#t-errifier

[pvxxie]

in his hand, a knife that looks strikingly similar to the others. mimicking a weeping face, he rubs at his eyes mockingly. he wishes to enrage the other, wanting to see him get worked up over the fact that he has stolen his kill. does he feel guilty for it? not at all, in fact he is quite prideful. while he knows that the other had been chasing after this one for some time, he'd beaten him to the punch. not - so hard when he was eager as ever.

  ﹙    𝕸.  ﹚

❝   OH.   ❞ a nonchalant yet MELODIOUS voice came out of the mask . the tone inside sounded POETIC , but flowing through the material , it verged on harshness . he was not a typical murderer . he wanted to kill , but fun was the pedestal of the whole process of sowing DESTRUCTION . the clown ? he had met many of them , but none that EXCITED him so much . his whole body trembled with emotion , and his fingers tightened on the knife . ❝ what will you do, snowflake ? ❞ he was losing control of his nerves , inconsolable that he had failed to kill another person . the momentary elation of cutting through the old woman's body was not ENOUGH . what would it taste like to kill a clown ? what would he look like during evisceration ? ❝ when i widen your smile with a knife stained with the dried blood of a previous victim ? ❞ he giggled madly , straightening his body .

[hoovedrcyalarch]

a starter for @t-errifier

the golden furred alien looked at the scary figure. that wide smile, that .. outfit. it looked uncanny. it looked like.. well the stranger wasn’t from around here. regulus felt a little on edge. he raised his tailblade as a warning. should he speak to the stranger ? what was the stranger doing out in the woods ?

the hooved centaur like creature looked harmless, but he was.. a bit scared. regulus didn’t move, he just stood there waiting for the stranger to make a move. his fur puffed up in response. regulus kept his tail up, twacking it near the tree. he furrowed his eyes. he didn’t have a mouth, but it wasn’t needed to express the fact he’s scared. his hooves shake.

[morb1dg1rlaa]

@t-errifier | cont.

scout didn't mean to seem harsh it's just the smell was powerful to knock one out,but she had a strong sense of smell and could tolerate the worst scents you could imagine. beef and cheese was one she could manage,and lucky for art,she was going to be kind enough to allow him to use her shower and washing machine.

❝ you can use my shower and washing machine if you wanna. i imagine it's been a while for you. ❞again,not to be rude and she could manage the smells coming off art but her nose hairs would burn off surely. she didn't want him to be running around all...stinky like that. everyone deserved a nice shower and clean clothes. even if they were a serial killer.

❝ i got clean towels too,you'll be squeaky clean and smelling fresh. ❞

[pantichrist]

📸

⸻ гเlєץ & คгt . ཐི♡ཋྀ @t-errifier

[mctcrcity-arch]

@t-errifier // continued from╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ here!

the street performer dudes got too much shit entirely from fallon's point of view.

if she had spare cash easy, she always tossed a couple singles if they had a jar nearby. no money, and she'd throw 'em a wave, a smile, any acknowledgment that they were, y'know. people. and if they were standing alongside her at a bus stop in a costume that had to be feeling every bite of the wind lashing past in icy gusts...

fallon'd never spotted this particular clown among the throngs of bozos, pennywises, and ronald mcdonalds that milled around times square. maybe from some slasher thing i missed out on?, she'd thought while removing the scarf from her own neck.

the absurdity of the twee little pose and the performer's overall dark brought a dry, tired, though genuine bleat of laughter and bit of life to the tired girl's eyes. "you know what, you're rockin' it. keep it, man." kind of hard to give much more after eight hours of slinging coffee—whaddya gonna do?

she sighs, points a thumb at the road. "are you...catchin' the six too? do you know if they're like, running behind or something?"

[fcllederage]

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

Fingers twitched nervously as the wet cloth was gently dabbed against her neck. Hyacinthe was trying her best to process what had happened, what she had seen, how this incredible amount of blood had ended up staining both her dress and her long limbs. She tried her best to stop sobbing as Art tried his best to clean her up, knowing very well he meant her no harm. Nevertheless, her entire body was tense, as if she was ready to bounce off and run.

Hyacinthe sniffled and brushed the tears away from under her made up eyes before grabbing his sleeve to attract his attention. "I don't feel good," she signed with a lot of difficulties.

