JoJo/24/Animation Student/Traditional Artist

You Are On Native Land collects stories and art donated by some of comics' biggest Indigenous creators such as Jon Proudstar, Maria Wolf, and Steph Littlebird. Tales of Native resistance; family and kinship; love and grief fill this beautiful collection, which includes a special reprint of TRIBAL FORCE #1, credited as the first comic to feature a superhero team made up entirely of Indigenous heroes.

GUYS THIS COMES OUT SEPTEMBER 2026 I NEED EVERYONE TO PULL THIS IT LOOKS SO PEAK

COD Men X GN Reader

Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle, König, Horangi + Bonus

NOT PROOF READ

This is all tongue and cheek. Enjoy!

Simon

Simon was a very.. Well thought out man.

COD Men X GN Reader

Price, Simon, Johnny, Kyle, König, Horangi + Nikto

NOT PROOF READ

Oh Yeah- We Going there!

Annoying Shit they Do (Original) <<<

Simon

Simon likes some space at times- like a house cat in a sense.

im very excited for what he WILL do with it in s3

With the amount of guides I've put up, I think it's about time I create a master post that can serve as the directory for everything. It will be updated as I continue to post the remaining guides, and future guides that may or may not come along.

Single Player Characters: Captain Price Simon 'Ghost' Riley Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish Nightwar Helmets (for Ghost and Soap) Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Los Vaqueros - Alejandro Rojas & Rudolfo 'Rudy' Parra Cmdr Phillip Graves

Multiplayer Operators (updated 27th Feb): Red Team 141 (Vault Edition Skins) Volume 1 - Reyes, Nova, Gromsko, Konig, Roze & Horangi Volume 2 (SpecGru) - Chuy, Luna Gus Volume 2 (KorTac) - Conor, Stiletto, Hutch Artists Guide - Calisto & Zeus

I have opened tipping up recently, so if you find these resources useful and want to show your appreciation, that's one way you may do so. If you're not comfortable with that, the mere act of reblogging these and sharing them around the community is enough. I want to share my knowledge and point people in the right direction. If you use my references for art or for cosplay, don't hesitate to tag me so I can see!

Additionally, full resolution versions are downloadable from my DeviantArt gallery, as Tumblr has a size limit of which the uncompressed images vastly exceed. The album is here, and is kept mostly updated with whatever I post here. Again, share them, link them, etc etc.

Ever since the first sets of guides went up, I've been seeing people fill in gaps where I couldn't fully identify pieces of equipment or clothing. Additionally, I've also been learning and expanding my research tools, which as granted me greater accuracy with what a given piece of gear is. Witn that, I am planning on updating these guides both visually and with more reliable information. When that will be finished is yet to be seen, but if and when that is done, I plan to release them in a downloadable PDF.

Hi anon! ٩(｡•́‿•̀｡)۶

Face is the most interesting part to draw in a character. Some struggle to draw a proper face, because the proportion isn't right or accurate.

In this tutorial below, I'll show you some checkpoints to make sure whether or not the face is properly accurate!

After the classic cross, we'll go to the face!

As I said on the tutorial, these points seem like a lot of information to take it, but when you draw a fuck ton of faces, soon you'll find yourself not needing too much guidelines nor the checkpoints. It'll become a second nature and you'll draw it automatically from muscle memory.

Hi hello!

Hands are one of the hardest part of human anatomy and I understand that very well. Now, even though hands are really hard to draw, they're the most expressive human part after the face, so hands are really important.

In this tutorial below, I will try to help you UNDERSTAND hand (meaning the general anatomy, the parts, the shapes and stuff), so that you can DRAW them better. You have to understand them first to draw them.

This is a very brief anatomy lesson on the hand. Now to the practical tips on how to draw hands.

First of all, REFERENCE is very important to drawing. It helps you know which part is wrong or right, which part is shorter, hidden, or covered. Now to understand it more, just look at the closest reference, Your Own Hand!

Rather than searching in the internet for references, usually I literally put my phone camera on selfie mode, put it on the table or rest it on the book, then do the pose that I want!

Here's some of it.

What I'm saying is, just go take a 5 second selfie or heck, just record a 10 second video. Then boom, hand reference.

So there's the tips! Hope this helps!

