LEVEL 1 MEAN GIRL

* hey.

* lookin' for me?

* well, i'm right here, dumbass, so c'mon.

semi-selective roleplay blog from susie from deltarune!

written by dio

rules / about / art

-- "That's what's referred to in the trade as winning, Kris. Not that you'd know anythin' about it, heh."

Susie delivers a very victorious grin, fully and completely in her element. She really valued the concept of sparring- it was like beating people up, but the cops weren't allowed to come after you, and you could do it to your friends!

-- "Really? 'Cause, you're kinda...sweating. A bunch."

Maybe asking him for fighting help hadn't been the best idea. She'd thought it'd be fun to spar Berdly's scrawny little ass into the ground, but this was just pathetic now.

“What? You lost, fair and square, Susie. Sie. Z. You can’t be trying to skimp out on a bet because you’re trying to not acknowledge the fact that I won, can you?” He asks, raising an eyebrow out of curiosity. It was clear that Dale was now trying to provoke some sort of reaction out of Susie, whether it’s because he thinks she’ll hold back or he’s confident he’ll counter it. Either way, this is clearly a scenario that won’t play out in his favor, and yet, he continues to poke and prod the bear.

“Or maybe… You’re really just that weak that you can’t break a measly chain? I mean, sure, you tore through cloth. Big woop. Anyone can do that. I can do that right now.” Dale tears off a portion of the shirt he’s wearing to prove a point… Even if he looks a little upset to do so. It was a good shirt- And one of five that he owns overall. “Metal? Well, I guess you’re still only a person. I get it! We’ve all got our limits.” The Dalmatian shrugs, turning his back purposefully on the Monster as he smirks.

“Hey, listen, if you can’t pay it, I get it. You’ve gone soft! I get it, you don’t wanna shake people down for money because your little human bud made you a big softie. It’s fine! Really. I’ll just tell everyone at the school that Susie the Monster’s lost her bite!” The Monster snickers after such a declaration, clearly sealing his own fate at this point. 

-- "Oh, you are about to see hOW MUCH FUCKING BITE I HAVE, YOU TWO FACED LITTLE DOG-SHAPED PEICE OF-"

Susie snaps, both in the vocal and mental sense of the word, grabbing Dale by the shoulder hard enough her extended claws puncture the remnants of his shirt almost immediately.

-- "YOU SERIOUSLY THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME, IS THAT IT?"

She forces him to face her, by now not even thinking about whether she was scratching him in the process or not.

"YOU REALLY THINK YOU'RE GONNA LORD IT OVER ME JUST CAUSE THE PEOPLE AT SCHOOL ACTUALLY TALK TO YOU? THEY AREN'T EVEN GONNA COME TO YOUR FUCKING FUNERAL, AND BY THE ANGEL'S STINKING FOOT FUNGUS THAT'S GONNA BE SOON, IF ANYONE ACTUALLY CARES ENOUGH ABOUT YOU TO HOST ONE."

Somewhere within this haze of red, Susie realises that might not have been the best line to come out with. But she's far too deep into this now, and backing down and letting him spill the beans is something every primal instinct of hers is screaming to never let happen.

So, instead, she settles for a middle ground.

Susie snatches the money off him and releases her grip, stuffing it into her jacket pocket and backing off- hoping it seems angry enough he'll veiw it as an act of aggression and not of cowardice.

-- "Go on, then."

Having visitors stop by his room is the last thing on Rudy’s mind. He’d thought he’s in the clear to get some sleep since Carol said she’d announce he’s “indisposed.” The man literally isn’t positioned to entertain any guests -- his bed laid flat so he can rest on his side. His blanket is snugly tucked over his shoulders.

The reindeer slowly pushes the covers from his line of vision. “Uh…Oh. ...Susie?” he says after lifting his head at the hazy image of a broad-shouldered purple monster standing over the foot of his bed. “...that you?” He rubs his eyes with the corner of his blanket.

He’d hate to turn the kid down. Especially since he’s been wanting to get acquainted with the girl his daughter has a crush on. There's no point in thinking too hard about it when Susie says the magic words: “your wife and shit.”

Oooh boy.

“…what happened?” he says, groggily.

-- "...huh?"

Susie freezes- partly out of the shock of the question, partly out of the fact her skills had never included lying, and partly because she's now feeling more mortified than she could ever put into words that she'd just disturbed someone's sleep.

It's a very strange standard of Susie's, actually- she never, ever, disturbs someone's sleep.

(Doesn't mean she won't draw penises on their face, of course, just that she'll be very gentle about it.)

Perhaps it's to do with the fact she doesn't really value taking people unawares- she's an outright fighter, not a sneak- but anyone who'd seen that time she'd nearly snapped Berdly's wing in half for so much as gently nudging her from a nap would probably be able to tell Susie didn't see sleep as a thing that deprived one of either strength or awareness of their surroundings.

