#smash cut to a montage of all the time he's thrown hands with the 8 year old

[wahbegan]

Blah Blah Trailer Things Blah I’m So Weary

All right w/e you’d think i was getting paid for this the way i crank them out even when I have no desire to but fuck it as all the ones before, under a read more so you don’t have to scroll and shit and so that if someone makes a super obvious correction in the first few notes i can change it and nobody will be the wiser tee hee hee I am gonna stick to things that haven’t been confirmed so shit we already know like “There are additional flashbacks to when they were kids, Mike still lives in Derry and has been tryna figure out how to kill It through...tripping, apparently? They meet at Jade of the Orient like in the book,” etc. I won’t touch for the sake of brevity. I also won’t go over things I did in the last one

1. The flood of water in the sewer COULD be right after they actually kill It, in the book they kill It in the early morning, and Its death coincides with a massive storm destroying the town, starting with the sewers flooding and backing up

2. Adrian Mellon, post beating and being thrown off a bridge by homophobes, as Pennywise mockingly offers him help before eating him. This is STRAIGHT out of the book, right down to the silver eyes Pennywise is sporting i’m very excited

3. Bev walking in the rain looking shaken up seems to be her right after having her fight her way out of her abusive boyfriend’s place, we know they’re keeping that intact courtesy of the bruises on her arms in the Mrs Kersh trailer

4. Not sure where Eddie’s standing in this child-to-adult montage, i can only guess that maybe Ben is outside that bar he gets shitfaced in before he goes back to Derry? But that’s a shot in the dark. I know Bill’s standing at the storm drain where Georgie got dragged in, which we saw It taunting him in Georgie form briefly in the last trailer, and Mike due to the area and the police lights on his face, seems to be investigating child murders like he was in the book. It’s what prompts him to call the other Losers. Richie is at the Paul Bunyan statue

5. So yeah the carnival seems to play a bigger role than just the backdrop where Adrian first has trouble with the homophobes like in the book, Bill probably follows a lead there, possibly investigating what happened to Adrian aaaaand finds Pennywise chewing down on some kid right behind a glass he can’t get to him from in a mirror maze, ostensibly just to fuck with him. Brutal and sadistic, i gotta say i love it even though it’s hard to analyze further than that since there isn’t anything even remotely analogous to this in the book. Oh, the little swinging punch clowns are done up like Tim Curry’s Pennywise, that’s a fun easter egg. Also Pennywise’s long tongue on the glass is reminiscent of The Leper’s tongue from the book, probably did that on purpose. 

6. Oh yeah confirmation Bowers is alive and in a mental hospital, and Pennywise is calling him back, apparently via red balloon instead of the moon which BOOOOOO but whatever

7. Since they changed it from the book a bit to revolve more heavily around Neibolt Street, that seems to have more prominence in this half of the movie as well, with lots of shots of them going into it, whereas I don’t think they touch it as adults in the book. I do like the fridge shaking like It’s about to come out of it like It did in the first movie to eat Eddie. Clearly lots of call backs so that’s fun. Actually, you know what? It could be Stan’s severed head with a bunch of balloons in there cause there’s a scene like that involving a (different) fridge in the adult half of the book/miniseries

EDIT: Okay, according to someone on youtube who saw Comic-Con footage, that IS the case damn i’m right once in a while except in this case Stan’s head...the youtube source didn’t say whose head it was but i’m...there’s no way it’s not Stan’s goes on to sprout spider legs and crawl at them a la The Thing so that’s pretty awesome

8. “I’ve seen all of us die” is an interesting line. Now, in the book, fUCKING STAN YOU FUCKING BASTARD ANDRES MUSCHIETTI YOU LITERALLY TOOK EVERYTHING FROM STAN AND GAVE IT TO A DIFF-ahem. Forgive that little outburst. In the book,...SSsss.....hrng. Stanley Uris is the one who seems to have visions or at least a sense of the future, not, Bev, as well as some vaguely defined psychic somethinerother. Obviously, her kidnapping slash Deadlighting slash empty eyes slash floating thing never happens in the book, so once again, no real way of knowing if it’s a Dr. Strange circa Infinity War thing where she saw a possible or a bunch of possible futures or just Pennywise fucking with her to make her feel hopeless thing. I mean obviously we know they don’t all die so i’m just curious about the nature of her vision she had in Its lair. Obviously some of it came to pass, but...i just don’t know if it was a vision from The Turtle or a trick from It, or possibly a little of both. But it’s one of those

