Most Hated OC of the OC Below!

Valnier tried his best to control his anger; a Boss sat in front of him. He was succeeding for now, but a pull beneath his ribs made him want to end this man...well, the sigils said otherwise. But for now he would operate under the pretenses of humanity. His actions are no better. Crime as a baseline is often something that leads to the much more dubious bit of degeneracy. Still, he had to reign in his much more suspicious train of thought. Placing his hat down on the table next to him he began his talk, one he planned to make one-sided no matter what. 

"So you DO know why your here?"
"Possible did something you don't like"
"Yes- in fact. Your arms trade is very, very well made, I'll give it that" he practically clicked his tongue with the final T. His stern gaze spun around to stare Boss down, his gaze did nothing against the crime boss, but he would hopefully change that. "I am Valnier Reikslot, a Witch hunter. Someone who uproots corruption and the worst in the society we find ourselves in at the time. You, however, ensure chaos upon everything you touch. The extent of the chaos has yet to be seen. For every illegal deal, you make, the wrong person gets the upper hand. Every single movement of a coin and bill means one less person who can afford food. Every sale means that another person was robbed so that they could buy what you peddle. Even those who do such thing under the idea that they are doing right- the harm is profound and permeate. Nothing can be reversed"

He finished his small rant as he grabbed a gauntlet, one with hooks and nails ready to bite into flesh "Now, you will tell me how to rip the tumor that is your operation from existence"

(yeah it's cringe bgyhjnb

(FREE PICK OF THE LOT! if ya need more info lemme know :))

"Oi don't even know how to start," Roswell said. While his tone was calm and flat, his fingers (that were feverishly stuffing his pipe with tobacco) were slightly shaking. He pulled up his nose. His lone eye looked down at the Flymother. "But you're absolutely disgustin'," he stated. Roswell eased his fingers, placed the pipe between his teeth and light one of his sulphur matches.
"Things loike yer shouldn't even be aloive any more. All dat rotten flesh, all that illness," Roswell said. He lit his pipe. The thief cranked his eyebrow. "Oi do not know why some would describe yer as respectful, or a woman even," he said.  The corners of his mouth curled in a cruel smile. "Do yer kow how we get rid of plague in me lands?" Roswell flicked his still lit match towards Swarm Matriarch without a warning. "We burn it." 

--

You are so right for shitting on Roswell in this thread, go get him Noel. 

[halfway into this response i realized i think i've only ever responded to roswell in this thread but yknow what its fine its cool]

Noel looked irritated. A simple thanks was just dandy, but this so-called merchant hadn't offered any of his wares. Why, that was... essentially the only reason why he decided to house him for the night. Not only would he get to use soap finally -- because he knew he smelled absolutely ripe -- but maybe his daughter could craft a few blankets with the fabrics the other man supposedly brought with him.

Bonbon might have loved Gustav with all her little horsey heart... but Noel didn't feel the same way about Roswell.

For the second night in a row, Noel sat beside his daughter, watching almost helplessly as Roswell scarfed down his meal. This time, dinner was a simple farmer's casserole. Breakfast food, but the girl enjoyed it. So he gave her extra! And he gave Roswell a burnt corner piece. Quietly fuming, he glared at the other man, before deciding to speak at last.

"So, you will be continuing on your way soon, yes?" he drawled out, not hiding his relief, "I'm just saying that if you aren't offering anything to us, there's not much for you to say to us." He then glanced at the casserole. "Or to take from us."

"At the very least, keep this in mind: you owe me, you little bastard." They were the same height... but maybe Roswell was scrawnier than this fat fuck beef monster. Whatever difference there was showed now as Noel leaned towards Roswell, and in spite of his daughter nudging him in a feeble attempt to get him to knock it off. "This shit isn't free. Before we go, I'm taking a gander at those bags."

..Outside, meanwhile, Bonbon really, truly, honestly loved Gustav. She put her nose into his ear and breathed in his camel smell.

@ NP: Pick from this tag, please!

     Ennette sat in her room, thinking of ways to help her write a new song. Normally it would come to her naturally, or she'd find something that would inspire her, yet for some reason nothing had come this round. Had she found herself in a rut? Was there no improving from here on out? What a terrifying thought. She tried to calm herself down by closing her eyes and breathing deeply.

     In... and out...

     In... and out...

     In...

     Oh no.

     Like a pesky fly came an intrusive thought that buzzed around her. One person who would have confirmed her fears of only getting worse, someone who would have been more than happy to harp on her: Hakim. Ennette opened her eyes, not too upset to calm her heart down. Ooh, that... that no good jerk! He was always picking on her! How could people as nice as Flavio and Lacie have a kid so... dumb?!
     Ennette sighed heavily. Listen to her, thinking like this. Hakim was corrupting her even without being here, and he'd be excited about it no doubt.

     ... Hmm.

     Looking at her lyre, Ennette picked it up and started strumming. Yes, this made sense! Yes... Yes! Ah, the music was flowing through her now! It was loud, it was spiteful, it was therapeutic. Who would have thought that music could be made with hate instead of love? What an important lesson to have learned. Oh, she couldn't wait to play this for everyone!

