#gio ricci

[wildfairies]

what do u guys think do they look cute together

i'm thinking he's a reluctant recently turned vampire who seeks her out for a cure since she's a renowned potionmaker but then they slowly fall in love and he eventually decides not to take the cure and stay immortal with her

[galaxyedging]

To celebrate the talented man who brought to life all the characters I've had hours of fun with, I picked a few of 'my' characters to revisit.

Dieter's Birthday

Gio's Birthday

Charlie's Birthday

Silva's Birthday

Nico's Birthday

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass @mandoloriancookie

[catherinestuart]

APRIL 2024

"so — are you gonna tell me what you're planning with max or not?" she has a scotch in one hand and a cigarette in another, staring at her friend with a playful little smile. "if you two are going to do a major political upheaval, i'm expecting for you to tell me, because he definitely wont until the very last minute." @giorxcci

[suzdin]

Washed Up Has-Been: a Dieter Bravo one shot

Dieter Bravo x F!Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: soft!Dieter, sweet!Dieter, smut, angst, bodily insecurities, reader is plus sized but no other physical attributes are described, Dieter is a little chubby as well, mentions of drugs and alcohol, oral (m receiving), mention of sex toys, fluff? (gasp!), did I forget anything? I know next to nothing about the film industry, don’t judge me :(

Word Count: 2,800

Enjoy and feel free to reblog and comment if you wish! 💜🙂

——

Dieter Bravo had not been the same since Cliff Beasts 6.

What did they call it? Losing your spark? Your mojo? Your moxy? Whatever it was called, he’d lost it, along with his marbles… if he ever had any to begin with, and he was sure many would agree he hadn’t.

The reviews were bad, abhorrent, really. ‘Dieter Bravo as Gio Ricci baffling’, ‘Bravo couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag’, ‘I can’t believe this man has an Oscar’, ‘Did he get his Italian accent at an Olive Garden?’, on and on the critics wailed and lambasted.

He’d had a mental break shortly after the premier, firing everyone he could in his vicinity — his publicist, his hair stylist and manicurist, hell, even his agent of twenty five years. He’d hired a new one, of course, a potential script FedExed to his door that morning, fist curled and white knuckled in anger around the thick stack of papers as he perched himself like a sentient gargoyle on his couch, in the tattered clothes he’d been wearing for nearly a week.

A dad. They wanted him to play a fucking dad, some sort of buddy comedy family film opposite Dwayne Johnson, it might be a good move for your career, buddy, his agent had explained. But seriously, him? Hollywood heart throb Dieter Bravo, reduced to playing someone’s bumbling father, opposite THE FUCKING ROCK?

He couldn’t believe it.

He had put on some weight since his last film, sure, but that was no reason or excuse to allow himself to be typecasted as a dad.

Or was it the ever persistent graying in his hair and beard? The laugh lines? The crow’s feet?

‘Dieter Bravo is a washed up has-been’ the internet screamed at him daily, leading him to drown himself in an endless stream of drugs and alcohol…more so than he was already doing, anyway.

He was barely a functioning person. A husk of his former self, he could no longer get it up, unsure whether to blame the drugs or his steadily fleeting mental health, and even putting brush to canvas felt more like a chore than an escape nowadays. He’d become a hermit in his own home, the ghastly, aging 1970s mid-century horror he resided in the Hollywood Hills, that he thought was amazing when he originally bought it a decade ago.

Well, much like him, older things fall apart, and the house was a piece of shit, which was apt.

He had hired you as his assistant and he was so vague as to what that entailed that you were sort of a jack of all trades as far as helping was concerned, acting as his maid, his cook, the middle man to screen his calls, his emails, so on and so forth. Hell, you even took care of the large python he’d bought ‘because it looked cool’, that he was now too scared to touch, himself.

You did it all, and although he never properly expressed as much, he was more grateful for you than he let on.

He always found you pretty, too. Beautiful, even, and not in the fake way he’d grown used to, living in Hollywood. You were kind, sweet, and uncorrupted by a crueler world, always happy and eager to assist him with whatever he needed.

And if he was being honest with himself, the thought of you sheathed around his cock was the only thing that could even get him half hard anymore.

