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Jules of Nature
#extradirty
Andulka
cherry valley forever
AnasAbdin
Xuebing Du
NASA
Love Begins
Cosimo Galluzzi
dirt enthusiast
Keni
Cosmic Funnies
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
⁂
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird
Origami Around
seen from Jordan
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seen from United States
seen from South Korea
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@arrivoiderci
arrivoiderci started following you
“Is that a sword?”
Did they even allow that in public???
“Voi…” An incredulous curl of his lips. “Looks like you don’t need a vision check. Or do you fancy a demonstration to believe what you’re seeing?”
What does a man devout to his sword care about a little publicity?
07/23 - tanti auguri di buon compleanno! [ @basilicumi ]
It doesn’t sit right with him - not for a second.
Despite the occasion, it is one thing for a man to go out of his way to extend his congratulations. After all, to be on the receiving end of Superbi Squalo’s biting words, however callous, is a crude form of acknowledgement, and by extension, praise. But it is another matter entirely for the titlist swordsman to stretch as far as acclimatizing himself to the norms of the feeble; suiting up as keenly as the honed edge of his sword; and seating himself across the table before a member of the CEDEF. The youngest, at that.
Had he not known better, with the festive layout of a steak dinner before them, he would have thought they were playing a fucking cozy round of HOUSE. And his pride simply refuses to concede to the fact that the cake he had introduced into the equation made up for much of the ‘tastelessness’ in these charades.
"I hope you're happy now."
SARCASTIC STARTERS // ACCEPTING
THAT. …
Is just wrong on so many levels that it bears scrutiny. ( MOCKERY, too. Will get to that. )IRRITATION rises to a challenge perceived, flashes behind the smoky glass of crimson hues. Its sharpest edges are smoothed into the polished rim of a tumbler near overflowing.
[ IT’S THAT BAD. ]
Xanxus’ drawl comes bearing the veneer of languid indifference ; unhindered by the series of tiny ticks — of ivories against cut glass.
‘ My happiness is none of your concern, Superbi. ’
No. … Definitely not. HEAVY SARCASM couldn’t have been more OBVIOUS, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be I G N O R E D all the same.
‘ If you’ve nothing of i n t e r e s t to share, get lost. ’
He obviously just got back from a mission -- strands of light hair misplaced, shirt untucked and creased, bags underneath blue eyes apparently still sparkling with determination, literally wheezing from dashing the longest distance he has been... Basil(icumi) comes to a halt in front of the swordsman and shoves a plain wrapped box of chocolate into his hand. "Happy belated Valentine's Day!" is all he yells before sprinting off near faster with a scarlet shade on his face that isn't from running.
Never mind that the CEDEF pawn was running more than 46 hours late; Squalo most definitely hadn’t been waiting up regardless of the facts. Basil could have hurtled himself straight into a freak accident in the middle of an assignment and bitten the dust while at it for all he cared – but as far as Vice Commander of Varia is concerned, it’s safe to say he’s a fairly fucking far cry from the kind of sad bastard who has to be made to sit tight and even lose sleep over something so damned trivial! But the brat has really done it this time - forcing him to stoop so low as to do both,
– and hell if Squalo plans on letting him get away with it.
Squalo’s all but frothing at the mouth by the time Basil is spotted gaining on him in the distance. Any vaguely-recognizable remnants of patience are just coming apart at the seams. His unruly and murderous aura has long since been spewing, like the hotel pipe infrastructure that Belphegor had once trashed half a decade ago during the Rainbow Battles. Only a real miracle will spare the younger of the two men of a great and devastating brutality. One from which Basil will sure as hell not emerge intact.
But in spite of his own impending fate (or maybe he’s just too dense to sense it? Which would verify Squalo’s theory that the CEDEF are all rough-around-the-edges weaklings,) Basil scuttles up, looking vaguely worse for wear. Squalo’s smoldering rage catches as he takes full notice of the younger man’s disheveled presentation. Above all, that odd glow of determination in Basil’s stupid, doe-eyed gaze that he likely knows grates on Squalo’s nerves.
For a split second, the stringent deputy of Varia almost feels genuine pity that the CEDEF member seemed to have taken an uninterrupted trek straight from his mission. And, as the holiday favors are shoved briskly into Squalo’s possession, the shark has half a mind to throw an insult about his incompetence. Strike up some sad form of banter (as a means of gauging the reasons to Basil’s pitiful state in a scathing, roundabout manner, characteristic only of the shark himself.)
