↱ CHANEL ↲ STORAGE

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"][size=10pt]future characters to make based off of unreliable narration

trigger warning some anger inducing characters

( 1 ) this character has lost a spouse in a way that is passed off as a robbery gone wrong. seen as brittle, weak, never to hurt a fly. finds safety in another whom helps them with their kid (if they have one). may consistently have nightmares of the event, but this is passed off has trauma as they are the one who witnessed it. the catch? they are the ones who murdered. the marriage between the two were loveless, and this person was actually cheating but turned it onto their loyal spouse. killed them because they didn’t want them to leave, because they were going to. either lies to self about the true unfolding events, or knows but is convinced they had to bc their spouse would do it first and/or cheat on them.

( 2 ) a kid, a room, and an imaginary friend. the kid is no fool, but has naviety about them, especially since their parents are so overprotecting. a line is blurred between loneliness and social cues, always speaks as if they’re lonely but is convinced their imaginary friend (an actual person in their eyes and in narration, it’s spoken as so, as if the person is actually there and when parents get pissed about this or left playing along on good days, people are confused as to why) is their only friend. homeschooled all of their lives and barely speaks to anyone not even parents. just this friend and only their friend.

( 3 ) overbearing spouse. convinced that the things they do, are strictly out of love for said person. gets pissed at idea of person with someone else. goes out of extreme measures to ‘save’ this person, and help this person embedding themselves into their life. steals, but it is dismissed as if it were a walk in the park. if wrong, there is always a reason to justify it and demands sympathy for the reader, their toxicity level instead traded out for the idea that ‘love made them do crazy things’. uses lewd languages.

( 4 ) cult? kid/teen whom is deficated to it, and its practices. (the children of or manson family estque) this child doesn’t lie, but is practically brainwashed to the point of not knowing the lewd acts that this cult may do, believing that it is natural and that god would want it yada yada yada. believes those who try and harm or take down the cult are evil. talks about it quite often. believes tv is evil. withdrawn from all human interaction. and anyone who tries to save them, they’d have a mental breakdown to.

( 5 ) depressed. lonely. insecure fangirl/boy. obsessed with (celebrity here) knows about their locations of where they’re going to be, knows everything about them including their family. writes fanmail, owns twitter. increasingly becomes convinced that their doing is justifiable, out of the love that they do for them. jealous by romantic interests even on screen, has a list of those people of whom she hates. talks about them constantly. dismissed as just a little celebrity crush. far from that. talks about much they love them, they do they do.

( 6 ) the empathy-seeker. is no good person by any means, probably some sociopath or something. blames this on their tragic life, tells their story through eyes in which you may (or may not) be wondering what they said are true. maybe a nurse? a nurse or doctor who lost their mom/spouse/daughter to cancer, therefore secretly killing those with cancer. constantly says they wanted to help them, they wanted to help them, they wanted to help them. they did.

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"]*kazoo kid voice* motivation? who [i]ARE you?? ? ? ?

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"][size=11pt]excerpts for characters above”

( 1 ) “Are you accusing me of this?”

You’re in disbelief. You loved him. You loved him so much, it hurt, and you were going to have a life together, it just begun. How could, these cops, out of everyone else, know how you all were before this. Ask friends and family and they say you were two were perfect. You met at a bar, he was an lawyer. At the time you were a bartender, but settled to be a stay at home mom. You had the same morals, beliefs and how could they acuse you?

“Ma’am, your story, it contradicts the facts. You said that you weren’t there... but witnesses said they saw your car just ten minutes before the crime had taken place.” He flips through his notes and you watch him, want to scream, and why couldn’t people mind their damn business? And you try to wrack your brain to replay those scenes of events as the officer waits, rather impatiently. You’re taking too long and he clears his throat. “Ma’am?”

“He [i]hurt me.” You break down and now you’re crying now. A seemingly picture perfect estque being traded in for something sinister. It was hard to tell the truth until now, the lies, fist meeting wall so close to your cheek that you thought you could feel the the burn. The officer thinks he’s getting something out of you, a confession. “I... I told someone.”  You continue. The officer raises his eyebrows, prodding you to continue. “Xavier Ramirez.”

