forum Yet Another Creepypasta RP (because I haven’t done it in a while)

Started September 27, 2020 by @Elder-God-Whisper work

tune

Thank you!!

(Ok, so I was gonna make a new OC, but I was rereading one of my old Creepypasta RPs and I decided I didn’t utilize her the full extent, so she’s getting revived.)
This is my creepypasta OC! Meet Patchwork!

Name:Theresa Grace Couturier
Nickname/Killer name: Patchwork
Age: Looks mid-teens. (True age unknown)
Sexuality: Bisexual
Looks: Long brown hair with a couple of wide grey streaks, her left eye (from her perspective) is brown, her right eye is brown both of which are rimmed in thick grey lashes. Rather tall for a female [5’ 8”] and athletic build, built for speed and agility. Pale skin that gets easily flushed with blush, and delicate facial features.
Killing Outfit: A mask with gray eye holes, left side (from her perspective) is black and the right side is white and has a purple smile streaked across it. Wears knee-high light brown leather boots, flexible gray pants and a garment that looks similar to a shirt that’s stitched together from pieces of black fabric with a red heart stitched on the chest.
Casual Clothes: Her shirt garment, dark gray yoga pants, thick cream-colored socks she knit herself, and her hair pulled into a messy bun held together with a pair of knitting needles.
Quirks: kicks her foot back and taps the toe of her boot while she’s waiting for her latest victim to show up, immediately takes measurements of anyone she takes a liking to so she can sew/knit them stuff.
Weapons/Powers: Prefers twin black daggers, but if she needs to make a clean kill, she uses her lethally sharp knitting needles. Also is a wonderful shot with a pistol, but doesn’t use it as her first choice.
Personality: When she’s sane, she’s a very sweet, helpful girl, who tends to be shy. But if you mess with her projects or her friends, she will rip you to shreds.
Catchphrase: “Time to patch you up~“
Backstory: Was a girl who needed a heart transplant, but none of the hearts that were donated matched hers. She had gone home because the doctors said she would die soon and she wanted to spend her last days with her family. She had a boyfriend who suffered from depression and had an alcoholic father as his only family. He finally committed suicide after his father had abused him one night, leaving behind a letter to his girlfriend about what had happened and that he loved her. There was also another letter that said he wanted to donate his heart to Theresa and the hospital found it was a perfect match. After she had recovered from the surgery and became healthy again, Theresa was given her boyfriend’s letter and told that the heart she had received was her boyfriend’s. She became insane and escaped her house one night and murdered her boyfriend’s father. Then she ran into some nearby woods when the police showed up. (More explanations/details later.)
Other: When she kills a victim, she stitches pieces of fabric over the wounds and carves out the victim’s heart and replaces it with a sewn heart. White for the innocent (which usually aren’t her own kills and the victims of another killer), gray for the middle ground, and black for those she deems evil (with all their misdeeds written on strips of paper as the stuffing of the heart.). Her hobbies include baking, sewing, knitting, and embroidery.

I'm really excited for this!!

Me too!! I’m gonna try to recruit a couple more people later, but for right now… Also, do you mind playing multiple characters? Like, two or three?

I can play probably two ocs, but with cannon characters, I can't play any (I'm not familiar enough with their personalities)

Patchwork finished stitching up her freshest kill in the middle of a forest. She chuckled to herself at how stupid this guy was that he blindly followed her written directions. She could still smell the alcohol wafting from his mouth, her nose wrinkling at it. Obviously he wasn’t the brightest when he was drunk. Well, he’d never drink again, now would he? She stood up and brushed off her hands, tucking her sewing ket back into her belt before beginning to wipe the blood off of her blades.

Malcom sat on a fallen tree, sharpening his rapier with a simple whetstone he had swiped from somewhere or another. He hadn't had any planned kills today, but he did hear some noises near him and decided to wait for the prey to come to him. While he waited, Malcom hummed a melody under his breath, only a few words slipping out. "Rosey cheeks… smiling…. bones… stained with blood… lovely roses…" That went on for about ten more minutes, until he heard the noises get closer to him and he stopped.

Patch had heard noises, like metal being sharpened. ’Huh. Someone else? That’s unusual.’ She decided to investigate and came closer to the noises, hearing now a tune being sung as well. She climbed up a tree quickly and silently when the singing stopped and peered through the foliage see a young man in a shot range outfit sharpening his thin rapier. ‘So, another killer around here, huh? That’s unexpected…’

A knife with a rose engraved on the handle was flung at her, hitting the trunk of the tree. "There's no need to hide." Malcom didn't look up as he spoke, his face not changing from that content look as he continued to sharpen his blade. "So, please do come down. It's annoying to angle my head up and I'd rather not be rude."

