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bluelolblue · 2 months

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what r ur thoughts on gianna and santino’s relationship? (ive always loved gianna but it feels like she’s just as if not more ruthless than santino. she just manages to act civilized more)

The D'Antonio siblings

They're both so fucking beautiful 💕

I definitely think Santino was jealous of Gianna when their father willed his seat to her and throughout their childhood

The reason for their father leaving his seat to Gianna is unknown in the movie (we can make headcanons on that ofc). However, I think that just made the relationship between Santino and Gianna even worse

I think through their childhood, Gianna was more the serious one, had more tolerance, patience and took things as a D'Antonio heir seriously.

While Santino probably wasn't like that. He's the younger sibling, and he was probably a bit spoiled. Or he tried his best to impress their father, but he was "not good enough."

Since they're both D'Antonios, they got everything served on a plate for them... but it's not as easy as they thought. Or at least not how Santino thought

Idk what Santino was thinking. That he's gonna get the seat after his sister proved herself more? But this is just my thought since we don't know that part

Really, it could've been differently. Maybe he did everything he could to prove himself, but his father was just an asshole

In the movie, we don't even see them interact with each other. Only like through John. Santino saying "I could never do it. She is my blood. I still love her." Has a little bit of truth in it, but the real reason he couldn't kill his sister was just that he didn't want to risk getting his hands dirty. And to kill Gianna D'Antonio, he needs someone special... and that someone special is John Wick. Just what Santino told him "That's why I need the ghost, lo spettro, John Wick. That's why I need you."

While Gianna called John "Death's very emissary." So even in all this, you can see how they're both using and picking their words carefully

Gianna didn't seem very fond of the fact that when she dies, Santino takes her place, but he also takes New York. And John would be the one who gifted it to him. So that's something I'll have to analyze more

Although, I feel like they both still cared for each other in their own ways. No matter how cold they might have acted towards each other, I still think they cared and loved each other. Or that sibling love is somewhere deep in them

They were both born into this D'Antonio family, into this toxic hierarchy of the High Table, and they couldn't do anything about it. It's the way they were raised to believe that this life is normal and it's supposed to be like that

That one of them is gonna be the next representative of Camorra. Of course that one child is gonna be jealous of another. It just happened to be Santino

I do agree that Gianna seems just as ruthless as Santino. HOWEVER, she has more self-control, can act more civilized, and has more patience, so she is really good at hiding all that, which makes her a great leader in my opinion

They both share the same way of having good ways with their words. They both talked to John in a very...how do I say it? Manipulative but calm tone and had rather relaxed and even dominant body language around him. So they both don't fear John, and they're not afraid to show that

But we all know what happened to her and later on to Santino. Gianna had a really tragic death, in my opinion, since she killed herself. "I lived my life my way. And I'll die my way." That line sends chills down my spine and it's fucked up in a tragic way. Makes me think she actually didn't want to be a part of all this. And really, the only way to escape from the curse of being a D'Antonio that's supposed to represent Camorra in the High Table is death

While Santino literally decided his own death with talking back to John. All he had to do was not mock John any further, and maybe he could've had his seat at the High Table for a longer time

Both share a lot of similarities, actually...it's just that Gianna died willingly trying to escape from this life she was born into, and Santino died after he got what he wanted by force

There is, unfortunately, no good ending for the D'Antonio siblings

Rip Gianna and Santino D'Antonio... yall were too attractive to die 😞 💔

I'll write more about them in the future, I wanna do deep analysis on both of them so... one day, it's gonna happen. I love their sibling rivalry lol it's very interesting

Also, I like to add some pics from pinterest for aesthetic lmao :3

#santino d'antonio #santino d’antonio #gianna d’antonio #john wick #john wick chapter 2 #I'll write more abt them in the future #i have to rewatch the movie over and over again to make a deep analysis on them #but yeah Gianna deserves more credit #will write more abt her eventually #and the sibling rivalry between them is really interesting

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r1-jw-lover · 2 months

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Rating all John Wick single parents because I can :P

Tagging @evren-sadwrn @tobytheeggo @saengak @chaoticgardenbread :D

The number one spot on the list goes to...

Koji Shimazu!!! Easy 5/5

He easily takes the first spot. I mean, just look at his interactions with his daughter.

