* an evil thing that feeds off the people of derry . it . by oz . awoken in december ‘17 .
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* an evil thing that feeds off the people of derry . it . by oz . awoken in december ‘17 .

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* an evil thing that feeds off the people of derry . it . by oz . awoken in december ‘17 .
* an evil thing that feeds off the people of derry . it . by oz . awoken in december ‘17 .
* an evil thing that feeds off the people of derry . it . by oz . awoken in december ‘17 .
* an evil thing that feeds off the people of derry . it . by oz . awoken in december ‘17 .

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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quivering legs stumbled down the library steps , whatever face it had veiled by concrete . a plethora of eggs , each of them painted , toppled from its abundant collection , before the voice behind it pierced through to little ben hanscom . who was it , that voice ? his mother ? henry bowers ? ‘ want an egg , ben ? take an egg , egg boy . ’ / @simplywas .
the noises it made , gleeful snorts of ill - intent , spat from its flaring red nostrils . ‘ huh - hi , cass . cheer up , cassie . take a balloon . eh - vur - ybody likes a balloon . ’ a hand to its hip , an uncanny clarity to its attitude . ‘ don’t want puh - puh - preacher man to die , do ya , cuh - cuh - cass ? ’ a finger raised as it turned away , huffing and snorting like a mutt with something up its nose . building and building , until a flurry of bile , snot and maroon blood spat out from its nostrils , and began to drip from its tip . / @vaempir .
quinn.
PHOBIAS. the whole, shitty lot of them were irrational. she knew that, she heard that : right in PSYCHOLOGY 101. none of it is real. nick is in prison, he has been for the last ten years. no mirage could change that. let her fingers shape, her knees yank with his every reach, let her breathing quicken & her throat tighten : but none of it is real. HELL is real. it’s not on earth. there are demons name etrigan & the faces of friends long - gone, but there is no nick quinzel. he’s in his own personal hell, & it’s nowhere near to hers. backing up, harley reaches for the bat behind her, bird - boned wrists finding it difficult to carry the weight while severely injured. but she endures, yanking the bat forward & bonking him on the landing strip he calls his head the second her gaze shifts.
❝ HOW DOES THAT FEEL, ya piece a’ moldy bologna, making’-it-hard-for-clowns-t’-getta-decent-livin’-‘round-here, sonuvabitch ! ❞ this is the part where she has does something either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, & knowing her luck – it’s more likely the latter. she lands on two feet, knees bent slightly to provide her with posture decent enough to swing a home run. ❝ i ain’t scared’a you … ❞ a beat, she looks around for a split second as if to recind her statement, ❝ ‘less you turn into a spider or a talkin’ fish or somethin’, but i’m getting over those things ! and i have a bat ! so … screw you ! ❞ her feet steady her, shoulders lifting to give him another solid smack on the head, blood lining the handle of her bat from all the cuts that gathered ‘gainst her palms.
HER TONGUE SWIPES AGAINST HER LOWER LIP, collecting blood and salt & other vile substances on its tip. ❝ i’ve seen all the devils i’ve needed to. you ain’t a devil. you’re jus’ a big sewer rat with an even bigger appetite. EAT THIS, bozo ! ❞ another smack, & she attempts to corner him, fear morphing into something made of flame & ire.
pain twisted it into something new . it felt it , felt as its prey attacked it , fought back , ---no , no , it would not be beaten . the prey was its , its to consume and feast and feed , it would not be denied its share . its mockery of blood spilled from its ear , rising to the rafters , its lips peeling down into a frown , into a pained grimace . it wailed , its fangs growing to stick out through its skin , trying to pierce her . needing to feast . i ain’t scared ’ a you . . . no .
in rage , it lunged for her , seizing her by the throat , curling her down , and onto the sooted floor . it lumbered weakly through the distance between them , its lips now bloody and split by pointed rivets of marred enamel in its mouth . strange how it grinned then , the cotton covering the hand around her throat began to tear , thick and twisted wires of black hair piercing out from beneath . its silken clown suit split , the long and wide legs of an arachnid sprouting from its back , each of them reaching to curl around her body as its clown face came closer . greasepainted skin cracked and splintered , as bulbous , yellow eyes peeled through its forehead and cheeks , its fangs thickening into great wide pincers . it spat a yellow phlegm , words , perhaps . ‘ are you scared , harleen ? ’ surely it would have her , now . surely the fear that seasoned her once would return , and surely it could then fall into its rest , and feast on her for the age to come .
hauntsboy.
COLD , SUFFOCATING TERROR ! the kind that makes you double backwards , to struggle for air in aching lungs , that makes your head shake in desperate denial . heart thunders , stagger back , splay fingers to seek safety . ❝ no , don’t ––––––– ❞ i just survived ! just saw the light and made it home ! ❝ mom ? ❞ called frantically , but oh ! just like before , nowhere to be FOUND ! ❝ jon ? ❞
the clown snapped straight , to attention , the bells on its wrists clattering to a halt . it leant over , shaking its head , frantic but still . ‘ no - o , no , willy . mommy’s not here , willy . time for you to come home , mistur byurs . time to float . ’ its greasepainted face , bulbous and silly and with its stupid buck - toothed smile , hid the truth of its words . the poor byers boy was coming with it , back with it , into the drain . its smile twitched , thick and stupid lips rubbing together , before the teeth returned as fangs . one layer of fleshy enamel upon the other , each tooth dripping with whatever clear mucus glossed its bloody mouth . it lunged for byers , snapping its palm into the nook of his throat , and pushing his head back by his forehead with its other .

