serialclown replied to your post: newsflash: fandom doesn’t exist in a vacuum and...
i have no time or tolerance for ANYBODY who wishes harm upon a /literal child/
^^^^ same here buddy!

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serialclown replied to your post: newsflash: fandom doesn’t exist in a vacuum and...
i have no time or tolerance for ANYBODY who wishes harm upon a /literal child/
^^^^ same here buddy!

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He can still taste him. While there’s been no reprieve from the heat, Leslie’s now more or less unbothered by it -- the bathroom floor is cool enough, after all, all grit and tile kissing the bones of a bruised knee. When’s the last time he even bothered to put on pants--? A trembling hand comes to the side of his nose and wipes away the more unpleasant side effects of sobbing. There’s a scar on his thigh he doesn’t wanna see. But at least he can still taste him. Being with Cutter in that backseat yesterday? That’s who he’s supposed to be. On the lap of the man who loves him is where he’s supposed to be. When’s it all gonna come out, though? He’d left without so much as a goodbye and he’d returned without so much as an explanation. When’s the shit gonna hit the fan? Maybe, just maybe, what he’s tasting isn’t reminiscent of the sweat pooled above Cutter’s lips or the faint tang of sour candy. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe it’s paranoia. Maybe it’s just fucking tequila. Shit, maybe it’s all of the above. When Leslie looks down, his eyes meet that scar again. Blood. So much fucking blood. His or hers? Rain, too, there’s rain -- toes curl into themselves as he heaves another sob. No, no. He can’t do this. Standing up, he avoids the mirror at all costs. Within moments, Leslie’s next to the bed. “Wake up.” Soft. “Wa-wake --” There’s a quick jab to the shoulder and zero shits given in regards to disturbing the third person in the room. He’s gonna puke. He swears to whatever fucking God there is he’s gonna fucking puke. “Cutter, please. Wake up! I can’t do this anymore. I can’t -- I can’t -- I killed them and I hurt you and I can’t do this anymore, just please --”
@serialclown gets a sappy starter !
serialclown replied to your post “oh no i liked too many of hhhotch’s posts now the horror blogs are...”
u fuckin should be
i ain’t afraid of no ghosts clowns
@moonhowled / @serialclown / @greedbound
is honestly one of the kindest people i have ever met. i wouldn’t be around today without carling and i know that for a fact. she’s so smart and clever and she has such a fantastic hold on all of her muses. she makes all of them incredibly well rounded and it’s amazing. she’s amazing. carling is one of the only reasons i stay on this hellsite. i can’t picture anyone else i’d rather write with. xox
submitted by anon
🚫 ;)
Send me 🚫 to encounter my Muse during a violent meltdown!
She can still hear her heart THUNDERING in her ears. That fierce thumping is accented with a high pitched squeal and the combination blockades any other sound for Tiff to even remotely register. If she had HEARD Cutter come in, she would have SURELY turned around and started ; maybe shown a sense of SOME shock, certainly. But with everything that had just happened, Tiffany hadn’t even noticed his entrance – not even a little bit.
Tiffany’s knees sat on either side of the woman’s abdomen and she sat firmly upon her stomach– in the attempt to pin the woman down when it had been necessary. The knife she had utilized had been used with such force and excess, it was sticking out from the woman’s throat, stuck in the floorboards under the body due to the sheer force of the throat slashing.
She had been doing so well at this, too. Her tendencies had been kept so well under wraps, so greatly concealed– that was until this point.
It had been a standard enough night ; They were prepping to lock everything up for the evening. Tiffany had taken it upon herself to make sure the place was clean and she was finishing up by giving the museum a dust. With her trusty duster in hand, she had gone from shelf to shelf and rid each one of the layer of grime that had taken place there. ( THIS JUST REINFORCED IN HER MIND THAT CUTTER ON HIS OWN WAS NOT A GOOD IDEA – NEVER CLEANED ANYTHING. ) As the blonde stood atop her step stool to reach what she needed, she had seen the door to Cutter’s establishment swing open widely.
It had been some lady Tiff didn’t know– not even in the slightest. But it was quite clear that this woman knew who Cutter was. Aside from the general way people in Ruggsville knew who he was. In a, ah… biblical sense, to put it in layman’s terms. An ex, maybe? Who knew entirely for certain.