But instead, Basil takes off just as quickly as he’d arrived. Incidentally, leaving the Emperor Swordsman IN THE DUST.
Some form of incredulous, agitated grunt is heard leaving Squalo. The rest of him: stopped dead in his tracks as he idly watches the younger man hightailing off, breaking the sound barrier at the speed which he seems to be traveling.
“Hrrrghh… … …—”
And that’s the last and final, god-forsaken straw before Squalo officially sees RED.
“VOOOOOOOOOII——! You have got to be screwing with me. I’m going to have your head, you fucking DIM-WITTED BRAT!!”
ooc; ( And that’s S84′s Valentines in a nutshell. Just listen to it. )
If anything, she would prefer keeping the chocolates she made to herself and KEEP it for herself- considering the last time she made a chocolate dish, he didn't look at all pleased with it. Besides, were they even the type to celebrate Valentines? Far from it, actually. However, being in the same living space nearly 24/7, she packs three coffee creme truffles in a box, ties it up tightly with a black ribbon and tosses it his way when he comes out of his room. "Your portion." (shyhandwaving? ;w;)
@marionetta-sanguinoso
The occasion never meant squat to him. He knew the history of Saint Valentine, the patron saint of cloying romance, all too well: a virtuous diehard had the guts to oppose his emperor in the time of strife, and, in turn, had himself gutted for his fatal weakness of heart, so to speak. A holiday commemorating his name was absolutely nothing to get so pathetically worked up over every damn year. But to his chagrin, Rome happened to be among the most mawkish cities in just about the entire damn globe.
And he and his partner had taken root right in the heart of it, to boot.
Nonetheless, a calendar date does not deter him in the slightest of ways: it was merely another day to carry out an important hit. His motions are redundantly aggressive as he seals his jacket shut and double-checks the magazine in his Beretta. Snaps it back into place with a dry switch of his wrist, before tucking the pistol into the holster at the small of his waist. Then, stooping, he seizes a long, rectangular instrument case containing his prized spatha, slinging it over his shoulder. Beneath his door and through the crack, the saccharine scent of that woman’s hobbies seep through.
With one hand, he snaps up whatever it is that she sends flying towards him as soon as he leaves his room. Lately, the two of them had become pretty damned tight-lipped in the presence of one another, and for reasons unknown to the expert swordsman. Briefly, as he eyeballs the superbly (admittedly, only in the eyes of someone who typically had no care for ribbons) put-together favors, Squalo wonders if this was supposed to be a sign that the woman is cracking. Though, under what context is absolutely lost to him, considering how incisive and impervious she likes to be. ‘Your portion’?
“… …”
Coming from a woman like her, that kind of attitude is thoroughly uncute.
Nothing but gauging silence at first, before he motions to lift the box lightly, a gesture of either recognition or thanks. A pause, before a somewhat shallow smirk cuts across his features.
“Voooooi. Don’t tell me you got tired of our usual holiday routine?”
tagged by: the baest Vongola wife @sasa-kyo
Name: Latte (Other) Nickname(s): mochaccino, macchiato, espresso, americano (for real my friends are scrubs, I’m not even American I’m Canadian.) Height: 165 cm Sexual Orientation: the one where @hiscloudyeyes* will some day luv me straight actually. Favorite Color: blue Average hours of sleep: 3-4 Lucky Numbers: don’t rely on numbers when you failed Math 12 once Last Thing I Googled: something work-related. Number of Blankets: 1 Favorite Characters: Yuni, Spanner, Squalo... entire Varia is fam tbh Favorite Band/Singer: Blonde Redhead Dream Trip: Italy or Germany for sure. Something I Want to Learn: Already pursuing my dream branch of study right now, but some more languages would be bomb. Starting from German probably, since it’s the hardest. Then refine my rusty French...
tagging: @delinquentdevil @xtrinsic, @naturalborn-hitman, @regledefleurs, @100-whiteorchids, @marionetta-sanguinoso. If you haven’t done this already that is.
To be completely truthful, the Varia Commander still scares her senseless. Intimidating doesn't even begin to cover it. Nonetheless, she feels obliged to present him with something for the holiday, seeing as how she /did/ barge into Varia HQ unasked. Leaving a neatly wrapped box of chocolates outside his office seems reasonable enough. She doesn't know his preferences, so she includes a little bit of everything: dark chocolate with mint, white chocolate with raspberry, and milk with hazelnut.
