#midnightriider

[galaxyheartsx-archived-blog]

to: @midnightriider | from: otis

“It would have been fuckin’ hilarious if you’d put a real human heart on display, then tricked them shitheels that come through into touchin’ it. Maybe say it’s a baboon heart or some bullshit, then watch them freak the fuck out when you tell ‘em the truth.” He leaned against the counter, lips curled into an amused smirk.

[galaxyheartsx-archived-blog]

midnightriider replied to your post: *sends all the muses chocolate chip cookies*

cutter says that if otis doesn’t eat those damn cookies, he will

Otis says that he’ll slit Cutter’s throat if he tries.

[galaxyheartsx-archived-blog]

midnightriider replied to your post: LIKE (or reblog if sideblog) this for a cute...

WE SHOULD DO SOMETHING WITH OTIS AND CUTTER MAYBE WHERE THEY MAKE FUN OF IT

I need to find his icons. I lost almost 700 icons. ;-;

[horsemasked]

🔪 he's batshit crazy, why not

send me 🔪 to put a knife to my muse’s throat ; accepting.

   ❛ go ahead, ❜ the masked girl breathes, she can feel the knife biting into her skin through the latex of the mask. it’s dull, which means if he takes his time, which, he will - it’ll be arduously slow and incredibly painful and god had she been threatened with worse. she isn’t afraid to die, she’s not afraid to live, existing is bullshit anyways. he smells like stale beer and cheap whiskey. his eyes are bloodshot and filled with bad intentions, and she’s not afraid. not like she should be; not like any normal woman would be. don juan isn’t a normal woman though, because what normal woman wear a horse mask. her large brown eyes watch him through the brown latex.  ❛ we’re the only friends you have left though, cutter. your family needs a place to lie low.   miami’s gorgeous this time of year. ❜

[sharedskin-archive]

6c for murder dad, if you're cool with it ( i almost wrote "clown with it"... kill me... )

the expression meme  ||  accepting

he can’t figure out why tf y’all are so stupid

[brokenragdoll]

@midnightriider​ <3′d the starter call.

Squinting glare drilling holes right through the clown's skull, Sally watched him from above the edge of her glass as she pretended to be savoring the last of a disgustingly cheap, amber liquor. It was taking all self control she had left ( perhaps even more ) to not use the fragile little thing still imprisoned between her fingers as a deadly hammer and bash Spaulding’s challenging grin right off his face. Such an ugly view, painful to look at —— how come he had yet to be sent to prison just for looking like something Satan itself had dragged in through the Cortez' front doors? "Laugh all you like, but you're no goddamn princess yourself. You don't like my makeup? Boo-fucking-hoo... watch me bawl.”