The scrape of an ill-fitting door scratching against old hardwood as it gets forced open. Sheets of tattered notes pinned to every available surface, disorganized and indecipherable. Rows upon rows of jars and glass cases with strange and unfamiliar creatures, some half-dissected and suspended in liquid. Potted plants overgrown, ivy spilling up the walls, almost fantastical in their strange appearance, with leaves that look so soft—
" —DON'T TOUCH THAT!" A chair tossed to the ground, hasty scuffling." Sorry, my apologies. That's — it's, well... it's not safe. Can I help you? "
HEIGHT: 6'0'
BODY TYPE: tall, lanky
EYE COLOR: brown
HAIR COLOR: black
NOTABLE TRAITS: see below
Freddie cuts a rather frightening picture, though he doesn't mean to. He is tall man, and his lack of knowledge of personal space means he tends to loom. To try and dampen his jarring appearance, he usually covers the lower half of his face with a scarf and the upper half with dust-resistant goggles and a hood. His mouth is somewhat disfigured, with a cleft lip and palate on his left side and a bit of gum and teeth exposed on the right. His skin is patchy and thin, clinging to his face like it's been vacuum sealed, and highly susceptible to damage from the sun. One of his eyes has a double iris, and he is mostly blind in that eye.
BIO :
TW: child neglect
OVERVIEW. Freddie Clarke is a recluse, though not by choice. He is quiet, not out of shyness, but because he finds it difficult to enunciate his words. His air of mystery, combined with his gruesome appearance--usually hidden behind a scarf and large goggles--leads to most finding him unapproachable. Those who speak to him find him a friendly (albeit eccentric) man with a cheerful disposition, despite his stunted social skills. Currently, Freddie is working on a comprehensive bestiary and herbarium of irradiated North American flora and fauna. He is extremely devoted to his work. He will occasionally sell self-published volumes of his current collection as field guides, printed by hand in the back of his home. They contain mostly detailed illustrations rather than photos; Freddie finds he can capture more detail that way.
EARLY CHILDHOOD. Freddie was an unplanned baby, born to a Golden Gorge miner and a scrapper who both spent a lot of time in the Ashtray. Because of the immense amounts of radiation his parents were exposed to, Freddie was born with multiple abnormalities. It was a miracle he survived, with few long-term health issues aside from skin sensitivity and delays in speech related to his malformed mouth. He was ostracized in his youth due to his appearance, and his parents preferred to keep him out of sight. As a lonely child, he spent most of his time reading old pre-war books his father had collected. He liked the magazines with nature photos, and though he could not read some of the dense encyclopedias, he enjoyed looking at the illustrations within.
LATE CHILDHOOD. Growing tired of the malice from his community and neglect from his parents, an unwise 10-year-old Freddie Clarke decided to become a runaway. He did not get very far. The forest was not a safe place for a lonely child. A group of initiates of the Children of Mothman discovered him while on a pilgrimage to the museum and took him under their wing, speculating that the small, disfigured child found sleeping on a tree root may be a message of some kind from the dread father. He lived among a small congregation for years. His elders expressed disappointment when he seemed to take more interest in tending to the moths than listening to the enlightened or practicing rituals. Still, he caused no trouble and followed directions expertly, so he faced no overt cruelty.
ONWARDS. When he was young, he enjoyed being a member of the Eclipse. The sense of community the insular, cult-like environment fostered allowed him to believe he belonged. But as he aged and wizened up, he realized the community was false. He was still an outsider. He didn't enjoy recieving visions, nor was he particularly close with his fellow churchgoers, and his belief in the dread father and the word of the night mother was... shakier than his other peers. it was difficult to ignore that he felt more kindred with the irradiated bugs than the other people. So, at 16, Freddie left the community to pursue his true passion--his compendium. For over a decade, now, he has been traveling, collecting samples, and recording his observations with a zealous devotion he never could muster for the church. Though he is no longer an active initiate, Freddie still holds many of the beliefs shared by the Eclipse.
EXTRAS :
POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS.
CLIENTS. Though his studies are his life's passion, Freddie recognizes that an income is generally required for survival. He makes a meager living providing niche services, selling both live and dead specimens and bottled forms of the various venoms and toxins they may produce. He is very good at not asking questions. In fact, he prefers that you don't tell him what you're doing with it.
RECRUITERS. Though not particularly well-known, he is a man of science and a researcher independent from Afterglow. with his specialties in venoms and toxins, individuals from the corporation might be hounding him down to join their research team, especially with the ongoing cicada scare. Freddie is wary of Afterglow due to their... mixed reputation.
MISC HEADCANONS.
HABITS. Freddie is fidgety and has a number of tics that come and go. He frequently scratches his neck, snaps his fingers and claps his hands for no particular reason, and shakes his head in a minute twitch, as if to clear out his thoughts.
