deadlytes

[deadlytes]

@trashmcuths​ gets 2 suffer ♥

seeing him in the restaurant parking lot feels like someone wrapped their knuckles in every bad thing eddie has ever done and punched him straight in the gut. 

how could this happen? how can it be richie tozier? richie tozier, who made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t broken after all. richie tozier, whose heart he’d probably broken, even though it somehow felt like the other way around. richie trashmouth tozier–– he remembers it twice, now. once from when they’d met at that stupid fucking bar and he was wearing that stupid fucking shirt and that stupid fucking shit-eating grin that made eddie feel dizzy. and now from before, one day when bowers had slammed richie up against the lockers and hissed the nickname so close to his face that the lenses on his coke-bottle glasses fogged up. he remembers longing; an ache that, now, was all too familiar, but had, back then, made him convinced he had food poisoning or cancer or glaucoma. for a few moments, he can only stand there, dumb, slack-jawed, and wide-eyed.

“uh... h-hi.”

[deadlytes]

@patricauris​​:

admittingly, to be partially held hostage mentally by your mother at patty’s age should be laughable, but it’s  not. not with the way patty spent her childhood with a passive aggressive, guilt tripping mother. miles couldn’t separate that, and marriage, too , apparently. patty could count the ways she loved her husband, but one of them was when he says something, he often meant it. there was no mental hoops to jump through trying to guess. it almost startles her the way he tightens his grip, but it only makes her feel heard, and impossibly loved. she traces her thumb soothingly over the space across his cheekbone. patty’s mother could stress her out, but not stanley. “ you’re not being dramatic, dear. “ she pauses, it seems thoughtful. she’s teasing, or was. he has no idea how many girls in her sorority loved him. 

but when she looks at him again, it’s understanding, but sad. she blinks quickly, feeling tears rush. “ don’t say that  ━ stanley, you do deserve me. “ or, someone to love him as much as she does.  she feels like she’s crying because of everything pent up inside, but a little bit because he thinks that. there’s something awful sitting in the forefront of her mind ‘ not everything, not a family. ‘ but she would never. “ she just.. makes me feel like something’s wrong with me, in the disguise that she cares. “ she sniffles. “ i shouldn’t let it get to me but I grew up thinking, you know, I’m too much, It’s so stupid, as if I’m not old enough to have my own thoughts and opinions  that I’m crying to you. “

not having lived through it himself, stan can’t know just how horrible it was to grow up with patty’s mother. but he knows enough to hate the woman, for what she did to her own child, for what she did to the woman he loved so much that he’s certain there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for her. it was simple: patty deserved that kind of devotion and stan saw to it that she got it. if they ever did have kids, somehow... stan knows that patty would be the perfect mother. somehow, despite all the pain she’d endured, she knew how to love better than anyone he’d known. and stanley felt sure he would be a good dad, if only due to his wife’s influence.

he relaxes almost instantly at her touch, realizing it’ll do her no good to get riled up about it–– not now, anyway. “good.” he lets out a breath. “i–– thank you.” stanley wonders, sometimes, if patty knows how much she had healed his heart when they met. he offers her a smile, but sadness tinges his eyes. how he hates to know that she is hurting. at her protest, he lifts a hand to weave soothingly through her hair. “i just feel lucky, that’s all,” he murmurs. as much as their difficulty to conceive is always lingering somewhere in his mind, stan doesn’t even consider the idea that patty ‘can’t give him children.’ it’s a ludicrous idea to begin with, that she should owe him anything at all; her body, her love, anything. but her feelings of guilt are twin to his own; he blames their childlessness on himself and himself alone–– even if he can’t remember why.

“hey,” he says gently as she begins to cry, “hey, come here.” stan pulls her into his lap and wraps his arms around her, feeling desperately protective. “there’s nothing wrong with you, patty. not a thing. and i know that doesn’t mean you don’t feel it, but god would i do anything to take that feeling away.” he presses his face into her hair, breathing her in for a moment, hoping that his touch can do what words cannot. “of course it gets to you,” he murmurs, “she’s your mother. and you deserve so much better than what she has to give, sweetheart. it’s not stupid. i swear it isn’t. it’s the farthest thing from stupid.” he tilts his head to look at her. “i consider it a privilege to be the person you cry to.”

[deadlytes]

“it’s summer, why not!”

