"You......." Yuni took a breath, then nearly yelling "YOU'RE TOO TALL FOR ONE, BUT FOR TWO YOU ALSO DRESS LIKE YOURE TRYING TO BLEND IN WITH GRASS!! GO GET SOME FASHION OTHER THAN THE COLOR GREEN GIRLIE!! AND NOT TO MENTION YOU HAVE AN OLD PIPE THING WITH SMOKE???" Yuni took a breath after that, sighing. "There really isn't much to not like about you to me."
It's Time For A Game, Kids
i believe this is pretty self explanatory, post IC and have your OC say what they dislike about the OC above them. be sure to give more than two-word answers tho! im sure you wouldnt like that if some put that low of an effort into a reply to your oc. you dont have to write paragraphs either just - yknow, a response that has effort into it!
also, this isn't some like Super Personal Mean thing, this is just for fun. dont get nasty to the PEOPLE who own said ocs
lets mcfreakin lose it!!!
Ivan and the...humanoid creature were very similar in many ways. So similar, in fact, Ivan was bound to dislike him from a first encounter. Cold? Check. Stoic? Check. Smug? Uh oh. The only thing they seem to differ on is that K.O at least has respect for some people out there. His air of superiority managed to get under Ivan's skin instantaneously. Having issues with feeling as if you're better than everyone else, and meeting someone with the same quirk is never a good idea. At least he was taller than him, Ivan thought. He knows it's absolutely childish, but being both bigger and taller than the younger man did help his ego a little.
It didn't matter that this...cat-person could potentially be dangerous, he had no clue what species he could be, or where he even came from. Ivan wouldn't take even the smallest slight to his sense of self from anyone.
"You, boy." He sneered, "If you're quite done brooding, would you mind stepping out of my way? I have places to be."
Chad leaned forward and tilted his head, wide, curious eyes staring at Ivan intently, searching for any sign of emotion. When none came, he leaned away in defeat and sighed, shaking his head as he put his fists against his sides. "It totally wouldn't hurt to smile, you know, bro," he chided lightly. "Like, I get it's super popular on stuff like Tiktok and Instagram to be all cold and not caring, but it wouldn't kill you to smile, ch'yeah. Don't you, like, have any friends you care about, brah? Anyone at all?"
Again, the influencer shook his head, this time in pity. "What a total bummer, brah. Hanging with friends is the absolute best! They spot you when you're exercising, help take pics of you, eat out with you. I can't imagine being alone at all, or not caring for any of my friends, ch'yeah."
He perked slightly and held up his phone. "Maybe if you get a good selfie you'll cheer up! Don't worry, bro, I'll coach you through this. I've seen tons of people cheer up after seeing lots of likes on their pictures, ch'yeah!"
It’s 11 p.m. Musica’s shift may have just started, but his head has already clocked out to some faraway cloudcuckooland. He looked at the phone in his hand, mindlessly scroll through countless videoclips on Clockii. He hoped that no one would come into the store. And much his dismay, someone walked in.
Musica glanced at the pink-haired girl with more pairs of wings than he care to count. Who-or what-ever she was, the tired cashier just wished that she would be gone soon so he can go back to watching Clockiis. He watched her standing still at the plastic basket station. A drawn-out moment passed before she actually grabbed the basket. Her wings twitched. What’s so confusing? Musica thought.
She took her time to grab snacks and other random doodads from the hastily-stocked shelves into the blue basket. Musica’s dark eyes followed as she moved from aisle to aisle. The unfortunate basket was stuffed to the brim with various goods. She seemed pleased with herself so she proceeded to walk away.
”Hey, stop!” Musica shouted from behind the cash register, “you need to pay first!” At a glance, he suspected that there must’ve been at least a hundred Vons worth of goods in that basket alone. The pink angel stopped her steps and cocked her head in utter confusion.
”Pay…?”
”What the hell, you think this is a charity? This is a convenience store, sis. Pay up or eff off”.
“Pay up… Hell… uhm…“ the angel had a hard time processing how monetary exchange work. “A sinner?”
Musica crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed and his mouth corners drooped. “Are you going to pay or not?”
”I don’t understand,” she confessed. Musica let out a deep, desperate sigh.
”Leave the basket here, and piss off,” Musica commanded. She complied - more out of confusion than actual obedience. The blue basket was put on the glossy white tile floor. The angel walked out of the store empty-handed before she finally disappeared.
Musica looked at the content of the basket - snacks, toiletry, trinkets. He dreaded having to put them in their respective shelves again. He groaned, cursed the gods for weaving his fate in such a way that he have to come across this strange pink creature. After he’s done with rearranging, he would have to mop the floor and clean the storage room too. Screw this job, he thought, and screw that girl for ruining my day.
"Ugh! Gross old man!" Megan spat, crossing her arms as she glared up at Finn. It hadn't even been two seconds, and she was already boiling with rage. Her hands flexing before tensing into fists, preparing to swing at a moment's notice. "You smell like death, grandpa. Did you just crawl out of your grave or something?" Her eyes narrowed as she clenched her jaw. If looks could kill, Finn would be a dead man. "Why do you even care what I'm doing?! Don't you have a nursing home to run away from or something?"
