it’s so fucking funny to me that the only characterization young mike got was that he likes florida??? ok?
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@hanlans
it’s so fucking funny to me that the only characterization young mike got was that he likes florida??? ok?
I just wanted to draw Mike with a cat but its gone a little too far
“mikey...”
a muted whisper, like it were coming from behind a wall. mike turned, feeling the shock sink into him, bone-deep and ice-white. he laid his eyes on a young stan uris sitting behind his desk. “mikey, is that really you?”
mike took a step backward, his hands going to his face, shutting the vision out. he stumbled over his feet, almost fell, and took his hands away. it is still there; stan uris is still there, mouthing these words that don’t sound like his own. and from beyond stan’s shoulder, the clown grinned even wider.
“don’t worry, mikey.” stan said, his jaw unhinging, his face pale green. propped up like a dummy, the clown his puppeteer, he said, “we just wanna kill you.”
love wins
i wish the movies wouldve made clear that mike did try to talk to the police, steer them in the right direction, push them to investigate things further when they were so willing to brush things off to make their jobs easier. he wasn’t on some weird one-man crusade and he wasn’t a “madman”. a lot of ppl in derry knew smth was strange even if they couldn’t pinpoint what or why. mike and the losers weren’t the only ppl harmed by the town. and to mostly everyone, he was merely a librarian with a love for derry’s history.
Drive to Santa Mira- Halloween III: Season of the Witch OST
JOURNAL ENTRIES / 1/?
fall was coming to derry. growing colder. growing darker. kids go inside earlier. the wind’s no longer soft. sometimes i sit on my porch and watch the neighborhood go by. it’s a small street i live at, mostly populated by the elderly. the kind who never seem to stray far from their yard.
i’ve talked to a few, namely this couple that lives in a house across from me. a man and a woman, melvin and jackie. sometimes they’ll have me over for dinner. last winter, i watched their cat for them while they were out of town. we had a simple, neighborly friendship, nothing more. until three weeks ago. three weeks ago on melvin’s porch, we got to drinking. jackie had gone to bed an hour before. after drinking, we got to talking. i said that i was thinking of writing a book on derry, mixing historical accounts with my own childhood experience.
melvin grew quiet. took a long swig of his beer. even sober, he liked to get personal. drinking only intensified that. i knew that too. and maybe it was wrong of me to try to get a story out of him, but i figured it’d do no harm. “you lived out a little further, right? your father had that farm.”
“yeah,” i said. “a bit rural.”
“i don’t go there no more. haven’t in years. when we were just kids, there was this pond near your old place. me and my sisters liked to play there. did i ever tell you about the gold at the bottom?”
he hadn’t. “no. no, i don’t think you did.”
“it was a rumor. said some bandits buried their treasure there. and we wanted some of it. we didn’t have a whole lot growing up, so hearing that was neat. we wanted to try to find it. i asked my friend to come with me. his name was pete. we got two shovels from his garage. we walk there - me, pete, and my sisters, and go looking for gold. figured we could cut the corners, wear it down, and try to drain the water. but it started raining so we go home empty-handed. that night, pete says we should go again. you know, just to see. he wanted that gold real bad. i did too. we made a promise to split it between our families when we found it.
we get there and start digging some. it was a little scary at night, but not too bad. we were resting and had our feet in the water when pete started complaining, saying the night bugs were getting to him. they started getting to me too so i stood up to go and pete tried but .. but he couldn’t. said there was something holding onto his foot. i thought he was fooling with me and told him to quit it. he said it wasn’t a joke. something had him. so i grabbed him and started pulling and pulling and suddenly he started screaming! i never heard anyone scream like that. he was saying something to me .. said it hurts. he screamed it. we were both crying at this point. he was splashing, going crazy. i was so scared we were gonna fall in. i don’t know what i would’ve done if i fell in. finally, i pulled him out.
we fell back on the grass. pete was still screaming and crying, trying to sit up. pointing down. i looked .. oh god .. his foot was gone, mike. it was like a fish tore it off. he was bleeding all down there. i must’ve pissed myself because i remember feeling all wet. i got him up, tried carrying him back but it was too hard. i wasn’t strong enough. i told him to wait. said i was gonna go run to get help. but he didn’t want me to. didn’t want to be left alone out there. but i was so scared, i .. i told him i’d be right back and i ran even as he cried for me to come back. i remember that. i remember he was crying for me. but i ran. and i kept running until i saw lights and got to a house, got help like i said i would.
