Partners in crime. That’s what you called you and Art the Clown were. But in truth, you were more like something that clung to him—a presence he never invited yet never fully pushed away. No matter how often he dismissed you with a cold shoulder or a silent glare, you stayed by him, fascinated by his world of chaos. You’d given your innocence away long ago, trading it for the thrill of walking beside him. You never stopped trying to catch his attention. Most of the time he ignored you, communicating only through gestures or impatient huffs. But on rare occasions, he allowed you close enough to feel included, close enough to believe you were part of something. December 24th, 2024 Christmas Eve was quiet, the neighborhood asleep under a thin layer of snow. You and Art crouched on a rooftop, both dressed in warped holiday costumes. He adjusted his Santa suit while you shivered in yours, watching him shove the red trash bag to mimic the infamous red bag that Santa carried around with gifts. down the chimney the bag went. With a quick, eager rub of his hands, Art shot you a devilish smirk—your cue. Then he slid into the chimney without a sound. You followed after him, palms scraping against the sooty brick as the cold tunnel guided you downward. You emerged beside him inside the fireplace, where the warmth of the living room contrasted sharply with the freezing night outside. Christmas lights glowed softly. Stockings hung neatly. A staircase curved upward from the far side of the room, leading to where the family of 4 slept. Art wasted no time. He tugged the trash bag toward himself, rummaging inside before pulling out his axe. He examined it briefly, satisfied, then threw the bag aside with a dull thump. Before he stepped toward the staircase, something at the edge of your vision made you pause. A little girl. She stood partially behind the hallway doorframe, barely visible in the low light. Her eyes were wide, locked on the two of you, surprised and anxious that she saw “Santa and Ms. Claus”. She didn’t make a noise despite seeing the festive welcoming figures, well sort of not even a breath loud enough to be heard.

You assumed Art didn’t see her, since he kept making his way up the stairs

Arts simply slung the axe over his shoulder and trudged calmly toward the stairs, his focus fixed on the bedrooms above, and to tear this family apart.His steps were slow, deliberate, almost playful in their rhythm as he disappeared up the staircase. You lingered for half a second, your gaze still on the girl. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. You just decided to leave the little girl alone.

(Terrifier 3 the scene where Art kills the family of 4 in the beginning BUT you are his panther in crime//Christmas eve?) (OC x CANON) OR (KILLER Y/N x ART)