THE WORKSHOP. Freddie is devoted to his work, and his space reflects that. he has a countless number of specimens, many alive and kept in small jars or enclosures. Plants grow abundantly in his run-down home, which he maintains with great care. Parts of larger specimens, unable to be contained in their entirety, are littered throughout his home: bones, skulls, pelts. Danger is of no concern to him--he even keeps a small colony of radroaches, which he allows to reproduce within the carcasses of rodents and other small mammals.
he was meant to be doing sweeps for anyone who still might be stuck out in the inclement weather that might require medical assistance. what he actually did was follow his unit out and then break off to go find rafe. reading his cousin was okay versus seeing him in person were two very different things and he needed to put eyes on the person who brought him over to this fresh hell because he was the only person who mattered to banks at the end of the day.
once he was able to reconvene and catch up with rafe, banks moved to rejoin his unit. appearances and all that. he wasn't in the mood to walk back to the compound but he would if he had to. meticulous eyes scanned his surroundings constantly for anything suspicious or someone in need of help. when he saw someone walking near the exit to the city by himself, he approached to make sure he was okay.
"aye there, you good? not lost or nothing? hurt?" banks asked the other man once he got closer, eyeing him carefully.
Freddie was well-packed for his trek south. He was sure they wouldn't let him take any samples, but he'd prepared as if they would--slides for fur samples, vials for fluids. Sheets and sheets of notebook paper for his drawings and his notes. He'd even dug up an old camera--he wasn't sure it worked, he'd never used it before, but he wanted to be able to get images of details if he couldn't stay long.
Though the blizzard was no longer raging on, the weather still wasn't pleasant. Freddie didn't mind. His thick layers protected him from the wind chill, and his goggles shielded his sensitive eyes from the harsh glare of the sunlight off the layers of snow.
Freddie jumped slightly in surprise, hands curling tightly around the straps of his messenger bag. He wasn't expecting to run into anyone else for some time.
"Fine... thank you," he mumbled, taking in the other man's appearance, uniform and all. Freddie felt slightly hesitant. He wasn't doing anything wrong, was he? He was just going to go over and... ask the science team politely if he could have a look.
He wasn't sure what he would do if they said no.
Still, he felt anxious. "Just traveling," he decided to say. "I'll be alright on my own, don't... worry about me."
INT. COMMUNITY CENTER - DAY
EXT. FREEDOM CLINIC - DAY
↪ freddie + tadhg (@murdcrofcrows)
Freddie attempts to idly chew at the end of his pencil, spitting it out when all he gets is a mouthful of fabric from his scarf. He frowns to himself.
He could admit it--he's procrastinating going home. The storm is over, he should make the trek back up today. But the mess that awaits him up there is sure to be disastrous. He bounces his leg anxiously as he trails his pencil down his list of live specimens.
The roaches would be okay, they were hearty, and he'd given them a fresh mouse only a day before the storm started. The carnivorous plants should have survived as well, but he wouldn't be surprised if his propagation experiment was shriveled and dead. The hornet colony he was cultivating in his backyard is surely done for. And his aquatic snails--the horror of it all! He'd just gone through a lot of trouble to acquire a pair to observe and document their breeding behaviors for the first time! But now, he's positive there'd be nothing left but shell.
Freddie does miss his own space, though. He isn't used to spending this much time in close proximity to others; though it was at first interesting and novel, it's rapidly become grating. Two people are chatting at a table next to him while he is trying to focus on his list. The fact that they are trying to whisper while (to Freddie) being about as loud and distracting as an airhorn, makes them all the more irritating. He tries to block them out, but pieces of their conversation stand out.
"Did you hear… Afterglow compound… killed it…"
"…The beekeeper? I thought…"
"Well they… something about a deathknell bear--"
Freddie snaps up like a dog looking for a treat. In an instant, his mood has flipped from sour to elated. Practical evidence of a famous local legend? It could be real? Even if it wasn't--anything that could be mistaken for a beast like that must be facinating beyond measure. God, a bear of any kind--what a find!
He stands up, pushing out from his chair and gathering up his papers in a flurry. He rushes out of the room before realizing he has no idea where he is going. It takes him some time to find Tadhg, asking around town, talking to more people than he has in a lifetime.
By the time Freddie tracks him down to freedom clinic, he is panting from the jog and wide-eyed with fervor. His hood has flown off his head, revealing his tangled mop of dark hair, and his scarf slips down beneath his nose. He tugs it back up hastily.
He stops directly in front of Tadhg's path as he exits.
"A deathknell bear?" he says in lieu of any greeting. "Was it actually? What did it look like? Did you really kill it?" It was the quickest he'd spoken at once in a long time and he had difficulty forming the words, so they come out a bit slurred and muddled.
Is it possible for you to make some some dividers themed after wendigos? The deer-wolf like monsters
🦌Spooky Deer + Wolf Dividers🐺
A/N: I didn’t feel comfortable making Wendigo dividers as a non native (especially since the bastardization of native culture is so rampant, + I’m pretty sure the animal like features of the Wendigo aren’t in the original folklore, that’s a pop culture addition:( ) so I went for a general spooky animal vibe instead. I hope these still work for your purpose!
please like, reblog, & credit if you use!
(PT: Please like, reblog, & credit if you use!)
[DIVIDER REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!]
(PT: Divider requests are closed!)
DNI: TERFS, endo, proship, pro ana, nazi, MAPs, zoophiles
tag list: @ghostboneswrites2 @savanaclaw1996 @bloodythornsandskulls @humancorps3 @imachaoticghost
