Someone

Hiya...

[someonesmissingneighbor]

IT

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 11 · HEADCANON 1 · Heh... first post... _______ When watching a horror movie: -Pennywise LOVES it. He'll watch intensely

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 5 · Lover and Lunch · Okay.. second post in a row... _______ Pennywise always had thoughts about you. Thoughts that shou

Post by @someonesmissingneighbor · 1 image

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · HEADCANON 2 · third ________ Pennywise LOVES your scent. Drowns in it. Inhales you like a man who's found addiction

[someonesmissingneighbor]

Hey.

Pennywise x Reader. Do it now.

DOMESTICITY

Your wish is my command. (The second request has been used up...)

_________

______

[someonesmissingneighbor]

Bob Gray x Reader.

Now.

FEED ME.

Your wish is my command.

(Post will be out in monday..)

[someonesmissingneighbor]

Thanks for 50 likes....

For thanks, i will do two requests...

Ask me now!!!!!!

[someonesmissingneighbor]

Fourth

(Hey so, English isn't my first language...)

________

VESSEL (1/3)

If you simply got too curious and asked him what he truly is.

________

"Hey... so.. you told me you were the Eater of Worlds.. right? Shouldn't you look cooler than this or..?"

You gestured at his perched seat at the shelf above the TV.

Pennywise perks up. Orange tufts flaring slightly at the jerky motion. Smile immediately stretching wide after you decide to give him attention.

"Oh my little morsel... get too curious and the rat might bite... back. Curiosity kills the cat, after all."

"Yeahㅡ wellㅡ you still didn't answer my question."

"Feisty.... though i indeed like that in my prey.."

He cooed, stepping up and landing down in a crouch in front of the TV, dust kicking up into motes. One knee on the floorboards, the other pointed to the side.

"You see..."

He approached you with a swift twirl of an ankle. Pivoting for a second, suddenly upright. A gloved hand slowly outstretched between the two of you like an invitation.

You stared at the offered hand. Then at the clown. Suspicion. (Poor Georgie.)

He only seemed to grin wider. Innocent buck teeth gleaming in contrast to the red of his lipstick. One eye locked on the wall behind you, the other fixed on your very sluggishlyㅡ rising hand.

Drip, drip, drip,

A string of drool fell from the corner of his mouth.

He didn't ask permission anywayㅡ catching your hand mid-air, grip tight and unrelenting.

"Woahㅡ hey!"

You tensed, eyes wide at the sudden action. His eyes were now fixed on you. You.

"This body wasn't always mine."

ㅡLight, blinding as it is guiding, suddenly engulfed your vision with a wet plop.

______

It all started with a man back in 1906. Oh.. Robert "Bob" Gray, was it? He was.. a father. A stupid, little human who loved both his daughter and his wife so completely, that it didn't even matter whether they just lived in a dusty, cramped trailer.

The voice in your head purred with a sickening croon.

You couldn't speakㅡ not really. Lips sewn shutㅡ literally. Dripping crimson on the dark expanse folding in front of you. There was no pain, but it did freak you out to jump a bit.

ㅡThey all lived so happily together... shared breakfast... shared performances... shared laughter... shared... everything.

A gagging sound echoed from somewhereㅡ and everywhere at once. Thenㅡ silence.

...

Oh... Oh..! But here comes the best part.

A pauseㅡ thenㅡ a gurgling, cruel laugh.

Poor Periwinkle. Same woman who loved little Bob backㅡ started to hear the dark adore her too. Whispered twisted things in the back of her head. Silly little brain disease that figured out her sanity was the price to pay after living such a fulfilling life.

The illness took her, eventually. Slowly, painfully, chipping away her conciousness until she can no longer think... just a brainless, mindless, sad, sad, soul...

An image flashed behind your lids: a silhouetted body kneeling deep in the soil. Periwinkle, still in her costume. Except her eyes aren't bright anymore. Except her blonde curls tainted grey at the edges. Except her black-ringed, pristine silken suit was no longer clean. She didn't speak to you, but you swear you saw her notice youㅡ brieflyㅡ just a glance before it went dark again.

Same ol' Periwinkle, poor ol' Periwinkle, died and rotted away in her deathbed the next day.

Another vision flashed: this time, she laid on a mattress. Skin paler than the usual makeup. Eyes dazed and glazed over. Dark-painted lips falling in a faint gasp, as if she saw something before her death. Costume swapped out for a simple night gownㅡ cosmetics proved expensive back in the dayㅡ but even then, it didn't seem like she died peacefully.

________

Cut!!!

[someonesmissingneighbor]

third

________

HEADCANON 2

Pennywise LOVES your scent.