Koji had a loving relationship with Akira. They ran the Osaka Continental together, and they have these little inside jokes about "the Concierge/Koji's daughter". The way they switched between Japanese and English when talking, as bilingual families do. And the moment where Koji told Akira that he looked forward to dinner with his daughter is just the sweetest.

The only mistake Koji probably made was him sacrificing his life in the duel with Caine when he could have escaped alongside Akira. He thought this was the only way to protect his daughter, but who is to say the High Table wouldn't chase after Akira regardless if he's dead or not, but admittedly there was a lot of nuance to this situation that there was no better or worse decision to make at this critical moment as a parent.

Number two on my list goes to...

Sofia!!! 4/5

I was initially divided between her or Caine for this spot, but I decided on Sofia because it is explicitly shown in JW3 that she was present in her (unnamed) daughter's life early on, and only had to separate herself from her child and keep her in hiding in order to keep her daughter safe from potential enemies, something that kept Sofia haunted for the rest of her life.

"Sometimes, you gotta kill what you love." Also, Sofia keeping photos of her and her daughter in her office makes me sad.

Alright, as you might expect, number three on the list is none other than...

Caine!!! 4/5

The reason Caine is number three is that there aren't exactly many details on the relationship between Caine and his daughter. In fact, we aren't even sure whether Mia knew of her father at all. All we know is that Caine had a picture of Mia on his pocket watch, and the most he could ever come close to seeing his daughter is hearing her play the violin on the streets from afar.

Despite there being a high possibility that Caine was totally absent in Mia's life, Caine obviously loved his daughter very much, so much so that he wanted to leave the life of an assassin because of her, and was very pained by the fact that he couldn't get close to her due to the deal he made with the Marquis.

Now, the number four place on this list goes to...

The Director. 3/5

Despite her taking Jardani in as a child and raising him in the Ruska Roma, John Wick had a strained relationship with his mother figure.

Her parenting style is very strict and cruel, even cold-hearted, but she believed it was for the best. After all, she was raising a whole lot of children under the Ruska Roma by herself to become hitmen and assassins. The Director's treatment towards her children may not be ideal, but it didn't mean she didn't care for them.

The number five and final place goes to...

Viggo Tarasov. 3/5

Don't get me wrong, I don't think that he doesn't love Iosef as much as the other parents do on this list. It's just that his biggest mistake was that he never told his son about John Wick before.

Viggo probably spoiled his son very much, and while he wasn't afraid of physically punching Iosef in the guts for making a giant stupid mistake, he never once corrected Iosef's larger personal issues like his arrogance and violent tendencies. Looking at the person Iosef turned out to be, I personally think there is a certain degree of carelessness when Viggo raised his son.

Before we end, our (un)honorable mention goes to...

The Head of the d'Antonio family, aka Gianna's and Santino's father. 2.5/5

This is all just speculation since we have zero idea what this man looked like or how he runs his family (while there's no mention of a mother, we don't know whether the big old man single-handedly raised his two children), but the fact that Santino wanted to kill his sister out of jealousy after their father died is very telling of the family environment the d'Antonios lived in.

Because they were a criminal family who was one of the members of the High Table, it's very likely that this kind of toxic behaviour between family members was encouraged. Whatever genuine love or bond between Santino and Gianna would have been squashed by their father in one way or another.

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askjohnwick · 1 month

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kinda new to this whole John wick rp thing going on here, but I recently created a blog @sofiaal-azwar to kinda join in your bringing down the high table. What better person is it to ask for an introduction to this whole ordeal than to ask you?

Sofia! I'm so glad you're with us. It's been too long.

The current situation: New York is essentially captured. The Osaka Continental is with us, but The Adjudicator is on her way to attack it. Gianna D'Antonio is against us, and I'm on my way to kill her, regretfully. Paris is split - the Marquis da Gramont is on our side and working on persuading the WUXIA Radio broadcast station to help, but the Paris Continental is against us and we're destroying it.

What's the situation like in Casablanca? Are you safe?

#john wick #sofia al-azwar #john wick roleplay #down with the high table

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shimazu-akira · 1 month

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@vindegramont Guess what, I have my bounty revoked by Ms. Gianna d'Antonio. She's protecting me now.