Despite her best efforts, Megan knew she was caught. She knew that she was done. If she was lucky, Finn would let her off with just a warning. But luck was not something Megan was known for, so in her panic, she lashed out. "God, don't act like you're so high and mighty. I doubt you're a saint yourself. You even look like some sort of demon, with your stupid hair and your stupid teeth. How about you go scare the crap out of toddlers instead of worrying about what some random kid is doing." She hisses, clearly not backing down and running away. Finn didn't scare her. "Or better yet, how about you go take a shower. Maybe you can rid yourself of the scent of bitch."
Prudence glares up at Floriano, and her eyes scan for something inscrutable along the painted hues of his porcelain mask.
"You look like a demon with that horrible mask. It's dreadfully ugly."
Well. So much for first impressions...
Immediately, Prudence finds nothing but disgust in the way Floriano acts. Her mother always told her about actions speaking louder than words - a proverb she never quite took to heart, honestly - and it rings true in the heart of the man before her. With a huff, she scrunches her nose, her disdain evident.
Floriano stands so proud, his silhouette traced by an impregnable air of haughtiness, of arrogance, of everything in between. He's nothing but vain in her eyes, though she doubts she's the only one to think that. And seeing that he's certainly older than her (well, older than she'd ever physically be)... shouldn't he have grown out of such a phase by now? His actions are like that of a child's: a spoiled, rotten little beast that demands everything for himself! Ha - she rolls her eyes at the mere thought of the comparison. Honestly, if Floriano has come this far acting as if the world revolved around him, it was far too late; too late for him to be any better, what with this and that of beauty and ugliness and yadda yadda yadda. It was exhausting, frustratingly so; and while Prudence grows vexed by most anything that crosses her path, she felt this was justifiable. He gave her nothing but secondhand embarrassment!
"Perhaps it was how I was raised," she mutters. "But last I heard, one was supposed to be humble and gracious."
"U-um.." Brookwish searched for words to describe how he was feeling in his mind. "You're.. uh.. I don't like arrogant people. You're arrogant."
God, did he really have to stutter so much while trying to insult someone?
"You can't hesitate forever! Just come on and do something already!" He rolled his eyes. Pizza Cookie had no time for people who couldn't just get up and go, and Brookwish had tested his patience. Pizza started fidgeting only a moment after--if he didn't leave this anxious mess soon...
(this isn't personal pizza cookie's just really rude sometimes)
---
Pizza Cookie ignored the undoubtedly correct complaints about his flavoring, instead staring at the pen aiming towards him. A bit startled, a bit confused.
"Wait, no pointy hat, and that big pen you're aiming at me would make a pretty pathetic wand... you aren't a witch, are you?" Pizza Cookie tilted his head, awkwardly trying to shuffle away from the point of the pen, eventually giving up when he found it following him. "Look, blah blah blah, some guy was bothering me and threatening him with my pizza cutter wasn't, well, cutting it. To his credit, he could probably beat me in a fight so like, I get it. Other cookies seem not to like bothering witches though, and I couldn't think of anybody else that'd be in a place this big." He looked up to the ceiling--to a cookie, this was... amazing. He hadn't seen ceilings this high since he was first baked, and this was the first time he really had time to appreciate it--it had been his whole world the first time, so it didn't come with the same wonder.
He shook his head, his gaze returning to the pen in front of him. Hopefully that was good enough reasoning? This conversation was probably long enough that the cookie he was waiting out was at the very least losing patience, anyway. He didn't have to stick around long. Worst case scenario, he did establish he had a weapon onhand.
Terry took a thoughtful moment to drink his coffee, using the time to observe Prudence. "So," he breathed. "You're a ghost. A witch ghost. Or, you were accused of being one," he recounted, stirring the remainder of his coffee with his thermometer. "I feel for you, kid, I do. You got your life taken from you for something you had no control over, and now you're stuck here in this mess of emotions. I understand that's a terrible problem, but I'm not the one to go to for any form of therapy for that." He tapped the thermometer against the rim of his mug. "I teach fourth graders-- kids just a couple years younger than you. I've got enough angsty, energetic, chaotic kids to look over, and trust me, they tell me some crazy stories too. Like I said, I feel for you, but I'd rather not even be in the same room as a kid in my rare free time, horrible fate or not."
When Terry turned, he was met with a... He squinted. The gingerbread man? No, that didn't seem to be it. This was a... a cookie, all right, but... also pizza? He grimaced. "I like weird food combinations as much as the next guy, but this might be going too far," he drawled.
Not to mention, Pepperoni Pizza Cookie seemed energetic, like he couldn't stand still for more than a minute. The teacher, reminded again of his chaotic classroom, sighed and decided to leave in order to preserve his peace of mind.
(Two hours too late I'll keep these posts up tho)
Terry stared at Virgil for a good while, saying nothing and looking more like he was thinking about something else rather than the person next to him. Then, he let out a chuckle. "Sorry," he smirked tiredly. "You just remind me of so many parents I deal with. All these people that are helicopters over their kids, think an article on Buzzfeed gives them more than 4 years worth of education. PTA meetings are nothing but power grabs that end up turning into personal drama between parents." He gestured to Virgil. "You give me the impression that you want power, want to be taken seriously, hate when someone one-ups you, right? I'm sure there's some tragic story behind it, but to me you're no different than those pain in the ass parents that want to control everything, but don't want to do the work.
"Say, maybe you ought to try those PTA meetings. Bet you'd feel right at home."