Remember, this is the result of years and years and years of practice. No amount of tips or tutorial you read or see will make you good at drawing hands, unless you try to practice yourself.

Ghost (for ONCE) accepted Jade's request to have a proper date night out with him

Ghost is finally in town after 3 months of deployment, and she can finally have him however she wants him. Her first request is just one night of him wearing a proper date outfit that isn't a black hoodie, worn-out jeans, black face mask, and his black war paint that he wore every single damn day.

💀 "What would you like me to wear then?" 🌹 "Since I doubt there's any other color in your wardrobe, seeing you in black shirt and black pants has been a wild imagination of mine~"

💀 "Oh, copy that~"

🌹 "And no facemask."

💀 "What?"

🌹 "Please? Just 2 hours? I want to see your face clearly for once. But you know what, nevermi--"

💀 "Fine. This once, because the night is yours."

🌹 "You're the best~"

💀 "We both know you can't resist looking at my handsome face."

🌹 "PFFFTTTT"

---

Part 1 of Jade's birthday night with Ghost~

Ghost is not what the captain would call a gentle man. Everything about him carries weight. His presence, his stare, his skills, his callsign, his reputation. But most of all, his voice. Price has heard Ghost in all sorts of situations, from enemy interrogations to dropping some of the most driest sarcasm to ever grace his comms.

Ghost's voice, like the rest of him, is rough. Like the sound comes from mortar-blasted boulders grinding against each other in his chest and not vocal chords. When Ghost speaks, everything sounds like an ultimatum.

But that's what happens in the military. Show him a man surrounded by other soldiers that doesn't develop some obnoxiously loud, deep vocal affect and Price will eat his hat.

Which is why, when you, the new medic transfer on base, are tasked with administering this year's flu jabs he notices it almost immediately.

"Sleeve up, please, Lieutenant," you tell him. Ghost is sat in the little plastic chair in front of you with his arm fully exposed before you finish.

"Busy day, yeah?" Price nearly chokes when Ghost asks you that.

It wasn't just the fact that he was making conversation, but it was the sound of him. If Price wasn't looking directly at him when he said it, he would have thought there was someone hidden behind his Lt.

But no. It was him, speaking without prompt to you in a tone of voice that Price didn't even think the man was physically capable of.

The boulders in his chest are silent. His voice having moved from them up to some higher register. Like the years of chain smoking and yelling over weapons fire is an inconvenience for once. Ghost even clears his throat when you turn away from him for a moment. Subdued. Soft.

Ghost. Soft. Hell has frozen over.

"It always is," you reply oblivious to the anomaly in front of you, a little smile on your face as you swipe Ghost's bicep with a little disinfectant wipe.

Price watches how Ghost never takes his eyes off of you as you do your work with the same fascination as watching a dog wearing pants walk on its hind legs.

It quickly becomes apparent that this is not an isolated case.

One morning some time later has Ghost walking with him to his office going over upcoming itineraries. Both of them have their minds on the looming, still unconfirmed, deployment. When you turn the corner into the hallway with a stack of files in your hand, Price swears he sees the lights brighten a little bit just from how Ghost perks up.

"Mornin', ma'am." And all of the sudden his hardened veteran, skull mask wearing, second in command is gone and replaced by two meters of tender puppy-dog eyes and velvety voice. He's pretty sure if Ghost had a tail it'd be wagging.

"Good morning, Lieutenant. How many times do I have to tell you you don't have to call me that?"

"At least one more," Ghost all but purrs.

Price feels like he's witnessing something that should be behind an age verification.

You roll your eyes and pat his shoulder as you pass, disappearing down the hallway without a glance behind you. If you did, you would've seen how Ghost's head turned to watch you go.

The other time occurred when you weren't even around to hear it.

It was classified as a training incident only because of its proximity to the grounds. Very little surprises Price anymore, so he didn't bat an eye when he saw a soldier drive up in a humvee, get out, and then just dumbly watch the vehicle creep backwards, gaining speed until it crashed into a nearby prefab.

The car was fine, of course, but those inside the prefab when it made contact weren't so lucky, especially anyone in the falling radius of the shelves and full crates held inside. It was nothing short of a miracle that no one got flattened.

The soldier responsible was getting torn a new one while someone else called for medical support, just to make sure no one was dying or anything. The worst Price could see from here was some bumps and bruises, someone holding a hand to their bleeding head.