@t-errifier

[thebigmtm]

he's witrrally hiting the grwiddy right now

[unrclypirxte]

Scene Prompts! — ACCEPTING

@t-errifier said: loose ends. you thought you killed them! but there's the sender, walking your way. / beth !

---

Killer clown — a tad CLICHÉ, right? Beth was having fun telling him that, calling him Pennywise and John Wayne Gacey ( he seemed happy about that! ) . Honestly, she was having FUN at the start. The jokes, the blood, the vague torture-murder thing.

She didn't quite know if he was trying to torture or kill, but that was neither here nor there.

Of the same ilk, she thought. Moreso when he turned on her. And yes, she would've done the same. Didn't make her any less annoyed by it. A good thing ruined. OH WELL.

She left his lifeless body with dripping hands, heaving breaths, and an axe wedged into his neck. She came away not unscathed, but injuries she could manage. Rook ensured that. She limped away, out of the room and into the adjacent hall.

She leaned against the wall, scowled at the mess on her hands and the ache in her muscles, and for a while she stood there. Staring at her hands. The blood. The mess. Viscera. Huh. She didn't notice the cut right th—

A horn caught her attention, ears pricking at the shrill sound. She pushed off of the wall and spun on her heels, eyes widening at the sight. Her mouth fell open for a moment, closing only when she managed to blink.

Pennywise indeed.

"Oh." Was all she could muster for a moment. Then, she smiled, something that reached her eyes. Going out on my own terms. "Is...is it my turn to die now, mate?"

[onebigerror]

@t-errifier closed stater jinx & art

"i've been told my pants look like a half eaten circus tent before. maybe i should join the circus." jinx told the strange miming clown on the street corner near the last drop. she dropped a few coins into the bucket at art's feet. "you're a long way from the circus, buddy. if ya find your way back there take me with you. i think i'd feel right at home." circus's were things that only happened in the top city. all the events children should enjoy were reserved for those privileged assholes in the golden city while the one the little ones in the under city found entertainment in things like chasing around rats and other vermin in the filthy streets. it wasn't fair but neither was life.

"people would come from miles to see an unhinged psycho girl like me blow shit up!" she held out her newest contraption. a hot pink, chattering device infused with shimmer chambers on each side. it was designed to make a mini explosion with lots of toxic fumes to throw off an enemy - or just some unsuspecting idiot - if needed. of course jinx hadn't tested it but she was itching to. "this is junkie. i just made her. want to watch her blow some shit up?" there was genuine excitement in those wild pink eyes. "whaddaya say, clownsie?"

[moonstalk]

THIS KILLER DONS A MASK, almost so similarly to himself; he doesn't question the reason behind it. ART can understand a want to cover the face as much as anyone else. though, he's unfamiliar with the style. pointing to his face, he's gesturing for the other to show off his mask to him; to come down to his height & allow him to admire it. he wishes to become more familiar with it. to feel the curves of it beneath his slender fingers. whether this man is willing for such a thing, that is another story.

jason stands, unmoving, looming over the strange figure before him; a figure unlike the intruders who bumbled onto the edges of crystal lake, ignorant and doomed. there is no fear in the stranger's expression, no obliviousness. instead, one pale finger extends itself into the darkness.

brown eyes, cold and hidden, flicker with low light at the request. the silent demand cuts through the distance between them—an invitation, perhaps, or a challenge. jason hesitates at first, his broad shoulders stiff with tension, the heft of the machete a familiar weight at his side.

and yet, there is no step forward, no sudden strike. the space between them crackles with anticipation, the clown's odd charm unsettling but not provoking. slowly, jason bends down just enough for the clown to see the cracked edges of the mask, its grim outline shadowing his ruined face. a silent statement lingers: look, but do not touch.

[paralyziingfears]

continued from here. / @t-errifier.