9. Oh yeah right that....that’s definitely Stan’s death scene. Not that there was any question, really, but this is solid confirmation he takes a one way ticket out of Clowntown on the Razorblade-in-a-Bathtub Express

10. Oh I forgot to say about the alien-looking spikes i think that’s the blasted-up exploded remains of whatever it landed in just btw

11. Okay so Bill as an adult back in the basement with a screaming ghost Georgie confronting him in a very similar way to when he was a kid, Bev back in the bathroom where she got bullied and it seems like her childhood bathroom? Filling up with blood and...trying to help someone out of the blood lake? Okay.

I have a theory about all this.

I think it’s them interacting with their younger selves. I think.....

I think The Ritual of Chud is going to manifest differently for every single one of them, and it’s basically going to be them going to some mindscape where they go to their kid selves, to their worst and darkest moments, and are either trapped there in despair or have to save their younger selves. Think of The Haunting of Hill House’s Red Room. I THINK that’s what’s going on here. Judging by...I’m almost positive Bev is reaching out her hand to pull her younger self out of the blood, and you can see young Bill behind adult Bill in the background while Georgie’s going “what the FUCK you’re the worst brother EVER” at him so look i think i’m right, okay? 

12. When Bev smashes the mirror, it looks like, you know how in the first one Henry goes to carve his face on Ben’s stomach but only gets the H? In the book that scar disappears when he grows up but then comes back after Mike calls him and it looks here like not only has the scar come back but It has either actually cut the entire name down there or at least made him hallucinate that the entire name has appeared on his stomach. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the latter, some kind of hallucination Bev’s trying to break by shattering the mirror.

13. Yeah so if you hadn’t read the book, that’s pretty much definitely Eddie Richie’s holding, and he’s pretty much definitely dying and his final words are pretty much definitely gonna be “Don’t call me Eds. You know I hate it when you...”

14. Oh yeah right I’m pretty sure the underwater monster is a more decayed Ms Kersh and it looks like instead of turning to candy, her house floods for some reason? And here she is being all spooky and underwater with Bev i do not know why the flooding is a thing but w/e uhhh look it’s not in the first trailer i don’t know where i think i saw this or how I got this impression but i think somewhere there was a brief shot implying the water like came out of a painting or something. Possibly a 1408 reference, actually

15. Gotta be Its lair disintegrating after the completed Ritual of Chud which yeah when they were all holding hands a few shots earlier and looking up at orange light i forgot to say that’s def the Ritual starting

17. Whoever this is, Bill i’m assuming flying through that tunnel to the rectangle of light is pretty close to straight out of the book Ritual of Chud

18. Mike tripping, as per mentioned

19. Given the shit all over them and how emotional Richie is, it seems like this would be at the end after they leave the sewers? Idk his scream could be about several things, but it’s just the kind of scream that says “my best friend in the whole wide world and completely hetero lifemate just got his arm bitten off by a weird giant spider alien thing and bled to death”

20. Andres Muschietti mentioned the underground clubhouse would be part of this movie, as well as the “tripping and coming dangerously close to dying via carbon monoxide poisoning so we can hallucinate about where It came from” part of the book but at the end Pennywise is clearly slamming the door which wasn’t part of that sequence unless i mean they may have just added it in for a scare or it could be one of the adults going back to said clubhouse and having a flashback leading into Pennywise fucking with them, either is a possibility

21. Okay so unfortunately i have egg on my face and this clearly is It (not Henry Bowers like i theorized) previously not in Pennywise form, putting on Its Pennywise form, possibly for the first time in a flashback.

22. Okay i am almost 100% sure Pennywise, Devourer of Worlds and Children, The Spider, The Deadlights, The Eternal Consumption, ends this trailer by saying “Hewwo”

[ecmontage]

Shoot for the Trees

The white airbag came out of nowhere, smashing into my face. A sharp blinding pain ripped up my side. I started to panic, trapped between the steering wheel and the seat, the bright light of my phone dimmed, leaving me in darkness. The shattered remains of the driver’s window surrounded me. I struggled to open the door, but it was bent in by force and was unmovable. Shards of glass were ripping into my skin; blood seeped from the jagged cuts. As I sat there in the dark, I wondered if I would see my life flash before my eyes. I hoped so; I wanted to see the sum of my existence, played before my eyes like my funeral montage. I waited, nothing happened. Crap.

