wrathfire-blog

[wrathfire-blog]

sfidar:

                     xanxus would sooner die than have to attend a function on his own –  no,  that was wrong.  it was more accurate to say that everyone else in the room would die,  were he to show up himself,  his second-in-command  nowhere to be seen.  so long as squalo remained in the vicinity to knock sense into the man before he made a grave,  violent error,  the night would play out smoothly.  well,  there was that,  and the constant stream of alcohol he demanded come his way;  it helped too.  standing at the sidelines in a far corner of the room,  squalo watches the party’s other guests as they mingle,  with all the faux-camaraderie and charade as they could possibly muster.  mostly,  he’s looking for someone he can make a smart comment about.  and he finds said someone soon enough,  ‘else he’d not be elbowing his boss in the ribs,  nor wearing his mischievous smirk.       ❛    ehi,  questo cazzo –  guardarlo.  tutte le persone qui devono pensare ch’ è un coglione!     ❜

@wrathfire     /     starter call !

[ It wasn’t so much that he’d rather die than attend one of these functions--      nothing quite as simple as that.       Or, perhaps, it was something simpler:                Damn these parties, and damn the etiquette that forces me to                 be here.

  The stormy look on his face is, at least, to be expected. No one so much      as bats an eye at the curl of his lip, the disinterest--                        nay, disdain--                                         in the gaze he casts around the grand ballroom.    His body is coiled tight, held tense, close, a spring ready to be sprung,                a predator ready to pounce,                a trigger ready to be pulled.

  And then Squalo, the only one here who had a prayer of entering his      space and surviving the encounter, nudges his side and nods       inelegantly to a man in the center of the room, louder than the rest,      dressed in a suit that is clearly last year’s Armani--                and poorly tailored, to boot.

                                                 Trash.

       ❝ Quel vestito? In questo tipo di compagnia? Ovviamente non gliene            frega niente di essere scambiato per ricchi. Forse ti verserà dello            champagne e avrà una scusa per bruciarlo quando sarà finita. ❞ ]

#sfidar #[ sfidar ] #HE GOES IMMEDIATELY FOR THE THROAT #he's honestly so superficial like #look at this bitch and his old ass suit #pathetic #a disgrace

[wrathfire-blog]

some bullshit for @achronivus

[ Xanxus wasn’t what he would consider a romantic person. It wasn’t as    though he went out of his way to surprise or to woo someone--

  It was just logical.

  Byakuran liked flowers. He knew this.          He also knew Don Gesso’s personal schedule, intimately,          and knew when he would be out, when the best time would          be to have his foyer filled with roses, with calla lillies, with           Juliet roses, with orchids; when best to have a team sweep          his mansion from top to bottom and have arrangements placed          on every surface that Byakuran could possibly pass.

Byakuran loved sweets. Everyone knew this.           With the flowers were edible arrangements: hand-crafted          marshmallow roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, dusted with          colored powdered sugars, painted with delicate and intricate          designs, dipped in edible glitter and gold foil.

Most, however, didn’t know that the Don enjoyed being flaunted.           He did, however--on the first bouquet upon immediate entry           was a small, hand-written note, reading simply: 7:00 pm - X

                          He wasn’t romantic.                                               He was observant.                                         ]

#achronivus #u asked for this #but are u READY for this #are u ready for THIS SHIT #make me set up tags for this pretentious ass blog why the fuck am i formatting if i don't have fuckin tags what is the point

[wrathfire-blog]

#anyway that's all u need to know #about me #about the muse #this is absolutely perfect #save

[wrathfire-blog]

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone? 21. Do you think someone has feelings for you? 56. State 8 facts about your body

21. Do you think someone has feelings for you?

[ He looks bored--        nay, apathetic--  as he shrugs and rests his chin on an idle palm. 

                     “I think plenty of people feel plenty of things for me.                         I doubt any of them are pleasant.” ]

56. State 8 facts about your body

[ Add to that apathy a roll of his eyes,     a grandiose gesture, one that seems to command the movement     of nearly his entire body.

                      “The hell kind of demand is that?                          There exist in this world photographs of me--                         look at them and determine them on your own.” ]

61. What is the first thing you notice in someone?

[ This one... this one he actually takes the time to consider.  The hand moves, settles on his chin          and a finger sets up a beat--                  tap, tap, tap          before an answer is reached and the rhythm dies.

                         “Their body language.                            I can tell everything I need to know about a person                            within the space of a breath.                            People say a lot more when they don’t speak--                            coincidentally, that’s how I prefer to communicate.” ]

#GOD #I FORGOT HOW FUCKING PRETENTIOUS MY FORMATTING WAS #RIFP ME #I DIE #greedmist

[wrathfire-blog]

Describe your crush does it rhyme with nyakuran nesso ^_^ ?

