guide my hand. ⁽ ᵃᵘᵗᵒᵖˡᵃʸ ⁾

[muurderous-deactivated20191116]

         he waits for her to disappear off in the distance. eddie knows the place like the back of his hand. she wouldn’t be out of his sights for long. moving around to another part of the area, he takes his time, walking slowly but surely with purpose, over and around to where she was headed. eddie was going to cut her off on the other side, but give her a running start.          to break the silence, eddie began singing for her                    “ I want a girl, just like the girl that married dear old dad. “         his voice echoes, undoubtedly reaching his victim at her current place of exploration. eddie was nearby, peeking through slits in boarded up walls, where murkoff staff had tried to hold up but to no avail. overtaken by the variants. eddie came in and cleaned the place up of any unwanted guests. most of the variants and guards eddie ran into were strung up, the flies have long laid their eggs into their open wounds.          it’s dark enough in the area that he’s convinced she can’t see him, but once she’s moved close enough to him, that’s when he had planned to take her. she was so close, he could smell the warm sweat rolling down her dirtied skin. tsk, tsk… not very ladylike… he was going to have to do something about that…

[butcherled]

     SHE’S HEARING THINGS, RIGHT?  there couldn’t possibly be anyone else in here, or she’d have heard them earlier.  the other inmates weren’t known for being particularly quiet, after all, with their constant mumbling and scurrying around.  some even took to bashing their heads against the walls, splitting skin and bone alike with their tireless endeavors.        Maggie liked to think she was one of the more sane patients housed in these walls, but her actions on the outside ( despite what good intentions they might’ve carried ) and the subsequent write-ups and diagnostics on her file said otherwise.   A DELUDED KILLER.  A DANGER TO HERSELF AND OTHERS.  APPROACH WITH CAUTION.       she finally musters the courage to speak, her voice cutting through the overwhelming silence like a knife.    ❛ h-hello? ❜  she calls out to the seemingly empty room, trying to hide the waver in her tone.  ❛ if-- if someone’s there, please-- i’m not here to hurt you. ❜

[murchxdh-deactivated20180704]

@butcherled

Murphy wasn’t one to notice the folks around him at a bar; he was a man who kept to himself. Four long years in prison and a two-day stint in hell had taught him it was best to stay out of other people’s way and so he did exactly that. Keeping his head low and facing his drink, he took another hard swig before his attention caught the woman beside him.

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about her; she looked as normal as he did. Perhaps it was the rare sight of a woman in the tavern he regularly drank at. Or perhaps it were the subtle specs of blood lightly lingering upon the bottom corner of her blouse. Murphy’s senses had become heightened since prison; perhaps it were just intuition that he could tell the interesting ones from the normal people.

“Wanna drink?” He looked her way, curiosity egging him on rather than attraction. 

[butcherled]

      bars and taverns generally weren’t her go-to haunts, but there’d been something about the flickering neon sign mounted above the darkened entrance that drew her in, made her want to try something new at the end of what she’d consider a particularly stressful day.  it was a bit louder than she’d expected ( perhaps she’d mistakenly believed it was a more reputable establishment? ) but after spending most of her time holed up in her store, keeping to herself between the customers that came and went, a little social interaction might actually be just what she needed.        a voice from the next stool over catches her off guard, and she turns a bit too quickly to see its source.  as blue eyes quickly glance over the man’s face, she immediately takes note of the impressive scar lining his cheek and wonders to herself how it happened, what sort of incident transpired that left him with such a noticeable blemish upon an otherwise handsome face.         ❛ oh----- ❜  she pauses, thin lips parting in surprise.  ❛ well-- i mean, i-- i couldn’t ask that of you. ❜           clearly, she’s not well-acquainted with how bars work.  

