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#clown fandom
clownaroundtown · 6 months
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Got a sewing machine and made my own clown costume this year for Halloween !
My 3 stinky worms also helped and got their own little matching clown hats as a reward :)
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only4soo-won · 11 months
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The hypocrisy of Akayona fandom never ceases to amaze me...
When Soo-Won said he didn't consider Yona as his successor in some chapters ago:
The fandom: Oh Soo-Won is such a meanie!! He needs to broaden his outlook and set aside his beefing w the gods and make Yona queen and this and that and.....
And when he's accepting her as his successor...
The fandom: Bruh how dare Soo-Won burden my poor lil Yona w such a huge responsibility!! Look he's abdicating the throne & wishes to die...Coward
LMAO I can't...
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snifflingsharpie · 1 year
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Clowning on the Peasants: Ep 3
Yet again we find ourselves in the back-ally ball-pit where Marianne and Grenda boil a kettle of babies over drinks.
Grenda: You couldn't have waited until the candy floss got damp before you sunk your teeth into the weasel?
Marianne: My eyebrow! That shits a puddle at this date! I outta smear the kid just as well as I did eir pops! Messy business this is becoming. Im getting the payout weather the harlequin stays or goes, so ey better watch eir cakes if ey want a ticket to the carousel.
Grenda: No Marianne. YOU better watch YOURSELF! That kiddo called in. We have no choice but to open a case. What exactly are you implying?
Marianne: Im implying that this is a good thing for em if ey can keep eir wax lips sealed. Honey's share will go to em. Id talk to Herbal myself if ey would try to pull a fast one on me. I aint opening a can of snakes. If ey want the money eir gonna have to keep eir honking nose out of the ordeal.
Grenda: So your saying if I can convince em to close the case were all in the green?
Marianne: Precisely, I get my cash, you keep your job, and ey can get out of Crabapples pocket. Win-Win-Win scenario.
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magnusbae · 10 months
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To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:
A post in 2023:
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A post in 2014:
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A zoom out of the same post:
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This is what a community looks like.
See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.
It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.
Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.
If you want more of something, reblog it.
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notemaker · 1 month
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They make me laugh.
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elisenel · 29 days
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💕 Aftercare 💕
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bebx · 8 months
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“I don’t need therapy because my comfort characters are my therapy” and it turns out the comfort characters in question are the ones who need therapy the most
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latehere · 5 months
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the overly complicated digital circus
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mamoru-chiba-ua · 10 months
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the-kipsabian · 1 month
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saw a take so fucking rancid on twitter i almost deleted the entire app from my phone jesus fucking christ
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first of all ao3 is an archive site. this is like going to the library and saying "oh i dont like this" on every piece of media you find that you dislike and thinking they should be stamped with some sort of a marker just cause you didnt like it
you can always click back and leave. fic writers owe you nothing to explain themselves and their creations. if they have mistagged or miscategorized fics, then i understand, however there are report tools for that instead of yelling at the artist tbh
im not saying free works arent necessarily above criticism. but this is just. fucking wild. its common courtesy to just enjoy stuff (or fucking leave if you dont, the back button is free) and if the artist specifically asks for critiques, then give one - constructive that is, shitting all over someones work is not proper criticism, mind you
i just find it fucking wild people are treating art and archive sites as social media these days like this and everything needs to be policed and ~catered to the algorithm~ like. no. ao3 doesnt have an algorithm. you should be able to fucking tell what you like and what you dont like and steer away from that kind of content and let people fucking be with their art. they dont owe you anything (except trigger warnings i'd argue, but i know some people disagree with that as well for some reason), and imagine how much more energy you'd have if you only engaged with things you liked and spent time looking at instead of going to places where you dont enjoy yourself. let alone spending time telling other people you dont enjoy what they enjoy. what a fucking life
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mugiwaraluv · 8 months
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They kept it 🤣
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doeidawn · 1 month
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☁︎ — 896 words of possessive Price; gender-neutral, nsfw 18+ (MDNI)
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Price always told himself he wasn’t a jealous person. He knew what he had, knew what was his, and he was perfectly fine keeping it to himself. He wasn’t one to bare his soul or brag. The sense of superiority was lost on him. 
Until you came along.
It was evident even before you were together; he had to be the one to take up your time. He had to be the one to make you smile. He had to be the one you came to when you needed help. He had to be the one you chose to bother. And while he never bragged about it, just knowing that others were aware—that other people knew that you chose him—gave him a sense of adrenaline that no battlefield could ever compare to.
But no, he told himself, he’s not possessive. 
He just wanted everyone else to know you enjoyed his company. That you thought highly of him.