❛ – The big guy around? ❜ The woman had asked gruffly, an off putting frown curling the corner of her thin lips downward– she hadn’t even given Tiffany a look of acknowledgment.
Tiffany blinked in succession at the other, frozen from her chore with her mouth opened in slack. She swallows thickly after clapping her mouth closed and a nervous smile comes onto her lips. ❛ Uh– Yeah. But we’re closed. ❜ Tiffany points a painted nail at the sign that hung in the window that promptly said as much. Her actions are met with an eye roll by the other woman and the goth feels a small pang in her stomach of her own annoyance. It’s alright, Tiffany. Patience is a virtue. You’ve got it. Just breathe , muttered an all too familiar voice in her head. So she does as it complies and brandishes a slightly wider smile, though the expression doesn’t fully meet her eyes. ❛ He’s a little busy, right now. Is there anyway I could help you? ❜ She inquires cordially.
Her question gets a SCOFF in reply and that pang of annoyance deepens. ❛ Don’t think you could help me in that area, blondie. You’re not exactly my type. ❜ The other woman then proceeds to pull the collar of her shirt down a few inches to expose her cleavage, adjusting herself so her breasts protruded almost over and out of her shirt.
The annoyance in her chest has now swollen teetering on the edge of actual anger and going deep into the depths of FRUSTRATION. Before Tiffany Valentine even has a moment to speak and tell the other woman that she should just go home, tell her that she’ll tell Cutter she was around and he’d get back to her in due time she says the unthinkable–
❛ Now, if y’ don’t mind, maybe skee-daddle, huh. He gets loud. ❜ She bats an eye at Tiffany in a wink and a offers a smirk in her general direction.
The next moment goes by in a blur. It’s almost as if Tiffany had COMPLETELY BLACKED OUT. Tiffany doesn’t recall grabbing the other by her long brown hair and yanking her down to the floor. She doesn’t remember pulling the knife out from its normal placement at her thigh, usually hidden discreetly under her skirts– and she CERTAINLY does not remember carving right through the other’s throat so her larynx tore– effectively silencing her as she drowned in her own blood – no remembrance to all of the other superficial cut wounds, either. There is no realization of her actions until it’s all too late. Her hands, smeared and dripping with crimson are clenched tightly into fists as the blood pools under the other woman’s head. The deceased’s eyes are blankly staring at the ceiling. Tiffany comes to with her chest heaving heavily, shoulders raising up with each deep breath. They come in gasping for air and it occurs to her that she might be hyperventilating. A bloodied hand grabs at her heart, dragging sanguine streaks over her lily white skin as she tried to calm herself.
She doesn’t move from her placement either , instead looking down to observe her actions. What had even gotten into her? What had made her loose her cool so easily? Was it the fact the woman was being disrespectful to her? That seemed a likely enough reasoning… But Tiff had pulled through up until she had mentioned Cutter– OH.
– Jealously isn’t ever a pretty look, Tiffany.
As she sits in her discernment, she feels eyes staring at the back of her head. Slowly, with her face donning a harsh blush ( though it could easily pass as her being flustered from her previous actions ) , she turns and sees the grease painted face she had apparently killed for. Tiffany blinks at him in astonishment and gestures at the corpse between her legs as she tries to find her voice. And she does, at least partially.
❛ – I sw-swear. I didn’t m-mean to. Can ya… uh… ❜ her tentative voice starts. She swallows thickly before nodding in the direction to the supply closet. In honesty, words were becoming hard to find. So to get her point across, she pushes out the only word that will come to mind. ❛ Mop. ❜

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serialclown replied to your post: random hc that leslie randomly sings shiny from...
would he sing it in the middle of the night while cutter was trying to sleep
3:41 AM ,,, the world is fast asleep ,,, yet leslie is Awake ,,, in nothing but cutter’s shirt with some dry cereal just kidding only the marshmallows from the dry cereal ,,, scrolling thru s/ex toys on e/tsy,,, singing not so quietly yoU’LL NEVER BE QUITE AS SHIIIINYYYY,,,,
serialclown replied to your post
what the fuck??? i just tried to look at his blog to see what was up and it says “saved”
dude really ? it just says error for me omg like why ????????? THE FUCK
serialclown replied to your post: s omeline link me to the new R&M as soon as it ‘ s...
google rick & morty stream and you should be able to watch it live on adultswim!
yeah lol the moment 11:30 hit the site crashed sooOoooo