[  ....  ]                 sienna  sighed  deeply  in  relief  when  art  took  heed  of  her  sudden  warning  of  the  heat.  the  last  thing  they  needed  was  for  art  to  grab  a  hot  tray,  be  startled  by  the  stinging  burn,  and  drop  all  the  freshly  baked  cookies.  doesn't  matter  now,  though,  because  the  cookies  were  safe  and  they  were  cooling  and  sienna  found  herself  actually  kind  of  excited  to  decorate  them  with  her  new  clown  friend.  friend  ...  that  was  something  she  was  still  wrapping  her  head  around  when  it  came  to  art.  if  only  her  mother  could  see  her  now  ...

she  turns  her  attention  back  to  her  mixing  bowl;  the  whisk  aggressively  mixing  the  batter  to  ensure  all  of  its  contents  made  a  doughy  texture.  she  looks  over  when  art  joins  her  by  her  side,  feeling  her  body  stiffen  as  she's  still  finding  the  capability  of  trusting  him  completely.  he's  done  nothing,  thus  far,  to  show  her  differently  but  her  trauma  continued  to  gnaw  at  her  like  flies  in  her  ears.  she  takes  a  deep  breath  and  exhales  softly,  looking  down  into  her  bowl  before  sliding  it  to  art  and  gestured  with  her  hands  for  him  to  take  charge  of  the  mixing.   ❝   you  just  want  to  make  sure  all  of  it  is  mixed  together   ...   and  then  we  can  use  the  cookie  cutter  to  make  the  shapes   ❞   she  informs  him.  she  takes  out  the  various  shapes  of  the  christmas  themed  cookie  cutters  she  possessed  from  the  kitchen  drawer.  she  lays  them  out  for  art  to  see,   ❝   this  one  is  my  favorite   ❞   she  tells  him,  pointing  at  the  snowflake  shape.

[drekkavacarc]

@t-errifier   said:   she   didn't   have   to   sing   along   if   she   didn't   want   to.   but   that   wasn't   going   to   stop   him   from   dancing   a   little   to   the   sounds   of   the   music.   he   was   easily   -   pleased   when   it   came   to   things   like   sound.   however   -   christmas   music   was   entirely   new   to   him.   he   couldn't   help   but   get   into   it,   trying   to   get   her   to   feel   the   same.   he   wouldn't   sing   along   with   it,   he   didn't   know   the   lyrics   even   if   he   wanted   to.   caroling   seemed   so   darling   in   concept;   but   he   couldn't   partake   in   it,   not   unless   someone   wanted   to   sit   there   &   watch   him   mouth   his   words. 

          Anya   had   quite   the   beautiful   singing   voice   ,   something   they   hated   people   knowing   about.   It   took   a   long   time   to   get   to   the   point   where   she   felt   safe   to   show   people   that   side   of   her.   So   many   years   of   pain   ,   loss   ,   all   in   the   name   of   power   &   control.   None   of   it   belonging   to   her   though.   Only   to   the   ones   that   held   her   leash   for   so   many   years.   Not   anymore.   Freedom   had   taught   her   that   it   was   one   of   the   most   valuable   things   you   could   possibly   obtain.   Something   people   would   stop   at   nothing   to   take   from   you.   The   holidays   though   ,   that   was   a   time   that   Anya   had   come   to   find   was   actually   quite   the   joyous   occasion.   Much   to   many   people's   surprise   …   It   was   Anya's   favorite   time   of   year.

          Carolers   continued   to   sing   their   merry   song   ,   Anya   content   to   sit   &   watch   for   now   ,   before   noticing   her   new   unexpected   companion   dancing   to   the   tune.   Brow   furrowed   slightly   ,   wondering   what   must   have   gotten   into   him   to   prompt   that   jolly   holiday   spirit.   Without   realizing   ,   the   act   brought   a   smile   to   her   face.   Even   going   as   far   as   to   begin   swaying   back   &   forth   to   the   carolers   that   stood   before   them   ,   escorting   them   into   the   hopeful   holiday   spirit.   He   really   did   enjoy   music.   How   surprising.   ❝You   really   like   this   stuff   don't   ya?❞   They   asked   ,   an   amused   smile   happening   to   cross   their   features.