“Do you think that Xavier could have done this?” you know that Xavier could never hurt a fly, but you no longer want the suspicions on you. Xavier had been a friend, a good co-worker, clean slate, with an engagement. You were not happy. You both weren’t happy. He was too uptight. She was boring in bed. You clicked. Things happened.

“I don’t know.” But you don’t meet his eyes, but your posture and wandering eyes insist otherwise. You just lost your husband. How could anyone not understand that?

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"][size=11pt]( 2 ) You loved when your parents let you go to the market, even better, when they gave you extra money to get your favorite candy! The day only gets better as your friend arrives and they’re in the red hoodie that they always wear. You smile, giggling. “Hey! I’m going to the store to get candy!” And milk for your mom but you do that often because for some reason they want to establish some sort of independence in you iand this is the only way.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I join you?” Your friend asks, stuffing their hands in his pockets and you nod ecstatically, talking to them as you continue along, your hands now mirroring theirs, in your pockets and it’s only subconcious at this point that you copy them because they’re your best friend and don’t people want to be like their best friends?

You talk the whole way there, never noticing the eyes that follow. But for some reason, you get those often.

“Can I get something?” Your friend pleads after you get the milk and start to browse the candy section. They always want something that’s yours and when you actually have enough to share that’s fine, but there is only 1.50 your mom has given you and that’s not enough for two.

“Maybe next time.” You reach for some snickers, but your friend insistently points to the reece cups. “No! I don’t want those!” You exclaim, visibly annoyed but your friend always has a way to make you crack and again, they insist, and finally you cave snatching the reece cups stomping to the register with the milk and stupid reece cups in stow but at least they’re satisfied.

“Are you okay?” The clerk is both confused and concerned on how a boy could change his tune so quickly as he’d just come in as happy as could be. You don’t answer, though becuase your mom is adamant on you not talking to strangers but you’ve known Mr. Doyer going on three months. 

He isn’t the type to push you, instead ringing up your things. As he does so you look over at your friend, who is smug. “Stop looking at me like that!” Mr. Doyer looks up. He thinks you’re talking to him, but when he sees your eyes are anywhere but, he looks concerned.

“Who you talking to son?” He asks, giving you the bags. And again, you don’t answer, just take them opening the door for your friend. Half way home, you’re no longer mad and reece cups are suddenly better than they used to be and you’re happy because he doesn’t want his anymore.

“Best friends forever?” They ask. You only nod

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"][size=10pt]She dreams sometimes—

Aren’t androids  supposed to not dream?

And yet her mind overrides what she shouldn’t and instead she does. She likes it here. Here, there isn’t any boundaries of wires and organs and [i]here she doesn’t see shades or blue or purple only the shade of pink that worships what humans call [i]love but she needs no one telling her that because she feels it looking into eyes the size of a doe’s when she looks into the eyes of an infant that looks like her— that looks like him. He smiles at them both and he looks at her in a way he looks at someone who is not her.

“What?” She asks, smiling. She likes this dreaming and if she could live inside this dream forever she would. No worries, no despair. Just her [i]him and this baby that babbles, exhausted in her arms. She knows he’ll sleep soon, his eyes flutter and she rocks him in a way that Heather never will, in a way she would probably get other androids to do for her. Again, she wishes to not wake up as Derek leans into her and now she could see the specks of hazel in his eyes, reminding her of fall. Fall is her favorite season.

”[i]I love you.” She’s never heard the words from him in her life, not even in her wildest dreams, but then again she’s never dreamt until now because the world is a little more different, and lonely, and she could feel her despair and not just her own [i]t h e i r s and while their fighting to change that, she’s dreaming of a world that ceases to exist.

“I love you, too.” She murmurs, kissing him. His lips are as warm as she’d imagine and they smell like the honey chapstick that he always puts when he’s nervous (and she knows that he’s nervous at this moment, as most humans are when they watch their romantic other have their offspring)

She dreams of Derek, but it isn’t the only thing she loves about this dream— the baby in her arms is a sole reminder of maternal pull to any child she sees, whether that be her own and in the world that she doesn’t want to go back to (reality, which is surprising as she’s usually grounded) she knows that isn’t possible, but how nice would it be to have a little piece of her to [i]love and call her [i]o w n?

