what does your oc dislike about the oc above them?

"I can't drive! But Vanya can! Here's what she had to say from our roadtrip that one time!"

Mishka conveniently pulls up a video on a phone (is it his? probably not).

The video features a brown-haired woman being filmed from the back seat.

"The... the fucking DELAYS, holy shit man. In the middle of god knows where, how much road work do you have to do out here?! Why do they only do road work when I'm driving?! For a stretch this long you'd think they'd have like, a Mcdonalds randomly or something, but NO, it's one hour until the next town and Mishka keeps complaining how he's hungry! Right?"

At this point, the woman turns around, to notice that she's being filmed - the video ends.

"...She's right about the Mcdonalds bit."

_{(i wanted to post as vanya but she unfortunately does not have a bio yet so yall get mishka spreading her word instead)}

Koito couldn't express it. She couldn't bring herself to. Instinctively, she had shied away from Mishka, and didn't dare speak to him at all. There was something about him. Perhaps it was not quite human, that something, but that was a silly reason to disdain a person for.

She didn't think of him as the same as that wretched group on the base, and honestly she couldn't bring herself to linger on the possibility of that notion for long. She was smart enough to recognize that as unnecessary, cruel, and not at all true, but even then, with just a glimpse of that thought, she understood.

Mishka was so lively. He had this fiery energy that was so familiar to Koito, because Koito knew something similar might have once been hers. He was a solemn reminder, no matter how wholehearted and passionate he was.

She hated it. She didn't hate him.

Koito felt bad about it. She couldn't see it any other way. Maybe it was best to just keep her distance from him.

Tyler just noticed the dark-haired teenager with brown eyes nearby. She felt alienated by this individual for some reason. Tyler gathered up the courage to talk to them. “Hi. Uhhhhhhh, how… are…………. you?”

After some conversation that turned sour, Tyler ended the encounter with “DO EVEN KNOW WHAT A MAC COMPUTER IS ??!!??!!” This yelling made Tyler’s throat sore. She then said raspily to the stranger “And if you hate heat so much, don't go to my state.”

"Sinful," sneered Father Priest. "Every inch of ye. I can tell. Ye outfit, ye attitude, all sinful! Ye were bitten by a snake too, weren't ye? Labeled by the demons from the very beginning, ye be on their path from then on out. All this tinkering with robots and video games has all been for them, hasn't it?! Building weapons for the demons!" He shook his head and glared away. "Pah! I will not stand next to such evil. Away with ye!"

They pause, if briefly, a moment of thought panning out into decision. "...You judge frequently, and harshly. ... Normally that would be something to disregard, although I feel contrarily."

Despite not attending church often due to mandatory quarantine, they had kept up with scriptural readings, both for their own interests and that of others. Frequently, the text had been against judgement; assumptions not quite lauded as a virtue. Although it had been a time of disease earlier on, an awareness that had extended beyond outbreaks, and wariness had been necessary to an overall degree, that had not been in a religious sense.

Someone minding their own still appeared important, despite years passing. They kept their focus level, attempting to not back down in that regard. Even while a priest, he was equal with everyone else, religion put into account or not.

“The fact that you look so… so creepy and like I‘ve seen you in a nightmare before but at the same time I haven’t. Your entire vibe is a bit… off for me if you know what I mean? The way you smile is enough to scare the hell out of anybody, I can watch an occasional horror film but this is a bit much… I also don’t… know much about you? And well, fearing the unknown is a pretty common fear, right? At least if I knew what kind of shady things you did I’d be given some comfort that my first impressions about you hit the nail on the coffin quite right. Also how do you eat? How do you sleep? There’s so many questions I have to ask myself and seeing you is enough to make me dizzy! That in itself is unsettling and creeps me out, I do not like!”

I’d say Keegan does not like Julian’s facial expressions or horror-enduring grin one bit, he’s pretty skittish but hates admitting it and can usually hide it pretty well. But Julian is enough to crack that vase for sure.

Keegan was a dog.

That was it.

Keegan was a dog, and that was enough for Maribelle to ignore everything else, uncaring of what else made him -- not that his standoffishness was any good for making friends with someone just as tetchy, though, and as if Maribelle even wanted to be friends. It was all of those memories. The reminders. The dogs ripping apart men in flower gardens and spilling blood on cobble, even if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. The threats of being done the same to and more.