He totes the box in a single gloved hand, as though gauging the weight of Miura Haru’s holiday favors. The flat rattle that resounds from within is surely something saccharine - too damn Vongola-esque for Squalo’s exacting tastes. That seems to be the sole cause for misgiving: the candied offerings are pretty damn characteristic of the Tenth and his motley crew, ever so pure and blissfully unwary of the harsh actualities of the mafia domain.
Nevertheless! He’ll gladly acknowledge that little madwoman’s surprising show of tact by accepting the chocolates. She had proven her own capability to pull her weight within the family, after all! One could almost say that her performance had made a sure impression on the Vice Commander of Varia.
“Hah! That little brat should be proud.”
You wanted to tell me EVERYTHING back then…
——written by angie
SCREAMS. IM IN MY ITALIAN CLASS, AND WE WERE PRACTICING SAYING GOODBYE, AND INSTEAD OF SAYING ARRIVEDERCI, I SAID ARRIVOIDERCI.
Even for a common civilian like herself, it was not hard to feel a suffocating pressure from the man’s aura alone. He had shown face out of nowhere, for one, and had a voice that morbidly reminded of skulls grating against concrete pavement. It was a never-before occurrence, and she could only stare, for the first few eternities, at the unforgiving, punishing brutality in his eyes, stricken with a despairing sense of terror. He meant business. He was business. The grave nature of her choice hit her full force, then and there.
Hisui began shaking violently, like a leaf fighting a gale. This was the renowned Vongola? If so, it was truly no wonder it had taken them almost half a year to receive her request. No, it was still all just a great conundrum to her. She knew next to nothing about the mafia, only enough about the yakuza friends of her parents to get by with disillusionment, really.
“S-s…?”
The erratic thudding of heart muscle against her rib cage was beginning to hurt, and all of a sudden she found herself willing for the man to vanish, his crooked smile and eccentric long, pale hair altogether. His presence was too overwhelming. Hisui tries to recover some confidence in the reminder that she is not his target – but why did she find even that so hard to believe, all of a sudden?
“Sit, please…” She heard herself stammer, unable to break eye contact. “I’m… not going to waste your time.” Her question felt stupid to ask. “I… is it really okay to talk here?”
He lets slip a derisive laugh. The hunch he had about her naivete is as much correct as it is justified: she’s put herself up to a patronage with professional extortionists only out of spite much unlike herself. A personal grudge towards someone in her environment? She’s certainly well-heeled enough to afford hastening the demise of some poor, wretched fool out there, with whom she’s presumably vying for some kind of petty upper hand.
-- BUT, had the nature of her case truly been so cheap and inconsequential, Squalo would not have given her audience in the first place, would he? This would have been a simple hit left to the mangy dogs of Vongola’s lower echelons. Just how straightforward could the matter be, if it had to be consulted with XANXUS in order for special permission to be acquired? Or for the case to be addressed to Varia to begin with?
Her case was worth some purport, alright. And it had better be worth his trouble.
“Heeeey... Who do you think you’re dealing with? Something that insignificant should be the least of your concerns, shouldn’t it?” The remark isn’t meant to comfort her, not by a long shot. It nothing, it was meant to further daunt her - and for good reason. After all, the profession of extortion isn’t limited to extract the ends of Varia’s victims, but also the wits of its clients so that no one - nonentity, political figurehead, nor daughter of - can even think of double-crossing or challenging its authority. That is the stringent quality of VARIA.
“Be grateful! I’m giving you the chance to convince me that your offer is worthwhile.” His impatient grin only grows wider. “So spill. And make it count!”
Byakuran was needless to say almost like his future self. The only difference was that he didn’t have anything against Tsuna. It was funny how things ended up turning out. Having helped out not too long ago, he knew that he had technically paid his dues. Still though with the teaming up they had done, the white haired male had to respect the Shark in some way. Though that wouldn’t stop him from either smirked, grinning or attempting to pick on the louder male. Either way Byakuran wasn’t bothered if the Varia member or Vongola hated him or not.
A soft chuckle soon left the lavender eyed male’s lips once Squalo said his piece. Mocking a hurt look, the snow white haired male even pouted. He wasn’t bothered by the lather’s tone, if only it was a means of egging him on.
“You know you missed my crude humor~♪ I’m pretty sure that people are getting a laugh, but it’s only because we’re slightly greeting each other in an interesting manner.”
Needless to say Byakuran didn’t mind the Shark’s presence too much. If that it was welcoming in an odd sense, though he could state that it was because they worked together temporarily. Yes he was cautious still, but he was sure that even Squalo would be as well.
