Nissoo

I watched the movie Project Hail Mary, and you know, the moment when Grace starts to understand Rocky (as they try to figure out each other's languages to communicate and save themselves) sparked two thoughts in my mind.

What if Pennywise’s Deadlights are, let's call it, his primordial persona? The entity that existed at the very beginning, if we draw an analogy with the Big Bang theory — everything that existed before the bang. I’m definitely not going to spoil the plot for you, but I thought it would be fascinating to see how Dick tries to communicate and understand the Deadlights themselves, while they are simultaneously trying to understand him.

Rocky in the movie is an engineer, so he built different shapes to explain everything. This made me think: what if the Deadlights did the exact same thing, using the Shining and energy impulses to create specific elements for communication? And Dick, in turn, would try to explain everything from his side.

This led me to another thought: what if the Lights are called Dead because they used to be Alive at some point? Meaning, they once carried their own, so to speak, light or Radiance.

Autumn was arriving unhurriedly; the sun still lazily warmed the sloped roofs of Derry, while the newsstands already showcased the fresh press editions from October fourteenth, nineteen seventy-four. Blaring from the front pages of the Daily News were headlines about the racial riots in Boston over school desegregation busing and the squabbling in Washington following Jaworski's resignation. Out there, the massive human anthills fought furiously among themselves. Important people, or so they fancied themselves, hastily enacted laws, dividing their own kind by skin color or roots.

Pathetic.

In the distance, on the shop stalls, vegetables and late fruits were rotting. To him, human food smelled of decay. And yet, this world drew him in.

Previously, It simply hadn't noticed such trivialities.

The streets were crowded. It tilted its head slightly to the side, studying the throng: the fleeting legs of little children, chirping with happiness or sorrow without a drop of fear; the hulking shadows of their parents; women hurrying somewhere; and the heads of men bobbing in time with their steps. Everything here seemed too simple and bland. Human emotions floated everywhere — bitter, sweet, sour... and unbearably inedible to it right now. It turned up its nose in disdain and grimaced, sensing this surrogate.

This is exactly how Dick presents It to his friends

Hallowise

Honestly, he’s so hard to write. I remember the era when I used to read IT movie fanfics, and he was always (well, almost always) way more bloodthirsty and murderous in his actions.

Meanwhile, here I am doing a whole "well, well, well" with his sibling dynamics, identity crises, and the idea that he might have his own suppressed fear (because if It gets scared, It dies).

So yeah, it's tough. On the bright side, my friend gave me some awesome advice on Pennywise’s inner monologue, what to include, and what metaphors (especially eating/consuming metaphors) to use. I hope it turns out juicy and captures that classic IT vibe.

Oh, and a mini-spoiler: the Deadlights are pulling one way, and Pennywise is pulling the other. There’s a major conflict brewing.

Just sharing some character scent ideas from my fanfiction. Here is how I imagine their perfume pyramids with a bit more detail.

Dick Hallorann:

Top notes: Sharp scent of ozone before a storm, crisp frosty air, and crushed mint leaves.

Heart notes: Spicy ground black pepper, burning hot coffee, warm melted butter, and the hot metal of a steam iron on freshly washed clothes.

Base notes: Dry wood ash, acrid gunpowder burn, smoke.

Real perfumes with this vibe: Comme des Garçons — Odeur 71 (electricity and hot iron), Kerosene — Follow (coffee and spices), BeauFort London — Tonnerre (ash and smoke).

Hallowise

Maturin and Pennywise in future chapter

Dream within a dream (hallowise)

On the bright side, I’ve almost figured out how to finish the new chapter. Just a few paragraphs and pages left. And yes, it’s going to be a conversation between Pennywise and Maturin! It makes me laugh because when I was playing this dialogue in my head… Well, I can promise you one thing: Pennywise is easily dared by his sister, and then he curses and goes, "Damn, she caught me again, that old turtle!!!"

I decided to make some kind of cover or illustration for my fanfiction, so that's what happened

Hallowise

Will slowly took off his jacket, his eyes fixed on the figure standing at the entrance to the living room. The man was impossibly tall. The image of that same clown flashed through Will's mind again. He felt a surge of anger at himself, this was the third time in ten minutes he’d thought of that creature. Perhaps it was Uncle Dick’s departure and his cryptic warning that had unsettled him?

But the moment their eyes met, a shiver ran down Will's spine. The guest had unnaturally blue eyes and auburn hair. He wore a practiced smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was no warmth, no kindness in their depths, only a cold, piercing curiosity.

Mr. Bright stepped forward, and Will instinctively moved to meet him, shielding Jessica with his body.

"A pleasure to meet you," the guest’s voice rang out with an unusually crisp British accent. "Miss Jessica has told me so much about you. I am Raymond Bright."

"Yes, I’ve… heard as well," Will replied, struggling to hide the tension gripping him. "William. But I suppose you knew that already. So, what brings a journalist from London to a backwater like this?"

"I am merely a traveler," Bright replied smoothly, though his gaze remained unwavering. "I enjoy discovering new horizons and savoring things I’ve never seen before. Everything in London has become far too familiar. I wanted to understand what America truly is."

"And you started with Maine?" Will narrowed his eyes. "Hardly the most obvious choice for a bloke from London."

"On the contrary, Mr. Hanlock. The most fitting one," Bright gave a faint, almost imperceptible nod. "There’s a reason these parts are called New England, after all. The old intertwines with the new so curiously here…"

The tension between them became almost tangible, but it was abruptly shattered by the shrill ring of the oven timer. From the kitchen came a loud clatter followed by Jessica’s spirited cursing.