I yelled out, waiting for a response. Surely this road wasn’t that deserted? I could still taste the alcohol on my breath, my stomach clenched, an iron band tightening as I realized that taking the last drink probably wasn’t my brightest idea. My eyes were adjusting to the darkness, I looked around for inspiration. I wasn’t sure what the protocol for being trapped in your car was. The passenger side of the car was littered with odds and ends, to be honest it actually looked tidier than it did before the accident. Last weeks “to go” wrappers were almost in a neater pile, thrown against the back of the seat. Amidst the booze and sweat stained 12 hour shift shirts, thrown carelessly towards the side of the car, was a medal, a bow carved into the shining gold reflected in the dim moonlight. I laughed almost deliriously, my head still spinning from the alcohol and shock. What if I died, I would never be able to pick up a bow again. At least my deaths highlight reel would feature my first major achievement in life.

I remember picking up the wooden bow, it felt weird, light. Not what I had expected at all. Joking and laughing with the other students, trying to hide my confusion. I wasn’t even sure which way up the bow went, and why the string wasn’t even taunt. I gave a sideways glance, only to see equally confused looks on my fellow want to be archer’s faces. A thick French accent coated the room.

“You must first string the bow,” he yanked it from my hands, tutted at me as he turned it the right way up and proceeded to perform a complex set of tasks, which would soon become second nature to me. Annoyed at being the only one called out, I scowled at him, my eyes burning into his back. I was already looking like the noob, I needed to be good at this.

“Follow me,” he said, and as I walked outside into the sheep infested field clutching my cheap wooden bow tightly in my fist, I vowed I would show him and these other kids. The moment that first arrow left my hand showed them up I did.

Beginners shooting they called it, sometimes you just have a flare for archery, and before you really start having expectations, it’s easy. Ignorance is bliss they told me as I pounded out 10s. I was ignorant until I realized that I was good. Until I started noticing that the better you shoot, the more people look at you, and the more you want that ten, the lower those arrows drop.

The summer’s day was bright, with the almost wool-less sheep lazily chewing grass; one sheep had decided to station itself right to the side of me. Not really in the way of my shooting, but close enough to have to constantly keep a wary eye on any sheep suicide attempts. My form was feeling fine, great in fact. I had just sent my third ten smashing into the gold, but I could see my coach coming over, already looking intently at my front arm. My shoulders inevitably started to tighten, my stomach clenching. My hand jerked forward as I tried to release, the arrow veering off to the side, just barely hitting the target. Don’t miss again, you fool. Flustered I quickly drew another arrow, hoping to send this one into the gold. This time, it was my front arm that failed me, its tension giving way at the last second for a low right 6. His heavy hand slapped my shoulder.

“Kid, you should think about a tournament, there is one this weekend, I’ll coach you.”

“Yeah, nah,” I told him, looking over at my poor grouping, I hated it when he watched me shoot. I would make so many changes for him, only to have a week’s work ruined because of a single glance. I could only picture me going to pieces in front of strangers, and it terrified me.

“I have to work” I blurted out.

“Seriously?” he was scowling at me, like I was personally attacking him, “you are working for minimum wage at that screwed up bar, instead of going to the NI FITA?”

“Well, all the incredible amount of nothing there is to win for prize money won’t exactly pay the rent will it?” I laughed, passing off my rudeness as a joke.

“So you have to work 75 hour weeks? To pay for what, your friends booze?”

“Very funny, I’ll see you next week.” I didn’t look back as I stomped down the range to grab my arrows. Ignoring my coach’s scowls and his pointed muttering about talent wasted.

The music was loud, no louder than normal, but for some reason, my head could not adjust. Taking another large jug of Tiger beer outside was a relief, the air was cool, and I stood there for several seconds, subtly lifting up my arms to air out my armpits. Hoping that my pit stains weren’t too obvious I walking over to the group of twenty guys in suits, half of them already more than intoxicated. This group had been my baby since 4pm this afternoon. I had fed them and boozed them refilling drink after drink. Grooming them for a tip that would make the constant running back and forth, and rude remarks worth it. Here I was in my element. I knew this group would make this long shift worth it.

