better to be hated [ o, 300th post ]

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    / ayy I'm catching up to you guys! Since I try to only post IC for this account, it's a little bit more notable, don'tcha think?


    It was a dark and stormy night. Ha, he wished. No matter how awful he felt inside, the world went on, sunshine and rainbows and clear days. The summer heat was barely known to his perpetually chilled pelt as he lay in the grass. The camp was in his sights, so he wasn't a great distance away from the people that loathed him, but it was as far as he could get while staying in earshot of anything else interesting going on. Currently, he was crafting a net, akin to the ones he had used before to catch clanmates, instead this time they were being weaved with ropes. Stretched out in front of him was his almost finished project, ropes crossed and knotted skillfully. It had taken some time to learn the tricks of trap-making, but the ghost had nothing but time. Just as he began to loop a finishimg knot, an aggravating voice called out.


    "Hey, Paddy, whatcha got there?" There wasn't an ounce of friendliness to the biting words, and Pad reluctantly raised his head, glaring at the creature who said it. He was a brute of an animal, a great dane, muscles rippling underneath his blotched and streamlined coat. Already intimidating, and he was barely older than Pad's physical age. And behind the dane stood his thugs, at least six of them in total, all equally as mean and as cruel.


    "What do you pricks want?" the outmatched feline growled, returning to his net. This was the same group of punks that had been shoving him down, that had been harassing him from afar, that had even thrown salt at him (salt was an effective way to ward off and burn demons). He was vulnerable to them, the majority of the clan was probably glad that he was being put in his place.


    "Oh, lighten up. We're only trying to be nice to you." the leader spoke, advancing forward with a sneer. "And we are still being attacked. You oughta teach him a lesson." One of his cronies suggested, while another ripped the net Pad was working on from his paws.


    "Hey! Give that back!" the feline cried out in anger, trying desperately to snatch his net back, but it was being held above him tauntingly. Before long, it became a game to toss the net around the gang, keeping it away from Pad while they hooted and jeered. Eventually, one of the ghost's claws snagged onto the ropes, and he tore it away from them and back into his possession. The whole fiasco had reversed almost an hour's worth of work. With a huff, he dropped the remains of the net, turning to the great dane. In a bold statement, he hissed threatenly, "Fuck off, you dumb lug. You're a waste of my time."


    Almost instantaneously, the leader of the pack went from condescending and mocking, to enraged and sinister. "You wanna say that again, kid?"


    "Oh, I'm sorry your big-ass ego prevents you from hearing properly, lemme repeat that." the smaller creature sneered, sarcasm soaking his tone, "Fuck. Off."


    The towering brute didn't respond, instead he gave a flick of his cropped ear, and his gang inched forward, forming a ring around the demon. "Ya know, we really should teach this fucker his place. It would help BlizzardClan a lot." Murmurs of agreement sounded around him, but Pad didn't soften his resolve, hold his ground. Until the gang pounced at the command of the great dane.

    He was slammed against a tree, still struggling to escape the clutches of the canine. Gripped by his shoulders, Pad couldn't move without being restricted by the great dane. Even though all of six of his followers had taken turns using him as a punching bag, it was he who had bruised the cat the most. "Had enough yet?" the dane challenged, pining Pad up against the tree with a slight look of curiosity in his eyes. To answer, Pad spat in his face. The dog recoiled, allowing the ghost to fall onto the earth. Both recovered quickly, and as Pad attempted to crawl away, he was grabbed by his scruff, dangling from his attacker's maw. The dane swiped away Pad's spit from his cheek, before cracking his neck and stalking forward. "You just don't know when to stop, do you?"


    "Just let me go! I won't bug you again!" the boy pleaded, desperate enough to grovel at the gang's feet for release. The great dane chuckled, before turning his gaze to a nearby creek. Pad's dead heart dropped, starting to thrash more and more violently as he was carried to the river bank. This only encourged the group, and soon enough, he was tossed into the rushing water.


