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peaches2217 · 9 months

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Traduzione, Per Favore?

EDIT: AO3 link!

~~~

“What would my name be in Italian?”

Mario studied the princess’ face briefly. Her sapphire eyes sparkled in the afternoon sun, full of sincerity and curiosity; he almost wanted to make something up, something exotic-sounding yet convincing enough that those crystal eyes would shine even brighter.

But she was far too clever for that. She’d see right through him. Or worse — she would be so giddy that she’d believe him, then eagerly relay what she had learned to Luigi, and then his brother would never let him live it down. Mario, impulsive as he could be, knew how to calculate risk and reward, and that was one risk not worth taking.

“...Peach.” Uttering her name sent a chill through him that he only barely repressed— no, that felt so wrong, far more intimate than he was permitted to be with her. “Principessa Peach,” he corrected, and he pulled his cap from his head, absently fanning himself with it. It was a warm day. He could easily pass the color he felt pooling in his cheeks as a consequence of the weather.

The princess’ face fell. “Oh,” she said, soft, but curt. Her brows furrowed, and her lips gathered into a gentle pucker. Suddenly, Mario was happy he hadn’t given into his earlier temptation, because how many people had ever seen the beautiful and regal Mushroom Princess pout?

It caught him off-guard enough that he chuckled, and that in turn softened her downtrodden expression. For a moment, she graced him with a gaze full of the fondness and warmth he’d become so familiar with… and then the pout returned with an indignant force. And, of course, that only made hiding his amusement that much harder.

“Don’t look at me like that!” she chastised, though the dimples that formed in her cheeks betrayed her lack of sincere ire.

Mario, already luckier than most, supposed his day couldn’t get much better than this.

Oh, he was so glad she had expressed interest in learning his native tongue. It was an interest she’d held for some time now, she had confessed — “It never felt right to ask,” she admitted one day, looking down as she tapped the tips of her fingers together, “since it’s one of the few things you and Luigi were able to bring from your birth world. I… felt that asking to partake in it would be overstepping.”

Mario had never seen it that way. To him, it was one more thing he could share with her. One more wall between them that didn’t seem quite so insurmountable anymore.

Granted, he didn’t fancy himself much of a teacher, so he mostly just taught her assorted words and phrases over their bi-weekly tea and pastries (merenda, as she had learned last week; today he was greeted with an uncertain yet cheerful “Facciamo merenda!”, and were he any bolder, he would have asked her to repeat it over and over again, just for him). And as endearing as it was, the thought of the princess privately straining to overhear one of the brothers’ personal conversations just so she could enjoy the foreign melody of their otherworldly tongue, he certainly enjoyed this approach much more, and could say with certainty that she did too.

Still, as she sipped at a fresh cup of peony tea, something a hint sour lingered in her expression.

“You’re disappointed, Princess?” he guessed. She hesitated for a moment, clearly prepared to deny the accusation, but she sighed instead and leaned back into her chair.

“It’s so silly, I know.” She shook her head with a small grin, as if in disapproval of her own behavior. “I just thought… well, I’m named after a fruit. Surely you have a word for ‘peach’.”

“Yes,” Mario agreed, pulling his hat back onto his head now that he was properly cooled, “in which case you would be Principessa Pesca. But you’re not a peach, are you? You aren’t small and round and fuzzy.”

“No,” Peach agreed in turn, “that would be you.”

The force with which she clapped her hands over her mouth sounded downright painful.

In the ensuing silence, they gaped at one another, him in astonishment, and her in pure, stupefied horror; the white silk of her gloves only served to make her flustering features look redder still. And that did him in.

The shock of her response melted into pure mirth, and Mario buried his face into his hands, his shoulders shaking and his breath coming in gasps. “Hey, there’s a new phrase for you to practice!” he offered where he could find air. “You can tell people, ‘Il mio amico Mario è tondo e peloso, come una pesca!’” Somehow, he found himself hoping she actually would. Never had he been so delighted to be 5’1, over two-hundred pounds, and scruffier than his own father.