“Keep them coming girl,” the huge bearded man, surrounded by his employees, who had finally ceased to suck up to him as they had become more and more intoxicated, winked at me as I placed the jug of beer down. Picking up the three empty pitchers, I quickly made a judgment call, I could probably serve the group two more, and hopefully increase my tip a little in the next fifteen minutes, and they would be fine. After filling up another jug from behind the bar and grabbing yet another plate of their greasy food, I headed outside for the fiftieth time that night.

As I leaned in to clean out the chunks of vomit from the hand basin one hour later, I had plenty of time to analyze my poor decision making skills. Screw that last jug of beer. I had watched them as they had drunkenly staggered out, relieved that they were finally gone and I no longer had to be wary of fingers drunkenly pinching my ass. I ripped off my gloves, throwing them in the rubbish bin with disgust. Tying my apron back on I headed behind the bar, swiftly typing my code into the POS system, I gave a glance over the bill. My heart sank as my eyes reached the bottom. Those bastards. No tip.

It had taken several of my club members a lot of convincing, to drag me away from work for the weekend, and to fork out the overpriced entry fee. I knew people would be watching me shoot, even spectators would make the iron band tighten, my shoulders rising and fingers tensing, making a smooth shot an impossibility. Wellington was such a long way to go to fail.

I had shot well the first day, and to several people’s surprise, mostly my own I had placed in the top 5 only 3 points away from second place. The elimination matches had started early with number one being knocked out by a nobody from Taupo. “Anything could happen in matchplay.” The few spectators had told me. And anything did. The large warehouse was empty at one end save the two separated target butts, the little targets looked ten times tinier than normal, dull against the dark black stands. The spectators stood and sat around, most of them intently watching the Recurve Woman’s Gold medal match for the Indoor Nationals. The commentator was pretending to be much more excited about archery than was realistically possible.

“Ten from Cheree, and Rachel is drawing back to answer with… a 9. Cheree follows with another 9. 28 to 19, Rachel has to shoot a 9 to tie, or a 10 to win. She is coming up..” The crowd was hushed. A loud crack wrecked the air, as a portly man leaned back too far in the white plastic chair. I lost focus for a millisecond, my sight shaking around the gold. My shoulder was high, the tension lost in my back, this wasn’t going to be good.

“ohhh she lets down with 8 seconds on the clock, risky move. She’s coming up again, 3 seconds, and damn she shoots a 10! Right in the middle. The girl from Auckland takes it out.” Coming off the line shaking, I embraced my coach, barely hearing the commentator continuing to spout rubbish. The adrenaline was pumping, who knew such a calm sport could give such a hit?

Similar adrenaline continued to keep the inevitable pain away, somehow I wasn’t worried about getting out of the car. I was strangely calm, I didn’t believe in God, but I believed in second chances. The red seeping blood tricked like raindrops down a glass pane into a sea of red. I tried to wipe some of the blood off what was left of the window, as I drew my arm away the redness was thicker. Deserted on that lonely road, an inch at a time; I crawled through the window. The knowledge that I shouldn’t be alive sending shock waves of adrenaline. Looking back I can’t remember making it from the window to the grassy bank, I just know that the wreck was before me, wrapped in the tree, metal and wood becoming a single pile of junk. It was ok; I was ok. It was only money; I could get a new car. The air felt so good, the smell of burnt rubber only made the soft caress of the cool wind seem more invigorating. It was like I was high, high on life for the first time. I could feel the tears on my cheeks, the last few minutes had gone by so slowly each second turning into an hour. My eyes were transfixed by the car, but instead of terror I felt angry. The anger continued to build. How could I let a shitty job take over my life like this? I was letting the bar take my life away from me. I didn’t want to hide behind the bar, like a coward. I wanted to change, right that second. I would quit my job. I’m going to do it. I’m going to be good at something for once. Not just good, but amazing. I’m going to shoot. The idea of being scared because someone else was watching seemed ludicrous at that moment. I sat down on the bank, the wet grass soaking into my pants as the rain fell, just past the corner that I hadn’t even begun to slow down for. My body was shaking, emotions coursing through me. It was such an odd time to think about my sport, but despite the pain, I was oddly removed, smiling at my first near death experience. I pushed the hair out of my eyes, only to have it stay exactly where it was. I tried again, pausing to look down at my shooting arm, the absence of pain in my fingertips finally sinking in. My head the clearest it had been that night. Shit. I can’t move my fingers.