#the sicilian clan

[sigurism]

alain delon le clan des siciliens (The Sicilian Clan) dir: henri verneuil

#<3 #le clan des siciliens #the sicilian clan #henri verneuil #alain delon #forever love #mon homme préféré #my gif #my edit #had to remove the first gif because I would have been flagged out of my wits #my miserly fiend would have had their sensibilities obliterated of seeing my man in all of his pantless glory #grrr

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Qu'est-ce que ça vous fait, quand vous tirez? Ah! Vous voyez bien que ça vous intéresse! Je vais vous le dire. Ça fait boum dans les oreilles.

- Alain Delon, Les Clan des Siciliens (1969)

Les Clan des Siciliens (1969) boasted three of the leading French male actors of their time in the form of Alain Delon, Jean Gabin, and Lino Venturo.

Jean Gabin is Vittorio Manalese, the head of the Sicilian Manalese clan in Paris, Alain Delon the reckless, amoral French criminal and killer Roger Sartet, who hires Vittorio’s clan to spring him from custody, and Lino Ventura Commissaire Le Goff, the man who first captured Roger, hunts Roger down and bring him to justice. Manalese partners Sartet with a gangster from New York to organise a heist. It doesn’t end well for either Sartet or Manalese with Sartet on dangerous ground having an affair with Manalese’s daughter-in-law and Goff ever closer to capturing them both.

Even in 1968, the film lined up classic detective story ingredients: mobsters, a cop hell-bent on capturing them, a sensational heist and, because there are Sicilians, a revenge of honour. With all these conventions, the film was scorned by the intellectual critics who usually despised this kind of gangster cinema that was also appealed to the taste of the populist masses. After watching it again I think the film critics were being supercilious and snobbish.

The Clan of the Sicilians is immensely enjoyable and beautifully crafted under the precise and spectacular direction as Verneuil. One of the more stunning bravura set pieces was the landing of a Boeing jumbo jet landing on a busy New York motorway. The film is a curious but happy hybrid of a traditional French detective film that also had American sensibilities. Above all it has the gorgeous music of Ennio Morricone as a soundtrack.

#delon #alain delon #quote #french #french cinema #film #movie #the sicilian clan #gangster #le clan des siciliens #art #french culture #vintage #jean gabin #lino venturo

[seventh-victim]

Alain Delon on the set of ” Le clan des Siciliens” (The Sicilian Clan),directed by Henri Verneuil - 1969

#black and white photography #alain delon #french actor #the sicilian clan #1969

[filmongif]

#film #movie gifs #classic film #gif #movie #moviegifs #cinema #alain delon #the sicilian clan #clan des siciliens #french movie #classic actor

[cinemajunkie70]

The happiest of birthdays to the Maestro in the afterlife, Ennio Morricone!

#ennio morricone #fistful of dollars #for a few dollars more #the good the bad and the ugly #once upon a time in the west #once upon a time in America #duck you sucker #the untouchables #the thing #the great silence #death rides a horse #the big Gundown #Navajo joe #the mission #the sicilian clan #movie composer #the goat #cinema paradiso #the hateful eight #the mercenary #Companeros #movie soundtracks

[itsallmadonnasfault]

#Madonna #2022 #Rocco Ritchie #David Banda #Sicily #Happy Birthday Madonna #Mambo Siciliana #The Sicilian Clan #Ciccone Youth #Madonna 2022

[script-supervisor]

Lucile Costa

Le clan des siciliens, dir. Henri Verneuil, 1969.

