Coin minted from electrum (a naturally occurring gold-silver alloy) by the Sicilian polis of Syracuse between ca. 310 and 305 BCE, when it was under the sway of the expansionist tyrant Agathocles. On the obverse, the head of Apollo, shown with his characteristic long hair; on the reverse, the Delphic tripod, atop which the Pythia sat when delivering oracles. Photo credit: CGB Numismatique Paris.

Cappella Palatina, Palermo (Sicily)~

character reference for an NPC in D&D named Ignaziu

Jean-François Portaels (1818-1895) "A Sicilian Bride" (1861) Oil on canvas

Hi!! Found your blog while looking for other Bg drow pc! I'm in love with your artwork and DU Drow and astarion chemistry, I am invested and listening ! Please take this "same hat!!" parody i made while scrolling your blog - so this ask wouldnt look--- too empty...

I'm fucking dead LMAO YOU DREW HIM SCARIER THAN I DO

WELCOME ABOARD AND THANK YOU!!!!

Gelon granting peace terms to the defeated Carthaginians on condition that they give up human sacrifice

by Michele Panebianco

Thinking abt Sonetto's 1.9 garments again and how it has a relief of a dog in one of the pillars or smth and all of the 5-6* characs have their UDIMO forms w them in their i2 art and apparently their i2 garments are their original outfits and I'm gonna go insane bc Sonetto is the only 5* to not have her own i2 garment so what if this is supposed to be her i2 garment I'm gonna combust fr

Like your honour pls look at her

My girl finally free from the Foundation uniform real

Jean-François Portaels (Belgian, 1818-1895) A Sicilian Bride, 1861 Royal Collection Trust

CERAMICA SICILIA

Chi jè l’amuri, s’amuri nun è? Picchi l’amuri è vuliri dari pi du santu beni chi tra dui c’è ma c’addiventa quannu poi scumpari?

Quannu l’amuri nostru sinni mori cu iddu si potta u to passatu tu votiti, sduvaculu du cori a vita nun è sulu u lassatu.

a idda ommai, lassala stari u beni i ieri, no fari raggia nun vuliri cuntu, nun ci spiari non fari du passatu na jaggia.

Spiati si ci dasti u giustu si ci dasti u dovutu rispettu: l’amuri non è piaciri o gustu è impegnu, sacrificiu, affettu

Picchì si sulu pigghi ma non dai si ogni cuppa è sulu a soi si a ragiuni sulu tu l’ hai nun è l’amuri chi d’idda tu voi

Voi na criata, chi mai si lagna chi sempri t’avi diri sulu si muta e mansa tu voi na cagna chi mai spia, mai voli un picchì

Voi sulu na fimmina i pezza fatta i rasta e tutta pittata chi mai ridi mai parra o schezza fossi bedda, cu anima stutata

Nuddu ni zigna ad amari nuddu sapi vuliri beni ma na cosa tu t’ha nzignari nun ama cu dugna peni

nun ama cu si fa patruni cu giusta tuttu nzuttannu cu voli sempre ragiuni cu voli fari sulu dannu

L’amuri è semi da giustizzia in nomi soi nun si po' mazzari non si dugna lacrimi e malizia quannu poi ni veni a mancari

Lassa a sciarra o a to ragiuni non ti luddari i mani du so sangu l’amuri mossi? finiu na stagiuni u mali chi senti ti fa liuni.

Cos’è l’amore se amore non è? Perché l’amore è volere dare, per quel santo bene che tra due c’è, ma cosa diventa quando scompare? Quando l’amore nostro se ne muore, con lui si porta il nostro passato, tu voltati, svuotalo dal tuo cuore, la vita non è quello che hai lasciato. A lei ormai lasciala stare, non far diventare il bene di ieri rabbia, non volere spiegazioni, non chiedere, non far diventare il tuo passato una gabbia. Chiediti se le hai dato il giusto, se le hai dato il dovuto rispetto, l’amore non è piacere o gusto, è impegno, sacrificio, affetto. Perché se prendi solo senza dare, se ogni colpa è solo sua, se la ragione ce l’hai solo tu, non è l’amore che vuoi da lei Vuoi una serva che non si lamenta mai, che ti deve dire solo di si, muta e mansueta vuoi una cagna, che non chiede mai, che non vuole mai un perché. Vuoi solo una donna di pezza, fatta di coccio e tutta dipinta, che non ride mai, mai parla o scherza, forse bella, ma con l’anima spenta. Nessuno ci insegna ad amare, nessuno sa voler bene, ma una cosa devi imparare, non ama che dona sole pene. non ama chi si fa padrone, chi aggiusta tutto insultando, chi vole sempre ragione, chi vuol fare solo danno. L’amore è il seme della giustizia, in suo nome non si può ammazzare, non si da lacrime e cattiveria, quando poi ci viene a mancare. Lascia la guerra o la tua ragione, non ti sporcare le mani di sangue: l’amore è morto? È finita una stagione, il male che senti, ti renderà un leone.

What is love if it isn't love? Because love is wanting to give, for that holy good that exists between two, but what does it become when it disappears? When our love dies, it takes our past with it, turn around, empty it from your heart, life is not what you left. Leave her alone now, don't let yesterday's love become anger, don't want explanations, don't ask, don't let your past become a cage. Ask yourself if you gave her the right love, if you gave her due respect, love is not pleasure or taste, it is commitment, sacrifice, affection. Because if you only take without giving, if everything is to blame only her, if only you have the reason, it's not the love you want from her. You want a servant who never complains, who only has to say yes, silent and meek, you want a bitch, who never asks, who never wants a why. You just want a rag woman, made of earthenware and all painted, who never laughs, never speaks or jokes, perhaps beautiful, but with a dull soul. Nobody teaches us to love, nobody knows how to love, but you have to learn one thing, it's not love if you gives only pain. you doesn't love if you make yourselves masters, if you fix everything by insulting, if you always want to be right, if you only want to cause damage. Love is the seed of justice, in its name one cannot kill oneself, one cannot give tears and malice when it then fails in us. Leave the war or your reason, don't get your hands dirty with her blood: is love dead? A season is over, the evil you feel will make you a lion.

A successor to this post, with the villains this time. Drew was originally supposed to be on here as well, but he felt bland and so the decision was made to axe him.

Silver tetradrachm of Syracuse, signed by Eukleidas and minted ca. 405-400 BCE. On the obverse, the head of Athena, surrounded by dolphins and the inscription ΣΥ – Ρ – ΑΚ – ΟΣΙΩΝ ("Of the Syracusans"); on the reverse, a female charioteer drives a quadriga (four-horse chariot) while Nike crowns her. Photo credit: Exekias/Wikimedia Commons.

Ortigia Island, Syracuse (Sicily)~

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.

The hidden monster lurking within Sicilian wells. A horror that causes disappearances near the structures it calls home.

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐨 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘɪɴ, ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ, ᴛʜᴀɴᴋꜱ.

The Lion Balcony of the Palazzo Nicolaci di Villadorata - Noto, Sicily

Photo by Charles Reeza