MONSTERS ARE REAL.

@oathmade —— BILL DENBROUGH / 001.

bUT THE CLOWN! THE /CLOWN/ STAN! HE GIVES FREE BALLOONS!

@oathmade —— BILL DENBROUGH / 001.

       he is tired. he feels like he hasn’t slept in days, even though he has. it’s been restless sleep, though, the kind where even a breeze outside your window can wake you, the kind that’s littered with nightmares if you do manage to drift off for more than a couple of minutes. he doesn’t feel like a kid. he doesn’t know how to explain that, and those aren’t the words he would use, but that’s exactly what it is, exactly what he’ll remember in 27 years when he knows that, long ago, he’d gotten too old for this. he feels heavy, eyelids and lips and shoulders all drooping. the summer had started fine— how had it gone to such shit so quickly?

       he’s always looked like a miniature adult, but now he feels the part, too.

       “i’m fine, bill,” he says, for his own sake more than the other boy’s. he’s got to be okay because, no matter what happens, he knows he’s going to follow bill into that sewer. even if he doesn’t want to, even if his feet anchor themselves to the ground. he can feel it.

@francaissonata —— CHARLIE RITER / 001.

       maybe he is just crazy. maybe, somehow, in some sick way, they’re both just crazy. maybe that’s what’s really wrong with derry: the problem isn’t in the sewers, beneath their feet, but in their minds. mass hysteria, right? wrong. stan knows it’s wrong, and he can’t really explain how he knows that beyond a sinking, awful feeling in his gut. he can’t really explain how he knows that the things he saw in the standpipe were real even though they shouldn’t have been, that they were real despite everything he’s ever known telling him they should be otherwise. in truth, he’d rather be crazy— at least then he’d know that the crack was in his head, not in the universe.

@bravegroupie​ —— NEWT GEISZLER / 001.

       her eyes flick upward. she’s tall for her age but still shorter than newt. her eyes have to squint against the sun so she can see him, but it’s only just barely. he’s nothing more than an outline with, if she had to try and describe it, an annoying voice. he’s not the kind of guy who strikes the feeling of authority into her, but that does him some good in this situation. she’s not looking for an adult, not looking for someone to save her. she’s really just looking for company.

       “… okay,” she says, pushing herself up off the ground. she doesn’t bother to brush the dirt off her clothes. she’s young, but she comes off far more mature than she should.

@bravegroupie​ —— NEWT GEISZLER / 002.

       stan can practically feel the hairs on the back of his neck lifting, that uncomfortable feeling settling in that says someone’s watching you. the problem is that the feeling hit late, shrouded by his current struggle, and his thought is instead someone’s been watching you. he’s not sure which is worse. maybe under normal circumstances he would prefer it this way, but with the way he’s been fighting with his shirt collar in the mirror of the boy’s bathroom, he finds himself embarrassed instead.

       “i appreciate the support,” he says dryly, hands trying once more to smooth out the wrinkle henry bowers had snatched into his clean blue button up earlier that day. he sighs through his nose and tries to resign himself to leaving it messy, but it tugs at the back of his mind.

       stan glances up, pushing the glasses up on his face. he’s been quiet--- quieter, even, than he used to be as a child, which is impressive if you’d ever met stanley uris as a child--- but now his attention is turned on newt, dark eyes focused across the table to meet the other man’s. he smiles, as much as he’s able to, and he’s the picture perfect opposite of richie. his spine is straight, his expression is subdued, his fingers tap the table in a slow, repetitive pattern; richie is sitting next to newt leaned back, one leg crossed over the other, one hand resting on newt’s shoulder as he tells beverly a joke to his left.