Drowns in it. Inhales you like a man who's found addiction and can never quit again. Treats it like tobacco, and he'll forever be a smoker.

It doesn't matter whether or not you're busy. He'll have an arm wrapped around you, pulling you back from whatever you're doing, and then he'll bury his fack in the back of your neck. You can hear the audible intake of necessary breath. He'll nuzzle his painted nose against your skin too.

Worseㅡ (or better, depending who you ask)ㅡ

He'll actively try to scent-mark you as his own. You'll find him passing by youㅡ suspiciously innocentㅡ and then he deliberately rubs, or brushes against you. (Or, he'll snap his head at you the next second, and try to catch a whiff of you.)

It doesn't matter whether or not you're in public too. Hell, he'd probably enjoy the act of getting to "claim" you in front of people. Whether it be a kid or an adultㅡ (or something else entirely), he's ready to put down his foot and label you as his territory. Often with either holding hands (a "disgusting" thing he, himself surprisingly allows), or just.. following from behind, trailing like a vengeful ghost or a lost duckling.

[someonesmissingneighbor]

Okay.. second post in a row...

_______

Lover and Lunch

Pennywise always had thoughts about you.

Thoughts that shouldn't come from an eldritch being born from the darkness between the stars..

_

He'd always wantedㅡ thought of eating you.

Not for food, not for hunger.

But for a sick, twisted sense of keeping you withㅡ inside him forever. Letting you float in the gentle cradle of the Deadlights that served as his stomach.

Keep you away from prying eyes, fleeting touches, and venomous words. (If you worked with a karen... doubt they'd make it out alive.)

He wanted to keep you the way a miser keeps gold. The way a grave keeps bones. The way the Deadlights keep everything they touch—trapped, eternal, unchanging.

But he wouldn't harm you.. not really.

He would part his jaws. Let the light flow. Let you float into his waiting maw. Slide you down his throat with a gentle whisper, let you drift in the black expanse of what passed for the hollowness of a borrowed body.

He didn't love normally. (if he could love).

_

But he has never acted upon it.

No.

Never.

That would be.. finishing a book and leaving it to rot on the shelf wihtout even enjoying the chapters.

He would rather starve than turn devotion into devour.

Would rather crawl back to the macroverse than turn coddle into consumption.

Becauseㅡ a part of him (not that he understood it) wanted to keep you breathing. Keep you living. Keep you walking and alive on the very planet he crashed on.

Just to see you smile.  (a disgusting human thing that should've made him barf.)

Because the end of the journey wasn't important. It was the adventure of the journey.

And Pennywise, would go through the obstacles with you. Whether you wanted him toㅡ or not.

..Hm... where had he heard that before..

[someonesmissingneighbor]

Heh... first post...

_______

HEADCANON 1

When watching a horror movie:

-Pennywise LOVES it. He'll watch intensely, often muttering under his breath about another way to slaughter the lead character as if he was the killer in the screen.

-He doesnt sit beside you, no. He sits on the floor, closest to the screen, crisscrossed and gloved hands in his lap like he's behaving for once.

-When the screen shows gore, or at least blood, you swear you can see him start to drool just a little. (Pennywise imagines the taste. The sweet flavor of fear accompanied by the sharp, metallic tang of copper blood.)

-He's not subtle when it comes to cheering on the killer in the screen. He'll preen and grin wide whenever he predicts who's going to die, and how they're going to die.

When you're scared:

-Pennywise doesn't know what to do about it. About you, specifically.

-At first, he'll taste the slow, bleeding, creeping-in fear wafting into the air like blood seeping from a dead body. He thinks its delicious. He can't help it. (What did you expect?)

-But then it hits:

Oh. Oh.

You are scared.

-He'll be awkward about it. Unsure on how to proceed. He'll tilt his head slowly to the side, grin faltering just a little.

-He'll try to.. comfort you in a fucked-up way. Crooning about: "Do not fret my morsel... such lowly murders aren't to touch you... except for me."

-And when that doesn't work? He'll deflate visibly. Orange tufts drooping, bells silencing, and crimson-painted lips curling downwards at the corners like he was also going to cry too.

-He'll go silent for a while. Trying to understand you. One glowing, amber eye drifting off to the side, the other locked on you.

-He knows you're scared. Slow-scared... fast-scared... wise-scared... still scared, he thinks.

-Eventually, he turns off the TV, or whatever the hell you two were watching on.

-He'll approach. A bucket of caramel-drizzled popcorn in one gloved hand. Offering it to you like the only comfort he knows how to give instead of take.

-He's shit at comfort. He's bad at it. Horrible, even.

-He doesn't understand emotions. He imitates such to lure those delicious little children in.

-But with you...

He supposes he can... learn.