RULE UPDATE [3/6/2022]
Inspired by bulgariansumo's thread, Favorite Character of the OC Below (IC), this thread is just the complete opposite of that one's. Instead of your character's favorite of the above user's bunch, tell us all who they hate. Tell us who they'd give a wedgie to in the middle of the school cafeteria. I also highly recommend you check out bulgariansumo's thread! It's a great one, and one of my personal favorites.
RULES AND GUIDELINES:
yeehaw.
please stick to this folder and this folder when making a response!! also, keep in mind that characters in the former folder are canonically human, so check out the individual Human tabs if considering their appearance; cats are just slapped onto their main profiles because I draw them more often lmao. :"DDDD
maybe I'll do a follow-up if I have the time....
„Hate is a strong word,” the serpent in the form of a tall woman began, looking down on Johnson, “in most cases I would think it silly for a being like me to hate any human. But you are different.” With her usual smile fading away, she clarified, “Please do not take that as a compliment; When I say that you are special, I mean that in the worst way possible. You are, as one of my friends would say, a garbage person.”
Pampu began listing some of the reasons for her dislike of this aristocrat, saying, “I find your demeanor quite unpleasant; Your prideful ignorance and bigotry are among the highest of your many flaws…” She stopped for a moment, finding it a little difficult to maintain her composure before hissing, “But what you did to your wife is truly unforgivable.” She took a deep breath to calm down again and said, “Excuse me.”
“So, in summary, I do hate you, mister Johnson.”
This was ooc, Tiamat is not actually a cat.
Foam flocked around Pelle's mouth. The dog made a sharp U-turn, her nails ticking on the cobblestone. Oh did she hate cats. Especially magical cats. Nathaniel had taught her how to sense magic. How it smelled and that she had to hunt it. Pelle barked. This black cat, with its big maroon eyes, reeked of magic. Her arch archenemy. She had chased Tiamat through the harbor. The damp of the cold night had settled in her rugged fur. Her breath formed clouds and her muscles radiant a pleasant warmth. She could do this all day. Or night. Rather.
A loud whistle made Pelle stop in her tracks. She lifted her head. Stared at her owner, that had set chase after the two, who whistled again. Pelle growled for the last time at the (powerful entity) cat, before turning and running back at her owner. Fine, the dog's a stare seemed to say.
You win this round.
Before she slinked back at Nathaniel's side, with her tail between her legs.
--
feet-freak
Roswell tested the different straps around Gustav’s flank. He looked up. His brows shut high and a greasy smile appeared on his face as he recognized Aminia. (Well actually, he recognized Fennel) .
“Yer did foind me,” he pestered. Roswell slightly leaned forward. “Whatca name again?”
Gustav snorted. He flicked his ears at Fennel, no grudges.
“I am?” he repeated Aminia’s sentence. His smile grew even greater. “Me?” Roswell pressed his hand on his chest. “Oi would néver do something so, so outrages,” Roswell said. As his free hand tested one of Gustav’s saddlebags. One filled with more stolen goods.
“Oh dat anklet, oi remember dat piece though. A pretty crafted thing hu-” and like that. Roswell’s grin disappeared. His chest deflated. “Oi dón’t loike, loike feet! Stop sayin’ dat!” Roswell flapped his arms. Which made him look like a distressed krō
“Yer makin’ me look loike a freak! Oi just stole it because it looked expensive,” he barked.
"Finally!"
That was the most pathetic sounding "finally" anyone could muster, but it is Aminia we're talking about here, and she likely exhausted all of the passion -- all of the rage -- that she had moments ago. Not to mention she was extremely out of shape compared to this weasel. This wretched, two-faced, slimy weasel.
"Finally, I found you!" She halfheartedly shrilled as she stomped into view, and behind her, her dog bounded happily into view. In fact, Fennel seemed to recognize Roswell, and wagging her tail, tongue rolled out from her maw, she waddled straight up to greet him. Aminia didn't seem to notice. She had worked herself up so much to the point of dizziness, her heart pounding against her ribs like bars of a cell.