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‘ kill it . if you have to . ’ / kylo ren . written by oz .
‘ where are you going , kim ? ’ sat by the door , and in his arm chair ? it was only to be expected of alvin marsh . that’s why the form suited it so well , why the terror it would inflict would not be one outside the norm . ‘ i’m very worried , kim . about you and your sister , kim . al’s been hearing some things . what should i think of em , kim ? ’ / @girlscare.
Come join the clown, Eds. You’ll float down here.
hauntsboy.
❝ shit . no , please . ❞ arguing with himself ! it always began the same . the taste of metal , weight against his shoulders , his vision spinning and twisting from his grasp . with the heels of his hands pressed hard against his eyes , there is NO FOCUS . not real , not real , not real . ❝ my name is will byers , i live in hawkins , my name is will byers , i live in HAWKINS . ❞
‘ w - will byers . . . yes , hello , willy - will byers . ’ it stuttered on its own words , giggling frantically to itself as it approached the panicking boy . it lurched , fumbling forward and leering at byers , its goofy front teeth bared as its lip pulled back into a grin . ‘ come join the circus , willy . no more nightmares with pennywise , will . there’s peanuts . . . c - cotton candy at the circus , will . don’t you like cotton candy ? yes . ’ its lips rubbed together , a serpentine tongue piercing through to wet them . ‘ come join the circus , will byers , who lives in hawkins . ’

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fridgeleech.
CLOWN. Creepy bitch. He takes a LONG drag from his blunt that he’d gotten from the paranoid on the low-key DRUG DEALER who was just a couple lockers down from him. That kid was always so fucking NERVOUS that he’d get caught. Always asking him ‘NOT TO TELL’ with his hands fiddling at the ends of his hoodie sleeves && shoe tapping nervously against the floor. Patrick always supposed the teachers KNEW but just NEVER CARED. THEY NEVER DID IN DERRY. NO ONE EVER CARED.
He’s leaning against the fence of the kissing bridge, one foot planted firmly against the wood behind him && his fingers grasping onto some SWEET MARY JANE between his lanky, probably pretty UNWASHED, fingers. He’s SKIPPING TODAY. Dark green eyes are half lidded, one brow up as he stares at the FIGURE in the tunnel of the kissing bridge. Shadows cover over him TERRIFYINGLY well as if it were INTENTIONAL. Details are BLURRED but he can most definitely tell that, THAT, CREEPY FUCKER IS A CLOWN. He’s not scared, though. He never is. HOW CAN YOU BE SCARED WHEN NOTHING IS REAL?
He exhales slowly, “You know, Halloween’s not for another fuckin’ month, right, pal?”
it was deep in the tunnel , only its unaligned outline to describe it . the wild attire of a clown , a veil , a malignant and sadistic one . merely a modicum of its true nature . ‘ ohh --- still time for fun , patrick . ’ its voice seemed to drift through the tunnel towards the boy , as if it were whispering into his ear . ‘ yes . . . yes . come have some fun with pennywise , patrick . do you want a balloon ? they float , patrick . ’
there were drips , clicking against the floor inside the tunnel . like a leak in the roof ; not something so unimaginable for a place like derry . only it wasn’t a leak in the roof . it was its thick saliva spatting to the floor , having dangled from the glossy pink flesh of the clown’s lower lip for too long . its eyes glowed a bright yellow , a predatory y ellow , glaring motionlessly at the boy . one stuck off to the side , twisted , but the other stared , its greasepainted brow furrowed in anger , in a longing hunger .
from the darkness , a balloon drifted against the wind . it was coming for patrick , not at some fast and hasted pace . slowly . ready to pounce . ‘ take it , patrick . go show your friends your balloon , patrick . all your friends . t - tell them pennywise has balloons for them all . ’
your son's really cute 😍
outtie