.  The gondola ride was somewhat pleasant, but I couldn't be at ease when I might well be spotted by curious members of my family.  There was no satisfiable way to explain how I came to be here.  Most wouldn't be so impudent as to ask, but I didn't want to draw Adelmar's attention.  James, however, was obviously having a lovely time, showing off his proficiency in Italian.

 As we walked the streets after departing the gondola, he asked “What’s bothering you?”

 “I’m a prominent member of my family, so I might be recognized.  If rumor gets around that I’m here, Adelmar might start asking me questions I can’t answer.  Even if he doesn’t care to check, some of my own subordinates might panic if they believe I’ve arrived in Italy, thinking I might be looking in on them.” I explained.  “Then there’s those of my family who might feel snubbed if they find I was here and didn’t pay a social call.”

 “Just laugh at their ridiculousness, mistaking Mila for you.  She can be many places at once.” he suggested.

 “I suppose that’s true.” I admitted.  Finding that we had been transported as I spoke, I said, “Oh.  Switzerland?”

 “I thought we should have some chocolate, given the day.” he casually explained.

 “James, this is so completely unfair.  We’ve hopped through time twice as well as altering our location.  The things you could do on whim are frightening to consider.” I told him, unwilling to be swayed by his acceptance of Aliyah's power.

 “Scared of me then?” he teased, grinning at me.

 “No, but… don’t you feel this is an abuse of power?” I suggested, avoiding my real fear.

 “I can’t abuse power I don’t have, and I trust Aaliyah’s judgement of what’s fine.” he replied matter-of-factly.

 “But I swear that she would do anything for you.” I suggested, hoping he'd acknowledge how important that was.

 “She does tend to tell me that.” he idly agreed.

 “She’s the most powerful being in the world.  Having her do as you please makes you the most powerful man.” I bluntly explained.

 “Not really.  The power’s all hers, so I’m just the guy lucky enough to be her friend.” he insisted without pause.

 “You do have remarkable abilities of your own, my darling.” I admitted, containing my annoyance.

 “Perhaps, but the things I can personally do aren’t really relevant to this conversation, given that you’re worrying over what I might convince Aaliyah to do for me.  She’s also the most intelligent and wisest being on the planet, so not trusting her judgement is ridiculous." he told me, obviously seeing through my calm facade.

 “Given some of the things she’s done, I don’t know that I’ll ever trust her.” I argued.

 “You will.” he asserted.  “I have no clue why you’ll come to trust her, but I’m confident that she’ll convince you.  She really does like you.”

 “She could be lying.” I argued.  Death found lies to be funny occasionally.

 “And there wouldn’t be a thing we could do, so there’s no use worrying.” he replied.

 I laughed and said, “Coming from you, that’s hysterical.  You, my dear, worry about things far more than even I do.”

 “The lack of use for worrying doesn’t negate the worries, unfortunately.  I was attempting to be comforting.” he replied defensively.

 James opened his mouth, seem to think better of it, and showed me to a lovely shop where we purchased chocolates for ourselves and our friends.

 “I’ll take those, master.” stated Mila as she reached for the bags the moment we left the store.  She had appeared in the alleyway as we made our purchases.  Death's daughter being granted such transport was hardly surprising.

 “Thank you, Mila.” stated James as he handed off the bags.  Then he held his hand out to me and asked “Mind one last surprise?”

 I smiled and accepted, saying, “I’d hate to think what would happen if I refused you.”  He started to protest my suggestion that refusal was dangerous, so I pulled him down close enough to kiss.  We were moved again, but I was at a loss.  “James, where are we?”

 “A beach.” he replied, smiling broadly.

 “Yes, obviously.  Where in the world though?” I inquired.  There were tents set up as changing rooms for us, but they were hardly comforting enough to make this situation seem ordinary.  From the air to the flora and fauna I sensed in the distance, this wasn't anywhere I knew.

 “Perhaps we should be asking when are we first.  I had requested somewhere private for a swim.” he astutely suggested.  Then pointing, he said, “You’ll find a choice of swimwear in the tent over there.”

 I desperately wanted to ask more questions, but he obviously didn't have the answers.  Assuming that Aaliyah wasn't using us to introduce future microbes to this area, we weren't likely to do any harm.  Doing my best to accept the situation, I hurried to change.

 “You wouldn’t believe what Aaliyah had suggested.” called James from his tent.

 “Yes, I can.  She probably wanted to know why we needed swimwear.” I replied, starting at the tiny pieces of cloth she had chosen for me.  A nun-like garment appeared out of thin air next to it, which I pointedly ignored.  Death was obviously mocking me, but I conceded her point.  The only one who would know of this—other than my antagonist—was my fiancé.  “Just give me a moment.” I told him as he stared at my tent.

 “We have all the time you want.” he replied.  The environment froze around us as if we had been separated from the flow of time.

 Embarrassed as I felt, the hungry and surprised expressions that made war on James' face pleased me.  He noticeably tore his eyes away before jumping hundreds of feet into the water.  Using a couple spells to save the beach, I followed.  We swam for hours on end, encountering many types of ancient beasts, and I was quite certain we were far enough back that dragons were still around.