That fear crept in and shook her, and like she was looking at a monster -- something that wanted to devour her and rip her apart and laugh cruelly in her face as she suffered -- she grit her teeth. And then, all of that horror came out. "No! Don't touch me!" she cried out, choked by panic, "Get away! Get away, you-- you mutt!"

followup moment for my little man

It was quiet that evening. The sun had set and the last of its colours was slowly fading in a dark blue. Salvador wrapped his arms around his legs. The rooftops were cold this time of year. He bit the edge of the rye stalk. The dried taste made his tongue tickle.
"You remind me of my sister," he said, without looking at Maribelle. His gaze glued to the city before them. Salvador snorted. "Having to act tough. Sturdy. Be thrown in a shitty situation. Situations made by shitty adults. You are the young for all of this," he droned. Salvador finally looked at her with raised eyebrows. "I don't like you. Not the way you are now. You should act young. Like a girl your age. Not some," he shrugged. "Tin for brain soldier like you're doing now. It's acting. Pretending. We both know that."  Salvador frowned as his gaze slowly shifted away from her again. The city was beautiful this evening. The small lantern lights pierced through the falling darkness. Automobiles, trams, and even an occasional carriage crossed the streets beneath them. Drakenburg was still full of life.
"I am not a good influence. I am a thief. I make it worse for my sister. My mum... Roswell is not a good influence," he said. He bit the stalk again and chewed almost thoughtfully on it. As if the stinging rye sap could give him new insights. It did not. "Fuchs is not a good influence. You're a fool." Salvador spat down the rye stalk and watch it fall down. Onto the street below, the one he'd been observing all that time.
"If you want to leave that place. Good. You should. Don't be stupid for once." 

Sotiris ordered something weeks ago, and the mail was supposed to arrive yesterday. He heard someone knocking the door and opened it, a short post officer came with the said mail. "Finally, I've been waiting for this..." Sotiris received the mail, "Thank you, but you should know that the mail was supposed to be yesterday.".
"Why are you dressed like that" commented the post officer "your clothes looks like you stole it from a local cemetery. Why don't you get something new man?"
"How rude" Sotiris became more disappointed "Do you have to be like that...". "I have clothes better than you" said the post officer "just sign the damn thing then my work is done". Sotiris signed the papers from the post officer. "Here, next time, don't be so smug about yourself". The post officer left, Sotiris had a bad delivery situation today....

It was hard to say what Otto disliked about Sotiris. Simply, the lord wasn't someone who could readily despise anyone for anything, his thoughts on others... a blur. Relatively positive, but still a blur, unless he forced himself to pay attention, or unless, in some moment of clarity, he noticed the littlest things.

It wasn't that he disagreed with the vampire. Frankly, there was a difference between worlds here, wasn't there? Anarchism was not so much appreciated back home, though perhaps Otto could recognize its virtues as much as its flaws, but even then, did it really concern him? Still, he thought, observing Sotiris in dead, calculative silence, and then he came to the conclusion that, if he were to pick anything...

"..I see that you are trying to fit into a... darker scene, so to speak." he muttered to Sotiris, "Don't get me wrong, your outfit is well-to-do, but don't you think that it's a little... bold? It might frighten those with power, at least on some level. Powerful people don't like to bend to abruptness." Then, he paused and shrugged. "Or, well, not all that often."

Nathaniel rested his arms on the railing. He smiled as his eyes observed the garden below him. Nate was a seaman. He had a hard time appreciating the sea of exotic flowers that stretched underneath them. 

"There are birds that always find their way home," he told Otto. As his fingers gently tapped on the marble of the railing. "Proud birds they are, aye. Taking fulfillment in their home. They always know where the north is," he said. Nathaniel paused as he finally looked the lord over. His big shoulders, the subtle on his face... "You've grown soft over the years, my lord," he said. "Round-bellied," he pointed out. Nathaniel smiled. "I do understand that you take pride in your home as well. But you've let it cuddle you, settle you," he said. Nathaniel's gaze shifted back to the garden below them and he spat, over the railing, into it. "I can't stand watching people that...Anchor themselves to a small stroke of land. The false security it provides them makes them..." he shrugged with a roll of his shoulders. "Soft."