When you arrive for the day, you find him on his couch, glowering at what you can only assume is another bad script, graying hair disheveled and curling away from his skull, teeth gritted in disdain. A look you had come to recognize and were more than familiar with.

“Let me take that to the garbage for you,” you offer, as you normally do in these situations, stepping forward to reach for the offending script.

His eyes clock the way your breasts sway when you walk, the roundness of your belly, the plushness of your arms. He can’t help but stare; he wants to bury himself in you and stay there forever.

He swallows, moving the script away from your extended hand and tucking it behind a cushion, distracted by your body.

“No — no, it’s okay,” he replies and his voice feels like gravel in his throat, realizing he hasn’t spoken all day until now.

Although the script sucks and he doesn’t want to do it, he needs the money. “Thanks.”

You notice his eyes on you and you sit, leaving about a foot of space between you to maintain a modicum of professionalism, observing the sadness behind his dark brown eyes and knowing this has been the norm for several months now but still hating it for what it is.

“What’s on the docket for today?” you ask him and he shrugs, unhelpfully, his lips pulled into a frown, shadows staining the lines of his face. You haven’t seen him this bad in a while.

“I can… make you some hot tea?” you ask, looking down at the schedule in your lap, of which nothing is jotted down for the day.

He shakes his head, carding a hand through his hair. “No. I’m out of tea.”

You chew your lip. “Okay… well, then I guess I’m running to the store today. I have a list already, but can you think of anything else?”

Once again, he shakes his head. “No. I’ll just order it or something.”

You frown and tuck the schedule away, crossing your legs and turning to face him, contemplative.

“Then what do you want me to do today? You’re paying me to be here,” you note. “Unless you’d rather I go home.”

“No!” he damn near shouts, making you jump, and he immediately regrets his lack of impulse control. His gaze traverses your subtle cleavage and you clear your throat, heat warming your skin. “Sorry, it’s just… I don’t want to be alone right now. Can we just hang out?” he queries.

“Dieter, are you okay?” you question and he shakes his head in response.

“No.” A single word that says so much more than that. It pulls at your heart strings, seeing him like this. “I — I’m a nobody.”

“You aren’t a nobody, you’re Oscar winner Dieter fucking Bravo,” you counter, and he snorts, picking at some dry skin on his ankle.

“Yeah, Dieter fucking Bravo, the aging has-been who can’t act his way out of a paper bag,” he snorts.

“If you keep talking like that, I’m going to take away your internet access so you can’t read all the mean tweets about yourself,” you threaten.

“You wouldn’t.”

“One call to your financial advisor and I would and could,” you retort and Dieter scoffs, trying to remember if he’d fired him yet or not.

You cross your arms and flop back against the worn and flattened couch cushions, eyeing him smugly.

The movement pushes your chest up and out, his gaze on you once again and he isn’t subtle about it this time. You clear your throat and stir, staring back at his soft, plush lips.

“Dieter—“

“Come here,” he murmurs quietly and the spontaneity of it catches you off guard, your jaw hanging agape in disbelief and confusion.

“…What?”

It had been months since anyone had touched him, had wanted to touch him, and now, as he stares at your body and smells your light vanilla perfume, after the shitty week he’s had, he needs to be touched, even if only briefly.

“Come… here,” he repeats, more dogged than before, and in spite of yourself, despite how unprofessional it is, you find yourself scooting forward.

He grabs your hips when you’re within reach and drags you the rest of the way, pulling the cushion partially off the couch in the process, a small yelp of surprise escaping your lungs as he softly grips your face to bring his lips to yours.

They’re plush, dry, lightly chapped and he tastes a little like whiskey and weed, but you don’t really mind, his coarse, wiry mustache scratching and tickling against your nose.

Suddenly, with a soft groan in the back of his throat, his hand is under your shirt, cupping your breast, and you break the kiss, looking down to where his arm disappears beneath the fabric, shock settling over your features.

“Dee… are you… are you sure?” you ask. You don’t exactly look like the people Dieter had been confirmed dating in the past, and you feel a wave of trepidation, your self conscious nature bubbling to the surface. You’ve always felt Dieter Bravo was more than a little out of your league.