 Part of me hoped to see one, but that might actually alter history.  Dragons were intelligent and certainly would be drawn to James' magic.  What if one recognized my blood and attempted to command me?  I did my best to keep my worries distant as we swam, but they still were present even as we watched the sunset from the beach.  Eventually, I found myself smiling as I wondered how James would attempt to beat this next year.

[thebackroadtourist]

My Culture Shocks in Italy, and How Glow-Sticks Saved Me.

“Catso!” She murmured under her breath as she swerved around the Fiat that had stopped short in front of us.

Monza is a non-touristy town one hour outside of Milan. A town where the largest paid outdoor concert in history was held and no one outside of Italy knew about it. A town with the biggest public park in Europe and where Formula 1 racing fuels the fire of its�� locals. With 123,000 residents Monza it is home of the controversial former Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi - who no longer serves as Prime Minister yet his mansion is still guarded by security paid for by tax payer money. But lets not get into the corruption of Italian politics. From Monza to Milan, Verona, Lake Como, Bergamo, Venice, and smaller towns and villages in-between, my friend was nice enough to show me her stomping grounds. I experienced the ultimate tour of Northeast Italy with all the cool cuss words such as “catso” meaning “dick” in Italian, like our “shit” or “damnit” in the States.

Northern Italy has it all: historical cities, small towns, old architecture, a beautiful countryside, gorgeous lakes and gelato that would make you want to move there. However this gelato-filled week stuffed with glutenous apperitivos and strong negronis did not come without several culture shocks.

1. The Breakfast “most important meal of the day” in the States. My host had bought me breakfast food out of empathy which was sweet of her. Though I felt like a fat savage in the mornings when I shoveled ham and eggs into my mouth as she sat back and sipped her fresh cows milk ever so daintily. 

2. The Lack of Bro Hugs. Do NOT try to bro hug an Italian guy. If you do (which I did twice) you will be received by an awkward stare followed by an even more awkward chin first tin-man armed pat on the back. And then he will take a step back, and judge you. Hard. Although with women it is casual to kiss both cheeks, which I found ironic given how physically conservative the people in Italy are. 

3. The Pride. Mainly the pride in their appearance out of respect for their country. Formality is normality here. Collared t-shirts is the norm. They wear collared t-shirts to go grocery shopping. I wear loose tank tops everywhere I go in the summertime, sporting the occasional nip-slip.

4. The Water. They buy bottled water even though their tap is perfectly healthy. Why? I have no idea. I drink tap water in the states that is likely laced with pharmaceuticals and fluoride. Ugh. 

5. The Portion Control. They are big eaters, but even bigger on portion control. They delicately place pasta into boiling water only after an exact measurement of dry pasta in the bowl they will eat from. Back in America I dump the whole damn box into the pot and always over-eat. 

6. The Pregame. My friend took me out on a Saturday night to meet her friends in downtown Monza. I wore the nicest t-shirt I could find in my 60 liter backpack (a basic H&M v-cut) with cargo shorts and my dorky blue tennis shoes to find the other men wearing collared shirts and slacks with dress jeans, belts and dress shoes to match. The women wore alluring dresses. Our “pre-game” was a sit down wine bar where the waitress poured us wine as we sipped from our glasses at the candlelit wooden table with a cute bowl of potato chips in front of us. Of course I brought glow sticks like a jackass. They were in my pocket and I planned for them to stay there. As the waitress was explaining the white wine options to our group of wine connoisseurs, one guy at our table questioned what the shining bright colors hanging out of my pockets were. Shit, I thought. Surprisingly, everybody wanted one! In fact they were so amused by them by the time we left the wine bar they were sticking them in each other’s hair and beards and snapping photos while laughing hysterically. I think the glow sticks ironically made up for my lack of class. From there we went to a negroni bar, a wickedly strong drink made of vermouth, gin and campari. One negroni was all I needed before the rest of then night turned into a blur. The night then turned into a blur. The end.

7. The BBQ. “EEAAATTAAA THA MEEEAATTAA” echoed in my ears for days afterwards, the copious amount of food was insane but I loved every minute of it, especially the part where we pitched watermelon rinds to each other and smashed them with baseball bats as they burst into smithereens. An Italian BBQ is nothing like an American BBQ. It involves a gathering at someone’s house followed by each individual order taken before proceeding to the supermarket as a group to buy all pertinent materials (cups, forks, plates, food, seasonings, etc), and everyone splitting the bill evenly. It’s meticulously designed so that everyone knows exactly what they’re getting. There is no such thing as a “potluck” in this part of the globe. 

8. The Hospitality: One night I crashed at another friend’s house in Erba Village, a pristine area near Lake Como where George Clooney lives. We hiked through his beautiful hillside down the creek and through open fields. We rolled spliffs, ate gelato and relaxed in the shade on his patio. It was truly a reset. And the hospitality was extraordinary. Upon leaving his peaceful abode his sweet Italian mother fed me breakfast and gave me a sack lunch for the train. I was truly astounded by the gesture, a typical Italian mother thing to do that nearly brought me to tears. I felt loved.

All in all, Italy left an impression on me. I fell in love with Italy and I am extremely thankful for my hosts. Next time I will bring nice clothes and hold the bro hugs, and maybe sip my negroni more slowly.