"What is it now?" Price asked as he stepped up beside Ghost who lingered from a distance.

"Bloody idiot kept it in neutral, not park," Ghost tells him, arms crossed. "Didn't use the—" The moment you pop into view, medic bag in tow, Ghost's voice shifts like a switch had been flipped and all of the sudden that rolling thunder tone is gone like it was never there to begin with, "—parking brake. Hopefully it won't be a mistake made twice."

Price registers the words in his subconscious, but most of his attention is still on the fact that you had Ghost switching up mid sentence. And you weren't even within earshot. Just the fact that you were in his eyesight had Ghost lowering his voice, lightening his pitch.

He watches you flit around, grabbing the bleeding person and setting them down to start cleaning them up. All of his attention on you. Price is pretty sure that an ant wouldn't be able to crawl within 50 feet of you without Ghost knowing.

Part of Price wants to nip this in the bud, take Ghost aside and tell him to drop it. All of them know what being in this task force means. Having a distraction like this has a higher chance of being a hindrance than a benefit. If there ever comes a time where any of the 141 are in a situation where his sacrifice is non-negotiable, there cannot be hesitation. All of them know this.

But when the captain looks over at Ghost, he doesn't think about sacrifice. He doesn't see a muzzled war dog whose leash is held in Price's firm grip.

For the first time in a long time, Price recalls a young man with dark brown eyes that had seen too much too young, hair so blond it’s almost white, and the strongest sense of loyalty he's ever seen in a fellow soldier.

First Met

Canon: Pennywise x Witch!Reader

Warning: Symbiotic Relationship, No Outward Affection, Pet Names, Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters mention/ vibe, Mentions of Killing, Shapeshifting

Summary: After awakening from Its long hibernation, Pennywise decided to change Its form—one that would make approaching Its food, especially children, far easier. Learning from the events of 27 years ago, the day It was defeated by the Losers, Pennywise resolved that this time It would choose a guise that was friendly, inviting—one that felt truly human. And the person It set Its sights on was the young owner of The Luverry Bakery: a girl with a youthful, beautiful appearance and a seemingly boundless kindness.

Note: This fanfic is set after It: Chapter Two.

THE LUVERRY DAILY Masterlist

Having existed for thousands of years, Pennywise believed Itself clever enough to deceive and devour humans—especially children, those who were always most terrified once It had set its sights on them. Fear was the finest seasoning for meat, after all, and Pennywise’s greatest pleasure lay in gorging Itself on the flesh of children steeped in sheer terror and despair.

It knew very well that with such a taste, It had to become something capable of luring the foolish children of Derry—or rather, someone—so It could drag them down into the sewers and butcher them at its leisure. That was why It chose Bob Gray as Its form in this world. The children of this town loved Pennywise the Dancing Clown, so It became Pennywise.

As time passed, awakening once every 27 years, It gradually began to realize that children no longer adored this Pennywise persona as they once had. There was the boy in the yellow raincoat who tried to retrieve his paper boat from the storm drain two cycles ago, and the girl with the birthmark on her cheek in the cycle before that. The common thread was that they recognized Its terror far too early. It didn’t want that. It wanted to toy with Its prey longer, to savor a meal seasoned with care and patience.

27 years after being “defeated a second time” by the Losers’ Club, Pennywise finally awakened from a painful hibernation, scarred by the torture inflicted upon It by the humans It had always despised. After abducting the first child as a waking feast, Pennywise chewed thoughtfully, contemplating a change of form—something more friendly to Its food—beginning with observing what children these days liked.

That was when It set Its sights on the young owner of a bakery across from Derry High School.

Pretty, friendly, gentle—always smiling at those pesky kids. She even kept a bunch of black bunnies behind the bakery, which the children seemed to adore.

A perfect choice.

Standing in an alley far from “The Luverry Bakery”, Pennywise watched her laugh and play with the children. It had been observing her from afar for nearly a week, and tonight was the night It would carry out its plan to change forms.

Unfortunately, she was not the pretty, friendly and gentle girl It thought.

That night, as she stood in the kitchen baking with her back turned, just as Pennywise opened Its mouth wide toward her head, she suddenly spun around and splashed a glass of something utterly vile straight down Its throat.