[ “You caught me.” ]

#I WAS GONNA WAX POETIC AND GO LIKE FULL SARCASTIC XANXUS MODE BUT THEN I WAS LIKE #achronivus

[wrathfire-blog]

holy shit i’m alive here again 

[wrathfire-blog]

agamemnoncrying:

priderain replied to your post: “Someone woke up in the mood to fight this…

can confirm.

Take that, Shitxus.

He would but he’s currently trying to figure out how in the seven hells one would even pronounce that impressive bastardization of his name. 

Also, that was not fighting. It can be next time, though.

#[ agamemnoncrying ] #[ priderain ]

[wrathfire-blog]

Long since had her hands stopped shaking, her heart stopped pounding. It's with bated breath that Abelie makes her way through the Varia manor to Xanxus' office, knocking twice before pushing the door open. Her gaze falls on him, but there's an emptiness in it that she herself had hoped would never return. "You asked to see me." It wasn't a question, nor was there any of the friendliness that once was there.

[ Ah.

 There it is. There’s the emptiness--- there’s the cold, almost dismissive tone--- there’s the attitude he’s accustomed to, the one that always         always manages to find its way into those he holds in higher regard.

 It makes it easier, honestly, to level her with a cool look     and to gesture to the seat in front of his desk as he reclines back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

 “You seem to be suffering from a misunderstanding.                I don’t know what’s got you like... this, but                                it ends now.

                          Speak your mind.” ]

#pulderah #[ puledrah ] #puledrah

[wrathfire-blog]

@puledrah 

    A visible flinch, a barely audible sound of surprise as Abelie turns her head a little too quickly. She knew the voice well, but the tone in which he spoke raised the hair on her arms. Some fears never faded. Abelie’s heart had jumped into her throat, and she struggled to speak for a moment. ❝Apologies. I needed the clear air, and just… Never went back in.❞

    Even saying this, she did not stand. Last she’d tried, she’d almost not been able to get back up from her fall. Green eyes turn away, but do not focus on what they land upon, instead seeming to stare through it. Skin had become numb to the chill long before, joints stiff, cracking whenever she did move. But for the past few hours, she’d remained mostly still.

    A deep breath is taken in through her mouth, then exhaled in one gust. ❝Did Squalo tell you why? If he didn’t, Mama did, yes?❞

[ She flinched.

 It didn’t surprise him,   not really, not anymore,  when others flinched at the sight of him        or at the sound of his voice               or at the mention of his name.  It came from being who he was, from doing what he did  for failing as he had             ... but he’d never given her a reason to fear him like that.

                                                                                               Had he?

 “If he did, I don’t recall.   You look cold, Colomba. Do I need to carry you back inside?” ]

#[ puledrah ] #puledrah #84 years later

[wrathfire-blog]

dcncavallone:

     There’s a silence over the estate Dino has not heard, felt, in many years. It’s stifling, makes every movement difficult, and breathing nears a chore. Dino himself stands at the window for a time, until the peaceful ebb and flow of tall grasses outside becomes too much.

     He returns to his seat.

     A seat that had been in the family for many generations, if not all. All the scents that would be around the office, now his, had seeped into the leather. However, most perceptible was the aroma of Cuban cigars; heady and encircling.

     Maddening.

     Mind and memory float away, to the past when the man such odors belonged to sat in Dino’s place. His father was a wonderful boss; ruthless and quick witted. But a father he was never meant to be, nor a husband. Dino learned this very quickly, so when his mother told him that his father had brought a young orphan into the family, he’d near panicked for her sake before they met. And when they did, and Abelie hid behind a bookcase the first time his gaze was on her for a moment too long, that feeling grew to an exponential degree.

     Anything that happened, she did something on accident, he shouldered the blame.

      the two of them grew close, yes, and she was eventually sent to school with him. she met Xanxus and Squalo there, and the rest was history.

     No sooner than this memory passes, one of the duo blasts through his door and is soon across the office to him. He doesn’t even raises a brow as he’s lifted beyond easily.

     ❝It seems speaking and thinking of devils truly makes them appear.❞

[ Frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck about whatever battle---          mental, physical, emotional  ---that the Don is fighting within himself.

 Dino knows more than anyone,  ( save, perhaps, Squalo, )  what family means to Xanxus. And here he is  so willingly throwing away her life, so flippantly discussing it---                                                            or, perhaps that’s the issue. 

         He’s not discussing it. She’s not important enough to discuss.