    Panic, surely enough, overtook his senses, and he barely registered the dane's paws on his shoulders once more, standing above him as Pad was forced underwater. The feline began to flail, eyes wide as he stared up at the rippling silhouette above the surface. He tried to claw and kick, anything to get him out of the water, and his mortal mind began to think that he was really drowning, lungs aching with an intense fire. Even though he didn't require oxygen, black was creeping into the corners of his vision, fear overwhelming his mind. Unless the thugs grew bored of watching him splash and fight to escape, his unaimed blows becoming weaker and his vision becoming darker, they were going to sit here and laugh until he fainted.


    Pad didn't expect anyone to come to his rescue, even if it would be a concerning sight, a group of punk kids watching on in malice as their great dane leader tried to drown an unseen creature, barely visible among the frantic splashing and rapids.

    The post was edited 1 time, last by old becky ().

    //nOOO not the ghost bab

    The summer heat was becoming unbearable to Alexus while she was in her wolf form. Though she preferred the look of her serval body, she chose to usually assume her wolf form because she felt more powerful and graceful when in it. Finally, she had found a body that looked nice enough and she was able to tolerate the harsh sun in. Although her cheetah form was practically made for unimaginable heat all year round, it was still nice to get out of the sun for a while and take a walk in the woods where the trees offered shade.

    Alexus weaved in and out of the trees gracefully, her movements fluid though careless as if she had taken this path thousands of times. She had been calm, the noises of birds chirping overhead and the cool breeze ruffling her golden and black patterned pelt. However, she had been startled out of her relaxed state by the noises of laughter and splashing. Though it could very well be just a few kids playing in the creek, something felt wrong. The paladin swiftly rushed over to the scene, confused at first. What was the great dane doing? Within a few moments, she could make out the silhouette of Pad being held down underneath the water. What was going on was just horrible. These kids were bullies.

    The king cheetah shot forward, aiming to roughly shove the great dane off of Pad with an irritated huff, facing the ghost's attacker with a glare. "What the hell are you doing? You could have hurt him," The girl asked, trying her best to keep her voice even and steady as she spoke. Though her push wasn't aggressive enough to actually injure the bully, it was definitely enough to send him stumbling back a few steps.

    Born of Flames — Volkan — BlizzardClan Warrior — he/him

    //protect the ghost boy!

    Summer was a good season to want to go into the water and enjoy the refreshing coolness of the shade under the trees. The humidity, as well as the heat, would be intolerable for most members, but for him, it wasn't a real problem. His body naturally soaks in the sunlight and helps increase his power. But he didn't care about this since he was still finding a way to turn back to his wolf form.

    Volkan had wandered down the woods to the flowing river stream, lowering his down to get a few gulps of water. The noise and voices close by made him look up to see what was going on. His amber eyes narrowed at seeing the large great dane holding something underwater, immediately seeing that it was a feline struggling to get away. After a second he sees Alexus easily push the large dog away from Pad. The black dragon moves down the stream swiftly, pushing his head into the rushing water and gently attempts to support Pad from underneath him to help him stay above the water until he was able to get out on his own.


    The great dane peered over his shoulder just in time to see Alexus ram into his side. He stumbled, strength faltering for just enough time for Pad to surface. The moment he inhaled oxygen again, everything connected to his respiratory system hurt like hell. His nose stung as he sputtered, his lungs burned with a new reason to fail, his chest ached from the submerged pressure, even his tongue hurt. After the bully had been shoved aside, he twisted around, forgetting the basics of swimming in his distress. The best he could manage was a pathetic dog paddle until a hand underneath him lifted him up. He didn't exactly care about it, finally reaching the shallows. He stood paralyzed as the dane recovered his footing in the river, and although his friends readied to attack, he snorted, "Let's go, guys. They ain't worth it."


    With that, he left, the rest of them following suit, although not without leaving behind dirty looks. Even after they had long disappeared into the underbrush, the half-drowned feline remained tense, before stumbling out of the water. He collapsed into the welcomed mud, launching into a fit of coughing and hacking. Pad earned his fear of water when he fell into a river and was only saved by snagging onto a fortunate branch. With the element preceding his death, the phobia only intensified. In his hysteria and coughing, the ghost hadn't noticed Alexus or Volkan. He may of been speaking to them, the long-gone great dane, or himself when he croaked out in between his wheezing, "Why?"