Not that you’re dating him, but, you know.

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t sure,” he tuts and kisses you again, rougher this time, palming your breast, making your cunt throb.

He groans. You’re so good to him, always taking such good care of him, and you feel exactly the way he thought you would, warm and luscious and supple, his dick already fighting with the seam of his pajama pants, the first time in weeks.

And you’ve wanted this, too, as long as you’ve worked for him, never confessing your feelings for fear of losing your job. You never imagined Dieter fucking Bravo would feel the same way about you.

You know Dee needs this, you need this, and you want to make him feel good.

You brush a hand over his hardening cock and he damn near bucks himself straight off the couch with a grunt and a sharply uttered, “Fuck” against your lips. You grin into his mouth at how much composure he’s already lost from so few touches.

You pull away after a moment and scoot off the couch, sinking onto your knees in front of him, nestling yourself between his broad thighs.

He watches you, rigid cock tremoring in his pants at the sight, the outline of it clearly visible and straining against the fabric. “You… you don’t have to…” His voice is thick, haggard.

“Let me take care of you, Dee,” you mewl as you nuzzle your face against the squishy paunch of his stomach, lifting his shirt to plant small, reverent kisses in a circle around his belly button. He giggles and flinches at the contact.

“Sorry, sorry — ticklish,” he explains and you smile, placing a few more kisses there, more delicate than the ones that preceded them, trailing a line from his navel to the thick swathe of hair leading to his crotch.

Despite the pounds he’s put on recently, he doesn’t feel at all uncomfortable in front of you, eyes darkening as he drinks you in visually, lips tight and parted, breaths growing deeper in the barrel of his chest.

You look up and from your current perspective, he’s all wild haired and broad shouldered, panting, your cunt clenching with desire as you eye him with a wry grin.

You smooth his shirt down over his belly and move your face to the hard bulge below, nosing the bulk of it through the fabric and inhaling his natural scent, thick and musky and masculine in your nostrils. You both groan in unison.

“Dear god,” he grunts, “I feel like I’m about to— aaaaugh— fucking bust already.”

“Save it for my mouth, at least,” you snip and his head rolls back against the cushion at your words, the one with the sag in the middle where his neck always rests, eyes sliding shut.

“You’re so good for me,” he pants softly, already so close to falling apart, “I take you for granted and I’m sorry.”

“Dieter, shh.” You find the stretchy waistband of his striped trousers and drag them down his hips, not all surprised to see he’s gone commando, cock springing free from the cage of fabric, uncut and dribbling against the drag of soft cotton. He’s girthy, and you’ve never seen one intact in the flesh before — literally — a small puff of air escaping your lips, taking in the sight of him for a few seconds before coming to your senses.

“Is everything alr—“ he starts to ask, cutting himself off when you unexpectedly cup his heavy balls in your palm and lick a slow stripe up his length with the flat of your tongue, his hips quivering and bucking involuntarily. “Shit—“

You grin, humming satisfactorily to yourself and continue to tease him, his hands finding your hair, fingers twisting at the roots as the rings he insists on wearing get caught in the strands, pulling ever so slightly. You moan.

You feel incredible, your tongue working his most sensitive areas, and he’s having a hard time holding it together, torso heaving above you, tiny whimpers departing his lips, and he hasn’t even entered your mouth yet.

You sense how much trouble he’s having at keeping himself in check, so you back off a touch to give him a momentary reprieve, shifting to kiss along the meat of his inner thighs, nipping at the tiny elephant tattoos etched into his skin as you do so.

He cups one hand on the back of your neck, watching you through half-lidded eyes, your lips like pure velvet and heaven.

He’s already forgotten about the shitty script tucked into the couch, about the bad reviews and the critics with their cruel, baseless quips. Faded away to nothingness, akin to what he experiences when he’s completely blitzed, negative thoughts dissolving to the back of his mind to be discarded, and for now, for the moment, the only thing that matters is you, your beauty, and how well you take care of him.

After what seems like an eternity of small, worshipping, teasing touches to the insides of his thighs and the rim of his belly, your lips return to his cock, lapping at the precum that’s beaded up at the slit before taking him into your mouth, hand fisted at the base as you work him into your throat.