#lucile costa #le clan des siciliens #the sicilian clan #henri verneuil #script supervisor #continuity #scripte #continuité #on set #behind the scenes #film making #movie set #on the set

[schlock-luster-video]

#happy birthday #sydney chaplin #actor #birthday #rest in peace #satan's cheerleaders #so evil my sister #grindhouse #exploitation film #movies #film #fan art #the sicilian clan #double face #your turn to die #movie art #art #drawing #movie history #pop art #modern art #pop surrealism #cult movies #portrait #cult film

[moviesteve]

The Sicilian Clan https://bit.ly/3eq0aR3 The golden age of hijacking (1968-1972) was just peaking in 1969 when The Sicilian Clan (Le Clan des Siciliens) debuted, a French heist movie itself hijacked – twice! – by a plot involving the illegal commandeering of a plane and by a superannuated screen star who really shouldn’t be in it. It’s really, at bottom, one of those heist movies in which security cameras, pressure sensors, alarms, iron bars, motion sensors and all the modern security paraphernalia have to be overcome by a gang smart and greedy enough to have a go. And that looks to be exactly what we’re getting as first our main guy, Roger Sartet (Alain Delon), is introduced, a … Read more

#Alain Delon #Henri Verneuil #Jean Gabin #Le Clan des Siciliens #Lino Ventura #The Sicilian Clan

[sigurism]

alain delon le clan des siciliens (The Sicilian Clan) dir: henri verneuil

#<3 #le clan des siciliens #the sicilian clan #henri verneuil #alain delon #forever love #mon homme préféré #my gifs #my edit #mon amour mon amour

[bluastro-yellow]

how has it never occurred to me that Roberto Spada has a fucking facebook and Instagram profile??? I love modern times

(Context: Roberto Spada is a member of the infamous clan Spada, in short a mafia family, and has become famous for headbutting a journalist)

#TIKTOK TOO #mafia not as in the sicilian mafia #but like the whole clan is in drug business and killing and are loan sharks and control the local social housing buildings etc. #they're also friends of the neofascist casapound party which is weird bc they're sinti but shit people stick together or something idk #I recognize their garden... #poor kids growing up with these shit role models... #pizza pasta e mandolino #pointless microblogging #italy

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART I

Summary: When the conflict with a powerful family threatens to bring down the Shelby Clan, Tommy takes a trip to Italy. In order to stop the disaster, two families must become one: marriage seems to be the only way to seal an alliance and bring peace. It’s Nina Ferrante, fierce and rebellious, the one who slowly makes her way into his heart, with steps so light he doesn’t even realise it. But things are not as easy as they may seem: one, Tommy is expected to marry her cousin, and two - Nina has no intention of getting married.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), English is not my first language.

A/N: here’s the first chapter of my new series. This is set somewhere between season 1 and 2. At the end, you’ll find the translation of a couple of Italian expressions. Feedback is always appreciated🤍

SERIES MASTERLIST

SERIES MOODBOARD

Gif credit

Dividers credit

Tommy gazed out the window of the car, watching the landscape pass before his eyes. The small Sicilian village was so different from Birmingham. It was rural, peaceful, and the air was clean, he could fill his lungs without smelling the smoke and the shit. Beyond the uphill road, he could even hear the sound of the sea. Had he been in a different situation, he would’ve enjoyed that sound, along with the feeling of the sunlight on his face.

But he had to stay focused. Because he was alone, and the men in the car with him were speaking words he couldn’t understand. They could’ve easily taken him to an empty field and put a bullet in his head, and no one would’ve known. His hand went to the gun inside his coat, taking in the feeling of security brought by the contact of the cold metal against his skin.

Vincenzo Ferrante said something to the driver, then his eyes met Tommy’s through the rearview mirror. There was a strange glimpse in them, something that vaguely resembled amusement. He knew he had the upper hand.

A familiar tingling sensation crawled over the back of Tommy’s neck. It was the way of his body to tell him that danger was near, had started to get it in France, and it hadn’t left him since. His fingers forcefully pressed against the grip of the gun as his hold tightened for a few seconds. Then, slowly, he released it, his hand coming to rest on his lap. He took a deep breath, pulling himself together. He had a deal with those people, and it would go through.

One week earlier

Tommy walked into the betting shop, his steps resonating over the wooden floor as he strode among the desks in the empty room. Empty, except for his aunt, who was waiting for him behind the main table.

“Here’s the information I found.” He said, tossing a folder on the wooden surface. Polly furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing it so that she could examine its content. It was full of photographs, letters and documents. God knew how Tommy had managed to get his hands on them.

“Go on.” She mumbled.