The dream ends there, waking up on a bus instead of a hospital bed she’d taken awhile back. She’s not supposed to be in the front, but she is, while other androids take the late bus back. Many cease to pay attention or to notice her or her status, which is why she does it when she’s Detroit, but now she gets up with nothing but her twisted, bittersweet fantasy in her mind.

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"][size=10pt] ( i think this is 4 with cult kid ) ”Don’t you think some of the things we do here is... wrong?”

She’s looking for your approval, because she’s been looking for it in someone and she finally sees it in you. You want to be able to give her that approval because she’s been beautiful since the fifth grade and finally, she sees you, or she’s able to because you’re not separated be a fifteen other kids. It’s okay, though. You’re older. More mature. Fourteen is when they begin to see you as an adult rather than a child, and you know this because many older women are impressed in how you age and they make sure to let you know that, not your mother.

It’s what happens when you’re of age.

But you’re not interested in them, not unless you’re told. You were interested her with her skin the shade of oak with eyes to match. She’s one year older than you, more mature than you probably, but she likes to hang out with you, you can tell. You have a lot in common except for this. You’re confused. ”What do you mean?”

She’s thinking. She wants to explain this in the most appropriate way as possible, in a way that won’t offend you. You raise your eyebrows, prompting her to continue, smile teasingly, “Well?” Finally, she sighs, bringing her legs closer to her chest biting her lip.

“Let’s just say I don’t think adults are supposed to look at you like Miss. Walters does.” You think she’s joking and you laugh, wiggling your eyebrows at her teasingly.

”Are you jealous?” You want to hit yourself because she is. She doesn’t laugh, looks at you serious, her eyes the size of saucers that mom managed to read to you when you were a child— when you weren’t mature.

“No, I’m not jealous! I’m worried. She’s a [i]mother. No mother should look at someone else’s child that way.” You wanted to say your mother would agree, but you don’t want to mortify yourself in talking about your mother. She left the religion three years ago and you’re still angry, get more angry every time your father talks about it.

”I think you were overthinking things“

She’s quiet for a moment and then finally, she speaks up again, and her voice is uncertain and small which could only mean she’s going to tell a secret she’s not sure she can keep. “Can I... show you something?” You say yes and she leads the way, holding your hand. She takes you to her bed and open a book to reveal pictures, words. You’re usually never allowed to read anything unless it was David’s teachings. How did she get that?

You probably spoke out loud because she looks at you, panicked. She goes to close the book but you reach out and stop her. ”This is a world that we’re missing.” You are confused because in the book, it has a big green dragon and as far as you’re concerned, dragons don’t exist. You don’t say anything, just flip the page. “Don’t you think we deserve a world that we get to choose?”

”And you don’t choose this?” You look over at her and you’re serious now, because you realize the girl you like might be doubting the faith she’s been raised up from since she was a child. And all because of some book? ”Maybe you should tell your mom about this.” You go to pick it up, but she snatches it from you quickly.

“No!” She places her hand on yours and she’s in tears, eyes reflecting on what could happen and you know— but it was for the best. it helped them in the end. “No” and her voice is quieter but you’re unsettled and so is she.

How could you keep this from [i]a n y o n e

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"]levi miller is definitely a reference for four when i think of him that’s what i see

jesse williams probably is 6

omg raphael alejandro for 2!!

[fuentes]

damn girl you really on ya shit today
good 4 you

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"]not rlly bc i haven’t replied to anyone’s shit today but oh well

[vix]

[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"]— some scooter stuff that i rlly like so far

• speaks in run on sentences, uses “and” a lot

• can’t read and it frustrates him bc omega read

• has “the love you save” by jackson five on repeat in his head bc of fucking keith, who plays it constantly on his record player (bc its the only vinyl he has found)

• khalil is scooter’s birth name.