                                                               Xanxus sees red.

 With a flick of his arm he casts the Don aside       throwing him easily into one of his expensive bookshelves             and a shelf snaps sending volumes of law, of business             toppling onto him.

 He draws a gun, and it shakes in his grip---  anger twists his features into something more animal than man.

            “You took her in, Cavallone.                You made her famiglia, you do not get to abandon her.                                           Explain yourself.” ]

Family is as Family does

#dcncavallone #flamelovd #[ dcncavallone ] #[ flamelovd ] #[ ic ]

[wrathfire-blog]

Family is as Family does

@dcncavallone // @flamelovd

[ Xanxus doesn’t speak  doesn’t even glance up  when the car arrives at the Vongola estate.  He says nothing when Tsunayoshi climbs in---                    just as stoic, just as determined---  and Tsunayoshi says nothing about the heat in the car        sweltering despite the driver blasting the AC.

                  Xanxus is more furious than he’s been in years.

 That Cavallone---             the best of them, at one time, the bastion of goodness  ---would do something so deplorable as                                                     sacrifice? forfeit? dismiss?  his own fucking sister’s life over some shitty temper tantrum---

 The heat rises.  The chauffeur cracks the windows.

 He doesn’t even give the car time to stop completely  when they finally arrive at the Cavallone estate.  Instead, he pushes himself out of the car,          not so much walking as stalking inside,                  muscles coiled, face thunderous, fists clenched.

 He leaves Tsunayoshi to deal with the Cavallone men---                  he is here for one thing and one thing alone.

 The door stands little chance beneath his foot,  sturdy though it is, expensive though the lock may be,          and now he’s not so much stalking as he is                                       storming          towards the Cavallone Don.  He has the kindness to at least walk around his desk  instead of through it, as he’s tempted to do               but he is not kind when he lifts                          physically lifts  Dino out of his seat with one hand,   the other glowing as Flames gather.

         “You have sixty seconds to explain yourself            before you find yourself in an untimely grave, scum.” ]

#dcncavallone #flamelovd #[ dcncavallone ] #[ flamelovd ] #[ ic ]

[wrathfire-blog]

puledrah:

@wrathfire​ && cont.

      Steps are even, if slower than normal and the old bounce not there, on the gravel of the driveway as Abelie made her way to the Varia’s door. Her breath is still bated as she makes her way inside, then up the stairs. She knew the path well, and it was almost subconscious at the moment. She knocks on the door for her destination once, doesn’t wait for an answer, then steps in. Abelie’s back rests on the opposite side of the door for several seconds as she inhales deeply for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

     Her gaze lifts to the man behind the desk, inhaling deeply again, before saying, ❝You have my full permission and blessing to beat the shit out of my brother.❞

[ It’s good that she gives her permission at least.   He gives her a grin---         tight,        shallow,         brief  ---and then looks back at the mission report,   already sitting finished in his e-mail. 

 He’d sent her guard home.  He knew what she was doing, knew she was risking herself  for her famiglia, her allies, her blood,  and he’d had her guard dismissed. 

 He’d left her alone to fend for herself.  In a battlefield, he’d called away her backup.

                                    Xanxus was livid. 

             "What he did was inexcusable.” ]

#[ puledrah ]

[wrathfire-blog]

He approaches- a black newsboy cap atop silver locks. Less than a moment passes before the realization hits: something is... wrong. A longer moment stretches on before the source of unease becomes painful obvious. Where there would normally be long waves of moonlight, only choppy strands remain. "Hey, boss! I finally got my hair cut!" The grin plastered on Squalo's face is far too pleased for such a heinous act....

[ That it takes him a moment says volumes about how…                                  unexpected? unwelcome? unconscionable?  the change is. In fact, it takes until Squalo opens his mouth                    all smiles and delight                                      that he realizes.

 Hurt hits first. It hits hardest–           that Squalo would remove their promise           that Squalo would be glad to be rid of it           that Squalo would flaunt it afterwards.

 Naturally, the hurt turns to anger and he snarls lips pulled back from his teeth like a furious lion as he reaches out and grabs the Rain by his lapels reeling him in close, eyes ablaze with fury.

               “So you took it upon yourself to break your promise?                 If you’d wanted an out, Superbi,                  why didn’t you fucking say so?” ]

#[ priderain ] #[ rifp ] #priderain

[wrathfire-blog]

"Let me in sometime!"

[ Let him in?                                                Let him in?

  Xanxus’ lips peel back from his teeth and a hand reaches     snatches,     pulls,      lifts  until Squalo’s scowl is right in his face                    until the heat of his anger is almost oppressive. 