“Antonio Ferrante has two brothers, Vincenzo and Mario. They came to England when they were children, and they were raised here. Twenty-five years ago, Vincenzo and Mario went back to Sicily to start their business, both legal and illegal, while Antonio stayed here to carry on their legal race tracking operation. Of course, his organisation also has two sides. Vincenzo moves between Italy and England to help him with the other side. He’s here now. He’s been helping him with the attacks.”

Three attacks. Three attacks in one week. Tommy had never seen something like that. Those Italians were sly and quick, and extremely organised. They started by blowing up two of the pubs under the Peaky Blinders’ protection, then they proceeded to find one of their warehouses, and they blew it up as well. It was a matter of time before they came for the Shelbys.

Polly sighed, putting the papers back into the folder. Just when everything seemed to be going in the right direction, another bomb was dropped upon them. Quite literally.

Tommy rubbed his eyes, taking his time before continuing. “Ferrante was cooperating with Kimber. Thanks to this alliance, the family had secured a place at the top of the betting business. By killing Billy Kimber…”

“We stepped on their toes.” Polly finished his sentence.

“And now they want revenge. Yesterday they took three of our men.” He sighed, leaning against the desk behind him. That was another thing he had to take care of. He had to write to their families, send his condolences, and open a fund for them so that they could manage to sustain themselves without their husbands, fathers and brothers to take the money home. It was unpleasant, but it had to be done.

“It’s the Italian Mafia we’re talking about.” Tommy spoke again. “They have an organisation of bigger dimensions. If Ferrante calls the rest of his relatives from Sicily, it’s over for us.”

“So what’s the plan?” She asked, taking a cigarette from the pocket of her apron before placing it between her lips.

“Antonio Ferrante only has sons,” He started to explain, taking a match to light his aunt’s cigarette. “But his brothers have daughters-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Polly’s head shot in his direction, eyes wide with disbelief as she could already imagine what he was trying to say.

“I’m talking about marriage, Polly. I’m going to marry one of the girls.”

Tommy couldn’t even believe his words as he said them. Before Grace, marriage had never crossed his mind, and after she left for New York, he was quite sure he would never find another woman. But there he was, selling himself so that his family could survive.

Despite the initial shock, Polly quickly regained her composure. She took a long drag from her cigarette, pondering her nephew’s words. “Why would they accept your offer?”

“Because by joining our forces, we can take down Sabini.”

“Do you think they’ll go against their own?” She inquired, a hint of scepticism in her voice.

“The Italians are fighting among themselves, now. Ferrante is also at war with Sabini, and he can’t defeat him on his own. Once Sabini’s taken care of, we’ll grant the Ferrante family a good place at the top of the business, even better than the one they occupied with Kimber.”

As much as Tommy tried to sound confident, he couldn’t hide his agitation. He couldn’t estimate the odds, there were no chances, no percentages. Everything felt unpredictable and beyond his control. He turned to grab the bottle of whiskey from the desk and poured himself a glass under Polly’s stare. It felt like she could read into him, like she could see right into his brain and know each one of his thoughts. It had always been like that, since he was a kid. It bothered him, sometimes, but deep down it was a relief to know that there was someone who could understand him without needing him to speak.

He downed all the whiskey in his glass, relishing the burning sensation. It grounded him, in some way. “Today I’m meeting Antonio and Vincenzo Ferrante.” He said, placing the glass on the table with a thud. “I’ll make the terms for peace.”

“How did it go?”

Tommy heard Polly’s question before he could see her. As soon as he entered the kitchen, he was met with her expectant eyes, her gaze scanning his face, looking for an answer. She poured him a glass of whiskey as he removed his coat and placed it on a chair.

“They accepted.” He just said, grabbing the glass. Polly’s expression relaxed for a moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief was swept away as she noticed how her nephew was avoiding her gaze.

She waited for him to continue, but her patience ran out quickly. “And?” She asked.

Tommy sat on a chair and took a sip of whiskey. “And I’m going to Sicily to meet my spouse.”

There was some kind of inflection in his voice, one that not even Polly was able to define. But there was also a small particular in what he had said, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re going to Sicily?” She inquired, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes.”

