#itsdeadlights

                                        ❛   there’ll   be   plenty   more   before   this   is   over .   ❜

@itsdeadlights​ || meme || accepting ❛--Ididn’t ask to get made--❜

“Yeah, well, neither did I,” came the quick retort. All Bill wanted was to be left to live the rest of his life in peace, but apparently that was far too much to ask. No matter how he said it, or how many times, none of that seemed to matter to anyone. If moving permanently to his home in London is what it would take, then that’s exactly what he would do. Everyone else could do whatever the fuck they wanted, he was done caring.

His boundaries weren’t being respected, so he’d just have to make them physical to get the point across.

“Lucky for you, I’m planning on making it easier for you to never have to think about me again.”

A quick present sketch for @itsdeadlights

Because the relationship between Bessa and Penny always has a special place in my heart, even thou i was so long on hiatus...

Bessa: “Everything is going to be alright...”

   she knew BETTER than this. stephanie knew better. if any one else was wandering around this town alone at night she would have yelled at them to GO HOME. it wasn’t safe after all. but what did she really have to lose in this situation?? it was not safe at HOME, it was not safe outside of home. so she wandered, curiosity getting the best of her. WEIRD SHIT had been happening, disappearances and worse. somehow, she felt like she would be able to STOP IT ALL. 

    stephanie makes her way down the dark street, just a few blocks from her home. these street lights aren’t doing shit, she thought to herself as she made her way further away from home. she had NO PLAN, no real clue as to what she was doing here. she fumbles into her jacket pocket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes she had stolen from her older brothers bedroom while he was out with his friends. 

   Henry Bowers had already looked like he had been in quite the fight, more than once. Rebecca Tozier had been the unlucky one to run into him after her own brother (unknowingly to her) had attacked him, tried to kill him, in the library. There was no way of knowing how Bowers knew who she was, but apparently Richie’s little sister was the perfect person to take out Richie-related frustrations on.

   Also unknowingly to her, Bowers was also on a mission. One that he must have assumed she was part of.

   It was really a surprise that he had somehow managed to carry her that far into the sewers. He was injured and bleeding out, and Rebecca, after meeting Bowers’ knife, was in the same boat. Her own blood was staining his shirt as he had thrown her over his shoulder, and the pain combined with the feeling of her life simply draining out of her kept her from fighting. Besides, slipping in and out of consciousness didn’t help, and she wouldn’t really be able to know where to run if she woke up in the sewers.

“See the Turtle of enormous girth,” Roland mutters to the hardpan ground beneath him. He had squatted, head bowed, dark hair wrapped in a tight bun under his hat. One strand had fallen out and into his face in his position, reminding him of the woman who had come and gone just as quickly as everyone else in his life seemed to. How long had it been since then? The gunslinger had little idea. Why did he squat here, speaking to the dirt, as though he could breathe life into it?

Again, he knew it not. Such a question did not even grace his unimaganitive mind. He did as he was bid, and something had bid him to do this. Or, perhaps, he was simply, finally, going insane. That idea had crossed through his mind, but he’d let it fall aside all the same. If he was, there was nothing much he could do to stop it. 

“On his back he holds the earth,” his lips are dry and cracked, “his thought is slow but always kind.” Tongue like leather inside the dry cave of his mouth. Something insists he finish the rhyme, and so he does, as he’d been taught it.