but when the officer got there, he said he couldn’t find him. said he found the pond but couldn’t find him. the whole town ended up looking for him. we couldn’t. we never did. said it could’ve been an animal attack. i don’t know. there were still some bears around then. the cops drained the pond and found nothing. no pete. no gold. they filled it in with dirt. his parents moved away soon after that. i never really got over that, mike. they all said it wasn’t my fault but i never really got over that.”
i searched my brain. peter wood. disappeared 14th of august, 1913. presumed dead. his body was never recovered.
melvin didn’t say anything after telling me that. only rubbed at his face and let out a long sigh. then he got up, said he had to use the restroom and went inside. didn’t come back out to the porch, so i took that as my cue to leave.
it’s been three weeks now and i can’t let go of that story. i had a nightmare a few days ago. it was summer. i was at the canal. i saw a boy sitting on the ledge, his legs in the water. when he lifted them, i could see the missing tissue and bits of bone. the water turned pink around him. he looked up at me, smiled, and winked.
derrymeds
“ i’m so sick of them coming at me. ”
they won’t, he wanted to say, but he knew that wasn’t true and he was pretty sure mike hanlon was the sort of kid who’d had to face the truth of the world too young and head-on. the comfort of that lie would be a waste. eddie’s eyebrows knit tight together. ❝ if bowers comes after you again you’ll be with us, right? and i think big bill might just kill him if he trespasses in the barrens again. ❞ he almost smiled at the thought of that tired and crazed look in bill’s eyes, victor criss’ blood speckled across his chest. ❝ and there’s seven of us now. ❞
and that was all there was to say, really. because ( we’re all together now ) somehow seven just felt like a better sort of number than six. it had the right weight to it, though eddie couldn’t exactly explain what that meant. but he knew that their circle was complete, that if the losers had been jagged little pieces of a puzzle they now formed the whole picture. oh god, he thought. i hope it’s a good one.
but it was too hot, too damn hot, to think about things on a prophetic scale. eddie looked up at mike, raising a hand to keep the fat afternoon sun from blinding him. ❝ you wanna go to the aladdin? ma gave me extra allowance and they’ve got something called the blob playing. bet it’s real stupid. ❞ he grinned.
“ yeah , you’re right . ” immediately he felt a lot better , sour thoughts put to rest . it may be nothing , but there was a slight shift in the air --- something stirring , nearly tangible . there’s seven of us now .. he felt like a great big weight had been lifted from his chest . relief was here . he could breath again . “ losers stick together . ” now that was an easy thing to believe .
“ oh sure , lemme --- ” hands dive into jean pockets , fishing around for some greens . “ i oughta have something .. ” he murmurs under his breath , brows knitting together in concentration “ --- aha ! ” a victory . out comes two crumpled dollars and one faded penny . “ knew i had some left . ” / @derrycompass
spitaught
‘ all i do —- all i do’s not enough. ‘
“ hey , you can’t give up now ! where’s that leave me ? ”
destroycastle
scraped palm is turned over gently. ❝ oh, i just. tripped. i — … tripped & landed kinda funny. it’s no big deal. ❞
grimace is barely withheld , neck craning forward to get a closer look . “ you sure ? looks like it hurts .. ”
and these days i have been working as a library assistant. as soon as i have enough money to leave this town and start to settle down i will. it’s almost time that the last “LOSERS CLUB” member leaves. in the future hopefully we won’t need to come back.
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reblog this and make a post with 🐻 to let your mutuals comment nice things about you and/or your portrayal on!
just for new followers my mike is book based idk the movies 🥰
traumnas
VIOLENT AND VIROSE , sibilant whispers to seep over shoulder ━━ the consumed congested as one , cavorting as one . ❝ bring them home , mikey . ❞ there It looms , in silvery glares of the canal , absent ‘pon his startled shift ( 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 , 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝐲𝐨𝐮 ) . clownish aspect titters from murky pool , upends a gloved finger , points to five heads . bobbing . each a familiar and nigh - forgotten flesh , bruise - blue with bloat . back to derry , back to play , back to pennywise . ❝ bring them home to duh - duh - die ! ❞
this fear haunts me . skin feeling snakelike tight , a scream wants to break out . against the tide of terror , how long can you avoid a surrender ? evil had made a home . in the woods , in the streets , in the water . when you move , it follows . when you sleep , it dreams with you . when you peer into the darkness , it stares back . eyes full of light . eyes alive . eyes hungry . this town has become his closest companion and his greatest enemy . “ why here ? why derry ? ” why us ?