"You're the--" She coughed. She rarely got angry, but this man... "You're the man who stole my jewelry! I remember you! You stole my--" Another bout of coughing. "You stole my-- my anklet! One of them!"
And, it was at this moment that her eyes twinkled.
"Who would steal an anklet?" she crowed, "Do you like ankles? Do you like feet? You better give my stuff back to me right now, or I'm going to tell everyone that you like feet! You freak! You lowlife!"
AAAAA here's a follow-up, finally.
"Bitches!" Manslaughter shrieked back at Katai. The little asshole stomped her foot on the ground like a beast about to charge, but more so to wipe the grime on her too-small crocs off on the floor. Ugh. That tile was going to smell for... years.
"Bitches!" she repeated, and this time to carry on, "Even their bitches are bitches!"
Underneath her mask, the rat-haired, nasty child stuck out her tongue, as if Katai would even be able to see it in the first place.
"Now, you better get, before I bust a cap in you!" she hollered, "I got a gun now! I'm not afraid t'use it! Especially not on you! Weirdo! Bet you never even seen a real gun before!"
Katai almost always had a disdainful look on her face, but the look she shot at the kid was almost withering. “Humans,” she grumbles, “even their younglings are insufferable.”
They wore the mask of a cat, a wonderful being that didn’t deserve to be associated with this swearing, bloodstained brat. It was an obnoxious pink color; in fact everything about them was obnoxiously pink. Like someone glued a flamingo on them. She doubted they’d got the color from shrimp though. They were a kid, they probably got it from candy. Disgusting sugary stuff.
“E-eh?” Ailia stammered. “What... what are you...?”
Did she really make everything worse? Papa had said that to her all the time, but he also turned out to be... well, a menace was the polite way to say it. Syarda would say something else, a swear word perhaps, not fit for proper ladies... but that was another thing Papa said, which could also be a lie.
Well, either way, she figured she didn’t especially need to listen to whatever that blocky thing was. Andre was always getting on her about taking criticism from people who weren’t qualified. And, well, if it could make siege engines half as well as she could, maybe it had valid criticism. She might even be able to get it to help her job.
"Do you know what I loathe even more than humans?" The medical robot sneered with a glare, "It would be human mechanics!"
How dare such disgusting beings of flesh and hormones tamper with the likes of the perfect, immortal machine?
"Your kind disgust me, trying to make things better with your wrenches until you inevitably fail and make things worse by a factor of one thousand!" It scoffed, eyes narrowed. "You should be ashamed of yourself."
------------------
"You're a rather vile criminal, and a slippery one, too," Jey said, facing the doctor. The detective's normally jolly, kind face was serious, stoic. Disgusted. "To steal is one thing, but to steal human lives. It's unforgivable. Stealing organs for profit, and even beforehand you killed people with poor medical practice. You have a very thick folder of your crimes back at the office. I didn't expect to be the one to find you, but now that I have, I don't intend on letting you go." Slowly, he pulled out his gun and his handcuffs.
"Maurice Greer, you're under arrest for several accounts of first-degree murder."
His smile was wide, and his eyes were wild. Decius took one slow step after the other to get closer to Yvette, absolutely enthralled by her. In his hand was his treasured circular saw, growling with life as it shook and shook and the teeth of the saw spun at dangerous speeds.
Upon seeing the scalpel pointed at him, the doctor let out a shrill laugh. "Such weapons of silliness you are presenting to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" he clamored. "The effects you are hoping for it to have on the body that is mine is of a small quantity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The levels of the pain felt by me are of an even smaller quantity!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Such silliness you are showing me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Be setting down the weapon that is in the hands you have!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
He got closer yet.
"And let me be seeing how you work!!!!!!!!!!"
