// bonus character under the cut because he’s my OG Spoopy Son™ and his entire story revolves around The Spoops™//
Rules:bold all of the themes that apply to your muse’s aesthetic or mood as a character.
Bloodied knuckles | Tear stained cheeks | Rust | A busted lip | Claws | Fangs | A bloody nose | Chattering teeth | A dark space underneath the bed | Scratching noises on a wall | Creaking metal | Fog | Dancing under moonlight | Blood dripping lips | Heavy breathing in the dark | A feeling of unexplained dread | A figure in a dark corner | Dirty peeling wallpaper | Deep dark waters | A bloody handprint on the wall | Sobbing in the dark | Bite marks on the skin | Eerie whispers | A hood covering a stranger’s eyes | The growl of a hidden animal | The sound of a blade being sharpened | A deep, dark forest | Walking on the streets alone at night | A cobweb-filled, abandoned building | Eyes darting in paranoia | A heavy beating pulse | The feeling of being trapped | Struggling to get out a scream | Boards covering broken windows | A quiet graveyard | A gas station in the middle of nowhere | A road that never ends | Heavy fog rolling in | The scent of blood in the air | Eerie old photographs | Walking along traintracks at night | A chill going up the spine | Gathering crows | A dusty, dimly lit study |Mist over a deserted cobblestone street | Ghost towns | Shadows around a campfire | The sound of chanting | Church bells tolling | An orange harvest moon | A broken down carnival | A dirty stuffed animal abandoned | Wiping bloody hands on fabric | Nightmares | Waking up in a panic | A power outage | Heavy lightning storms |A secret trap door | The feeling of being watched | Fear from trauma | A Ouija board set out on a table | An eerie doll | A scream of anguish and pain | Withered plants | A room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust| Owl eyes in the dark | Curled, dead tree branches | A ritual altar | Flickering candles | A lantern held up in the dark | Fear of being followed | Creaking floorboards | Repressed, horrible memories | Clenched teeth | Soft, echoing piano keys | An old book covered in dust | Many pairs of glaring eyes | Stumbling in pitch black darkness | Being stranded in the middle of nowhere | Tarot cards on a table | A trail of blood
Bloodied knuckles | Tear stained cheeks | Rust | A busted lip | Claws | Fangs | A bloody nose | Chattering teeth | A dark space underneath the bed | Scratching noises on a wall | Creaking metal | Fog | Dancing under moonlight | Blood dripping lips | Heavy breathing in the dark | A feeling of unexplained dread | A figure in a dark corner | Dirty peeling wallpaper | Deep dark waters | A bloody handprint on the wall | Sobbing in the dark | Bite marks on the skin | Eerie whispers | A hood covering a stranger’s eyes | The growl of a hidden animal | The sound of a blade being sharpened | A deep, dark forest | Walking on the streets alone at night | A cobweb-filled, abandoned building | Eyes darting in paranoia | A heavy beating pulse | The feeling of being trapped | Struggling to get out a scream | Boards covering broken windows | A quiet graveyard | A gas station in the middle of nowhere | A road that never ends | Heavy fog rolling in | The scent of blood in the air | Eerie old photographs | Walking along traintracks at night | A chill going up the spine | Gathering crows | A dusty, dimly lit study |Mist over a deserted cobblestone street | Ghost towns | Shadows around a campfire | The sound of chanting | Church bells tolling | An orange harvest moon | A broken down carnival | A dirty stuffed animal abandoned | Wiping bloody hands on fabric | Nightmares | Waking up in a panic | A power outage | Heavy lightning storms |A secret trap door | The feeling of being watched | Fear from trauma | A Ouija board set out on a table | An eerie doll | A scream of anguish and pain | Withered plants | A room that’s been forgotten and gathered dust| Owl eyes in the dark | Curled, dead tree branches | A ritual altar | Flickering candles | A lantern held up in the dark | Fear of being followed | Creaking floorboards | Repressed, horrible memories | Clenched teeth | Soft, echoing piano keys | An old book covered in dust | Many pairs of glaring eyes | Stumbling in pitch black darkness | Being stranded in the middle of nowhere | Tarot cards on a table | A trail of blood
Futhermore: “tumblr” as you experience it is defined entirely by whom you’re following. If you think tumblr doesn’t focus enough on recovery or female artists or Jason Momoa, follow some recovery/female artists/Jason Momoa blogs, and tumblr will change.
THIS. People are always going on about “tumblr is so toxic” like there’s a singular tumblr experience and we’re all helpless to escape it. UNFOLLOW PEOPLE. If someone’s putting bullshit on your dash, just unfollow them. Follow new people. It really is that simple. Tumblr is what you make it.
Fred’s heart pounded in his ears and he had to wonder, why add such design flaws? Was it purely for the sake of accuracy? The cold sweat he was experiencing was part of that too, perfection or flaw?
His momentary musings steadied his pulse, his breathing settling in to a slower rhythm. He took a deeper breath before letting his thoughts return to the cause of his panic.
His mother, Grey’s mother, knew he was a synth.It had been such a simple gesture she had made but it had been enough.
Dinner with Grey’s parents had followed it’s usual routine. Grey’s father complaining, as he always did, about synths being incompetent in their duties, Fred nodding occasionally adding appropriate comments. But as Grey’s father had continued with his rant his mother had placed a hand on Fred’s, the softest of touches and lasting barely a second but it had been enough.
Grey had been an idiot to think he could have fooled his own mother, she was an expert in the field of robotics. Like any scientist perfection was her highest goal and she would have noticed every flaw, no matter how small in his design. Perhaps his blinks were too far apart or even how he chewed his food had given him away.
He noted his breathing had again become ragged pants of panic and a wave of nausea crashed through him. It brought with it a furious annoyance. Such pointless reactions! He’d have them all removed! Eradicated!
The synth stormed towards a terminal, his sudden movement startling the crows from their perch. He’d been using the birds this last few months to trail his creator, it was easier to prevent the Institute from detecting Grey if Fred knew what areas of their intel to disrupt. Right now Grey was in Nuka World.
One of the crows landed on the synth’s shoulder and he patted it absentmindedly. Perhaps he should try to send another crow to Grey, warn him about his suspicions. Although Grey had killed the last one, paranoid that the Institute would be looking for him.
The bird brushed against his cheek, a soothing sensation passed through him. Paranoid. Was that it? Was his panic just another aspect of Grey he had inherited? Had his mother’s touch been just that? A loving gesture towards her son? Perhaps she’d merely experienced a moment of realisation that her son was really home and safe. He tried to calm himself again, watching as his hands trembled over the keyboard of the terminal. Perfection or flaw?
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Forgot about this one, found in Google docs this morning and I’ve been poking at it while at work ^^ May edit some more when I get home.
CharoMiami 