#manager stuff #akira shimazu #marquis de gramont #vincent de gramont #gianna d’antonio #john wick rp #rp account

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thewhumpcaretaker · 3 months

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The Broken Veil: Chapter 2 - The Price to Pay

Special thanks to this Reddit post for helping me follow the canon timeline as faithfully as possibly until the points that they diverge.

TW: suicide attempt, negative self-talk, grief, dissociation, canon-typical violence

Summary: John Wick has just agreed to kill Gianna D'Antonio, repaying the marker that gave him a life with Helen. However, Helen is trying to contact John from the afterlife, to show him that it is possible to stop the cycle of violence – not by forfeiting his own life, but by creating a fundamental shift in international systems and perhaps even the balance of good and evil in this world. But he doesn’t have to do it alone. She’s coming back.

“Heathcliff, if I were you, I’d go stretch myself over her grave and die like a faithful dog. The world is surely not worth living in now, is it?” - Nelly Dean, Wuthering Heights

John sets the rose down quickly and glances around the room, as if he expects to see a ghost. But of course he doesn’t expect that. This can’t be happening.

Don’t try to figure out whether it’s happening. Think about the message. What does it matter whether it was Helen or not? The question is, if she really could hear him, would she accept his offering of love in this form? In the form of killing an old friend and handing a win to a man like Santino? In the form of deepening his own damnation? No. Offer not accepted.

But this is all I have to give. His fists clench in frustrated confusion as he sinks into a chair. He’s been lying to himself because he’s desperate, because he has nothing left. What do you want from me, Helen? The only other option I see is death. Maybe he should just take that instead. If someone has to give their life for the time he spent with her, it should be him. He never deserved her to begin with.

There’s no time for this. It’s almost 6 PM. He has less than two hours to get ready and get to the concert at the D’Antonio Estate. He’ll figure something out. Just go, and figure something out.

***

She tried to reach him over and over again.

She tried to reach him when he was taking a sledgehammer to the concrete in the basement.

She tried to reach him as he stalked Iosef to the Red Circle.

She tried to reach him whenever he thought of her.

She tried to reach him as he rampaged over that fucking car.

She tried to reach him every time she felt something slam almost fatally into his body, whether bullet or fist. And that was quite a few times.

But the time had not yet come. She can see pieces of things, and she knows that she will come to him in Rome if she comes at all. It’s a matter of gathering her strength, and perhaps something more important, more like timing. Or fate.

This was the closest attempt yet. She celebrates an enormous victory. It required proportionally enormous effort. But she will have to keep trying. “The only other option I see is death.” It would be so easy for John to get it into his head that she’s given up on him. If only she had some way to be more specific, to use her own words rather than stolen snippets from his surroundings, but words are almost impossible. Almost. They feel so close now.

She can hardly tell if she is more exhausted or excited or hopeful. She cannot tell if her exhaustion and excitement and hope are her own or John’s. But she is herself, she has a self. It is almost like…existing.

She keeps clawing forward, towards that surface, towards that glass. “Forward,” yes, “towards.” Direction. Motion. Location. Effort. These are returning to her.

***

Sheer dread. It’s bad to go into a job not knowing whether you plan to finish it. It’s beyond bad. It’s lunacy. But he’s wearing hundreds of thousands of dollars in other people’s money just between the suit and the weapons, which feel suddenly heavy. There’s a good chance Santino’s people are watching, to keep him in line. To walk away at this stage…the humiliation alone is formidable, let alone the logistical challenges. And why? Because a ghost told him to - maybe. It’s lunacy. No. Finish it. Or at least keep clawing forward in denial for as long as possible.

His mouth is dry as he stalks towards the unguarded gate to the catacombs under the D’Antonio Estate, a hulking, dark shadow in time with the eight o'clock church bells. On autopilot, he places guns throughout the ruined tunnels, to collect on the way back after she’s dead. Distant music filters down through the rubble and stone. What he is doing now…this is a part of the kill. The kill is in progress. What the fuck is he going to do when he’s standing in front of the target?

He sees her, moving towards her chambers, and follows. Cassian, her bodyguard, walks at her side. He knows Cassian too – another old friend. Their gaits are easily attuned and their glances a little more tender than the role requires. And John…John is here to sever the link between them, to plunge her into the abyss where Cassian can never see her again. At the very least, Cassian should be spared if he can make it happen.

