characters - slowly updating for prompts/drabbles/oneshot requests
Brandon, hero of a story. English-Taiwanese. Dreamed of being a chef as a kid. He doesn’t know how to be vulnerable apart from when he breaks down. Makes amazing Ramen. Can’t ride bikes. Robert, villain of a story. American. Was always looking after his mother after his dad walked out and his mam died of cancer when he was 15 so he started acting up in school. -- Lina, just a girl in her first year of university. English. Wants to work in the Theatre. Sits alone wherever she goes. Likes writing and music. Wishes she could be happy. John, a boy in his last year of university. English. Doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life. Does a science course and works part time in a pub. Wishes he had someone to be vulnerable around. -- Elle, one of the main three. Oldest of the group. Does ice skating and has a driving license. Is doing her A-levels currently and mainly does sport. Mina, one of the main three. Youngest of the group. Muslim family. She wants to be a criminologist. Going into college to do Sociology. Has a broken leg. Paddy, one of the three. Irish immigrant. Owns a bike and has lots of posters of The Hollywood Vampires on his bedroom wall. Giles, a news presenter who time travelled and then got influenced into being an awful person. Knows a lot of things and works for the bad guys now. -- Otis, a fourty year old man who believes it his destiny to kill the “monster” just outside town, avid gambler, is usually drunk. Katharnie, a twenty year old girl who is considered to be an outsider, she believes in protecting the so called monster. n/a
Brandon looked down at his spoon, just about to slurp the broth from his ramen when there was a thump. He looked up and whispered “What the fuck,” just under his breath. There was another thump but a bit more clearly now, it was coming from the door. With a loud sigh Brandon pushed his chair back, it scraped against the wooden floor and he looked down, seeing the scratches that he’d made in the past. He pushed the chair to the counter again and let his spoon clatter in his bowl. Walking towards the front door he checked his watch, it read 01:37. He clenched his jaw. Who the hell was knocking on his apartment door at this stupid time, his friends were in jail and his family were still out of town since he warned them not to come back yet. His hand reached forward and clasped around the handle, he forced it to open and it finally gave way with a long creak. Someone dropped in through the doorway, it took Brandon a minute to recognise them. They were covered in blood and seemed to have flour over them too. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man who was halfway through his door on the floor. “What the fuck are you doing here, Cardew?” He spat the mans last name out and stuck his leg between the door and the rest of his apartment. The man covered in blood looked up, his brown eyes looked tired. “Brandon...I didn’t know where else to go. There’s...someone else. Someone worse. Help me, please.”
You hear a knock at your door. When you open it, you find your archnemesis sprawled out just past the threshold, battered, bruised, and very clearly only hanging onto life by a thread. “Sorry. It’s just … I didn’t know where else to go” they mutter as you look down at them.