“Alone?” She emphasised, leaning with a hand on the table, not taking her eyes off of his face.

“Yes.” He repeated, keeping his eyes on the bottle in front of him, well aware of how dangerous and imprudent it sounded.

“Tommy, are you mad?” She yelled, yanking away the bottle so that he would look at her. He finally raised his eyes, and silence fell between them for a while as he tried to find the words.

“I need you here to take control of the business while I’m gone. You’re the only one who can do that.” He explained, standing up so that he could speak to her face to face. “And I can’t take John and Arthur with me, because there need to be Shelbys here in Small Heath.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed.” She spat.

Tommy placed his hands on her shoulders, the hint of a smile making its way on his face. “Think of it like this: if I don’t come back, all of this will be yours.” He pointed towards the door that opened on the betting shop. “You’ll make a good fortune.” He joked, trying to lighten the air.

However, his aunt didn’t seem amused. She just shook her head, a look of defeat in her eyes. “I could try and talk some sense into you, but you’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Without answering, Tommy walked past her to take ahold his glass and drink the rest of his whiskey. He cleared his throat, gathering himself as best as he could. “Vincenzo Ferrante is going back to his family in three days. I’m going with him.”

Present day

The car drew to a halt. Beyond an iron gate stretched a large garden, which was divided in two halves by a gravel path that led up to two big houses. As the driver got out of the car to open the gates, Tommy couldn’t help but feel relieved. No empty field. No ditch waiting for him.

“I guess you’re hungry, Mr. Shelby. It’s been a long journey.” Vincenzo Ferrante suddenly spoke, taking him away from his thoughts. Before Tommy could answer, he continued. “Later we’re having lunch, and I’ll introduce you to the family. Communication won’t be a problem, me and Mario raised all of our children to speak both English and Italian, just like Antonio. For the sake of business.” He clarified.

Tommy just nodded, unsure about what to say. He half expected to be dead before even getting to the village, so communication had been the last of his thoughts.

Not caring much about his silence, Vincenzo pointed towards the house on the left. “That’s my house, and the other is my brother’s. You’ll be my guest. Since we’re suggesting you to marry my niece Agnese, we thought it would be improper for you to stay in the same house as her.”

Agnese. She was said to be the oldest, and the prettiest, and the most fitted to be a wife. However, they had assured him that if he were to find someone more to his liking, he would be free to choose, he just had to make the decision before starting to court her. They wanted things to be done the proper way.

Tommy leaned back in his seat, the need for a cigarette suddenly kicking in. “It’s understandable.”

The brief ride towards the houses was silent. In that short amount of time, Tommy tried to guess what the following weeks had in store for him, how his life would look like in a month, but truth was, he really couldn’t tell. He had no idea, and that was terrifying, even for someone like him. But he had to stay calm, focused. He couldn’t allow himself to let his guard down.

When he got out of the car, he had to keep himself from breathing a sigh of relief. He was finally able to stretch his legs after being seated for what felt like ages. He thanked the driver who handed him his suitcase, then proceeded to take a look around. The two houses - even though they were separated from each other - formed some sort of angle. In the shared garden a long table had been set up, and from the numbers of chairs Tommy could tell that a great number of relatives would be joining them for lunch.

“Papà!”

A female voice echoed in the garden, and a raven-haired girl ran down the stairs that led to the front door of Vincenzo’s house. In a matter of seconds she was in the garden, and she wrapped her arms around the man’s neck.

“Ciao, amore di papà.” Ferrante said, taking her face in his hands to leave a tender kiss on her forehead. “Come stai?”

She opened her mouth to say something, but was quickly distracted by Tommy’s presence. A glimpse of confusion flickered across her dark eyes, then something really close to realisation seemed to hit her.

Ferrante took a step back, so that Tommy and that girl could be in front of each other. “Nina, this is Tommy Shelby. Mr. Shelby, this is Nina, my daughter.”