It’s his luck that she dismisses him from her side as she goes to her boudoir.

***

And Gianna is alone.

She circles the luxurious pool surrounded by aromatic candles, thinking over the day, allowing herself to slip into a moment of relaxation as she dabs at her makeup…and she sees John Wick in the mirror.

His body is perfectly poised; there is no feature of his expression that could be deemed any more or less composed than any other. Yet there is something profoundly and openly…embarrassed about the way he carries himself. Its total detachment betrays a sore spot to detach from. The way he waits to speak, arms hanging at his sides…if he were not about to end her life, she would say he looked sheepish.

“John.” The way she says it sounds like, “No, god, no.”

“Gianna.”

She turns to face him. “There was a time not so long ago in which I considered us as friends.”

“I still do.” He steps smoothly around the pool, making no effort to conceal the pistol in his hand.

“Yet here you are. [In Italian] Death’s very emissary.” She surveys him, all in black, his feet planted. “What brought you back, John?”

He places the words in front of her, more than speaks. “A marker.”

“Held by?”

He looks almost pained. “Your brother.” There’s pity for her…no, there’s real sorrow for her.

She glances away. Anger can’t rise too far in her, because of course this was coming. She should have known. The only thing to do now is to face it fighting. She paces closer to him and meets his gaze head on. “Tell me, John. This marker…is it how you got out?” A nod. “And what was her name? This woman whose life has ended my own?” She laces her voice with more disdain than she truly feels.

“Helen.” As always, a bitter joy stirs in him, just to say it. There’s wonder in that word.

“Helen,” Gianna repeats, lightly, almost mockingly. His head tilts as if he wants desperately to turn away from her, as if it pains him to hear say it like that. Yes, this is the right spot to hit. “This Helen,” as she casually approaches him even closer, within arm’s length now, “was she worth the price that you now seek to pay?”

It’s too difficult for him to speak and she gets another nod. How nice. “Now, let me tell you what happens when I die. Santino will lay claim to my seat at the Table. He will take New York. And you,” glancing up and down him in disgust, “will have been the one who gifted it to him.” Now her disdain is real and she lets him read all of it, then turns and walks back to the mirror.

She throws off her fur coat. His half squint seems to beg for mercy. If she would take a swing at him, if she would run, this would be so much easier. But she has no intention of making this easy for him. She lets her glittering gown slip to the floor, restraining the movement of his eyes, which lock respectfully onto her face. Slowly, she circles up the steps above the pool, and looks vulnerably over her shoulder at his unmoving figure, letting her curls fall to the center of her back. “What would your Helen think about that, John?” He walks towards her involuntarily. He’s afraid of what she might do. Good.

She takes up her concealed knife, and wades into the pool. He looks desperate, circling her as if hypnotized. She can see his longing to stop this. She turns away from him, totally exposed to gunfire, then looks abruptly back over her should, hovering the knife above her wrist. “What would your Helen think about you?”

It cuts deeper than her knife ever could.

“Stop.” She can’t quite believe it. He is too well trained – why would he let her get under his skin? This is her way of fighting back in her final moments, but for it to work…well, that’s almost a disappointment. More likely, this is a trick.

“So you can do it yourself?” He shakes his head. What a puppy. He looks utterly at a loss, and she can see now how fast he’s breathing. The moment stretches forever.

“I asked her what she would think.” He reaches into his breast pocket…and pulls out an orange rose. “Early today, I burned this rose as a symbol of the kill. Now it is whole again.”

Gianna looks at him in confusion, in pity. He’s lost his mind. Losing Helen destroyed him.

He places the rose on the surface of the pool, turns, and he’s walking away.

Her voice echoes down the stone archways after him. “John! You are prepared to face your death?” He stops. “You know what it means to deny the marker.”

“The price that I now seek to pay…is one life. Mine.”

Tragic, what has happened to this once-vicious man. She opens her mouth to speak, to call him back to his senses as she would want someone to do for her if she was ever so debased by love, but self-preservation halts her. Let him walk.

He walks.