That inability to bar holds when it comes to flattering his own damnable poise -- Squalo would expect nothing less of Byakuran, regardless of timeline and circumstance. That attitude had served the elites well on the battlefield. But off of it? It was nothing but casual aplomb and a real thorn in the flesh, even with the friendly pretense they seem to have jointly established. Squalo sneers at the notion that anyone in the room, save for VARIA, Byakuran, and his cronies, can even find it in themselves to crack up in the presence of two of the most compelling forces in the umbrella of Vongola.
They would be laughing themselves to their demise.
They aren’t drawing blades to square up their accounts - as of yet, even though Squalo would more than receive the shot with open arms. But as diplomacy would have it, there was no avenging old injuries now that the snotty Vongola Tenth had avowed formal alliance with what had become of the Gesso lately.
“Ha! ‘Missed it’?” He echoes, raising the glass in his hand in a mock toast. “You’re kidding yourself. That’s plenty of entertainment to last the entire night, bastard.” As things would have it, the exchange is taking a quick steer in the direction of some friendly - albeit downright callous - slandering.
As usual, it was difficult to tackle change head-on, even when the impending odds held her next step forward. This life was crippling her. No qualms about it, although she found herself wishing she had come to terms with her own affliction sooner. It was frightening, having to venture across the chessboard where she could very well be at her most vulnerable. So much still remains to be learned and seen, after all, but there was practically no one she could rely on as support during the trying times to come.
Friend or no, stepping forward was a compulsory step towards ousting the toxin in her life. Even if it will shred the Kano family name apart and leave her with fragments of nothing but pretend bliss to live off of – the life she currently led under the direction of her father was no way to eat, breathe, or love with dignity.
She sat quietly in the cafe booth, fingers tightly interlocked on her lap. Her gaze, blank and grave. It was fearful desperation, no matter how adamant she was about putting up appearances. It was the first time she had gone out of her way to borrow from her father’s connections to… outsource to such a dangerous service. The mafia. Kings of skilled crime and racketeering.
There was really no backing out now.
@arrivoiderci
Hood and blade drawn, the Varia official sizes the young woman up from an expedient distance, gauging her profile in tandem with the information that had been pledged to the squad several months in advance. Strictly speaking, her call for their attention had been placed on hold for longer -- half a year, at the very least, given that her initial contacts had been made to one of the ill-defined allies beneath the Vongola umbrella. Simply put, monotonous chatter had swept through the lower rungs of the family, embodying skepticism towards a foreign civilian and making light of her stated cause. Only more suspicion was generated when one of Squalo’s sources had probed the woman’s background -- to discover the daughter of a government official.
Superbi Squalo isn’t some mere halfwit who would simply take her solicitation at face value. Should her words be all truth, the woman possesses a talent that could be of convenience. Still and all, this was not a matter the Varia commander had not taken up at length with the Boss: depending on the profundity of her utility, she could be just as much of a source as a burden.
It was all too damn storybook. The adolescent daughter of a high level bureaucrat; hails from a conservative family with a silver spoon between her teeth; and yet she’s acting beneath her privilege to solicit hitmen? She’s either thick towards reality, or looking to trade. As far as Squalo is concerned, he’ll compel her to attest to the latter. There’s more to be learned yet from this ridiculously idyllic farce.
His form casts a daunting shadow across her table as he towers before her hunched form, caring little for checking the serial vibe of his image. “Voooi... Having second thoughts?” A terrorizing smirk cuts across his features. “You just can’t hide it, can you? It’s written all over your face. I’ll have you know -- I didn’t come here for you to let you sleep on this, kid.”
Lavender eyes soon ended up going wide the moment that a certain person yelled. It was ear shattering in a way, and there was only one person that Byakuran knew that could hit the highest possibilities of that pitch. Of course he could look, just a peek towards the culprit, but there wasn’t a need.
Seems like he had spoken in his mind too soon, because not too soon after that he heard Squalo speak. Well it wasn’t a lie that he had many enemies, and the white haired male held back one of his men. Plastering on the most cheerful, and largest smile he glanced at Squalo.
“I hope you realize that you just yelled butter in Finnish and you’re being stared at by the Finnish Mafia~♪”
There it was, Byakuran’s own way of greeting the Varia member back. He hadn’t seen him, let alone the other members since the Rainbow Battle. Well that would sort of be a lie he supposed. There was the future incident as well, but that wasn’t technically him per say.
Their greetings were crude to say the least, and it didn’t go unseen by the people around them. This was going to be an interesting evening and Byakuran was looking forward to it. Feeling a tug on his sleeve, lavender eyes glanced over towards the person. Seeing as it was Bluebell he just offered a quick smile, and glanced back towards Squalo. Yup it was going to be really interesting now.