To say that Brown was... Unimpressed by the ham given to her was an understatement. If anything, she fucking abhorred the energy-drink-drenched cold cuts of meat - and therefore the fellow who gave it to her by extension. At least history was made? This was probably the first type of meat that the aristocrat refused to eat, as she stared at the pale, almost deathly-seeming slices with nothing but hatred burning in her eyes.
"What the actual fuck is this!?" the aristocrat snarled before looking up at the feline with a snarl, "Are you delusional enough to believe that this is proper food for a fucking aristocrat!?" Said the bitch who tore into raw meat, regardless of actual freshness, like there was no tomorrow! Blah blah blah flavor, blah blah blah... Brown reeled back in her seat before very conspicuously nudging the plastic packaging back towards the youth.
And then it hit her. The coldness of the brine, as well as how stupidly saline and saccharine it smelled...
"I would not even feed that shit to my bird-" she started before quickly correcting herself, "- Birds." With a harsh cough into her sleeve, Brown tapped her foot against the floor while carefully scanning the other party's expression- Not that she was particularly fazed by his irritated expression, or cold glare, for that matter. Her eyes, in turn, narrowed while she growled, "Or my cat..." The last word felt almost forced out, as she reached a hand to the cravat around her neck and gave it a slight tug out of what appeared to be pure, unfiltered self-consciousness. Ouch.
I can't believe it... This is probably the first cat I've ever fucking hated... What the hell...
Brown almost seemed jittery as she hissed, "Then again, though, I would not blame you for having such... Abhorrent tastes." Her nose crinkled while she flippantly flicked a hand at the opened package of ham. "Why the fuck do you not eat meat!?" she exclaimed via a snarl, "You. Are. A. Fucking. Cat. Cats eat meat!" Brown almost cried out in sheer rage, and it took all of her willpower and "aristocratic restraint" to not send the pieces of meat flying across the table. Ouch.
"Do not tell me that you are slowly poisoning yourself with all that vegetable matter," the aristocrat pleaded mockingly while craning her head towards him, "for fuck's sake. Please. At least tell me that you have not tried meat out of sheer fucking ignorance. Meat is far more palatable than plants anyhow... Especially in terms of taste." She paused before reaching out her hand and pushing the ham towards the other. "... How about you try this shit yourself, for our sakes?" she suggested with a sneer, "Hm? How would that be for you... Kid?"
@ NP: (ik this is copy-pasted, but this also has all the relevant info, so >:3c) please stick to this folder and this folder when making a response!! also, keep in mind that characters in the former folder are canonically human, so check out the individual Human tabs if considering their appearance; cats are just slapped onto their main profiles because I draw them more often lmao. :"DDDD
maybe I'll also do a follow-up for NP. or ELSE.
It was difficult for Hala to hate anyone, per se, but disliking or being uncomfortable with another person was a different story. It was just a shame that the person she felt such a way towards was her acquaintance's -- or friend's, if you want to get chummy up in here -- husband.
Sadly, she wasn't one to often voice her disdain, and instead deflated at her desk as she looked up at Smithson, as he stood across from her. She twiddled her thumbs like an asshole, but thank all twenty gods she didn't sweat. Sweating would have made her irritation conspicuous. But, why was it him? Maybe it was the way he spoke. She liked to think she did well with, ah, the prissy types, considering her place in the upper echelon of Yene society. Perhaps it was the rumors of foul play, perhaps it was the inherent want of noblemen like him to want to keep naysayers silent. All of those played a factor, but what she was most uncomfortable with was... well.
Well! He wasn't as tactful with her as his wife was. Speaking of...
"I'm very sorry to have... brought you here, but I couldn't get a hold of Walker." said Hala, timidly arranging the bits and bobbles strewn across her desk. "I just recalled recently that I gave her something to her... well, maybe a year ago now? It was a textbook, it contained notes on metallurgy and ores and the like. She needed it to further study those animals of hers, which I don't really mind, but..."