***

It's a short walk out of the catacombs, into the palatial concert venue where strobing spotlights rise from the ruins into the blackness of night. There are so many people. Dancers in their 20s, old widows with grandchildren at home, couples, politicians, musicians. The sight of them is suddenly unbearable. He just stands there, still too close to the archway leading into the restricted access area in the catacombs.

“What would your Helen think of you?”

“Offer not accepted.”

The surprise on Gianna’s face, the relief, the purity of walking away…It drives home to him how much wrong he’s done. How many times he didn’t walk away.

I’m a murderer. I’m nothing but a murderer, and she would never accept it. I failed her. I can’t even bring myself to regret them all. Iosef, Viggo…but then so many of my own friends. And strangers. Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers… How many people…? So many bodies… I don’t know how many people I’ve killed. Most men on this Earth haven’t killed even once and would never forget it.

He hates that a man like that has ever laid eyes on Helen. He hates that he’s ever touched her with the hands that he’s seen around so many throats, gouging out eyes, pulling triggers…over and over again, so many times that it’s muscle memory. He hates, and it makes him want to kill. He wants to kill, and he can’t.

He can’t kill others. But himself…a man may do what he likes with his own life.

John walks slowly forward. The world is glazed over with dissociation and the music is so far away. Is anything real? That stage, a kaleidoscope of lights. What a strange stage. That depthless black sky. What a strange sky. Has he really done all those things?

Did Helen really return the rose?

Are these people around him the people that he’s killed? People that he will kill?

“John?”

He’s pulled back to himself. “Cassian.”

“You working?” Cassian’s face says he sure as hell hopes not.

He hesitates. It might as well be Cassian. He’d rather die by the hand of a man in love than by the hand of Santino’s men. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long, horrible pause. “Good night?” Is she dead?

“Afraid so.” That will piss him off enough to fire.

There’s rage in Cassian’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He fires. John fires back at the same instant, knowing the body armor will hold. It’s a mere opening threat but it still hurts enough to level them both instantly to the ground. Pain shoots through his abdomen and awakens something in him. He scrambles backward and runs. Other guards are helping Cassian to his feet and he turns the other way, running for Gianna.

John doesn’t question why he’s running, or why he’s still clinging to his gun. All he knows is that the adrenaline has hit, sickening, sweet, instinctual, pulling him back into his body. God, he’s so afraid to die.

The guards pursue him. Cold metal in his hands as he vaults over a railing into the back of the stage. Get back to the gate, across the crowd. They’re on him as he stumbles forward onto the stage, he puts one down. The crowd goes wild, thinking it’s part of the show. He jumps down and he’s firing among them now, guards are falling dead in their midst. Screams drown in the techno beat. Dashing forward into an open stretch, almost to the gate, but they close around him from all sides. One, two, three, four, five, six dead as he pushes through, relentless.

He takes cover against a ruined wall to reload. Almost there. A gun swings around the corner into his face and he fires on instinct, then keeps firing at the next, then at four more coming at him from the side, flipping bodies to the ground, holding a man’s head flush against the gun to ensure he stays down. No one has eyes on him now as he lays against the wall taking shelter in the shadows, a monster at one with the darkness, too wired to bother quieting his ragged breathing. The catacombs leading to the gate are right across from him. He looks both ways and plunges forward into the near darkness of the tunnel, pierced only by periodic floodlights for safety.

For a moment, he’s still spinning with the gun at eye level, hyper-vigilant, but the tunnel’s empty. He’s alone. Finally, he allows himself to groan in pain and clutch at his own chest, stumbling backwards, miserable. At his touch, crushed rounds fall from the bulletproof lining and scatter, tinging on the rocky floor.

He killed again. He’s bad at not killing, and it’s not the sort of thing you get to try and fail at. He failed immediately. He panicked, and he didn’t want to let go of her memory, and he killed. The cost of his existence is other people’s lives, and he doesn’t have the willpower to stop it.

He feels worse than he did after walking away from Gianna. Lower than low.

The tide of reality is going out again. This is bad. He’s in a stone tunnel under the D’Antonio estate, but is he? Or is he in a misty void? Are these his arms, his hands? Is he hallucinating that strange vastness that opens out beyond the dark? Not even a vastness, but…a region without space, without distance or time. He sees it as if through glass.