And that was before the most wonderful, most heavenly sound he’d ever heard even hit his ears. Once it did—

It was like windchimes on a cold winter morning, singing out into bright and beautiful emptiness. Like laying out on the rooftop of the high-rise he and Luigi once inhabited and watching the stars, forgetting about bills and budgets and feeling for one fleeting instant like he was alone in the universe. She was laughing, really and truly laughing, bent ever so slightly forward under the weight of her amusement, eyes screwed shut and brimming with unshed tears.

Mario forgot his own amusement, even as Peach sputtered apologies and wiped at her eyes. He’d never heard her laugh. Giggle, yes, but nothing like this.

She looked up at him, eyes still brimming and squinting, face still pink with shame and humor. Her light lipstick was smudged at the corners of her mouth, and he noticed now that it stained the palm of her right hand as well. This was, to some extent, the most human she had ever looked.

A dull but urgent pain coursed through Mario’s body, and only then did he realize he’d stopped breathing.

He could die, he thought as he sucked in a breath as quietly as he could manage, he could honestly die here and now, and that thought didn’t worry him nearly as much as it should have.

“...Princess.” Mario scrambled his head for ideas. He needed to hear that laugh again. “What… what would my name be in English?”

Peach looked confused for a moment — right, it wasn’t called English here, though what it was called had escaped his memory — but she connected the dots quickly enough, and her lips began to quiver.

“...Mark?”

"Oddio!" Mario called, almost choking, because a well-meaning but sheltered Brooklynite had once suggested the brothers advertise themselves as Mark and Louis to attract more business and fewer bigots. Had Luigi told her that story?

The laughter began anew, with renewed vigor, and Mario stifled as much of it as he could into his glove just to hear hers better. It was even more wonderful the second time.

“No,” she said as the last of her giggles died down, “I can’t see you as anything but Mario. Your name is perfect as it is.”

“And yours is too!” Glancing down, Mario caught sight of a miniature tart on the tiered tray between them, lemon-flavored, from the looks of it. “You have a lovely name, Princess,” he assured her, plucking the delicacy from its resting spot. All that revelry had made him hungry again. “It needs no translation.”

“I’ve learned today that I especially like hearing you say it.”

Mario blinked, the tart in his hand suddenly forgotten.

Peach’s eyes locked onto his and commanded his full attention. She dabbed a cloth napkin at the corners of her mouth, correcting her makeup, and smiled softly. A feeling not dissimilar to his earlier air-deprived pain returned, as though his entire abdomen were being tied into knots like a big balloon animal, though he knew for a fact he was still breathing.

“You needn’t be so formal all the time, you know,” she said. When she set her napkin back onto the table, she looked once more as she always did: perfect, as though she were carved of marble. “You are my friend.”

Was that… an invitation? Mario gulped at the thought. He knew full-well how Peach cherished him, and she in turn knew he loved her just as much (and then some, but that she would never learn about, he’d decided long ago). But she was still… and he was just…

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” he finally said, nervously glancing back to his tart, “Princess.”

The silence that fell between them as he chewed wasn’t uncomfortable, per say, but it felt oddly heavy. Something in Peach’s smile changed, and she glanced down as well. But before he had time to analyze what that change was or why it made his chest feel tight all of a sudden, she reached for the teapot sitting beside the tray.

“Now,” she said, leaning forward to fill Mario’s half-empty cup, “walk me through that last one again, please?”

Mario raised an eyebrow, because speaking through a mouthful of lemon curd would be unbecoming. He wondered for a moment if a bout of such poor manners might make Peach laugh again.

Peach struggled through a few syllables as she refilled her own cup: “Eel-mee-oh, um, ah-mee…”

Mario made a noise of understanding, swallowing the last bite of tart and wiping the crumbs from his mustache. If he couldn’t hear her laugh again yet, he could at least hear her still-untrained accent, and that was almost as good. “Il mio amico Mario,” he started, initiating a call-and-response sort of game. And when she learned what she was saying, she laughed once more, a sound Mario knew he would be addicted to by day’s end.

Maybe one day he could return the boldness she’d shown in teasing him today. Maybe one day he could accept that invitation, could call her la mia amica Peach instead of la principessa, could really and truly feel he deserved her presence, her companionship, her friendship.

One day, maybe.