One glimpse of that sardonic grin, in all its untroubled, ever-content disposition, and Squalo’s already overdue to fly off the handle. If they must get technical, it more than suffices to say that the Byakuran which had wrought a despotic uproar in the ‘future’ is as identical as any to come, even if their current one has a proven track record of apparent charity as an ally to the Vongola. From Squalo’s outlook, from where he feels quite strongly about the tattooed boss, it’s the incentive that makes the man.
Needless to say, he would have a few sharp things to say if Varia, the least agreeable of the famiglia, is to show any care for maintaining even a semblance of friendliness with Byakuran. All of that strictly being ironic, of course.
“Hah! Cut the crude humor. If anyone had wanted a laugh from the likes of you, they’d have done so by now.” He totes his brandy tumbler with a commanding stride. The mood about the champion swordsman makes it more than evident that he’s concerned only with Byakuran’s presence - even if, among the flak, there’s a vague sense that the former teammate’s presence is welcome. Even if only through worthwhile rivalry.
There was something almost DOMESTIC about this errand, it was almost DISGUSTING. In fact, it was probably one of the most NORMAL things they could be doing; threats aside, anyway. Snickering, Bel draped his arms over the handle of the cart as he pushed it forward, body hunched forward. “Ushishishi ~ So cruel, so harsh!” Snickering into his sleeve, he hummed as booted feet pushed him forward, tapping the head of the cart into the other’s back. “Oops, MY BAD.”
Belphegor’s idea of a practical joke isn’t met with nearly as much resignation. Squalo keels forward as the wide trim of the cart digs into his back, the dip in his heel snagging on the vehicle’s chassis. An aggressive outcry accompanies him as he regains his balance。He nearly ripｓ the cling wrap encasing a tray of red meat as he veers around to give the self-congratulatory Storm Guardian a piece of his mind.
“VUUOOOOOOOOI--!!
“Where the hell do you think you’re pushing that?! If you’re too useless to even make a difference around here, then stay out of my way. Don’t make me hurt you, trash!”
A small snort followed, eyes rolling behind a curtain of blonde bangs. “I don’t know, Squalo. Princes don’t go SHOPPING.” Plus, he thought that they had HENCHMEN to do the grocery shopping for them.
As if serving beyond the job description, catering to the elite squad’s kiddish whims, is any easier to suffer? Squalo pops a vein, having had just about enough of the young nobleman’s incessant griping. Their outlandish presence draw stares abound.
“Voi. Shut it, Bel!” He orders brusquely, not caring to help the attention they attract. “Which do you think matters more: the Boss’ stupid cravings or your worthless opinion?” A pause as he tosses some sort of condiment container across his shoulder, straight into the cart.
“The answer is neither, as far as I’m concerned. So you’re better off not voicing it at all, you hear?!”
八十 “Haha, if Squalo says so~"
Takeshi’s grinning around his shot-glass, tiliting it back some to finish what’s left. After all… there were quite a few to get through, and he’d only had two. No room to let his mentor down after what was likely a very stressful day. Stressing months, he’s sure.
Unwinding together would benefit them both, really. Another shot is taken, and at that point, he and Squalo meet gazes. Apparently his flushed expression gives way to something he’d rather not be known. But maybe its for the best? He might be blushing a little brighter then, ducking his head some as he sloshes the sake in his grasp a bit. "Some might call it that, aha. But… I definitely won’t stop until these shots are gone. I need to hear Squalo out, ne?” What kind of drinking buddy would he be otherwise? “Besides~ Wasn’t it Sensei’s goal to get his favorite student drunk?” And at that moment, his grin had only grown.
As damn frivolous as ever.
“Ha? Goal?” He echoes incredulously, lobbing yet another black look in Takeshi’s general direction. As usual, it sails clean over the younger man’s head, whose frivolity remains in poor taste on Squalo’s palate - never to make headway, it seems. Doing a slow burn, he narrows his eyes as Takeshi’s face becomes awash with a bloody flush of color. It’s not the outrageous pink that gives him away -- but rather, the deplorable flicker in the fellow sword champion’s eyes. Still boyish.
Squalo isn’t by any means so stupid as to never notice it at face value.
He takes a begrudging swig from his whisky glass, wasting no time to volley the question back at its giver. “I set you up with enough goals to last you your entire career and you put them off over some pointless sport. What’s your explanation for this being the one fucking exception you fulfilled without being asked?!”