He’s impervious at this point to keep his hips flush against the couch, shuddering into your mouth as you take him and pushing further down your throat, not entirely on purpose, moaning as the wet heat of your mouth engulfs him.

“Wanna— fuck your pussy next time— with a vibrating plug in your ass,” he grunts, hardly able to string a single cohesive thought together, making your cunt throb and slick leak into the cradle of your panties.

Dieter wasn’t one to shy away from toys, and in fact had an entire drawer full of them, which you had accidentally stumbled upon one day when putting away some of his clothes; everything from butt plugs to cock rings to flesh lights with multiple attachments and bondage gear.

You steady his hips with your hands and hold him in place as best you can, difficult with how much stronger he is than you, jaw stretching to fit him, the musky tang of him flooding your tastebuds.

You steadily rock your head up and down his length, taking him all the way to the back of your throat, and you can feel the veins running the length of his shaft pulsating against your tongue, feel the way his balls tighten as he edges ever closer to the precipice.

He’s wanted you, needed you, for so long, that he can’t contain himself much longer. His hips begin to stutter and you feel his body growing taut, hear his breaths growing shallow and haggard, fingers curling against your scalp.

“I’m… I’m gonna… fucking cum,” he grunts deep in his chest. That’s all the warning he allows before his hips stall and he lets out a visceral growl of pleasure, spilling a hot and heavy load across your tongue, some of it seeping out at the edges and dribbling down his thighs until you’re able to steady yourself.

You hold him in your mouth until you feel the very last drop hit the back of your throat, slowly pulling off only when you feel him starting to go soft.

“You should really clean up this awful mess you’ve made,” Dieter taunts when you sit back to catch your breath, watching the cocktail of spend and saliva slide down his tan skin.

You grin and tip your head forward to obediently lap at the escaped fluids. He groans as he savors the delicious sight of you, affectionately brushing his fingers through your hair as you do so.

After a moment, you rise from the ground, your knees cracking from the exertion, joining him on the couch as he tugs his pajama bottoms back up his hips.

He snakes an arm around the small of your back and kisses you, deep and full, moaning when he tastes remnants of himself on your tongue.

He grins against your lips and then rises, yanking you off the couch and giggling along with you when you pass him a perplexed look.

“Where are we going now?” you ask, pleased to see him happy and relaxed again after all this time, to actually see him smiling.

“You took care of me, so I’m going to take care of you. You’re familiar with my special drawer, aren’t you?”

—

FIN. xx

[valentina--ricci]

The Ricci Family Playbook | A Self-Para

Valentina had assumed she would have felt more emotional in this moment. Like the sight of her father being carted off in handcuffs would suddenly unleash this well of empathy for the man who had helped bring her into the world. She thought that the softness she had once felt for him would rise to the surface. Maybe she’d get flashbacks of her childhood, when he’d actually sit and read with her or take her for ice cream after a good grade. 

But all Valentina felt was relief as she sat in a car with her mother further down the block. 

It had happened fast for something that had taken her years to plan. She had thought several times about finding a way to kill him but that would just be using the same playbook he had. The man cared about nothing more than his reputation so killing his reputation seemed to be the only way for her at the moment. She knew she had to be smart. She had to build a case, she had to find things that were so severe, so sturdy, that not even his lawyers could talk their way out of this one. 

His targeting of Mikayla Beaumont had sent her over the edge, an urgency rising up in her chest as she watched him act like the Godfather once again. As she watched the town almost get swept away in sand and realized that maybe she cared about the people here. Maybe. But she had to draw the line somewhere. He was out of control and even worse, he was a likely winner for Mayor. She knew that if she didn’t stop him now, or at least deter him for some time, then they would never be able to turn back. 

So she set the wheels in motion. Left breadcrumbs for the ATF agents and local cops. Enough for them to take Mikki’s article to heart. And then came her final move. 

Valentina could feel the stress leaving her body as she got out of bed and pulled on her robe, glancing back at Roman on the bed before she let him know that she had invited him over for more than letting him attend to her beautiful body. She pulled a thick folder from her dresser and dropped it down on the bed next to him. She knew he’d ask questions and she was ready for them and clear that he needed to be as quick about this as possible. And with another kiss to his cheek, she sent him on his way before going to see her mother and brother to let them know what she had done. 