He beats at his vest where the bruises are already forming, trying to flood himself with another hit of adrenaline. It’s just enough to get him walking again, staggering along the escape route he memorized a few hours ago, forward into that depthless region fazing in and out around him.

There’s someone standing in his path. Ares. The two size each other up at a great distance, a skylight pouring a street lamp’s yellow fire across them from above.

Santino must have sent someone to eliminate him if he doesn't follow through. He calls to her, “I’m done. For good.”

“You’re right about that.”

A long pause. Then his gun clatters to the ground and he drops to his knees. “I accept my fate.”

“You of all people?”

He nods.

Ares squints suspiciously but she raises her pistol. She fires.

Author's note: If that got you down, don't worry - the comfort is coming soon.

#john wick #john wick fanfic #john x helen #john wick whumpee #gianna d’antonio #whump fic #emotional whump #angst #hurt/no comfort #assassin whumpee #ao3 crosspost

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reppyy · 10 months

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jovonowick · 1 year

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john wick 2 : john wick meeting gianna d'antonio .

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mrssimply · 11 months

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The Rubicon

As announced and teased, here is the second (and for now, final installment of my John Wick fic. I say final for now because I still have ideas, and I love these two very much so there is a possibility I might write more later.

Regarding this work, like the first, it flowed and I think I wrote it in something like a week. Everything was so clear, and easy which is a rarity when you're an author. It makes it precious for me.

I was buyoed by how amazing the fourth movie was, and when I got out I had so many feels to expel that I finished the first fic and started the second one right away. So this is basically a retelling of the fourth movie, with Santino alive (it briefly retrace what happens in the third, too).

Please, enjoy it, oh few John/Santino lovers like me. We should come up with a name for the ship, too...

Oh, and that one got an exclusive ship (cause I think it's the only fic with it in the fandom): Marquis Vincent de Gramont/Santino D'Antonio, because what's sexier than one little meow meow? Two little meow meows being terrible to each other and the rest of the world. It very secondary, though, the main ship is John/Santino.

Without further ado... a snippet from chapter 2:

Eight years ago, when John wanted to marry Helen, he called Santino for help. The call came in the middle of the night, on Santino’s personal line. John had gone through Julius, the Continental’s Manager in Rome, the only precaution taken for plausible deniability. Hearing his voice had felt like breaking through the deep waters he was drowning in since their break up. Like electroshocks to his heart, a shot of heroin to the brain, a painful rebirth. John had saved him time and time again. The bargain was clearly in Santino’s favor: An opportunity to get New York back by eliminating his father’s cousin, and a blood oath more binding that any other promise, against help to reunite all of John’s targets in the same place. Their exchange was brief that night, and the following night in New York, too. Professional . Santino clung to that like a life line as the usual longing he associated with John came bubbling back. The hitman seemed unsettled by the tone of their talk, and Santino wanted to slap him: what did he expect, exactly, when he was asking Santino help to get out of The Arrangement to marry someone else . When he was about to give someone else everything Santino had ever wanted? So he kept it to business even if something was screaming in rage and anguish inside of him the whole time. The marker had been a wicked thing, an offering to try and appease the beast yowling inside of him. A piece of John for Santino to keep forever. A way to possess him, even just a little. - Why did John call him for help and not anyone else? Maybe because he’d known no one loved him enough but Santino to risk so much on his behalf. Which was probably the exact same train of thought that led him to the Villa in Praiano when he needed help to get out again. - Cassian took his job seriously. After a year in Santino’s service, he’d learned to see through the mask and the callous attitude, beyond the sneers and the recklessness, probably helped by the fact he felt it was his mission to keep Gianna’s love for Santino alive. It meant Santino trusted him, even if they bickered half the time they were forced together by their respective jobs. It helped pass the time, in the mob boss opinion. Leonora had learned to ignore them. It also meant that when John appeared on the threshold of the Villa's grounds, Cassian was the first to welcome him. With a shotgun. Santino laughed. “Felt good?” he asked, leaning against the doorway as Cassian reloaded. “Very. Can I do it again?” Leonora snorted discreetly and Santino eyed John, who was struggling to get back to his feet. His armored suit had done its job and protected him, but it hadn’t lessened the pain of the impact. “Be my guest.”