Pennywise had never expected to be discovered. It had entered the house silently, using Its overwhelming power. It staggered backward, coughing violently.

“What the hell is this?!” It snarled, Its yellow eyes glowing with ferocity in the darkness.

But just as It lifted Its head, ready to pin her down and devour her in rage, It suddenly saw the image of figures dressed in bizarre garments, wielding bows and swords.

The sight was painfully familiar—so familiar that it confused It. It had seen them before, back when It had transformed into a massive reindeer to hunt prey, long, long ago. Before It ever took on the form of Pennywise. Before the town of Derry was built.

“Have I slept too long…?” It wondered. Were the images of being defeated by the Losers its inevitable future? Or was the cage of Derry the reality awaiting it centuries later?

After all, past, present, and future were merely concepts to It.

“Good evening, Mr. Gallon.” Her sweet voice sounded right beside It. As It turned warily, just as It had expected, she stood there calmly. “Or should I call you Mr. Deadlights?”

Pennywise glared at her, shock and fury blazing in Its eyes. Its sharp teeth were still stained with flesh and fresh blood from tonight’s meal.

“Who are you? Where is this place?”

It felt no fear from her. More than that—It knew she was not human.

Yet to a supreme entity like It, her identity did not matter. It could devour her in an instant without the need for fear as seasoning. The only reason It hesitated was her ability—the power to create illusions, like that dark-skinned soldier who had struck It several cycles ago.

“I’ll get straight to the point.” She bent down to Its eye level. “I’ve lived in Derry for 26 years now. I want to continue living here. Please don’t eat me.”

Never before had anyone faced It so frankly—smiling, even, while making such a gentle request. But what was It? It was an Eater of Worlds. Whoever she was, she would die beneath Its claws.

“Bold words, Bunny. That confidence of yours—does it come from being able to see my memories?” It straightened, looking down at the girl who seemed so small and easily torn apart. “Why trap me in an illusion you made? Trying to scare Ol’ Pennywise? Oooh… you’re terribly mistaken, brat. What could someone without fear possibly be afraid of?”

Saliva dripped from Its mouth, soaking Its cracked white chin.

“I will EAT you. I’ll devour you and take your body. Become a sacrifice to Pennywise.”

Just as It lunged, she raised a small vial and smiled brightly.

Clink. Clink.

Black fragments struck the glass with a weight so immense it felt as if Its chest might explode like molten lava. Though they were tiny shards, they were fragments of the meteor that had brought It to this world.

Pennywise growled and retreated. She did not move, nor did she intend to attack. It could feel that clearly.

“I can show you what makes a fearless being panic,” She said softly, gazing at the black fragments. “I call it surprise. You were wondering what was in that glass I gave you earlier, weren’t you? What if I advised you to be more careful about what you put into your body? What do you think it was?”

Pennywise thought rapidly. Even thinking with Its knees, It understood. Its gloved hands moved to Its stomach—It had swallowed that liquid earlier. What if she had added even a tiny amount of meteor fragments?

Wait.

There were no signs of danger. It couldn’t feel that black substance inside Its body at all. Which meant… she was bluffing.

“You—YOU DARE threaten me!” Pennywise’s body twisted, iron claws tearing through its white gloves. Its eyes burned with murderous light.

“YOU DARE THREATEN ME, THE GOD OF THIS WORLD! I’LL KILL YOU!”

She remained still, the vial in hand, knowing It could do nothing against a fragment of the substance that had imprisoned It in Derry for so long.

“You can’t,” She said calmly. “You can’t kill me.”

“I’m not threatening you,” She continued, finally slipping the vial into her pocket. Pennywise released a quiet breath of relief. “I want to make a deal. I only want to live peacefully in Derry. I don’t eat humans—which includes children—so I won’t compete for your food. Derry remains your territory. Think of me as… a symbiotic entity. That way, we both get what we want.”

Pennywise scowled. “What’s a symbiotic entity?”

“It means we cooperate.”

“We?” It snarled. “There is no we. There is only ME—Pennywise the Dancing Clown!”

She tried again. “Then how about this? I’ll teach you the easiest way to hunt good prey. In return, you leave me alone whenever you awaken every 27 years.”

Pennywise laughed. “What makes you think I’d listen to you?”

She smiled. “Then why do you think I’d offer advice at all?”