And Roman had of course delivered as she knew he would. Or else she wouldn’t have trusted him with it in the first place. 

So Valentina put the car in drive as they dipped her father’s head into the police car. She was slow until the car turned down a larger street and pressed her foot to the gas so they could pull up beside the police car. She kept her speed steady as she and her mother turned to look at Gio in the back seat. And as they set their eyes on him, they both smiled. Beatrice even blew him a kiss before they sped past them and turned down the next road,  in search of an appropriate celebration.

[catherinestuart]

dark blues squinted slightly , turning the phrase over and over in her mind . " surely it must be a name of a slope? or . . . is it a name for some new sex thing that's popular with the kids from le rosey? " her fingers closed on the cup of hot coffee in her hands . " either way , are you going to be joining them for it ? "

⁎  ╱  @catherinestuart.

｡  "Sometimes I forget how many flock here for winter break." The rich spoiled kids from private schools made the slopes look akin to an ant mound. Royals included. "One of those kids," head cocks towards a mixed group, "tried to convince me of trying a lemon drop. What the bloody hell is a lemon drop? Is it code for a type of slope?"

[ambrosiafm]

come on, 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒃 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒂, and let the nectar flow! take a load off! — accepted! please familiarize yourself with the guidelines, plot, and lore and then follow the steps in ⁠after acceptance checklist. welcome to 𝘬𝘦𝘧𝘪, 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘢, gio ricci. mario ermito is now taken.

⧼ mario ermito, cisgender male, he/him, 27. ⧽ The Motto by Tiesto; Ava Max ☼ GIO RICCI survived the second titan war, but just barely! nowadays they’re a BAKER and are known to be thoughtful&lazy, makes sense given they’re a CHILD OF SOMNUS. word around town is that they’ve been here for 2 weeks and they’ve already broken 4 hearts, is it true? it’s probably just gossip. [ cliff, 26, est, he/him, triggers: hard drug use , open to dms: yes ]

[pewangiparfum]

Rekomendasi Parfum Buat Cewek 

Parfum adalah bagian penting dari perawatan tubuh bagi para wanita. Aroma parfum dapat menggambarkan kepribadian dan memberikan kesan yang berbeda. Berikut adalah rekomendasi parfum untuk wanita yang dapat Anda pertimbangkan:

-avril

-acqua di gio 

-aigner starlight

-aigner to feminim

-angel heart

-angel lady

-anna sui dream

-anasui dolly

-anna sui secret wish 

-armani si

-ariana grande ari 

-ariana grande sweet

-angelina jolie

-black opium 

-britney spears fantasi

-britney midnight

-burberry london

-bvlgari rose 

-baccarat

-bvlgari cristal

-bvlgari amethyse

-beneton pink

-ch 212 vip

-ch 212 goodgirl

-chanel chance 

-chanel coco mademoiselle 

-chanell coco 

-chanell 5 

-japanes chery blosom bodyshop 

-d&g light blue

-d&g imperatrice 

-dunhill black

-dunhill blue  

-dunhill red

-escada chery  

-escada moon sparkle 

-escada sexy graviti 

-escada magnetis

-este lauder

-gucci rush

-gucci bloom 

-harajuku love 

-hello kitty 

-hermes twily 

-incanto shine 

-issey miyake 

-jadore 

-james bond  women 

-jlo still 

-jlo platinum

-justin bieber next girl

-jomalone english pear

-katty perry meow 

-kenzo bali 

-kenzo flower

-lavie est belle 

-miss dior blooming 

-miss dior cherry 

-nagita slavina 

-nina riccy l'extase

-olla  citra 

-paris hilton 

-paris hilton heires 

-paris hilton paspor 

-paris can can

-paris hilton siren 

-pink ciffon

-sarah jesica parker

-selena gomes

-scarlet cacarel 

-taylor swift

-tresor lancome 

-tresor la nuit

-victoria aquakiss 

-victoria boombshell 

-victoria pure seduction 

-victoria romantic 

-victoria scandalous 

-victoria so sexy

-viva la rose

-zara gardenia 

-zara red vanila 

-zara women

-zara orchid

-zara oriental

-zara parc floral

-zara with love

Ingatlah untuk memilih parfum yang sesuai dengan acara dan suasana hati Anda. Semoga Anda menemukan aroma yang cocok dan tahan lama!