Read the rest on AO3

#john wick #john wick 4 #jw4 #John/Santino #John Wick/Santino D'Antonio #Marquis Vincent De Gramont/Santino D'Antonio #john wick 3 #my writing

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evren-sadwrn · 21 days

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𝒔𝒆𝒊 𝒎𝒊𝒐 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 ( 𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒊 𝒊𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆 )

paura di uscire, anche se non accade | trans mtf!gianna d’antonio

⟢ a/n: la mia prima volta a scrivere in italiano scusate se ci sono errore :[

version on ao3 for quick translation | wc: 1090 | divider by @/benkeibear

Il buio gelido della mezzanotte che albeggia sulla casa della Famiglia D'Antonio, l'odore della polvere depositata su ciottoli e marmi, la puzza di un qualcosa di dolce, l'odore del mare che circonda l'Italia. Un mare freddo di notte. C'è un sentimento, quello disgustosamente opprimente dell'empatia. Non essere spietati per qualcuno, nientemeno che per Gianni stesso. Gianni D’Antonio. Il figlio d’oro. Il favorito della famiglia.

Santino è avido, è sempre stato un uomo avido, avido. Tutto quello che voleva, e anche di più, lo pretende da tutti gli altri. Lui è così.

Vuole tutto e ancora di più. Lui, è avido. Ma mantiene una facciata di elequonza.

"Gia", chiama Santino bussando alla stanza del fratello. La risposta? Silenzio. Santino bussa ancora, prima di decidere di aprire la porta a se stesso. “Gianni?” La stanza è buia, fredda. Molto freddo. L'odore del profumo—

Aspetta.

Profumo? Santino si guarda intorno nella stanza del fratello. Profuma di ciliegie e di odori dolci e femminili. Qualcosa che Santino si aspetterebbe dalle sue ragazze— e non dalla stanza di Gianni. Oro e ornamenti finemente lavorati sono sparsi ordinatamente per la stanza. Alle pareti sono appesi quadri, la collezione d'arte privata di Gia.

Santino invidia Gianni, da cose semplici a una comprensione molto più complessa. Il suo aspetto, la sua sicurezza, il suo carisma, il modo in cui si comporta; Santino vuole sentire che, la falcata sicura di Gia.

Un’altra cosa: è differente. Più morbida. Le coperte che drappeggiano il letto sono morbide, foderate di pizzo insieme ai cuscini. Fiori in vaso: sul comodino, nell'angolo, accanto all'armadio.

Ora che è qui, forse può rubare l'auto di Gianni per un'ora o due. Santino apre uno dei cassetti di Gia sulla scrivania per le chiavi dell'auto. Lo trova quasi subito, ma sotto c'è un piccolo quaderno. Suscita il suo interesse, così lo raccoglie rapidamente e si siede sul bordo del letto di Gia."Non gli dispiacerà se ho dato un'occhiata ai suoi pensieri,” Santino pensa che mentre sfoglia le pagine. Le parole non lo interessano, poiché si tratta soprattutto di come Gia racconta la sua giornata e le cose che ha fatto. A Santino non importa nulla della sua vita.

Ma c'è qualcosa che cattura lo sguardo di Santino.

‘Non mi piace essere un uomo. Vorrei essere una donna. Prima a Roma ho comprato degli oggetti che mi aiutano a sentirmi meglio.’

“Santino!” Santino ha appena il tempo di accorgersi che Gianni è tornato nella sua stanza. Rapidamente, Gia strappa il taccuino a Santino. “Cosa hai letto?”

“Niente!” Santino promette, mentre prende le chiavi della macchina e le infila in tasca. “Posso avere la tua auto?”

“Non dirlo è papà, per favore, Santino.” Gia sa che Santino sa. “Qualunque cosa leggiate qui, non diteglielo.”

Santino è silenzio, la sua lingua diventa secca. Gia espira pesantemente.

“Perché?” Santino chiede. Santino ridacchia a mezza voce. “E’ uno scherzo, vero?” Gia è silenzio stavolta. “No..?” La voce di Santino si disperde mentre guarda Gianni, osservando l'espressione del volto del fratello.