Tommy watched has she furrowed her brows, hesitating for a couple of seconds before holding out her hand. Her eyes, that a few seconds before were warm and full of affection for her father, were now cold and wary. And there was something defiant in the way she refused to be the first to break eye contact. It was something that Tommy wasn’t used to, he had grown accustomed to people lowering their heads in his presence, not daring to even look at him. This girl clearly knew who he was, and yet she refused to be intimidated. It was quite admirable.

Soon, Tommy realised that he had probably let his hand linger in hers for a bit too long. He let it fall to his side, clearing his throat. “Pleasure.”

“Nina, why don’t you show our guest his room?” Ferrante suggested, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “So you make yourself comfortable before lunch, Mr. Shelby.”

She said something in Italian, and even though Tommy couldn’t understand a single word, from the tone of her voice and her disgruntled expression he could tell that she was displeased. Nevertheless, a reproachful “Nina” uttered by her father, accompanied by a stern look, seemed to do the trick.

She glanced at Tommy one more time, before turning around and starting to walk towards the house. “Come with me.” She said, without worrying about whether he was following her or not.

Tightening his hold on the suitcase, Tommy started to walk behind her. If Nina’s cousin was half as hostile as her, he was truly fucked.

“Ciao, amore di papà”: “hi, darling” (literally - “hi, dad’s love”)

“Come stai?”: “how are you?”

NEXT PART

Tagging @zablife , cause I remember you asking me to tag you when this was out🤍

#peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinder imagine #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x oc #heart body and soul

[joestvr]

༺✮ atashi no kimyona jinsei // あたしの奇妙な人生 ✮༻

༺✮ summary: five years after the fall of diavolo, you, y/n romano, who was sent away to japan at 11 to further your studies—find the courage to come back to naples after living out your schoolgirl & gaijin university student facade in morio-chou to see how your clan’s worsened—as well as become the “donna” of your father’s gang, il terrore, while your older brother is the real leader behind the scenes, just using you as a front. with plans to murder your clan, you seek the particularly handsome young don of passione for friendship. with your tyrant father’s intervention, your friendship with the don turns to something you never saw coming.

★ 1 // il terrore // ★ 2 // bella //★ 3 // viva romano

"Welcome home, Y/n." Your father said. You could see the cigar burning and sitting on the ashtray beside him. 

"I'm not happy to be here. What do you need?" You responded.

"God, you're still the same condescending bitch you were 5 years ago." He stood up to face you. 

"I said, what do you need?" 

"You need to become the leader of Il Terrore. I've already announced it to everyone. " 

Your heart dropped and you slowly backed away.

"N-No... What about Alexander?"

He grabbed your arm and yanked you towards him. 

"Your brother is nothing but an arrogant fool! He is unfit to run our organization!" 

"You're joking, right?! He's your firstborn son!" 

"You ungrateful bitch!" He yanked you toward him and slapped you across the face, then pushed you to the ground, scowling. 

"You're just like your fucking mother. Leave my sight." He waved you off and you got on your feet, dizzy.

You got out a pack of cigarettes and lit one with a sigh, blowing smoke out of your mouth.

"Y/n." 

You turned around and your face lit up. "Vince?" 

Vincenzo Sayyid. 23 years old. Your childhood best friend and one of the most prominent caporegime of Il Terrore. He is the first person in your father's personal guard and was brought up in Naples. 

His mother, Francesca Marino-Sayyid, was your mother's good friend and a Sicilian. His father, Azam Sayyid, is from Kandahar, Afghanistan who stays in Kabul and manages the branches of gangs there.

He has tan skin, green eyes, thick brown hair that's usually slicked back with a strand sticking out, and stands at 193cm (6'4). 

"Oh, Y/n, is that you?" He smiled, hugging you tightly, and kissing your cheek. 

"It's me." You said into his neck. 

"Have you seen Trish yet, tesora?" He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist and going behind you. 

"No, I might see her soon, though." 

"Why not now?" 

"I'm to arrange a meeting with the Don of Passione, I'll see her then, because she's apart of his personal circle.”

"Shall I get the guys together, Donna?" He took the cigarette from your mouth and put it in his. 

