#consumefear

@consumefear is feeling artsy! 🔪

If there is one thing Art loves, it's a carnival! The sun hasn't quite set yet. It looms in the west like a waning guest, peeking its head over the yawning horizon as if it fears it will miss something. The autumn air is cool, liberally so this time of year, and already one can sense the changing tides of this new cycle. For Art, Derry is just another stop in the long and joyous event of servitude. The people here are poignant, their souls ripe with generations of misery and ill intent.

How easily they will fare to hell! They are like letters sent to a lover, packaged and purposefully dispatched. Not that it matters now.

Art has only managed one kill tonight, and it was anticlimactic. The result of a fine push of a stall worker into the broken remains of a bottle toss game, with not nearly enough suffering to make it worth the effort. His mood is soured by that, and he stalks past a group of giggling teenagers who want a picture without a second thought.

He is stopped by the intrusion of something red flickering in the corner of his vision. Only when he gets his bearings does he realize it is a balloon. One of many in what look like a bouquet. Away he goes! He is smiling and batting his eyes, deliberately pushing away the little girl who was just about to grab one from the other clown's hand. She whines when she lands on her ass, scurrying away.

fear and anger rumbles and mixes within her. the frigid airs around her are no match for the rage bubbling within her. this monster, this man -- whatever it is as it had shown so many forms in first interaction -- is to blame for newfound situation. abigail is ostracized. she holds the blame for a crime she did not commit ... at least, not at her own hand. she had made the unthinkable of decisions for the sake of her other children.

"come out," she demands, so uncharacteristic of her more timid nature. she's been groomed to be the perfect wife, perfect woman that is seen and rarely heard. such are the times, the expectations of the world she resides in. fingers grip tight to the edge of the well as gaze is cast deep into the inky depths of darkness.

@consumefear liked for a starter

The street was wrong. Bucky felt it the moment he stepped onto the pavement — too quiet, like the world had inhaled and forgotten how to breathe out. Fog clung low around his boots, damp and cold, muffling sound until even his own footsteps felt foreign. The houses lining the street looked normal enough, but something about them made his skin itch, like they were watching him back.

His metal fingers flexed once, grounding. “Alright,” he muttered to the empty air, voice low and steady. “You can stop hiding.” Hydra. Aliens. Gods. He’d dealt with worse than tricks of the light.

"hello! are you my friend?"

for samson from echo

Sweat pricked at his forearms as his gaze flickered to the plughole. Samson blinked against the glow which illuminated shadows across his face, when the voice floats up, he took a strangled breath.

echo to george

Georgie smiled when he saw the balloon and went over to the window. It took some effort for the boy, having only one arm now, but he managed to push the window up. He waved at Echo when he saw them standing in his front yard, then waved them over, silently telling them to come inside. Georgie still wasn't talking, no matter how hard he tried, but he'd never really needed words with Echo, anyway. Much like Pennywise had just known his worst fears, Echo seemed to just know him, from the very beginning.

Looking at followers for a minute and now I'm in hysterics.

There was always something about Derry that tugged at her for the past thirty years or so. Always something in the back of her mind nagging at her, as if it were extremely important. It had come up when she met Wentworth, and when Richie was born, but it had never truly settled back into her mind.

Lately it had been screaming at her to realize. It was as if Marge was lost in her own mind everyday.

She was cutting through the small alley off of Main Street, behind the butcher shop as errands were running through her head. There were so many things she needed to get done, so she was grateful that Richie was off with his friends.

from echo for bernadette

"Wow!"

It took time for Bernadette - the name she'd chosen because it sounded like a pretty doll - to learn the things she needed to, but now the pennyling was becoming more and more what she was meant to be.

A rabbit was fine, but there was always better prey to be had. That didn't mean Echo didn't deserve their praise. Bernadette was there for her small family, until the end of time.