“No, Santino.” Gianni dice. “No. Vorrei che fosse uno scherzo. Vorrei. Così posso ridere con mia madre quando chiedo di andare in altri posti. Ma non. Fa male desidare qualcosa che non si avvererà.”

Santino guarda Gianni con attenzione, in attesa di qualcosa. Non si sa bene cosa stia aspettando, ma tra i due fratelli c'è silenzio. Sorella? Forse.

Schiocca la lingua prima di passare silenziosamente davanti a Gianni per andarsene. Santino non aveva intenzione di fare nulla. Ma ora lo fa. Gli costerà molto, ma non gliene importerà nulla.

Sono passate quattro o cinque ore da quando Santino è tornato alla villa e ora è di nuovo qui!

“Quello stronzo ha preso la mia macchina.” Gia sussurrò sottovoce mentre vede Santino scendere dalla sua auto. “Cazzo,”

Quel coglione sta tornando a casa dal garage con le borse in mano. Probabilmente un regalo per la sua nuova ragazza. Esibizioniste.

Gia ha un sapore amaro in bocca mentre guarda Santino che torna verso la porta d'ingresso della villa. Il palmo della mano sotto il mento, guardando con i suoi occhi verdi. Gia sospira, la mano gli accarezza la testa mentre lui sbuffa per lo stress. È in difficoltà. Il suo cuore batte forte e i suoi pensieri corrono più veloci dei cavalli in fuga. E se Santino lo avesse detto al padre? E se lo avesse detto a tutti? No, no, no. Cazzo. Non avrebbe dovuto scriverlo, non avrebbe dovuto—

“Gianni!” La voce di Santino è forte dall'altra parte della porta bianca. Bussa, con forza.

“Vattene.” Gia grida dall’altra parte. “Vattene, Santi, Vattene.”

“Le chiavi…?” Santino dice di entrare. Si lascia convincere e Gia ci casca. “Le chiavi dell'auto, le ho prese io. Se non apri questa porta, la tua macchina è mia!”

“Questo fastidioso parassita…” Gia borbotta sottovoce. “Mio dio,” Gia apre la porta, ma Santino entra a forza con un sorriso fastidioso. “sei irritante, Santino.”

“Sì, lo so, cara sorella.” Gia deve ammettere che quelle parole di essere chiamata sorella le hanno dato un po' di felicità.

Santino ha in mano delle borse. Gia è un po' preoccupata per l'interno delle borse. "Santino, che cazzo hai in quelle borse?" Gia chiede, indicandole.

"Sei molto eccitata, Gia." Un'osservazione sarcastica e sciocca di Santino, che si siede sul letto di Gia come se fosse suo. Santino apre la borsa che ha, prima di richiuderla e lanciarla a Gia perché la prenda. “Ho graffiato la tua auto. Non voglio pagare i danni.”

“Certo che hai danneggiato la mia macchina, insolente, disordinato, irritante stronzetto....” Quando gli occhi di Gia guardano la borsa, le sue parole svaniscono mentre elabora ciò che sta vedendo e che suo fratello le ha appena comprato (sacrificando la nuova verniciatura della sua auto). “Cosa?”

L'incredulità colpisce Gia.

“Cos’è questo, Santi?” Gia chiede a Santino che sta scegliendo delle scarpe di Gia che molto probabilmente vuole portare con sé.

“Ha?”

“La borsa, Santino.”

“Sì, è?”

“Gli abiti di seta sono per le donne.”

Gia dice, mentre Santino raccoglie le scarpe— "Non toccarle.” Lei dice severamente.

“Non ti ho ancora comprato un vestito o dei tacchi. Dato che potresti dover iniziare dal primo livello. Bisogna entrarci lentamente.” Santino fa spallucce.

"Non so cosa dire" Dice Gia mentre si siede e guarda l'accappatoio.

“Grazie mille?”

“Benvenuti,” Gia dice che è un modo per colpire Santino.

“Dovrebbe essere il contrario, Gia.” Santino dice.

“Hmmm….. no.” Dice Gianna prima di lanciare un paio di scarpe a Santino. "Ora vattene"

“Hey!” Santino osserva le scarpe. “Puttana.” Sussurra prima di andarsene, posando le chiavi sul letto di Gia.

( wickblr pride anon if you see this i love you )

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