[maruki]

her name is Margaret (Maggie or Mags if you’re feelin’ spicy) and she makes the best brownies at the bake sale.  if you don’t like them, you should also know that her experience with knives isn’t limited to the kitchen.  @gootchbaby  your move, hotshot 

[skurrd]

[townterrorarchive-deactivated20]

               ❛  DID I?  ❜

I’m normal.  I’m normal—-did you know that?  He grips onto the knife’s black handle, not a drop of sweat forming. Here, he was calm. Here, Yoshikage Kira could finally be himself: his true self. While her heart thrummed in her chest, bones like a cage, Kira’s pounded gently away.    I think you could have told that by looking at me. Truth is, I’m just like everyone else in the world nowadays. Sure, I might make more money, or live in a nicer house, but I’m no different from the CEO in the tallest tower, or the clerk at the sandwich shop.   He knew that look of panic.  He’d seen it far too many times on the faces of beautiful women, and in their unsteady eyes, he caught glimpses of long, sliver blades, waiting to strike.  That shiver, that desperate cry, that movement.    We’re all the same, really.  And we all have secrets.  Don’t deny it.  Ask any normal person you see on your morning commute: what are you hiding? Who are you really? And they, no matter who they are, smile and tell you: I’m normal.

A smile appears on his thin lips—-HE LOOKED  INHUMAN NOW, A SMEAR OF GREY AND WHITE. The tip of the blade brushes against a lock of her yellow, blonde hair. It flicks past Maggie’s earlobe, a glinting cold.

          ❛  I could have sworn I bought COFFEE that morning.  ❜

[butcherled]

             ❛ ----- what? ❜       her voice is barely audible, more of a measly, whispered plea of disbelief that rattles its way through her throat and croaks as it passes her lips.  her face pales at his words, mind racing to recall whether or not he was telling the truth, and she’d made a mistake----- but she was drawing a blank, her memory clouded by the fear that currently held her in its grasp.        unbeknownst to her, his thoughts reflected ones that she herself often had, though hers were considerably less calm.  if someone so much as let their gaze linger a bit too long as they passed her on the street, her pulse would jump up in a brief panic.  did they know?  did they know what she’d done, what sorts of unspeakable, inhumane crimes she’d committed?  it isn’t until their attention drifts elsewhere that she’s able to slowly compose herself and find a bit of comfort in the assurance that her secret was safe.         she couldn’t count how many times Mike had held her trembling form in the middle of the night, her eyes brimming with tears as she stammered and choked her way through a fearful admittance that one day, they’d be caught -- that one day, they’d be separated, torn apart from one another to await whatever penalties lay ahead.  now, she couldn’t even turn to him for help.              ❛ n-no, i--  please------ ❜ 

[cruelonlytobekindarchived]

“Eleven. Eight would be wonderful,” She pockets her phone calmly– there’s still paranoia swimming just under her skin, but it’s tempered by excitement, anticipation.

She takes the bag from where it is– it would be more pertinent and very telling to how she is, the fact that she shops in somewhere nearly hipsterish, as her brother would say– and flashes a small smile, nothing but utterly charismatic. Charming. Something dead.

“If anyone hassles you, tell them you’re well-acquainted with me,” Her voice is that low, pleasant sound– she’s helpless but to joke about it a little bit, and why not? No fun being pretend dangerous if you can’t make threats.

“I promise it can be a useful thing to claim.”

[butcherled]

      ❛ if anyone... hassles me? ❜  she repeats, face scrunching in confusion.  the last thing she wants ( and the main thing she always worked so hard to avoid ) is a potential confrontation, and as much as she appreciates Alana’s offer to help, she can’t help but wonder why anyone would feel the need to bully someone they didn’t know.  maybe she was just a bleeding heart, but the idea of being intentionally cruel to anyone didn’t sit well with her.         ❛ i’ll take your word for it.  hopefully, i won’t have to find out if it’s true. ❜

[butcherled]