"But, I need it back!" She concluded with a sharp, forced laugh. She tried to make it a giggle, but she was a bit nervous. She wanted this old man gone, anyway, so she might as well shove the request in his face and get it over with. "There's just-- there's a situation with the college in Murkwell, they need some extra material, so if... you or her would be so kind to donate that book..."
Trailing off, she thumbed the bottom of a pen. Her lip curled. "I-I-I can, ah, replace the pens she got me. I already used them to their full extent, but... Well, maybe I should talk to her about that--" Her heart skipped a beat. "And not you."
me *handshake* ace: hating otto
ok but cecil and manslaughter... next chance i get i'm gonna try and shove the beast at him.
It was just a coffee stop, Otto told himself. He entered the cafe like a man who knew where he was going and why, and though that was a dramatic way to put it, he was a dramatic person. And, sadly, Ace tickled his confidence, even if for a moment, as he strolled in. He returned that sweet smile coolly and came to a halt by the countertop.
"It's good to see you again." he cooed, "I feel bad, being so busy, but such is life. You should be happy you're still young." And then, with a wave of his hand, he said, "The usual's fine, though. That's good. I really appreciate it, you know, all the hard work you do here. Not a lot of people feel the need to applaud a quick cup of coffee, but you've a particular talent for it, I think... Or, maybe that's just the way the shop does it."
He fell silent, then, watching Ace scramble for the ingredients. It was robotic, it was customary, for employees to be so welcoming, but Otto couldn't help but to...
Well, it was for the best for that thought to be brushed aside, wasn't it?
Otto gathered his cup, though before he left, he did just have one last request...
"Actually, I'd hate to bother you, darling, but would you care to make another cup for me? My wife is waiting for me, and I... Well, I don't recall if she's the coffee sort or not, but knowing her, she could probably use the kick, anyway. Travel's a hassle and all that." He pulled himself away from the counter with a sigh. He paused before he took a sip from his cup, and said, "Just a mocha would be alright. Thank you, dear."
Gross.
(I was v tempted to have Cecil reply to Manslaughter, I ended up spinning a wheel to decide who to write)
Don't come in don't come in don't come in don't come in--
DIIING!
Fuck.
The bell over the door rang and rang, almost tauntingly. Despite all the anger and disgust boiling inside him, Ace disguised it well with a bright and cheerful smile as he leaned against the counter. "Hey! My favorite customer! I was just thinking about you!" he practically sang to the man approaching him.
The minute he learned about Otto he had hated him. It wasn't him in particular he hated (though he had learned personal details about him he wasn't that fond of) but the way he treated love. In fact, the whole place he was from seemed to have their own definition of love! It was more politics than it was feeling; it was something to pass the time and get rid of a quick urge. Otto seemed to hold that ideal closest of all the people Ace had met.
"The usual? Coming right up! I'll add some mint for you." As Ace turned to get the ingredients sorted out, he couldn't help but think more about this hatred he felt. It was a strong feeling, being the practical opposite of love, so to say a cupid had such feelings meant something. Yet... were they justified? Admittedly, he only knew the surface-level of Otto. He understood the seductive idea of affairs and disloyalty aristocrats constantly felt, and yet this man seemed rather nice every time they ran into each other. He only said kind words, and even though there was an underlying tone heard each time, Ace couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was overthinking this.
"Here you go. Hope it's good," the cupid beamed as he set the drank down in front of Otto. He suppressed a shiver. No... No something had to be wrong here. There was something worse hiding behind that regal mask, some atrocious sins. Call it a sixth sense, but Ace had a feeling that this, well, feeling was here for a reason.
Anyone's fair game!