-- "Nothin'. I just got caught spraypainting a message on the town hall- look, you don't gotta get up or anythin'- I mean it. Go back to sleep, Mr H. I'll be fine. Maybe I can just hide in a cupboard or somethin, she'll never know."

[Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ] ???​:

Angered expression turns to flat annoyance at first, but his form tenses up as the other’s grip tightens around their weapon. Feet prepped to take off and charge, arms as still as they could be to prepare for a swing. Even so, something just felt… off, about this one. While almost all of the bad guys (what he had taken to calling them at least) were quick to call out for their friends or try to rush him down, this one seemed to be taking their sweet ass time with trying to beat him up. 

With each statement they made, he can feel some of his confidence waver. (The thought of an axe in his chest was not an appealing one.) Yet still, he faced them down with a stone cold expression…. until that last question.

At first, his expression turns to confusion. Then, to annoyance once again. And then, anger. Grip tightening on his own weapon, eyes furrowing down into the other’s. And with it, his best intimidating voice he can muster in that moment crawls it’s way out of his mouth.

“No. YOU don’t get to play dumb with ME. I know everything about your guys’ schtick. You’re gonna try to beat me up, so you can take me to some Queen so she can take over the world without any ‘‘Lightners’‘ in the way. I have been running around hiding in trash cans and dodging magic FUCKING missiles for what’s felt like HOURS, and you know what? I am tired of running. So..”

A step forward.

“Get. Out. Of. The. Way.”

-- "Uh, yeah. Sure. Try that at a point you haven't just admitted to living in the trash."

Susie, as always, stands her ground.

Doing so had always gotten her into far more fights than she could ever manage (and only some of which she'd won), but then again, this guy looked like something out of a conspiracy theorists nightmares and was armed with a guitar. She was hardly planning on losing to him either.

Plus, since arriving in the Dark World, she hadn't lost a single battle to anyone who's name she didn't treat like a hissing in the darkness. That was hardly a streak Susie ever wanted to break, nor was it one she ever intended to.

-- "'Ooh, I'm mothguy, ooh I love living in the trash and being a little weenie pisspants' - what the HELL makes you think that's gonna stop me from killing you?"

She hefts the ax again, as if to prove a point she knows she isn't going to stick by.

Ralsei would probably slaughter her if he found out she'd killed a lightener, but there was no way she was gonna act like a coward in front of one either.

He’s still nursing his hand when he realizes that the spikey menace that was threatening him was now questioning him confusedly, eyes darting to the fallen guitar on the ground. Slowly, he shimmies over and picks it up with his unharmed hand then steps back.

“Hey, I didn’t get to choose my main line of defense here! ..or my outfit. Or anything when I fell into whatever the hell this place is!”

With each point he made, there was a gesture made to it. The guitar in his grip, the golden and purple bard outfit and hat he was adorned in, and a general sway of the arms to the general area around them.

And then, it’s at that point, he remembers that they are still probably an enemy only merely put to pause by the suddenness of the appearance of his “weapon”. His grip adjusts until he’s holding onto it by the neck with both hands like a baseball bat, stance adjusting accordingly into a prepared fighting one.

“Now, I know how to play it but I sure as hell can bash some skulls with it too! So, one last warning: I am NOT going to your ‘Queen’!”

-- "Yeesh. I was only tryna make polite conversation, yaknow."

For all she grips her ax more firmly, now with more of the stance of a person using it as a weapon, rather than a rather exuberant walking stick, a lot of the rage is still missing from Susie's eyes. It took a surprising amount to get her worked up to the point of actually, flat-out attacking someone-- she had to be really FEELING it that day.

(And right now, being under attack from some moth guy with a guitar and clothes made out of what looked like that fabric she used to steal from the local store- Susie has to admit that's not exactly happening any longer.)

-- "Now you've just gone'n ruined the vibes, furball."

Susie huffs under her breath, sounding almost frustrated at the fact.

-- "You have a thing made of wood, I have an ax, this ain't gonna go well for you. That's, like, basic math. But before I embed this damn thing in your sternum-"

It's not like she even knows where that is. Especially not on a moth.

❝ i can’t, uh, really sell ya that without seeing your id. ❞

and given the cop had a penchant for flexing her strength on those who broke the law, the new guy in town would naturally steer clear of anything so much as vaguely resembling criminal.

speaking of which, wasn’t officer undyne looking for a purple girl just the other day?

❝ see, there’s been some troublemakers in town buying stuff like that to make molotov cocktails of and setting trashcans on fire apparently. situation kinda stinks, if you ask me. but it is what it is. anythin’ else ya want, kid? ❞

-- “I wasn’t even gonna SET a trashcan on fire-”

Susie retorts, completely disregarding the skeleton’s last question. It was genuinely true enough, though- she didn’t buy the things she used to cause destruction, she stole them. Which was totally different. This was a thing she’d been saving up several months of other people’s pocket money up for, and she was damned if she was gonna let some skinless dude tell her otherwise. What was wrong with buying several pounds of alcohol and a box of matches, anyway?

