#stitchfacekiller

[clownwork-aa]

       𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒   𝐀   𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘   𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒   𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐇𝐈𝐌   𝐈   𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐒.        [  𝙳𝙾𝙻𝙻  ]   ——    :    𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘      𝐁𝐎𝐘.      @stitchfacekiller​​​

[freakshowe-a]

 (   @stitchfacekiller​​   )    ——    :    ❛❛  💬 ❜❜

send          me          a          💬          to          make          you          a          starter          with          a          random          line          of          dialogue       from          this          generator   .   

❛❛         [      .  .  .  .       ]          i’m          𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙔          t’          𝚝𝚛𝚢          𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗          ,          if          𝙔𝙊𝙐          are    .          ❜❜

[voidvoyeur]

NONVERBAL PROMPTS. / @stitchfacekiller sent: 😊 sit down next to my muse.

There is a liberty in the way she walks, each step and sidle a dance, the mass of tightly spun curls on her crown bouncing as she gravitates toward him. When he first saw her painted face, he expected her to move with the pre-ordained perfection of a wind-up puppet, as if a key had to be slotted in her back so she could even raise her head and smile. But the more he trails after her, the more unpredictable she reveals herself to be. All his presumptions proved false, he witnesses a fluid chaos in how she kills - a voracious playfulness and freedom.           Blood pooling around his boots, he sits on the bench - no more mobile than a memorial statue, his own blade clean. She perches next to him, and he wonders if her seat at his side is intended to be encouraging; less so has he overtly relished in the massacre of the park’s guests, more so has he been content to observe. Even now, with bodies strewn and mangled over the asphalt, his head is turned so his hollow gaze can stare at Dollface, her immaculate face-paint untouched by the red that spurts from the neck of a victim.

His attention shifts when he hears a gurgling near his feet. Looking down, he watches a man clutching at his throat and crawl towards them, delirious with blood loss - the dark pool between the couple looks like an unfathomably deep well, a black and empty window gaping wider and wider as his life splutters and drains out of him. In a dying effort to feel something, the man reaches a hand out, his fingers grazing the toe of Dollface’s shoe lacquered with crimson.             It is only now that Michael participates.           Still remaining seated, his foot hovers over towards the victim’s outstretched hand, the sole of his boot pressing down on trembling fingers. Bones snap like brittle twigs, Michael abusing the final threshold of pain, and the man chokes out a voiceless cry before slumping on the ground, lifeless.           Michael turns back to Dollface, as if expecting an appraisal.

[bozojesus]

[ let’s herself into his house uninvited, touches all of his things ] :>

   “Yoooouu BITCH, how the FUCK did you get in here?! Why I oughta scruff you by that raggedy fuckin’ hair and drag you to death!!!”

  Cutter’s furious declaration can be heard echoing throughout the shabby little bungalow, followed by the sound of various objects falling over, a particularly worrying thump, and several colourful phrases before his large frame hobbles into the kitchen. His craggy face is adorned by yesterday’s leftover greasepaint and a deep scowl, tattooed fingers hurriedly fixing the drawstring on his pants. He bares his foul teeth at Doll, reaching over to pointedly swat her hand away as it nears a little too close to a glass collectible for his liking. The older clown is pissed. 

   “Next time you come waltzin’ ’round in here without my fuckin’ permission it’s gonna be a hole blown through your grey-matter, y’hear?”

   Ugh. Women. Always so goddamn nosy.

[clownwork-a]

(    𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸    𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯    +    𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥    )

––––––––      𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑   .     it    should    come    as    no    surprise    that    blood    is    welcomed    into    his    bedroom    ;      or    whatever    filthy    abandoned    building    he’s    getting    busy    in   .     whether    it    be    his    own    ,    his    partners’    ,    or    belonging    to   some    poor    unfortunate    soul    that    was    in    the    wrong    place    at    the    wrong    time   .      with    this    ,    weapons    are    obviously    welcomed   .     he    does    ,    however    ,    prefer    to    be    the    one    slicing   .     despite    such    feral    behavior    ,    he’s    very    careful    &    knows    the    best    places    to    draw    blood   .     after    all    ,    where’s    the    fun    when    the    other    is    too    busy    bleeding    out   ?          /          @stitchfacekiller

[swarmdiagnostics]

replaces all her lab equipment with various assortments of candy.

random asks / always accepting!

           — I QUIT!!!!

@stitchfacekiller

[mslangermann-a]

*kisses on cheek* ( lmao she’s welcome to freak tf out )

drinking starters / accepting!

    Lynn’s memory of the evening was hazy. She remembered the first few drinks, telling herself she’d only have one or two and then she’d go home, but her mind was foggy after that. Events ran through her head like skipping scenes in a movie, each one loud and vibrant and separated by countless minutes of blur and static. One event in particular stuck in Lynn’s head. A woman had joined for a drink and while she couldn’t remember what they had talked about, Lynn was certain she’d gotten up, claiming she was ready to go home. Instead, the woman, grinning a little too wildly, took her by the arm and began leading her out of the bar herself, claiming she’d get her a Uber. 

    Another time lapse. Her vision was filled with shadows and shapes she didn’t recognize, but she could hear someone speaking at her side, followed by a warm kiss to her cheek. Something tacky was left behind on her skin. Lipstick maybe? Time slowed and somewhere in the back of her mind Lynn knew something was wrong. It wouldn’t matter. Her world went dark then. 

@stitchfacekiller

[glamcrime]

its’a CONTINUATION ( harley edition ) for @stitchfacekiller !

the  young  blonde  simply  stares  as  the  woman  is  busying  herself  with  the  needle  and  thread,  awe  entranced  she  gladly  walked  towards  doll  at  her  beckoning.  about  to  say  something  else  when  the  feel  of  warm  liquid  coats  the  tip  of  her  nose  causing  a  light  scrunch  of  otherwise  smooth  features  before  the  TRADEMARK  grin  reappears.     ‘  y’  want  some  help ?  ’