[hatchetbarbie]

plotting -> starter call, accepting...  ⭑.ᐟ             featuring;  @t-errifier ♡

     ��  mother and father disappeared into the hall, laughing to themselves as they did every year, and grace, sat on the sofa, watching all entrances, as she did every year, dutiful and clutching her cross. ever since she was a little girl, she stood guard on christmas eve night, waiting for the morning to come without a sight of santa claus, or santa related tomfoolery. she won’t have it, not in this christian home.

        grace has gotten up to get another mug of hot water, a slip in her ward, when there’s a thump in the living room, shattering both her sense of peace and the mug in her hand, as she drops it out of surprise. the tell tale signs hit her ears. big, heavy boots on their clean floors, creaking from the chimney. grace runs out, grabbing a crucifix from the wall to hold in front of her, facing the evils in front of the fireplace when-

        “ i knew it! ”  grace cries, shrill. it’s not a filthy burglar, it’s santa claus, and he looks as sinful and disgusting as she imagined with a white painted face and black lips.  “ i knew believing in santa claus was a sin! ”  grace begins to pace around, repeating lectures far ingrained into her mind.  “ christmas is about jesus christ, the coming of our savior into our human world, and- and the birth of the messiah. ”  she uses the crucifix as an aide, gesturing with it as she talks.  “ santa claus is a capitalist ploy, and it’s selfish to want for gifts, and- and toys! ”

         but santa hasn’t said anything, not even a ho-ho-ho.  “ so … get out of this good, christian home, phoney! ”

[halfdent]

❝   𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄  𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐀  𝐁𝐄  𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍'  𝐌𝐄  .   ❞  Paraded  back  to  their  cell  ,  he  knew  that  he'd  have  a  cell  mate  occupying  the  claustrophobic  3  walls  &&  barred  door  for  a  while  𝐁𝐔𝐓  𝐀  𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍  ?  Fucksake  .

He  already  wants  to  punch  this  guy  .  Call  it  hypocritical  because  they  let  him  hold  onto  their  coin  but  ;  why  are  the  freaks  allowed  to  stay  dressed  like  that  when  he's  gotta  dress  down  into  the  orange  jumpsuit  ?  He  scorns  to  the  orderly  . 

❝   Why  is  there  a  friggin'  𝐂𝐈𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒  goin'  on  in  𝐌𝐘  𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋  ?   ❞

&&  the  orderly  gets  brave  seeing  as  the  Janus  giant  is  cuffed  ,  shoving  them  into  the  open  door  &&  closing  the  door  .  '  hands  '  .  He  pulls  his  hands  through  the  bars  so  they  be  uncuffed  ,  fingers  reaching  to  grab  the  man's  collar  but  he's  been  through  this  song  &&  dance  before  so  he  moves  out  the  way  ,  twirling  the  keys  as  he  goes  down  the  lengthy  hall  .  𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐃  !  Begrudgingly  snapping  his  face  towards  the  clown  .

❝   Whatcha  lookin'  at  ,  𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐒 / @t-errifier ?!  ❞

[nightmdic]

"I might have some bandages here that you can use, let me just rummage around a bit. . ."

@t-errifier

[fcllederage]

the christmas display in the mall would have been more appealing if they were not being stared at, a display the both of them. most of the children were startled by his appearance, looking like a distorted version of santa. he had the silhouette, but his features were all wrong. he wasn't there with the intentions of gaining attention from anyone - no, he simply wanted to enjoy. walking up to the fake trees, he touches some of the ornaments on the tree. inspecting them with his gloved hands & letting them drop after. shifting his beady gaze over to cin. he wonders if she is staring at the display equally as impressed; or if she is more focused on the children who cried because of his presence.

It took a split second. Hyacinthe got distracted by the shop window with several men's clothes, especially a very well fitted suit with large pants that they could have cinched at the waist and looked bomb in it had they had any money to spare to buy it. And in the twinkle of an eye, Art was gone. A sigh escaped them. In this crowd, it would be impossible to find him, dressed as yet another Santa Claus.

And then, they heard the cries. Too many to be normal, even in such a crowd. Hyacinthe whirled on their heels and saw, just a few feet away, a gap digging between the passersby as some parents dragged their crying children away by the hand. This had to be Art's doing. Contrary to all, they made their way towards him and gently patted his shoulder. "Stop that," they signed, gesturing at the tree's ornament on the floor. "You're breaking everything. The kids are scared. Touch with your eyes, okay?"

@t-errifier