"I heard a rumaru— ru— rumor—" You struggled to pronounce the word correctly. 

"You have a Japanese accent now. Ha!" He teased. 

"As I was saying, I heard a rumor he stabbed himself with the reku- Requiem arrow. And his personal guard has some insane sutando— Stand Users."

"Hahaha! Your pronunciation is so funny now!" He laughed. 

You sighed and lit another cigarette, taking out your flip phone, dialing Trish's number. 

★★★★★★★★★

Trish was sitting at a table in a restaurant with the gang. She was eating her spaghetti talking with Bucciarati when her phone began to ring. 

"Sorry, Bucciarati, hold on." She said, taking the phone out and answering. 

"Hello?" 

"Trish, it's me." She slightly gasped upon hearing you, hunching down and lowering her voice. 

"Wh-What's up?" She replied. 

"Where are you? What are you up to?" 

She covered her mouth and continued to speak into the phone so Fugo couldn't use his powerful mind to lip read. 

"I'm at a restaurant with the guys." 

"What guys?" 

"You know." 

"Oh, you're with the gang? Without me? Rudeee." 

"Very funny," she started to get concerned at Narancia poking at her arm with curiosity, "Honey, I need to get going." 

"Alright. I'll see you soon." 

"Bye, babe. Love you." 

"Love you too, Trish." 

She kissed into the phone and hung up, smiling to herself, chuckling. 

The men's eyes widened upon the words that came out of her mouth and the gestures made. 

"So, Trish..." Giorno started, smirking. "Care to share the contents of your phone call that caused you to be so secretive?"

"Yes, Trish, I'm quite eager to know." Bucciarati continued. 

"Yeah, Trish. Tell us about your secret boyfriend." Mista laughed. Narancia seemed oddly jealous.

"Have you all lost your minds?" She said. 

"Trish, there's no need to keep information from us. We are your family." Bucciarati smiled. 

"I promise you guys it's not what you think." She began to eat again. 

"So what is it then? You're a lesbian?" Narancia blurted out.

She nearly spit out her wine with surprise. "Wh—What?" 

"It's okay if you are a homosexual, Trish." said Fugo reassuringly. 

"I am not a lesbian, nor do I have a boyfriend, everyone, please." She cleared her throat. 

"Well, who are you calling 'Babe' and 'Honey' and telling 'Love you' to?" Bucciarati crossed his arms in an oddly fatherly way. 

"Giorno, can you please tell him to stop?" She looked at the blonde haired boy, furrowing her eyebrows. 

"No, I'd like to hear as well. Who is so important to you that you have to kiss into the phone when telling them goodbye?" 

"Let's change the subject. Do you know the gang Il Terrore?" 

"Yes, I heard the new leader is a clueless prick. We don't even know if he is a stand user. How absurd.." Fugo answered.

"He probably is. I heard the Romano family has quite the collection of Stand and Requiem Arrows. The guy probably has an insane team of guards." Mista responded.

"Is he a threat to us?"

"No." Trish interrupted. 

"Alright then."

★★★★★★★★★

"I do wish you'd stop smoking." Alima sighed.

Alima Sayyid-Romano. Your sister in law — Also Vince’s cousin. 30 years old. Born in Kandahar, Afghanistan. Her father is Vince’s father’s older brother. She came to Italy 18 years ago with her parents to make a deal with your father and set up a marriage with your brother.

You scoffed and lit another cigarette. "Who do you think I got it from?" 

"I remember how your dad and Alexander used to chain smoke all day." She chuckled. 

Alexander Romano. Your older brother. 34 years old. He married Alima when he was 18, and had their son, Leo, at 20, and their daughter, Elena, at 25. Though their marriage was arranged, they've had a deep romance ever since they met. 

Your relationship with your brother has always been complicated, and it was estranged for many years due to your father driving you apart and also, well, the 14 year age gap.

Now, you'd like to think you're on good terms with each other but he doesn't always approve of the way you live. 

"Where is he, anyway?" You turned on your hair straightener, waiting for it to heat up. 

"Who, Alexander? He's with the kids at the plaza." She answered, unpacking your clothes, folding and putting them in drawers. 