The moment Kojira learned of a newcomer in town, she was delighted to hear that, as any other time. But as time passed on and she heard more and more about him as he kept visiting, she actually ended up disliking someone for once, but she was more shocked to find he was a regular customer of hers. It entirely filled her with disgust to know someone like this was coming into her café, she had no choice but to put on a smile and greet him as any other customer despite how much she purely hated such a disgusting, immortal, gambling, thing he was. "MAN, why does he like coming here so much, his existence makes it very difficult to enjoy my work. >:(" She thought to herself, as he handed him pitch black coffee.
Also, anyone here is A-OK!!
Vassago hid behind a wall, too nervous to even step out from behind.
When he started to speak, his voice was probably just about as shaky as he was being, right now. "I can't say I hate her, but Menoko scares me... I'm a demon! All of my friends are demons! I haven't done anything wrong, I don't want to die! Well... the demons she goes after are virtual demons, but does she go after... I guess real life demons? Granted, some of the demons in my group are dangerous, but most of us just want to live a normal life-"
He paused for a little bit before continuing. "Though, she does sound nice... outside of that, I hope that she doesn't see me as a threat? I'm not even sure if she would go after me..." Vassago still hid behind the wall, still clearly nervous. "Well, if I know for certain that she won;'t go after me, perhaps we could be friends, but I'm too scared to try to find out, honestly..."
Uhhh anyone here is ok- (if that's too many characters then perhaps here?)
SJDGHFKSDF OH NO.... THANK YOU FOR THE RESPONSE THO-
"I... oh God."
Camio adjusted her scarf, which seemed to be getting tighter and tighter as Mary's accusations went on. "I know damn well that it was my fault, and that I do deserve to live with this curse for all of my life, however long it may be." For how obsessed Camio was with the thought of redeeming herself, with the thought of washing off the metaphorical bloodstains on her hands and sword, it never occurred to her that there would still be someone to remind her of such stains. "Those from my world don't truly die, and go off to the afterlife... I wonder where my sister would be. I think that she would agree with you, in all honesty." All throughout this some tears were flowing down her face, but she either paid them no mind or was simply not aware of it all...
"You." Mary pointed at the slightly worried Camio. She scoffed, then continued. "There was no reason to kill your sister. All she did was win a contest, that was all." Yeah, like you haven't done some terrible stuff as well, Mary.
"You should feel ashamed of yourself, Miss Camio." Mary sat down at a nearby table, keeping eye contact with the Demon staring back at her. The tension in the room was immense. Mary fell quiet, still observing the ex-angel. Mary parted her lips again to continue to shame the murderer. "I know murder can be crucial sometimes," she tapped against the clear glass. "But your own sister? That's just messed up. I'm glad they made you immortal so you could live with your own regret."
I'm so sorry she's mean
--
Anyone from this tag would be great! Sorry for the small selection!
Holvaster hocked a loogie and watched it collide and splatter onto the concrete. He also stared at something just as disgusting as a loogie, an average 4chan user (or, what appeared to be one), named Jason.
His face contorted into a real nasty-like sneer, blinking slowly, yet you could still see a small glimpse of disgust in his eyes each time his lids opened. "I don't give a shit about your tastes in women, what matters is that you're ill." Ironic coming from him.
The front-man flicked his head to the right side to move his greasy hair out of his eyes, peering down at the slightly shorter and slightly greasier man that lay before him. Jason had a stench. He reeked of ketchup and an unwashed pillow, if they were in a cartoon world Holvaster would be looking at green stench squiggles emitting from the other party. Though, they really weren't much different, weren't they?
"You're gross. You're gay as fuck. I hope you end up tripping down the stairs. You're an S tier loser. Your stench fills up the fucking chatrooms every time I open them, it's a real shocker you still have the fucking nerves to even look at me and confront me."
He popped his knuckles, and, for the first time ever, actually looked a little bit intimidating. (Key words, little bit).
"If you ever show your face around that app again, I'll make it fucking black and blue."
He couldn't, and he wouldn't.
anyone in the main 'DEATH CONSPIRACY' folders are good game! just avoid lauri, for hopefully obvious reasons.