  “Do not mistake my words for walls, trash---  you, of all people, how how I express my intent.” ]

#[ priderain ] #[ ic ] #priderain

[wrathfire-blog]

The moral of the story is, I will gut you if I need to. I will carve my way out with only my teeth.

Brenna Twohy, from “Little Red Riding Hood Addresses the Next Wolf,” Forgive Me My Salt (via lifeinpoetry)

[wrathfire-blog]

Deep Ass Starters.

Sometimes it's hard to get in depth with your muse and their backstory, because you can't figure out how to bring those things up with others. Here are a couple of starters intended to make things a little more personal!

"What's holding you back?"

"I'm not comfortable with this conversation."

"Will you /ever/ be comfortable with this conversation?"

"Let me in sometime!"

"It's not that easy, you know."

"Help me understand."

"It's hard to connect with someone when all they do is push you away."

"Why are you always so cold?"

"Why are you always so happy?"

"Are you really happy now?"

"Who hurt you this badly to make you this way?!"

"What, did your ex mess you up that badly?!"

"Why do you keep fighting it any time you feel?"

"It's a problem, I get it."

"This is all kinds of messed up."

"That's not exactly a good coping method."

"So what happened, with your parents, really?"

"What was your childhood like?"

"Everyone has at lest a little bit of mommy/daddy issues. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"My parents aren't exactly perfect models, either."

"You were bullied? What for?"

"Was it hard? Coming out, I mean."

"You can't just run away all the time."

"You can't just hide all the time."

"Are you still thinking about them?"

"I'm not the enemy here. But this makes me wonder who the real one is for you."

"Is the reason you're so cold and defensive because you feel threatened?"

"How long has it been since you last spoke to them?"

"You never talk about it, why?"

"How come you're so different around them?"

"It's like you don't have a care or worry in the world."

"You seem so perfect. I don't get it."

"What was your ex like?"

"I don't think I was ever good enough for them."

"Are you not comfortable being intimate?"

"Why don't you feel comfortable being intimate?"

"Letting someone see you that vulnerable, it's a scary thing."

"Are you scared of being hurt?"

"Have you ever been taken advantage of?"

"Why are you afraid of saying I love you?"

"I never understood how someone could say those words so easily."

"You're hurting others the way you've been hurt in the past, don't you think that's ironic?"

"You use people to make yourself feel better."

"I'm scared of being used again..."

"Losing someone isn't easy, but you're making it harder than it needs to be."

"How long has it been since you lost them?"

"You're too attached."

"I'm not attached, I'm just comfortable with what I'm familiar to."

"Maybe the real reason you're so controlling is because, deep down you'd rather have them in your grasp than lose them."

"Why did you ever break up?" / "Why did we ever break up?"

[wrathfire-blog]

priderain:

@whiskeytangofuckoff​

The jet shakes beneath turbulence, the rain streaking on the small windows promptly blocked from sight by a quick movement of Squalo’s hand. Air hisses between his teeth as silver eyes shut tight, right hand gripping the armrest in a deathgrip rivaling a python’s constriction. ( Grab your parachute and kiss your ass goodbye, Superbia Squalo ) Eyes open sharply at the slightest shift of leather, a half yawn taken.                  Xanxus.                  Squalo remembers that he is not alone in this flying deathtrap and breathes a sigh of relief. If he is to die, at least he can drag that asshole down with him. Oh wait. He can fly. Well, there goes that plan.

❛ You look too fucking peaceful over there, boss. ❜          Watching Xanxus is the only thing that can relax him now, he thinks. Keep his mind off the storm, off the tiny plane flying two assassins from Toscana to Düsseldorf. He blames the mountains, the Swiss. Just seeing that disinterested face sets his heart at ease.          ❛ Ma va là- Merda! How can you even relax through this? ❜

[ Xanxus can practically feel Squalo’s anxiety beside him.   The assassin, though obviously used to traveling by airplane by now  is clearly terrified of flying through storms  and idly he muses on the irony of that,         of Squalo fearing the Sky and the Storm,                    more terrible together than apart,                             and still looking to him with such abject adoration.

        Then again, Superbia Squalo is nothing if not a lesson in irony.

 He cracks a red eye open as Squalo turns to him                      (   bitching, as usual   )  and closes it again, settling further into his seat and steepling his hands  over his stomach, the epitome of relaxation.

         “Why can’t you?” he rumbles back, not even bothering to                    open his eyes again                            despite the weight of Squalo’s gaze on him.           “You can kill a man in cold blood             but you can’t handle some turbulence, trash?” ]

#[ priderain ] #[ ic ]