#super mario #smb #mario #princess peach #mareach #mario x peach #at long last! mareach fluff #with a tiny sprinkling of angst there at the end because I can't help myself #I'd like to thank Reverso Context for personally saving my sanity and assuring me the Italian is (probably and mostly) correct #peaches' fancy fics #fanfic

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dhufflebee · 8 months

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plz tell us more about 'viperella 🐍'!! why do italian lecfosi call him that? (also you're so correct re: charles being a slytherin. 100%)

hi! a fellow hogwarts scholar, I see 🤓

okay, so. "viperella" in italian literally means "little viper", and we use it to talk about someone who's a bit of a cheeky bastard, who can say sneaky-mean things and still save face

on twt, italian fans use it (affectionately!) for charles a lot when they talk about his karting & feeder series days, because he was truly feral still – biggest example being when he told the italian sky commentator there'd be no way his teammate fights for a wdc instead of himself, but honestly the inchident interview absolutely 100% quialifies too

sadly the ferrari pr training is a powerful beast, so the first years he was in f1 he was starstruck and/or still trying to prove himself. however, lately his mean tendencies have started to come back in full force! charles is often sarcastic, eyerolling left right and center during interviews, making little comments in team radios, and taking full advantage of his angel face to say funnily backhanded or downright mean things to/about other drivers – especially carlos recently, remember the glorious "i'm better than charles at any sport" "not racing!" convo? or even all the little comments post-monza in which charles keeps saying how he enjoyed racing hard whereas carlos was basically shitting himself 🤭

a lot of charles's tactical likes on twitter are examples as well, and we truly love them. mostly we love that his still-perfect pr training sometimes cracks infinitesimally, especially now that the season(s) and car are what they are – and even though being mean isn't pretty per se, it is one of charles's core personality trait and it's fun when it comes back out

so if you happen to haunt the scary halls of italian ferrari twt and you see tweets about charles with "viperella" or even just the 🐍 emoji in them, that's why

#hope this helped!#hopefully he'll reach such a status soon that he can be as sneakily mean as he wants and still be adored to heavens and back #charles leclerc #f1 #motorsport #italian stuff #answers #me

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totally-italy · 25 days

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Update because @the-red-planet-mars said that it would be a good way of motivating me

I have started planning my English homework but it is really boring and I don't want to do it. Genuinely, please motivate me to do the whole entire thing because I really don't want to ask my teacher for an extension. I know she would probably give it to me, particularly because I have two of my GCSE papers that morning, but I have asked her for so many extensions this year and I would feel so bad if I asked her for another one. Why are English papers so boring though?

I have updated the whiteboard with my 'Aeneid' translation.

I have found a Quizlet with the entire vocabulary list necessary for the Spanish GCSEs and I have created one with the vocabulary relating to 'The Aeneid' that I will need for the End of Year exams, though I might have to update it soon.

I just did an Italian listening practice paper. I genuinely disagree with the mark scheme but I got 39/40 anyhow. I technically transcribed one of them incorrectly but I rushed that part and will be more careful tomorrow so we won't count that.

I started planning what I will be saying for my French oral, particularly regarding the picture, but I will be planning practice questions after I have done my two Italian papers tomorrow and I will just casually ignore the fact that the reading paper exists because it is not too bad and I have it on Friday anyhow. I will probably do a practice paper, but not now is not the time, despite it being more tempting the writing one.

I still desperately need to practice my Italian grammar and then do a practice writing paper, since thus far I have only done my mocks as practice. I should probably research Virgil and also actually do my English homework, but that is a problem for later. If you could possibly motivate me, without just casually spamming the comments, I would genuinely appreciate that basically pretend that there are the same rules as last time.

@the-lovely-planet-earth, @denmark-forreal and @too-much-of-a-menace

#I don't really want to do all of this #I feel like I haven't really accomplished anything #I mean #I literally got more dopamine from all of y'all than I did from completing the tasks #Plus #I didn't complete all of them and I felt like clarifying that so that y'all know the extent of what I did rather than just romanticising it #But now I feel bad because I should have done more and I barely did anything #How are people functional?#Anyway #That is what I have managed to do #Please help motivate me I am begging y'all #I don't want to fail the Italian GCSE just because I can't really deal with life right now #Moreover #If this is my work ethic right now #I am surely going to fail the majority of my exams next year #If not all of them #Help #l'italiana parla

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