“Hehehe… because you want to live,” It declared smugly, though It still sensed no fear from her. “If you weren’t carrying that thing, I’d have eaten you long ago.”

“Why do you want to eat me?” She asked, puzzled—then answered herself. “Ah… You want to take my form.”

She sighed, and Pennywise felt a strange helplessness radiating from her.

“Do you know the difference between you and Bob Gray?” She asked. “Even though you’re both Pennywise.”

“Don’t spout nonsense,” It growled. “I’m not Bob Gray.”

“Bob Gray had admirers,” She said calmly. “You don’t.”

It suddenly understood why the children who once adored Bob Gray never approached It—even after It became Pennywise.

So? As long as It could hunt and eat fear-soaked children, that was enough.

“Then what?” Pennywise sneered. “Whether I listen or not, I’ll still eat them. I’ve lived in this town longer than you’ve existed.”

She looked surprised. “You only wake once every 27 years. Do you realize how much the world shifts while you sleep? Children aren’t the same anymore. And with your current… style, they might not even notice you at all.”

Pennywise glanced down suspiciously at the clown outfit that had accompanied It through countless long cycles. It was the form It favored most—and also the most convenient guise for approaching children. True, not many kids came near anymore, but every cycle It still feasted well before returning to hibernation. So what was the problem? As long as It was full, that was all that mattered.

“If you don’t believe me,” She said gently, “go hunt one.”

“I already did,” It snapped. “I ate the boy. Can’t you smell the blood? Three kids in one week. One wandered into my sewer. One snuck into my house. The last was the boy who bought cakes from you today—Billy. Ehehehe... you even gave him cookies.”

She stared at It in disbelief.

“Only three?”

“… W—What?”

“Three children in a week?” She said sympathetically. “Witches catch more than enough children during Sabbaths.”

For the first time, Pennywise doubted Itself.

It finally began to question its own existence. Witch or not, she could wait—first, It needed to worry about Its stomach. It was true: the number of children it had caught had dropped significantly. If It remembered correctly, during the first week of previous cycles, It had always driven dozens of parents to plaster Derry with missing posters.

It glanced at the girl standing before It. She looked unnervingly calm, as if she were chatting with a friend. That only made It want to devour her out of spite—yet at the same time, It found Itself more curious, more intrigued by her. Still, food came first. What had she just said again? That witches always caught more than enough children for each... festival?

Pennywise’s eyes lit up, but what It said aloud was, “You eat kids too?”

Her smile faded slightly. “I don’t eat humans. I’m different from other witches.”

She continued softly, “If you eat me and take my form, you’ll only succeed for a short time. A year later, you’ll sleep again. 27 years after that, no one will remember the kind owner of Luverry Bakery—just like Bob Gray or Pennywise. What the children—especially the Losers' Club—would find instead are reports about a creature living in the sewers of Derry.”

“You are a divine being from the cosmos,” She whispered. “You don’t eat children because they taste good. You eat them because fear is richest in the young. What you truly enjoy is the hunt.”

Pennywise stared at her in silence. 

For the first time in Its long, endless existence, It felt as though Its mind had been flung open like a broken door. She was right. Beyond devouring children carefully marinated in fear, what It enjoyed most was the hunt Itself—and somehow, in this cycle, the flesh of the three children It had taken during Its first week awake no longer tasted as good as it once had.

NOT enough. Their fear had NOT satisfied It.

So even if It succeeded in stealing her form—or anyone else’s—It would never taste that exquisite flesh again?

Pennywise refused to accept that.

It wanted to bring terror to the children of this town. It wanted Derry to drown in despair and loss during each of Its twenty-seven-year cycles. Only then could It truly feast—only then could It be full.

“Think about it,” She smiled. “Don’t you want to taste that exquisite fear again?”

How could It refuse?

And thus began a new cycle.

A new rebirth.

Sitting inside a bakery stall with the lights turned off was a novel experience. Pennywise had hunted in bars before—humans always dimmed the lights in places like that—but sitting in a gloomy bakery like this was a first.

Furry, round little black rabbits had appeared out of nowhere, carpeting the floor. They crowded around Pennywise’s feet as if standing guard on her behalf. On impulse, It grabbed one of the bunnies to take a closer look—purely out of curiosity.