"They're always at the plaza. There's so many thugs and tweakers there, God knows all the drugs they're on." You started to straighten your hair, scowling. 

"Take that cigarette out of your mouth, Y/n. It's a fire hazard." 

You sighed and put your cigarette out in an ashtray.

"Here, I bought this for you in India." You took a gold ring off your finger and put it on her.  

"Thank you. 22 karats?" She grinned and examined the intricacy of the design. 

"Yup. 24 is too soft."

She hugged you and kissed your cheek. "Love you." 

"Love you too, Sis." You returned the kiss onto her cheek. 

You heard the front door open and a familiar voice yell, "We're home!"

You gasped and ran downstairs, jumping into your brother's arms with delight. "Mio bel fratello!"

"Mia bella sorellina!" He embraced you in a hug, kissing your cheeks and laughing, spinning you around. 

"Oh, how I missed you, Alexander!" You smiled. He put you down. 

"I missed you more than anything, Y/n." 

You looked at Leo and gasped, smiling wide, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek. "Kyaaaaah, my Leo is so grown up now!" 

"Relax, Y/n, come on..." He groaned, hugging you back and kissing your cheek back. He was already taller than you. 

"Kyaaah!" You squealed again in delight, then looked at Elena. 

"Long time no see, principessa!" You hugged her tight, and she giggled. 

Alima came down, laughing. Alexander pulled her close to him and kissed her hard. 

"Ew! Stop that!" You exclaimed dramatically. 

"Go upstairs then!" Alexander shouted. 

You stuck your tongue out at him then went upstairs, opening your laptop and sending a message to the Don of Passione. 

Ciao, Don Giovanna, you wrote, I'd like to make a deal. You pressed send and sighed. 

★★★★★★★★★

The gang was back at their home, relaxing and talking. 

"Hey, Giorno, you got a message." Narancia said, handing the computer to him. 

"Someone wants to make a deal." Giorno said, his eyes fixated on the screen. 

"Well, who is it?" Mista butted in, shoving Narancia off the couch and sitting next to him. 

Who's this? Giorno typed, then eagerly waited for a response. 

Forgive my lack of manners. I'm the leader of Il Terrore. 

Giorno slightly gasped. "Il Terrore? That's strange." 

Trish's head shot up from her constant texting and she smiled silently to herself.

Okay. What kind of deal would you like to make? Giorno responded. 

I want to be allies. I have heard of your immense power and your drive to keep drugs out of Italy deeply impresses me. 

Giorno gasped louder and Bucciarati looked at him. "What's wrong?" 

"He wants to be allies." 

"Ask what he'll do in return if you grant him friendship." 

What will you give me in return?

I'm sure you've heard of my family's collection of the Arrows. I'll give half of those into your possession, 10 million lira, and whatever else you wish for. 

Giorno's eyes widened. Mista leaned over and smirked seeing the offer. 

Alright.

Can we meet in person? 

"He wants to meet in person." 

"He's going to murder you in cold blood." Abbachio decided to join the conversation. 

"Don't be ridiculous, Abbachio, he's not going to do that. The Romano family is a very respected one." Fugo said.

"Whatever. Go if you wanna get killed." Abbachio rolled his eyes. 

Giorno sighed and typed his response, Sure. 

Meet me at the restaurant Libeccio tomorrow at 1600, and we can talk then. 

Sounds good. 

Grazie, Don Giovanna. See you there.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojos #jojo #ok #giorno giovann #giorno #giorno giovanna #vento aureo #jjba part 5 #golden wind #giorno x reader #jjba giorno #jjba golden wind #jojo no kimyou na bouken #flop era #flop #please don't flop #giorno giovanna x reader