Confusing. Everything about this whole thing was confusing as hell.

What should’ve been a simple checking-out of the library after moving in left him falling down into a dark abyss and ending up in a strange city straight out of a sci-fi show, his casual cloth replaced by a bardic get-up. Complete with a guitar that seemed to pop in and out of existence randomly.

The locals also seemed to wanna pick a fight with him, wanting to capture him for some Queen. He didn’t pay too much attention, focusing on either fleeing for his life or fighting them back whenever they popped up. He already had a few scratches and bashes from the hits he had taken, not enough to knock him down but… he could be better off. When he turns a corner around one of the many alleyways, he finds himself bumping into something. Something pink, spikey and very threatening looking at a glance. With a loud GAH! , he jumps back into a fighting stance, fists closed and in front.

“Stay back! I’m not going to your Queen-”

With a flash of white, that guitar appears again and falls directly onto one of the lingering fists, bashing it before falling to the ground and leaving the moth hissing in pain while he flapped his hand in an attempt to shrug off the pain.

-- "DON'T PLAY DUMB WITH ME, I AIN'T GOIN' TO YOUR-"

Angel's teeth, it'd been a long time since Susie'd encountered a battle on her own. Normally, she had Ralsei insisting she be nice, or Kris silently gesturing instructions, or Lancer to have to protect, but her little venture away from the group in an effort to find some peace and quiet meant she was now alone and thus fully and completely able to launch back into 'simply turn this opponent into a lovely pate with the flat side of your ax and then eat them for dinner' mode.

Well, at least she had been until a guitar had fallen from the sky and crashed to the ground with a jangling of notes that no doubt made musicians across the globe wince and yet somehow still snapped her out of most of the red haze she was seeing through.

-- "Uh-"

It occurs to her that was a terrible attack on their part.

And then it occurs to her maybe that part of it wasn't the actual attack.

-- "Wait, did you just summon a guitar? Hell're you gonna do, play Happy Birthday at me?"

Susie wished she could summon guitars.

STARTER CALL

it's pretty late over here, so i'm just going to leave you all with this- consider this an "anything goes" call, actually-

sure, give this a like or a reblog if you want a starter from me, but also consider this a sign to send in asks or starters of your own if you want! anything goes, and i'll likely be making a kris version of this call too once the muse for them returns.

HAVE FUN!

A month ago, Dale would have been dead where he stood.

No hesitation, no squeamishness, no accounting for her aching hand- dead. Within seconds.

But Susie hesitates.

Susie hesitates, turning just far enough to look at him and his outstretched hand just out of the corner of her eye. She stares at him for a good long while, greenish-yellow gaze completely unblinking, and then Susie does something more terrifying than anything she'd ever threatened to do.

Susie laughs.

It's by no means a nice laugh. There's no part of it that in any way implies what's happened is a friendly joke- more that she was going to singlehandedly cause his funeral and find it absolutely and utterly hilarious.

“Take a bet back? What, and lose the chance to get 15 dollars from you? Yeah, I don’t think so, Susie.” Dale replies, a smug smirk decorating his face as he watches Susie’s enthusiasm rise. Of course, what Susie didn’t know is that Dale had the… Liberty of filling the sandbag with Rocks. Whether or not Susie would know the difference didn’t matter as much. What did matter was if she was strong enough to knock the sandbag off of it’s chain.

To Dale? Easy money. Even if she didn’t have any money, he’d get the satisfaction of finally pulling one over on Susie, which was more than enough for him. Stuffing the dollars back into his pocket, Dale crosses his arms. 

“I bet you wouldn’t even be able to last one punch against these guys. I mean, after all, I’ve been training with them every day after school in the Boxing Club. So, unlike you, I know how to box. But, hey, there is such things as lucky flukes.” Dale had to stop himself from laughing. Can’t let it be too obvious that he’s cheating, now can he? He eventually raises an eyebrow, waiting for Susie to make her move.

-- "...mmmokay- don't say I didn't warn ya."

Susie arches a calm and suave eyebrow, not quite sure why she was doing her best and probably actually least mocking Berdly impression in the moment.

Normally, she'd be going at this like a gorilla on steroids, but normally there wasn't money involved. Normally, she just punched things out of anger, not an attempt to actually get paid for it.

This wasn't fighting, this was winning. And she didn't know anyone who cared about winning beyond Berdly, so perhaps it made sense she was trying her best to embody him.

Wait, no.

That was lame.

What was next, wearing shitty glasses and working at a library?

No fuckin' WAY.

In fact, the force of that "no fuckin way" carries enough frustration that Susie proceeds to take it out on the nearest punchable object (aka, the punching bag.) And, in fact, the force of that punch is enough that the punching bag, weighed heavily down by lots of heavy objects (aka, the rocks) decides this is a perfect moment to give up, and rips in half with a very satisfying ripping sound, spilling its load all over the floor.

Susie, however, seems too busy nursing her bruised hand to particularly notice.