Yukio grins. Hatred was his first, middle, and last name. So much did he love to hate, in fact, that he'd find it hard to choose just one person to take it all out on.

Not too hard, though.

Oh, yes, how he so hated Tony. The well-mannered, level-headed Wrath Incarnate could not be more bland. So bland, really, that Yukio couldn't help but take it personally— his own creed meant so much to him that to see it represented so idly.. 

It wasn't even infuriating. No, Tony could not do Yukio even the favor of being obnoxious nor fun to unleash his ire upon. Instead, Yukio saw him as nothing more than wasted skin, an uninteresting man biding his time equally as uninterestingly. What a shame! Were Yukio to truly hate Tony, at least that'd mean he was doing his job well. Instead, all the son of Wrath could do was click his tongue. And that was what he hated most about him. 

"Hurry up and die already, won't you? I'm sick of looking at you."

Sorry, Tony.

ray is so real

Yukio sneers. "Goodness, aren't you dull.. I suppose you get it from your father."

“Pathetic.” Ray snarled, coming face-to-face with the demon known as Yukio. “You think you can call yourself a demon? In those… those vestments!” He gestured wildly at the wrath-incarnates attire.

how it angered Ray. Her father, working so hard for creatures like him to come into existence, only for them to turn away from him the first chance they got. And to the enemy church, no less!

“You are a waste of the unholy force flowing through you.”

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That slapped so hard omg

Raphael... well, he didn't care for the demonic. Call him old-fashioned, but he just couldn't get the appeal at all! ..And to be a demon oneself?

..Safe to say, he was judging Gerald. Hardcore. It was not difficult to miss his non-human attributes, and there was no Halloween saving him. Whatever that was. And, however Gerald truly was. Gerald, Xeiruhm, Ger, X, whatever else there was to call him. Granted, Raphael was an old fart. That simple. Maybe he had some right about it, disdaining the other man's tendency to frighten others, because blatantly -- and hilariously, coming from Raphael -- it seemed cruel.

Not that he would say all of this. Still, observing Gerald, it was evident that Raphael was not pleased with his mere presence, even as he spoke lowly. "Your outfit is nice. A good vest always fits a person well." said Raphael, his voice droning, "If only it properly concealed you, no?"

"It's almost a shame..." He paused for a moment. "You might benefit from a finer glamour."

@ NP: Pick from this tag, please!

Vapor claiming this, I'll write up a fuckin storm here. 

Ruslan looked at the stranger with a bit of caution. "So... You're a war criminal..." He sighs... "I've heard your story... And I just want to sympathize with you so badly..." Ruslan chokes a bit... "Because your actions reminded me of my si-" He stopped himself from continuing that sentence. "God, why must I FEEL SO CONFLICTED!? First with my own sister, and NOW WITH A FUCKING STRANGER THAT I WILL PROBABLY NEVER INTERACT WITH AGAIN!" Ruslan roared, before calming down... "God, that was embarrassing, uh... Ah yes... The war criminal..." He sighed.

"I guess you're lucky you got me instead of my sis... She may be a war criminal like you, but she would've killed you probably..." He growled. "Hell, I'd probably would've done the same, but I'm... A bit of a coward, admittedly, and... I just feel... Conflicting hatred about you..." Ruslan paused again, turning around to adjust his bowtie and walk away. He then turned around to Noel again. "I wish prosperity and happiness for your adopted daughter though... You may have been an asshole, and a ruthless killer at that, but... At least you were a good adopted father... Which isn't something I could've said about mine..."

While I'm writing my claim, choose anyone from here. You can choose another oc from a different folder, if they have enough writing, but uh... Yea.

TypicalUkraine

Everything he had hated, loathed in someone was right in front of him, in the form of a teeth-baring creature. It doesn’t matter that she stood on two legs, talked with knowledge of language; not at all. So animalistic in the way she carries herself. He wonders how many she’s killed and maimed. Wonders if she feels any remorse at all, if that’s even possible.

And he hasn’t even started on her other form yet.

“I think they were right to lock you up.” He says, bluntly. “You pose an active threat to innocents, you are a danger to everyone, and it seems like you think this is all a silly play. Tell me, is it easy to lose control?”

He pushes, digs until he can feel his neck go cold. Whatever she’s feeling is probably worse than what he is. Yuuma slowly walks towards her, unwavering.  “Do you enjoy killing people? Find it fun?” 

His eyes stare straight at hers, and he wonders if he can see anything resembling a soul.

np!!!!!! please pick anyone in the af tag and ping me!

v NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE THIS IS REALLY GOOD!!! i do not have enough brainpower to follow up i think but i shall try later!

morriermaggot i am extremely rusty, sowwy maggot

Hate was a strong word...Bianca personally thought so, at least. Especially for someone she had not met yet. Was she capable of feeling hate at first glance? Sure, the elder party was...probably the cattiest anybody has ever met, but she knew better than to judge anyone based on her own preconceived notion, right? Right..?

Bianca narrowed her eyes at the poor teenaged girl that she happened to cross. She pursed her lips whilst she examined her, taking note of Gillian's demeanor. Bianca was always  an attentive woman, even if she opted to use this for bad reasons. Then, almost in an instant, Bianca's judgemental demeanor quickly melting away, brandishing a smarmy, saccharine smile at the teen.