    Born of Flames — Volkan — BlizzardClan Warrior — he/him

    Feeling Pad push himself and out of the water the dragon lifts his head out and shakes the water from his face. Once he shook the dripping droplets away Volkan lowers his head to check up on the feline, examining him to see if he was injured anywhere and sighs gently. He was unable to speak, so conveying any words would be difficult or even answering any questions.

    Instead he uses his sharp claw and wrote on the ground for Pad to read. "Makes them feel better about themselves when picking on the weak because that is what they feel about themselves." At least he was able to write the words he was able to say even though it wasn't quicker than speaking about it.

    Jerseyboy had never been bullied. Not once in his life. The "bullying" here didn't count though, as it was more back-and-fourth taunting between him and the assholes that he called clanmates. The "bullying" from his drunkard step-father didn't count either. That was more of... abuse. No, but as a kid? He was never the little guy. He rolled with the big guys. Of course, he had been pretty young and not old enough to meet the standards of a group "leader", but he was often the one that picked on others. He often helped his buddies pick on the weak and steal from their targets. He made fun of the other kids. He hit his victims in the stomach while one of the others held them up against a wall. It was just how he grew up. Jerseyboy saw no problem in roughhousing, and compared to what happened to Pad? That was nothing in his eyes.


    He hadn't witnessed the whole incident, but he had heard. The threats, the teasing, the pleads for mercy. It sounded all too familiar. Jerseyboy ended up approaching the others after they had rescued Pad from the river. He was curious to see what had actually happened to the kid, though he wouldn't say that he was concerned. Because he wasn't. Pad could go stick it up his ass for all he cared. "He's fine." Jerseyboy snorted after assessing the condition of the soaked cat. He lashed his tail and stood back, adding, "You know, wid' all the shit you've been doin' lately, I'd say that it serves you right." Screw them if they all disagreed with him. He didn't care.


    TAGS

    As his senses relaxed, he saw a familiar shape out of the corner of his blurred vision. A dragon, Ska'arq? He reared and swiveled his head around with a relieved smile, only to see that it wasn't his friend. His smile immediately vanished, replaced with an uncertain feeling. Now that he had lifted his head, it could be seen that his brow had been split, glossy black blood starting to accumulate and drip, but beyond that, the demon only had bruises littered across his wiry frame. When Volkan started to write out pure gibberish in front of him, Pad meekly shook his head, taking a few attempts to refine his voice, "I can't read ya know-"


    He stopped when Jerseyboy strolled into view. Son of a bitch. It was bad enough that Pad was exposed as being feeble enough to be battered around by kids his own age, but his enemy couldn't know his weak points! He seemed to shrink into the ground, glaring up at Jersey, until the tom's last phrase rang out. His entire being seemed to just stop cowering or even thinking. There was hurt in his gaze as he forced himself to his sore paws. But he didn't show any signs of aggression, making no move in retaliation. Instead, he giggled, his aching chest convulsing as he laughed. He never really had a stable mindset. "Serves me right? Serves me right?" His voice faltered as his lungs tried to kick back up, adding an edge to his raspy snicker. Until he snapped his head to confront Jersey, movements unnatural and stiffened. When he spoke again, it was hard to place what emotion riddled his quieter tone, but it sure as hell wasn't happiness. "You don't know anything. Picture this: you've just watched your entire family be burned and slaughtered in front of you, and now you're all alone in the middle of nowhere. And to survive, you have to steal. And instead of getting help, you're treated like a fucking pest. And what do people do to pests?" Now his words trembled, but his gaze remained cold. "They kill them. Next thing you know, you end up being tortured and fatally wounded. You die alone."


    The demon started to circle Jerseyboy with a certain anxiousness to his gait, like a feral animal waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. "But, not even death wants to keep you, and you're thrown back to the living. I can't grow up, I can't do anything, I can never see my fucking family again, because of them. I've been alone for five-hundred years, and when I finally see a chance to find some company, they hate me. The only reason I hang around this shithole is because I have nowhere else to go!" Pad's composure broke, his tone raising. He took a shuddering inhale, before letting out a strangled sob. "It's not fair."


    The boy crumpled, sides heaving, yet no tears came. The ghost glanced back at Jersey, optics gleaming with agony that he had kept pent up for centuries. "So tell me, Jerseyboy...do I deserve this?"