📝 gimme some ocs

send me 📝 and i’ll introduce you to one of my ocs 

         there was a memorial outside the supermarket today.  mourners had gathered around to grieve for the loss of a child, its life claimed by a driver going much too fast.  Alyssa could see a certain distance in the parents’ eyes, a type of painful longing that she’d seen ( and often still saw ) reflected in her own tired eyes whenever she braved a glimpse in the mirror.           her heart strained within her chest, stomach twisting and curling painfully as she stared at the memorial, the framed picture standing dead center amidst the flowers and other offerings.  she could still recall the pain she’d felt as her own daughter’s warm and trembling body had slowly bled out, cooled and eventually fallen limp in her arms.  a kind and energetic child, once full of life, had been torn away from the world without so much as a warning… and she’d been to blame.          she could recall the endless tears, the hastily-murmured pleas, the denial, the drinking – and this child, just like Sarah, had been taken much too early, leaving their parents to grieve and cope as best they could after the brightest light in their lives had been extinguished.   as much as she longed to run away, to return to the ‘comfort’ of her gloomy and lonely home, something kept her tethered to this particular spot, distantly attending a service for a child she didn’t know.          it was only after the crowd dispersed that Alyssa saw her – a pale, faintly smiling apparition seemingly unnoticed by the teary-eyed masses that were slowly clambering back into their cars.  she could, at the very least, know that this child would move on knowing that there were people who cared for and would miss her now that she was gone.  they could pass on peacefully.         if only she could say the same for her own.

alyssa langdon  ||  artist & spirit medium 

[scalpelwielding]

*sticks his leggy out* kiss me, you dirty sinner

get in the askbox for kisses from doctor murder (3/3)

        she looks as soft as she sounds, and it’s as much as an endearing thing as it is one that should summon pity. but pity does not come to him. it never has. her softness, instead, incites a blooming desire to corrupt it into something else entirely or to carve away at it until there is nothing left in his wake. it’s the thought of the latter that lingers, that brings that minuscule twitch at the corners of his lips, something predatory, in response to the polite one of her own.

        eyes drift downward, land on the smooth, exposed flesh of her throat. it’s all too vivid, that imagined glide of skin beneath the blade of a scalpel he’s selected. for her, it’s a smile across her jugular as opposed to nicks at the arteries. he wants to see porcelain hands clawing at a bleeding throat, wants to hear that—- rasp, that gurgle of blood entering her lungs. ( he’s surprised his breath doesn’t catch in his throat at the thought. )

        ❝ bonsoir. ❞ that faint ghost of a smirk broadens slightly, becomes deceptively warm. he leans in; faire la bise. a kiss on each cheek. they’re not in the hospital; he’s not striving to be incredibly professional at this moment. ❝ —-i hope you’ve been careful since the last time i’ve seen you. ❞

[butcherled]

📝 i'm always a slut for ur OCs

send a 📝 and i’ll introduce you to one of my OCs 

PART 1 OF RECORDED INTERVIEW.5/18/15.  DURATION: 7 MINUTES.LOCATION:  ALPHARETTA, GEORGIA. 

POLICE:  The time is now 11:37 PM.  This is Officer ██████, badge #████. This interview is being recorded, and an official transcript is being kept.  Do you consent to this?  WITNESS:  Yes.  POLICE:  Can you state your name for us? WITNESS:   ████  ████████. POLICE:  Alright, Mr. ████████.  Tell us what you saw.  WITNESS:  I don’t… I don’t fucking know, man.  I heard this… screaming.  POLICE:  Was the voice male or female? WITNESS:  Uh, female.  Anyway, I, uh… I went to see what it was.  I was at ████████ █████.  You know, the old hospital? POLICE:  That’s restricted property.  Why were you there in the first place?WITNESS:  That doesn’t matter, okay?  Fuck!  Just listen to me!  [ He breathes slowly. ]  There was some guy.  At least, I think it was a guy.  He was… beating some lady with a crowbar.  A fucking crowbar, man.  He cracked her head open, and he kept whacking her, over and over and over, and I just… I sat there, and I filmed it.  And when I went to leave, he heard me.  I don’t know when I lost him.  Alright?  POLICE:  And this video you took.  You put it on the internet? WITNESS:  Yeah.  I didn’t think anyone was gonna see it.  And if they did, they’d just think it was fake, or… edited or something.  Guess that’s just my luck. POLICE:  Excuse me?WITNESS:  My first famous movie, and it’s a fucking snuff film.  