Then came the physicality of it all. At the first confirmation of a relationship—something beyond formality—it grew harder to hold back. A man who prided himself on his resolve fumbled completely just at the mere sight of you. 
It started with fleeting touches and lingering glances. Innocent hands on shoulders and waist, fingers brushing over fingers, a quick peck on the cheek. The mindless need to feel your skin against his whenever convenient.
It was almost subconscious the way it evolved. Suddenly, whenever another person entered the room, his hand landed somewhere on your body. Arm, thigh, hand, shoulder—it didn’t matter. Then it became kisses whenever another was in the line of sight just for the satisfaction that they might notice him press his lips to yours. As if saying to the world “this one is with me”.
Price was not possessive. He was just…proud of you. 
And wasn’t an old man allowed to be proud? You were quite the sight to behold, after all. Even if he wanted the only eyes on you to be his own. 
And right now, they were.
He was the only one who got to see you like this: sweaty and trembling, panting and drooling from swollen lips, bare skin flushing red. He rocked into you with every ounce of his being, taking and giving in equilibrium.
Every shudder, every scratch of your nails along his back, every pulse of your body around him was his. He earned it from you. No one else.
His brain was on autopilot now (had been since the first time you came around him) and no ounce of common sense could halt him when his mouth attacked the bare expanse of your neck. Wet lips and hungry teeth grazed your skin, bruising and imprinting his mark onto you.
He barely registered the sound of your voice when you panted against him. “John…” you croaked, voice quivering as the coarse hair of his beard skimmed along your neck. “You’re gonna…fuck—people are gonna s—”
“Let them.” He didn’t give you the chance to finish the thought—no, the warning—that had the foresight to cross your mind. “I fucking hope they see.”
Perhaps leaving your skin littered with love bites and the imprint of his teeth wasn’t the smartest way to keep attention off of you. But he didn’t care right now. He couldn’t deny that a sick part of him thrilled at the thought of someone noticing the trail of red marks at the crook of your neck. 
His marks. From his mouth.
His cock twitched at the thought. His thrusts picked up speed, hands snaking around your waist to hold you tightly. Whether it was to keep you in place or to remind himself that you were really here, he wasn’t sure anymore. 
He was relentless, desperate and needy for something only you could give him. He silences your wanton moans by pressing his lips against yours. Moans that were just for him.
He barely pulls back to mutter against your mouth. “You're mine.” His hot breath mingles with yours, wet lips gliding against each other. “All fucking mine. Say it, baby, c’mon—tell me you’re mine.”
He needed it more than anything. If the conviction in his voice wasn’t enough to convince you, the desperation in his eyes certainly was. 
You nodded with what room he granted you. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, fingers threading through his beard as you cradled his head. “Yes. I’m yours. I’m all yours, John.”
The sound that came from him next was one you never heard before. Like a whine and a growl mixed into one—a declaration of his ownership and the neediness that fueled it. He buried his face into your neck as his body tensed. The nearly incoherent mess of your name and the word “mine” was panted hotly against your skin, caressing the indents his teeth had left beforehand.
Neither of you moved for a while afterward. Even after breathing steadied and sweat dried, both of you were content to lay just like that: with his hands wrapped tightly around your body in a wordless plea.
Those marks lasted for a while. He hadn’t realized how hard he bit and sucked until the bruises began cycling through colors as they healed. His eyes landed on them every time he saw you. And God how he hoped other people did the same.
Maybe Price was a little possessive.
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snifflingsharpie · 1 year
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Clowning on the peasants: ep.2
A young harlequin peers out eir window. Tire skids wet with red remains decorate the street corner below eir apartment. The scream ey heard belonged to eir father.
Herbal-Pot: (scrambling for eir phone and dialing 911): Dispatch! DISPATCH! Can you hear me for fucks sake! 
Grenda: Yes we can hear you. Please remain calm.
Herbal-Pot: My father was just ran the fuck over! Remain fucking calm? I will spread your fucking brains across some fucking toast like there was a sale on mediocre jams at trader fucking joes!
Grenda: Ok, where are you?
Herbal-Pot: The corner of twenty-sixth and sterling. His names Honey. Honey-Pot. And Ill tell ya that no good Marlianne better be the first on your shit list
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muffinlance · 8 months
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Oh so the clown ads are over? Too late Tumblr I already cancelled ad free uninstalled your app and discovered the power of ublock in mobile FireFox. AND tags are editable in the web version?
There's no going back
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notemaker · 1 month
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The ringmaster and the amphitheater. The chessboard and the player. Round and round they go.
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elisenel · 27 days
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I'm a bit late but you know I couldn't miss the chance to redraw this pic as their characters!
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