The soft, pitch-black fur brushed against Its white gloves. Even through the fabric, It could feel the tiny creature’s breathing, its heartbeat—there was fear, too.

“Snff…” It lifted the rabbit to Its nose and sniffed. A familiar, richly seasoned scent gradually flooded Its senses.

“Please… help me…”

It heard the rabbit’s voice—yet it also wasn’t the rabbit’s voice. After all, how could a rabbit possibly speak?

“Help me…”

When she stepped out of the kitchen, what greeted her was the sight of It gnawing on one rabbit, while clutching the ears of two others in Its hands.

Its glowing yellow eyes flashed. It didn’t care what she thought—first, It would finish chewing this rabbit. Why did they taste so much like human flesh?!

“It seems you’ve found some comfort here,” she said with a soft laugh. “Though it’s a bit late, I hope you enjoy your meal.”

Pennywise squinted as It continued eating, watching her bring out a pile of witchcraft tools and lay them across the counter. The pastel-pink, frilly aesthetic of the bakery clashed absurdly with her occult instruments.

Back to the real question. After one rabbit, then two, Pennywise finally voiced what had been bothering It:

“So you don’t eat humans—but you turn humans into rabbits and eat the rabbits instead?”

“No,” She answered immediately. “I’m a vegetarian.”

Pennywise: “…”

A vegetarian? As in—no meat. Ever?

It stared at her from head to toe with open suspicion. By Its (entirely reasonable) understanding of the world, witches who didn’t eat humans were already rare enough. Vegetarian witches were practically mythical. And considering that discovering she was a witch had already been a shock, Pennywise had assumed all witches were gloomy, twisted, and unpleasant.

“This was a human,” Pennywise said, holding up half a rabbit leg. “Or used to be.”

She didn’t deny it. “Yes.”

Driven by curiosity, It asked, “Why did you turn her into a rabbit?”

“Because she almost made me shut down my bakery.”

“Oh… ohoho…” The bells around Its neck suddenly rang through the darkened shop. Though It hadn’t moved an inch, she could feel Its presence everywhere within The Luverry.

“Forgot to ask,” It said lightly. “About our deal. You said you’d help me hunt meat as good as the old days. I agreed. But what about you? This symbiosis you keep talking about—what do you get out of relying on me, when you can do everything yourself?”

She sat down on a chair behind the counter. When her smiling eyes met Its, Pennywise almost believed the person before It was an easy meal. Yet just as the urge to kill flared, her gaze turned icy—despite the gentle smile never leaving her lips.

That was when It realized: she, too, was a primal predator.

“I want to live and work in Derry,” She explained softly.

“For a very, very long time, I’ve wanted a place where I wouldn’t have to rack my brain every time I had to send a stalker, a harasser, a molester—or someone who broke into my home with vile intentions—back to the Great Witch.”

She poured a cup of tea and slid it toward It, gesturing for It to drink while eating.

“When I found Derry and began to study it, I noticed how your presence had altered the ecosystem here. The people of Derry are… indifferent. They don’t care if a child is beaten to death right outside my bakery. And I found that fascinating. I thought this place would be perfect for blending into human society. After all, I can’t live in places where I’m always the prime suspect whenever someone dies.”

Outwardly, Pennywise seemed intrigued—but internally, It had already assessed her territory. Not all the rabbits were human, It realized. And no matter how sweet and warm her public persona was, she couldn’t conceal the scent of blood staining her path.

“You’ve killed many people.” In Its mind’s eye, Pennywise saw a chaotic crowd at the edge of a forest cliff—children bound and locked inside wooden cages, forced to watch as witches in black dresses slaughtered their parents.

It didn’t see her—but It knew she was the cause of it all.

It spoke her true name, lips curling into a delighted grin.

“You’re the witch who developed the formula that lets witches survive fire. You’re also the one who established the tradition of eating human flesh during witch festivals.”

Drool trickled down Its chin. Now, It wasn’t merely intrigued—it was enthralled. 

At first, It had thought she wanted to share food resources. But Pennywise never shared. Derry belonged to It. Everything within the town fell under Its dominion—including her.

A strange, intoxicating joy surged through It. These unfamiliar emotions whispered that It didn’t need to kill her to steal her form. She was fascinating. She could become a loyal servant—one who would spend 27 years preparing the way for Its return from hibernation.