"Hey, kid, let me give you some advice," the elder party chirruped, shifting her feet in her spot before clasping her hands behind her back. She paused to agonize over pondering how to word her next sentence.

"You shouldn't be so focused on...well, anybody else. By that, I mean kissing people's asses any chance you get. It may work if you ever get into some...sort of career with a hierarchy or whatever, but I do think it wouldn't benefit you in the long run if you stuck to that. You need to both be assertive but also willing to compromise. Trust me; I've been dabbling in the photography for...hm, eighteen years?"

Upon finishing her sentence, Bianca cocked her head at the younger party. Her arms crossed tightly across her chest. That was...some surprisingly nice advice. Her expression was softening while she spoke to the teen. Did Bianca see a bit of herself in Gillian? Did she plan on doing something nice today...without expecting something in return at that?

"...Of course, you wouldn't want to show someone how weak you are, right? So far, you aren't doing a good enough job at hiding it, kid. Sorry, kiddo; I'm not gonna lie to make you feel better."

...Welp. There it is.

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NP feel free to ping me if you want me to spot your claim the quickest! Either way I'll stare hard.

As for OCs uhhh feel free to pick anyone of mine! Preferably either my anthros or humans over anybody else, but I won't stop you if you pick a different babe of mine!

My anthro OCs with written refs (can't promise that all of em are complete!)

My human folder is in my "Other" character folder!

Braxton didn't particularly hate anyone. He knew it was a strong and intense word. But he knew when he deeply disliked someone. He couldn't put his finger on it but something about Kyandī slightly irritated him. She was too upbeat. Too cheery and full of energy. Her nosy nature wanted him to stay even further way from her than he already was. He didn't need anymore people snooping into his life. He was in a band, he makes music and that's all you need to know. 

And something that sort of infuriated him was the way she was so uppity about popularity. Maybe he felt a bit envious that his stardom with filled with struggle and some gloom. He wished he had the same cheerfulness and happiness as Kyandī. But he can't really be mad at her. A part of him wants to say "Keep up the great work" or "Don't let others drag you down." But she already had tons of people telling her that, didn't she... That's why he felt this random disdain towards her. Braxton just still can't quite let go of some things.

The demon was... a bit of a bother, at first. Bratty, but Olethros could deal with bratty so long as it was kept at a distance, but Rebirth... there was nothing quiet about Rebirth at all, even with all her attempts to stay away from him. Why, his emotions poured out, like a deluge breaking through a dam, dirty water and litter washing over her, filling her lungs and stinging her from the inside out. He was impossible. His rage, although childish, was...

Olethros flattened her ears, choosing only to observe Rebirth from afar -- but even from afar was too much. It was the way his face twisted. It was the way he cried out. Who in their right mind would ever decide to withstand that?

..Back to the wetlands. Going back to the wetlands sounded to her like a much better idea than to force herself to keep an eye on someone she was certain was not a threat in the first place, especially when his positive feelings seemed just as hog-wild as his negative, especially when confronting them herself was... it was such a bother. She was smart enough not to puke on the floor.

@ NP: Pick from this tag, please!

     There were many things Cecil didn't like about Samir, but the biggest things he hated were the ones that reminded him of himself. Nepotism, turning a blind eye. These weren't respectable traits, especially for people in either of their fields. At least when he learned about how he'd gotten his position he tried to make things right, and he even told his nephew he wouldn't hesitate anymore to try and capture him during his heists. He tried to assure himself that that made him better, but there were still flaws in his logic. He should have just turned in his badge, he should have cast Jackson out, yet here he was still taking command and greeting the Master Thief for dinner.

     Samir seemed unapologetic about all of it, many of the upper class were. To Cecil, Samir was like seeing what could have been for him. If he had continued to ignore all the bad and fueled it even more, he'd become just like him. It wasn't too late.
     Every time Cecil saw Samir he was reminded of his own shortcomings and his morals, and it made him sick to his stomach.

As a generality, the idea of hating something was distant as a fact. That did not mean dislike or aversion was something beyond the boundaries of capability either. Abstract loathing was something they usually found themselves detached from. Yet, it was a sort of defensiveness that resulted in the encompassing mindscape involved in self and consciousness.

In this case, this was a definite aversion that their mind could not avoid, the idea that someone of this stature could be entrusted with a dangerous occupation overlapping a silence that, for a moment, took up a lack of thought. Lilium could not tell whether he was a typical officer, as they often saw about, and that seemed to often overlook them -- or someone else with a related vocation. Either case caused a degree of concern and confusion. Visually, he seemed to be too young for such a role, and although they could not doubt capability that had been accomplished, it was still worrisome and convoluting in terms of their current path.

As it was, the sense of unease that at least resulted from his passing, by extent of their prior thought and awareness, was not long in duration. Merely remaining where they were for the moment, it was a short timeframe before the idea of moving on bypassed related aversion, and a relative pace continued further down the street path.

Hope this was okay. XD;

Next poster, if anyone else is preferred, I'll change IC.