A m o r - P r o p r i o @superbi-a-blog - Tumblr Blog

u called me trash, is it cuz i'm black. wow what a racist guy, just because i have strong african thighs and hunt elephants with spears don't mean i'm trash. that's rude

“… what?”

*cue Squalo thinking that his entire life is complete bullshit*

#headprefect #answered #the shark replies #he hates you all

The manicurist wants to know what time she should come over to do your nails, Squ-senpai (◕‿◕✿)

“Didn’t I just tell you to get the fuck out.”

#knivesandpsychos #answered #outofcharacter #wut iz happening

they say that u can wield a sword better with nails like oprah winfrey, i know how to do that

“… get the fuck out of here before I kill your dumb ass.”

#headprefect #answered #the shark replies

i want 2 give u a manicure, is that what's happening

“Voi! Nothing’s happening! Go fine someone else to bother, trash!”

#headprefect #answered #the shark replies #jfc bel look what you started

The pedicure was too expensive though, so the budget won't cut it (◕‿◕✿)

“What budget? For fuck’s sake. Take this up with that damn baby or something. I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

#knivesandpsychos #answered #the shark replies

Hey, Squ-senpai, I got the money for your manicure (◕‿◕✿)

“What in the actual fuck are you talking about?”

#knivesandpsychos #answered #the shark replies

superbi-a-blog

Papercuts || Squalo & Hayato

veloxtemperavit-blog

A roll of sea foam colored eyes is the immediate reaction from the storm guardian, the swordsman’s words falling on deaf ears. They’re pointless; if Gokudera had wanted to be here, they likely would have had him tested for some form of brain damage. No, he was not here by choice, far from it, and if the volatile assassin had objects he’d have to take it up with Reborn, only to lose the argument and have to keep Gokudera after all. This was a done deal and as much as Squalo was hating it, the silver haired bomber was detesting so much more. But he was going to be the right-hand man of the Vongola’s tenth leader, and someone of that status didn’t return empty handed. So he’d suck it up, stay put, and do his damnedest not to blow up anyone’s head.

Though that resolve was getting harder and harder to keep at this rate.

”Tch, you’re talking to the wrong person. I can’t leave without Reborn’s say so.” A painful reality, but a very true one. And if he even attempted to stay in some nearby hotel there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the kid would find out, and who knows what the punishment for disobedience would be? No; he’d rather not think about that, no matter how appealing a private room away from Prince the Ripper and Shark Bait here sounded. He wants to take another drag, an inhale of smoke from his cigarette—the only thing keeping him from going batshit insane—when there’s a sudden lack of a certain cancer stick between his lips and he registers that the idiot in front of him has just in fact thrown his cigarette out the window.

Queue the opening of the gates to Hell.

There’s a hand fisted in Squalo’s coat and he yanks the swordsman closer, jaw clenched. It’s an impulse reaction, he may (will) regret it later, but right now he’s acutely aware that his last cigarette was no longer providing a comforting nicotine to his brain and there’s a reason you don’t mess with people who have addictions to things. They don’t exactly appreciate it when you take their addiction away. “I don’t take orders from you, shitty shark.” He barks, more than slightly agitated and he supposes it’s a tad coincidental that his weapons are bombs; both him and his arsenal have short fuses. “You owe me a cig.”

superbi-a-blog

"You can't leave without permission?" Squalo inquired with a scoff, his tone laced heavily with ridicule. That damned baby was more-or-less the Vongola Guardian's babysitter. It was so fucking pathetic -- and this was precisely the reason that they weren't fit to be running the entire goddamned family. How in the hell were they supposed to run the fucking show, when they couldn't even properly take care of themselves? Or, worse yet, when they weren't even capable of making their own fucking decisions. Yeah, Xanxus may have been a rat-bastard at times, but at least he wasn't as useless as shit -- or afraid of his own damn shadow. "How old are you -- five? You don't know how to say no? Or were you actually just too damn lazy to handle things yourself, and so the baby had to do it for you?"

“I don’t take orders from you, shitty shark.”

The minute that the Storm-brat's fingers dug into his coat, fisting and and forcefully tugging the swordsman closer, an overwhelming rage began bubbling up within his core. "Voi, you'd better let the fuck go before I cut your goddamn head off and mail it to your Boss, brat." Thin lips curled into a snarl as the elder male struggled with his remaining patience - the final thread, of which, was currently threatening to break - and keep his sword sheathed.

He hadn't been lying; Squalo wasn't a liar. If this little shit didn't release him soon, someone was getting gutted -- and it sure as hell wasn't him.

“You owe me a cig.”

"I don't owe you shit. You want another one so bad, take your bullshit outside and be an idiot out there. If I so much as smell that shit again, I'll slice up the whole entire fucking pack and shove the remains down your damn throat. Understood?"

#papercuts #veloxtemperavit