It wanted her.

It wanted to possess her.

“You turn humans into rabbits so they can understand the pain of becoming pets—playthings for others,” Pennywise continued, gleefully peeling back the layers of her past. “You make them suffer illness, reproduction, and ultimately a swift death. You don’t eat humans because you despise them. You believe they aren’t worthy of being eaten—not worthy pawns. They have no value to you.”

“Hahahaha… even though you live among them?” It tilted Its head, grinning. “You don’t love those tiny, pitiful little bunnies?”

She merely smiled and said calmly, “I don’t grow feelings for pawns—nor for humans.”

The joy swelling inside Pennywise, they grew and grew. At last—It had found a kindred spirit.

“What is this?” Pennywise held up a fork between two fingers, examining it. “Do humans use this to comb their hair?”

She snatched the pink fork from Its hand. “No. If you want to comb your hair, you’ll need to turn into a human first.”

It frowned in irritation. “I have to become human? But this form is much scarier. I like being a clown.”

“That depends on your goal,” She replied, arranging her magic tools on the table.

“If you keep that form, you won’t be able to approach children. They’ll mock you—maybe even curse at you—just for being a clown.”

The memory of the Losers resurfaced. Pennywise shook Its oversized head, bells jingling. Wasn’t it obvious? 27 years ago, the reason It had gone into hibernation half-dead was because those Losers had insulted It to death.

“So all I have to do is become human.” It shot her a warning glance—as if to say that if this plan failed, she would be the first to die. And It meant it. If this sacrifice proved pointless, It would gladly send her back to whatever Great Witch she worshipped.

When Pennywise’s human form appeared, shock and disbelief flickered across her composed face. It was beyond her expectations. She had never imagined that a man-eating creature lurking in sewers could sculpt such a flawless human body.

Well—not completely flawless.

She stood frozen for a few seconds before finally speaking.

“I’d prepared tools to adjust your face in human form,” She admitted. “But it seems unnecessary.”

She praised honestly, “Even if you paint clown makeup on now, children—especially girls—will swarm you like bees to honey.”

“I can really do that?” It asked eagerly. “I’m used to being Pennywise, not human.”

She nodded. “When necessary.”

“Like…?”

She beamed. “Like volunteering for the upcoming event at my bakery. There’ll be cotton candy, popcorn, balloons, and—”

“CLOWNS!”

“Exactly.” She leaned forward, palms on the table. “That’s why our plan to make you adored begins now.”

Pennywise was thrilled. For the first time in Its life, It was learning a new way to approach prey—an entirely different kind of hunt.

So what would the first lesson be?

Turning a child into a rabbit, letting it live out the rabbit’s brief lifespan, then transforming it back—stockpiling fear of death?

Or abducting a child, torturing it physically and mentally, then releasing them so It can hunt them—turning her garden into a predator’s hunting ground?

Her voice echoed Its ear. “You need to take a bath first.” 

Pennywise blinked.

She laughed. “You smell like a wet rat. Children don’t like the smell of wet rats.”

Pennywise didn’t want to bathe. But It couldn’t refuse her.

Wounded

Pennywise x reader. SFW. No gendered pronouns or description given of reader. It/its pronouns used for Pennywise. You discover that Pennywise ate someone you cared for before the two of you met. Pennywise confesses its unconventional (and messed up) feelings toward you. Angst and fluff. I am very very soft for Pennywise and that is probably apparent here.

Pennywise isn't bothered by the rain. 

The clown– or the thing that looks like a clown– spends most of its time beneath the sewers, drenched in filthy water, unaffected by cold or discomfort.

Yet it shivers at your feet, huddled pathetically in a moonlit alleyway while pelted by the rain. Its copper hair hangs limp, clinging to its painted face. And the ruffles of its costume are heavy and waterlogged as it reaches out a trembling hand toward you.

Content: Pennywise x reader. Fluff. No gendered pronouns or description given for reader. Pennywise eats too much and it comes to you for tummy rubs 🥺 SFW. Short and sweet.

Tummy Ache

The announcement should not have hurt as much as it did, but with it a hollow had been carved out of your chest.

“Tonight I will feed and I will rest,” Pennywise had told you with a determined nod. Golden eyes danced across your face, as if committing you to memory. "A long, looong rest."