{stumpy}:

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          Does your dad pay
         people to pretend
         they like you too?

                                No, it actually doesn’t!
                         I clean it weekly surprisingly enough.
                                There would be a cockroach
                         if you ever stopped by to see me!

         Nah, I doubt he has
         any redeeming qualities.
         Yeesh, what’s with you
         and insulting my hand?

                                Maybe you should do
                                something more useful
                                with yours instead of
                                just sucking your thumb! 

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        Don’t be stupid. Lotsa
           people like Poemi, money
           or not ! Almost like how
           lots more people would
           like you if you weren’t
           such a doofush.

                          Guh acting like I’d
                          ever want to go to your
                          stinking house. I bet they
                          come out at night, when
                          you’re asleep. Ha !

                        Whaddya mean ? It’s gross as hell !
                              It’s a nub ! Can’t you see ?

                                                      And oi ! I’m not little, y'know !
                                                      Not little at all !

{stumpy}:

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           Eh? Are your friends just
          a buncha freeloaders at your
          place then? … I have an 
          apartment now, y’know!

                     Clearly you’ve never seen
                     Pervy McShades before.

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        Nah, daddy pays ‘em
           lots ! They don’t have
           to freeload, not at all !

                        Ooh, a mystery apartment !
                   Does it have rats ? Cockroaches ?
                                          Gross !

             … Yeah, Emalf’s trash ! But
             he’s cute cool when he’s all
             quiet like, and at least he has
             hands !

{stumpy}:

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     ”That’s what you think,
     but they all offered to let me
     live with them once.

     It’s not creepy!”

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        Ha ! I already live with my
           friends, y'know ! You you
           live like a homeless person !

                           An’ it is ! Creepiest thing
                           that I’ve ever seen !

{stumpy}:

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     ”At least I have friends that
        aren’t forced to associate with me!”

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        You don’ know that ! 
           I bet they hate your guts
           an’ your creepy hand ! 

yosafired:

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     ”Yosafire says that 
        you’re a little brat!”

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        Yeah, but you’re a
           big brat !

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        Poemi says that you
           need therapy. 

yosafired asked:

Casually puts ice down the back of the little girl's dress.

        said little girl howls in surprise and begins to twist, desperately trying to shake
           or push the cubes of ice out of her dress. an effort in vain all  of  her  clothes
           are specially tailored to fit, and her efforts only  move  the  ice  around,  further
           agitating her.

            A - aaah
                         I  uu — 

           it is demonic physiology that saves her in the end. soft  skin  heats  and  burns,
          singing the delicate fabric of her skirts. the scent of burning hair fills the air, yet
          still she writhes.

        when she calms, the water  that  remains  has  all  but  evaporated,  patches  of
           discoloured velvet across her back the  only  indication  that  the  ice  had  ever
           been there at all. breathing hard, she turns, and when her eyes  meet  those  of
           the older demon’s, she can hardly even speak.

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        Ggh — ! You
                   Poemi, ugh y-you — !

  run, yosafire. run.

yosafired asked:

SKEWERS TWO APPLES ON THE EDGES OF HER HORNS AND FLEES.

tentatively, she reaches up to her horns, feeling along the points until her fingers close around the two apples. it takes her far more effort than she would’ve liked to admit, and a little bit of bending backward and forward, but she soon manages to pull the apples away, snatching them out of the air when they fall.

for a few seconds, she does nothing but stare at the two fruits, confused. then, she turns— just in time to see a flash of red and green dart out of the borders of flame town. realisation dawns upon her and she crushes one of the two apples in her grip, brandishing the other like a weapon as she points at the fleeing demon.

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Hey ! Toy lady Emalf’s girlfriend 
  Get back here ! Stop running so
  Poemi can chase you—!”

yosafired asked:

≈ ( PAYBACK FOR BAD END 2 )

Send me a "≈" and my muse will react to yours shoving them into a body of water.

Oh, she knew it was a bad idea to have worn her horns today.

She just has enough time to spin around and catch the eye of her attacker and a blur of green hair before she falls, straight into the mud of the community duck pond. Long arms dart out and grab a clump of grass and she breathes a sigh of relief, struggling to hoist herself out of the sludge.

Spoken too soon. 

Maybe she should’ve listened to Rieta when the older girl had advised her to buy boots with actual treads. 

Shit!”

Smooth, white, soles slide against the dark mud slathered over the banks of the pond and she yelps, just surprised enough to pitch her body weight backward again. In a flurry of mud, profanity, and torn clumps of grass, she falls backward, into the pond, into an unfortunate swan. For a few seconds, she thrashes in the filthy water, spluttering and yelling, and then, as if struck by some great revelation, calms abruptly.

Slowly, she sits up, top almost transparent and clinging to her chest, fake horns almost knocked off her head. She’s tall enough so that the pond water only reaches her waist in her position, in the area that she’s in, and that does even more to humiliate her.

Shaking with rage, she wipes a strand of hair out of her face, revealing golden eyes narrowed and almost luminous in the dull morning sun.

You.” 

When her eyes meet her attacker’s again, she pauses, some of her murderous disposition dispelled and replaced by recognition.

“…Aren’t you that girl who beat the hell out of Emalf…?”

For a moment she looks like she’s about to express admiration instead of hatred, and then the shadow across her face returns and she scowls, slowly making her way to her feet.

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“…Poemi, Poemi—
                                 —Poemi’s gonna sue the fuck outta you!
Me ‘n’ Vendetto– me 'n’ Vendetto, we'll make you wish you’d never been born!”

With a final glare, she turns away and climbs fully out of the pond, hands balled into fists and still mumbling angry strings of curses and threats to herself. It would hardly benefit her if she was arrested so early into the weekend, after all, and she has more than enough time on her hands to plot out who to torment later.