[galaxyedging]

Gio x f!reader

Set in this universe.

Warnings:none.

WC:400

Gio's Birthday

Gio fixed his tie for the millionth time. He wanted to call the restaurant again but as nice as the people were he feared even they might be tempted to spit in his food if he called again.

Instead he called you, again. You were nothing but patience with him. He had a nervous habit of checking, well, everything. You called it cute. Thoughtful. Dedication. You made him feel better about things he saw as shortcomings. You made everything feel better.

"Gio, this place is amazing! You didn't have to do all this. It's your birthday not mine." You'd gushed as he pushed your chair in.

"Well, like you say, you just have to treat yourself sometimes. I wanted to get myself a special gift this year."

"Well, thank you for bringing me along."

"I would take you everywhere will me."

The moment of you gazing lovingly into each other's eyes was broken by the waiter coming to take your order. The meal was amazing. You finished just in time for the even more amazing show. Moving to one of the comfortable sofas. The lights were turned off and through the window the sky lit up.

"No matter how many times I see it. It still takes my breath away." The colours of the Aurora Borealis danced across your features.

"I know the feeling." Gio pulled you closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

"This is wonderful. Thank you for sharing your gift with me Gio. You are also so giving. Happy Birthday." Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek. Anything more in public might have embarrassed your sweet doctor. 

"Thank you but this is not the present I wanted for myself. This is…" he pressed a small box into your hands. 

"What..?"

"Open it." A smile played on his lips.

Your breath was taken away for a different reason. The black velvet box held an engagement ring. 

"Is this…?" With your heart in your mouth you couldn't finish that sentence.

"Will you marry me?" Gio was usually only confident in his field, and in the bedroom,  but the way he asked, he was one hundred percent sure of himself.

"Yes." You completely forgot where you were before kissing him deeply. 

A blush settled on his cheeks as he slipped your ring on to admiring glances and subtle toasts from the other diners.

"Happy Birthday to me."

[lupe-valdez]

Lupe kissed the top of her head before starting to rub slow circles on her back as she spoke. It was hard to hear her re-tell the story and imagine Mikki going through it all. Lupe wasn't naive, her Uncle had made sure of that but it didn't make these kinds of actions any easier to be aware of. How could anyone be desensitized to such cruelty? Especially when it affected someone she loved so deeply. "Jesus, I'm so sorry," she told her softly and held her tightly. "It sounds scary as fuck. Liken that's some movie villain shit, who just has warehouses to take people too? Elliott being there though..." she trailed off, not wanting to fuel the fire but she had already been skeptical about Mikki's biological father.

"Well as of a day ago, Giovanni Ricci is going to prison. So I guess your article was right." She wasn't sure if Mikki had seen the news or if Gio had told her but she couldn't keep it from her very long. "I don't know for sure yet but a little birdie told me his daughter sold him out."

"Well, I'm definitely not dead, so at least I've got that going for me," she replied with a sigh. As Lupe's arms wrapped around her, Mikayla found herself melting into the embrace, her aches and pains be damned. There had been so many times like this growing up, where she found comfort in her cousin's arms, but this time the heaviness of the situation was a grim reminder that they were no longer kids and their problems were much, much bigger.

"The article I wrote," she started, voice quiet, "Giovanni lured me out to Vegas by hiring me for a job under a fake name. He wanted to know my sources, who the leak in his organization was so he could take care of it. I didn't know Elliott was there until later. I guess they have some kind of connection, but I don't know what it is -- I haven't had a chance to ask yet -- and he was using him to try to get me to talk. When that didn't work..." she trailed, leaving the rest unsaid. "I was so scared, Lupe. He took us to some abandoned warehouse, and I didn't know if anyone would be able to find us before one of us got killed."