[angevinyaoiz]

reading through the og Godfather novel and it's SO fun to do so as a Medievalhead because it's of course very modern And pulpy but also a lot of passages end up feeling to me like medieval style or mediev inspired epic poetry inspired fantasy kinda. Puzo writes about Sicilians like fantasy authors do about an Cool Fantasy Race. Also ofc like Coppola pointed out it's an archetypical "Once there was a King with Three Sons" story but amusingly medieval to me in that it has that structure, especially in ch 14 where it goes into Vito's history, of like "the great emperor conquered and subdued the neighboring dissenting clans," and then lists the different groups in detail with tangential references to their Great Deeds and notable characteristics. It even mixes a little with Real History by incorporating the Capones, tho in a derisive way. (Also amusing that it follows that kind of story structure of "our great kingdom expands and flourishes.......until the TURKS pulled some BULLSHIT" )

When Vito calls the 5 families it does more of that kind of epic poem style where it sits down and lists everyone and names everyone super specifically and their loyalties and (racial) epithets, and then after the debate he makes his Cool Poetic Speech about protecting Michael which feels like to me welling out of some ancient space. This feels like it should be in some kind of verse:

This and the way Sonny is described in the Vito chapters and leading up to his death has a very epic epithets quality to it as well like ah yes, he of the Big Penis, named for devotion, witness of the First Death, wielder of the Anglo-Saxon Gun, taker of the mantle, in cold honorable rage went forth and was slain

#the godfather #mario puzo #the godfather novel #the godfather 1969 #medieval

[cinemajunkie70]

The happiest of birthdays to Alain Delon!!

#Alain delon #le samourai #le cercle rouge #rocco and his brothers #Christine #Mr. Klein #the sicilian clan #purple noon #once a thief #red Sun #Scorpio #un flic #the eclipse #zorro #la piscine #french cinema #actor #the leopard #borsalino #the yellow rolls Royce

[nw-of-dark]

Vampire Clan: Hecata

The Clan of Death, Necromancers, Graverobbers, The Family, Stiffs, Corpses, Devil-Kindred, Lazarenes

They do not constitute a completely organic clan stemming from a singular Antediluvian and an unbroken lineage. Instead, they consist of the Giovanni, the remaining members of the ancient Clan Cappadocian and their associated bloodlines, and even the Nagaraja, despite lacking a direct tie to an Antediluvian. Together, they form a novel and (largely) cohesive Clan of Death, encompassing various Kindred bloodlines that specialize in necromancy through the use of Oblivion. Similar to the Giovanni, whom they predominantly absorb, they function as a family, albeit an extensively extended one.

Disciplines: Auspex, Fortitude, Oblivion

Bane - Painful Kiss: Steeped in death, the fangs of the Hecata bring not bliss, but agony.

Bloodlines

The Hecata are composed of ten main bloodlines:

La Famiglia Giovanni, or Clan Giovanni as it has been known until recent nights, still largely occupying the overall leadership role in the Hecata, even without Augustus Giovanni as an anchoring influence. They do not normally identify themselves to clan outsiders as Hecata. La Famiglia also includes other satellite families, such as the Della Passaglias and Ghibertis, who have not earned their own individual bloodline status to date.

The Harbingers of Ashur, the aggregate remnants of Clan Cappadocian, of both the mainline clan and the Harbingers of Skulls.

Nasyon san An (Nation of Blood), the new face of the Samedi bloodline.

The Gorgons, the surviving remnants of the Lamia, the Cappadocian bloodline of devout Bahari faith from whom the curse of the painful Kiss originates.

The Flesh-Eaters, a group of Nagaraja; a bizarre bloodline of flesh-eating vampires, feared by all Kindred.

The Bankers of Dunsirn, the cannibalistic banking family from Scotland, once a branch of Clan Giovanni, and now considered a bloodline in their own right.

The Children of Tenochtitlan, the Giovanni allies Pisanob (now without the leadership of Pochtli), once driven to the brink of extinction by the Harbingers of Skulls.

The Criminal Puttanesca, a Sicilian crime family formerly attached to the Giovanni.

The Little Siblings, are the Rossellini, once a rival necromantic family (now attached) to the Giovanni, they are known for their cruel treatment and exploitation of wraiths.

The Grudge Masters, are the Milliners, a minor Giovanni family with many connections in organized crime.

#clan hecata #hecata #vtm #vtm hecata #vampire: the masquerade #vampire #clans