Patchwork shrugged and dropped down from the tree lightly. “Apologies. Simply being cautious.” She produced the knife which she had tugged out of the tree, and politely held it out to him, handle first. “It’s not everyday I find someone here I didn’t invite.” Her expression was unreadable behind her mask.

Malcom made a small noise as he took the knife and flicked it into his sleeve. "Apology accepted. Now, about that last statement. Is this private property?" He finally looked up, head tilted in question as he looked over Patchwork. His eyes seemed like a sea of blood, empty yet so full of something that could pull you under.

Patchwork placed a hand on her hip as she studied Malcom in turn. “It depends on who’s asking and in what sense you mean. If you mean by law, then it belongs to the government. If you mean by killer’s claim, then it’s mine.” Her patched together tunic fluttered in the light breeze, the ribbons of her mask following along. She began to throw and catch one of her sheathed daggers, as was her habit when she was bored. “And what might your name be? I like to know the names of my guests, if you please.” Her voice had a faint French accent and was rather melodic.

Malcom stood up and sheathed his rapier, brushing off his shorts. "Shame, I don't have much of a love for this government. If it weren't under someone's claims I would've burnt it, or made it my new playground." He also had an accent, Polish, but it did resemble a Russian accent. "My name is Malcom Rose, or the Rose Knight as people have taken to calling me. I used to wear a suit of armor, but it really is such a pain to get around in those."

Patch smiled under the mask. “I mean, you seem like a decent guy. I have more land than I need under my control. I’ve been looking for a decent neighbor to split the claim with. Care to take up the offer?” She tossed the dagger once more before clipping the sheath to her belt. “As long as you don’t take up wearing armor again. That stuffs way too noisy for this environment. It’ll scare off all the prey I lure in.”

(Aaa! I've been heckin busy. And yeah I'm not super comfy RPing a character that isn't of my making or a character that I know well, sorry. Gonna have Candy just vibing in the woods obliviously, I think it'd be cool if maybe one of you guys's characters recognized her from years ago? So they have a reason not to kill her lmao. And since I don't have much backstory, I could just say she moved and moved back recently or something. Or not, whatever you guys are cool with.)

Candy sighed as she made her way through the woods. It'd been forever since she'd been here. The place carried a lot of memories from when she was younger. She could almost see her friends, around eight years old, running around with sticks and pretending they were swords. Candy would almost always play the princess, not because she particularly wanted to, but because they needed one and she didn't really mind. After all, fun was fun, right?

She didn't notice the noises in the distance, didn't catch any movement near her. The teen was stuck in a world of nostalgia, absently humming a tune to herself as she meandered through the trees. Sure, it had been a long time, but she still knew the forest like the back of her hand. The big moss-covered rock was still there, even if it had a few weird new brown splotches on it. The lightning-tree stood, scorched and dead and apparently sporting some odd cuts. Maybe they were made by a bear? No, they were too clean. A lost hiker? That seemed the most likely. Candy turned away from the trunk and continued her humming. The woods were a little different, but they were still her woods.

Or so she thought.

Malcom clicked his tongue, tapping his finger against his chin. "Perhaps. I tend to move around a lot, but this area does seem to have some decent playthings. I will take you up on your offer and don't worry, I discarded the armor quite some time ago." He nodded, hand moving back to his side as he continued to stare at Patchwork. He wished Wolf were here, Wolf was fun. Maybe this girl would be fun? Maybe.

Patchwork grinned. “Glad to hear it.” She suddenly heard another tune nearby. “Another uninvited guest…? This is very unusual…” she murmured to herself before turning to Malcolm. “Care to join me in checking it out?” She had drawn a knife, and was tensed to leave.

Malcom's unchanging look finally changed, turning into a small smile. "I would love to." He flicked his arm downward and the knife that he had hidden in his sleeve came back out, fitting into his hand with grace. He tilted his head toward the sound, trying to figure out just how far away it was.

Patchwork grinned back beneath the mask, giving a thumbs up before she scrambled up a tree and started hopping like a squirrel from tree to tree. She stopped every now and again to make sure Malcom was keeping up down below.

Malcom was running pretty fast, obviously he had some sort of training. He didn't seem to be looking up anywhere, but was listening to Patchwork's movements and following those. He had a small frown on his face, but it was relaxed, probably some sort of resting face.

Patchwork abruptly stopped on a branch, looking down at a normal girl who appeared to just be wandering through the woods, seemingly fairly familiar with the place. Patch frowned, thinking this normie looked familiar. She stayed hidden, just observing, before dropping down next to Malcolm out of the girl’s sight. “It’s some girl.” She said softly. “She looks weirdly familiar to me and she seems to be familiar with these woods, but I don’t remember seeing her since I staked my claim….” She sheathed her dagger and pulled out some yarn, which she fiddled with in agitation.