[catherinestuart]

“thank you, for everything. it’s all very lovely. major godfather points for you.” she tried very hard not to think about her last baby shower, and how it was her aunt wiebke who tutted and shuffled the presents into the most presentable way - now she was nowhere in sight. catherine blinked profusely as she willed her brows to relax its furrow. “it makes my asking a favour from you now all the more horrendous.” they were alone, thankfully, and no one could hear the miniscule quiver of her voice. “it’s about switzerland... and germany.” surely, surely now he would put her out of her misery and stop her from speaking. she took a deep breath before continuing. “tell me if i’m wasting my breath.” ( @giorxcci​ ) 

[thewaythisis]

[seasonschange-butpeopledont]

Okay so I have Gio ideas (I have still not watched The Bubble but I do not care about canon)

Gio and a cryptozoologist reader.

I’m thinking it could be very Journey to the Center of the Earth. Gio as a mountain guide who is hired to help the reader as she tries to prove the existence of the mysterious flying beasts (And maybe even find her sister, who has gone missing in a previous attempt to document the creatures)

[adoniseverywheremen]

Jorge Piantelli by Lucas Ricci

[fashionbooksmilano]

Giulio Confalonieri  Opere Grafiche

Testi di Leonardo Sinisgalli , Bruno Alfieri , Fernand Braudel , Gio Ponti , Gillo Dorfles , Max Bill , Umberto Eco , Mara Campana in italiano ed inglese

Franco Maria Ricci editore, Milano 1998, 140 pagine, tirato in 1000 esemplari, 30 x30 cm., copertina rigida e sovra-copertina 

euro 50,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Giulio Confalonieri nacque a Milano nel 1926 e morì a Milano nel 2008 è stato un designer e grafico italiano. Fu nel secondo dopoguerra, uno dei principali esponenti della Scuola svizzera in Italia. Con uno stile dotato di un segno grafico di forte impatto, generalmente in bianco e nero, e caratterizzato a livello compositivo da espedienti atti a creare una tensione dinamica e un contrasto tra elementi positivi ed elementi negativi.

Giulio Confalonieri, allievo di Gio Ponti e Max Bill, dopo gli studi compiuti in Svizzera, Germania, Italia e India, studiò economia politica prima di apprendere la progettazione grafica. Inizia la propria attività di graphic designer occupandosi di progettazione grafica per il mondo dell'editoria e per quello dell'industria. Tra i suoi committenti annovera Tecno, Valextra, Boffi, Block, Ratti , Italsider, Roche, Westinghouse, Tecno, Breda e Ferrari. Realizzò vari manifesti pubblicitari per la Pirelli, per la Esso e per la Triennale di Milano . Ha lavorato come collaboratore presso Domus, è stato art director di della casa editrice Lerici , per le riviste FMR, Art Esquire, Towns, Graphics, Imago e PM.

03/04/22

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[remiboinot]

 OUPS  10 ans  exposition anniversaire 

Vernissage le jeudi 31 mars 2022 à 18h  

Avec: Scott n Andrew, Gio Black Peter, Blank, Rémi Boinot, Rodolphe Cintorino, Jérémie Cosimi, Pauline Creuzé, Ronald Dagonnier, Clément Davout, Mélanie Duchaussoy, David Evrard, Juliette Feck, Léo Fourdrinier,  Nagi Gianni, Emmanuel Gras, Guilty by association, Hippolyte Hentgen, Tomek Jarolim, Jean Boîte Éditions, Alain K, Matt Lambert, Hildegarde Laszak, Martin Lewden, Marine Luszpinski, Frédéric Nauczyciel, Bruno Peinado, Tom de Pékin, Sophie Pigeron, Jon Rafman, ricci/forte, Julien Robles, Lou Ros, Michel Scarpa, Federico Solmi, Melissa Steckbauer, Amalia Vargas 

commissariat: Julien Carbone, Léo Fourdrinier, Yann Lassere, Yann Pérol 

Exposition du jeudi 31 mars au vendredi 6 mai 2022

 Galerie l’axolotl, 26 rue chevalier Paul, Toulon Ouvert du jeudi au samedi de 14h à 18h ou sur RDV 

gallery.axolotl@gmail.com infos 

sur https://gallery-axolotl.com/