( i’ve had a url hoarded for months and i haven’t even named him yet r.i.f.p.  ) 

[cruelonlytobekindarchived]

“Entirely up to you. I’m a late-night kind of person, besides, so if you can’t, that’s just fine. For someone so old, I don’t keep an early sleep schedule.” She’s forty-two– it’s not that old.

She’s rummaging quietly through her purse for something– where’s her bill-fold– ah, there it is. And she’s handing over a credit card, a very present, quiet smile understated on her face.

“I should– probably give you a phone number, in addition. Evidently, I’m a little absent-minded,” Like, being in contact is generally pretty important with the person you plan to go out with. So she rifles around for a phone, fishes around for it, digs it out, hands it over, “You can go ahead and put in yours.”

The inevitable home screen full of dogs. And her niece, actually. Looks just like her– little, dark-haired, big blue eyes.

[butcherled]

       she’s gentle, almost awkward, when she handles the phone -- what if she drops it?  what happens then?  not only would she be dishing out cash she couldn’t afford to spend, but she’d lose her company ( her friend? ) and----- oh, she’s already handing the phone back, number stored safely in its memory.         ❛ the store number’s pretty easy to find, so that’s my cell.  probably easier to get a hold of me that way. ❜    a sheepish smile as she rubs the back of her neck, thin fingers momentarily gripping the tight muscles beneath the skin to ground and calm herself.         ❛ so... eight o’clock?  we shouldn’t get there too late; i don’t know when they close. ❜

[tcpshelf-blog]

❝ why only display something so beautiful ? ❞

[butcherled]

         ❛ it’s really just to spruce the place up a bit.  i’m glad you like it, though. ❜

[butcherled]

@townterror replied to your post:@townterror replied to your photo:@butcherfed and...

takes out a knife

[butcherled]

[2:15:52 PM] Grandpa Piss: The Worst Emperor: please leave my bloody cinnamon roll wife alone [2:16:00 PM] Grandpa Piss: The Worst Emperor: wtf @townterror , @scalpelwielding , @muurderous

[muurderous-deactivated20191116]

@butcherled The unlucky souls that found themselves in Gluskin’s Hell were to be found tied by their ankles and necks to the ceiling of the recreational room, where a wooden flooring lay chewed and splintered, torn, like the giant gashes that covered the bodies of Eddie’s victims. Old, rotten blood dripped from their lifeless bodies, the floor – or what was left of it – soaking with dust and blood. Even with the subtle sounds of settling structures, strained beams, and dripping carcasses, there were rustlings, bare feet, perhaps another unfortunate visitor trying to find sanctuary from the chaos outside, or perhaps they were chased off by Dennis… It did not matter to Eddie how they arrived, but to simply have their company was enough to get his blood pumping and his mind racing with inspiration.

Glancing towards the direction of the shuffling feet, he narrows his gaze. A predator on the hunt for his prey. A dance he was well acquainted with. Whoever it was, Eddie was going to keep himself hidden for now, observing his new victim in motion. She moves like a dark blur… Intoxicating…

[butcherled]

         she’s heard rumors, of course, about a disfigured patient who stalked the vocational block, with a penchant for mutilating those that dared to enter its depths.  she paid no mind to the stories, however, attributing the tale to hearsay and idle gossip, or perhaps just another seemingly mass delusion running rampant within Mount Massive Asylum’s walls.           whatever the case, Maggie’s less than pleased about the safe haven she’s stumbled upon.  as with most areas of the asylum, it’s dark, but unlike other wings that are full of shouting and screaming and pleas for release ( or sometimes death ) there’s an odd silence that hangs in the air and sends a shuddering chill down her spine.          her footsteps seem to echo as she walks along, pale arms wrapped around her midriff in an attempt to keep warm.  abandoned as the place seemed to be, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone ----- and after spending more than enough time locked away in a cell, the thought of company should’ve brought her some comfort.  it didn’t.  not now.  

[butcherled]

@townterror replied to your photo:@butcherfed and i are disgustingly cute

ew

rude

[butcherled]

@butcherfed and i are disgustingly cute

[quotesbytwisted]

therealalil: Even my horrible voice can’t stop us from breaking it down in the makeup trailer! @kyliebunbury