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stoiretale​:

reluctantly, she lets him turn her face. something in her eyes read: you know what I mean. but he’s a thousand steps ahead, as usual. she feels guilty needing Stanley to reassure her, that hides in the back of her mind. she looks at him, unbelievably frustrated. “ I’m being serious, Stanley  ━ quit flirting. “ the corner of her mouth turns up a little , pink coloring her cheeks. she leans into his touch. Patty knew he wasn’t joking, that, he was one hundred percent serious. when she finally looks at him again, her eyes are damp. “ I stole you quite unfairly  ━ “ she reaches to touch his face, softly. his parents were fucking mean  ━  her parent’s were tolerable with hard liquor, match made.  

  “ my mom’s letters, “   it’s all she says, as if it was the answers he was looking for. patty didn’t ( fucking ) care about stella fucking flanagan getting married again and getting pregnant off the bat. almost glad stanley couldn’t read her awful writing. “ I just want to give you everything you deserve, too. “

his brow lifts with the admission when their eyes meet. he knows exactly what she means; her expression transmits it with such heartbreaking clarity. reassuring her is easy––  nothing she should feel guilty over. all stan wants is for patty to feel safe, to feel held, to feel loved. because she is loved–– perhaps more than stanley even knows how to put into words. it’s the kind of love he never would have believed in without having felt it. “ i’m being serious, ” he says, voice soft and earnest. “ i’m not flirting, i promise. ” he is comforted by the way she responds to his touch; she’s frustrated and that’s okay, but not angry at him. it’s a relief: stan doesn’t want patty to think he doesn’t take her feelings seriously. that couldn’t be further from the truth. his eyes flutter shut at the way her fingertips brush across his skin, lashes brushing against the arch of his cheeks. one hand reaches to cover hers–– please keep doing that, a silent plea. 

“ you didn’t steal me, patty. you saved me. ” he opens his eyes again, looks at her, really looks at her. “ please don’t tell me i’m being dramatic. because i mean it, every word. ” his eyes darken almost imperceptibly at the mention of the letters. fuck your mom. it’s too coarse–– he’d never say it. but the words begin to travel up from his lungs before dying in his throat. his own parents behave terribly, but to be attacked like that by her own mother? it makes stanley so angry. his grip on her other hand tightens protectively, warm and grounding, or so he hopes. “you do give me everything i deserve. you give me more than that. i could spend lifetimes trying to deserve you, patty.”

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stoiretale​:

    she  had been feeling  particularly  low  this evening, spending the few hours before listening to the harsh words only she knew would cut deep. somehow she’d managed to avoid stanley a little bit  ━ or, enough, but not noticeably enough to where it’s  something  he’d  notice. or if  he  did, he didn’t  say  anything. by this  time  tonight, she was feeling  worse  ━ because she was carrying so many shadows in her face, on her shoulders  ━ and he was  always.  instead  of really sewing anything, she was just poking holes in a piece of fabric, even before that, she was only looping buttons  down  a  string. she sinks into  the  couch. 

    “ I think your parents were right, “ softly, but loud enough to hear. maybe they saw right through  her. “ that you’d ruin your life marrying me. “

@deadlytes​

   stan always knew right away when patty’s mood took a turn for the worse. he hated seeing her upset, but to expect her to be her happiest sunny self all the time would be ridiculous, not to mention unfair. dark days could befall anyone, no matter how badly stan wanted to protect them. it was in the evening when she finally spoke up, and the sound nearly startled stan, despite its softness. his brow furrowed, and he leaned toward her in his chair. “ what do you mean...? ” the declaration came as a shock; he hardly registered what patty was saying. but his feet were ahead of him, lifting him swiftly up and over to her side. “ pats,” he murmured, reaching for her hands, “ babylove... ” concern shone in his eyes,  brows knitting together in dismay. 

    “ my parents are... ” he sighed. “ i love them. i do, but–– they’re assholes. okay? they don’t know you, not the way i do. and they don’t know me. you do. ” hesitantly, he lifted his hands to her cheeks, turning her face gently towards his. “ you could never ruin my life. but if you could, it would be a privilege to be ruined by you. ”

[deadlytes]

endless edits

p.atricia u.ris edits   muutuals may interact

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a true gay fashion icon

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pls consider this a permanent starter call

give this a like (or reblog for side-blogs) if you’re cool with me sending you random memes, writing random starters or even dropping into your IMs to plot!

I want to interact with as many people as possible but I am not sure who’s cool with me just throwing stuff at them!

also ships…those too ;)

[deadlytes]

It Chapter Two (2019)

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hmmmm just thinking about how richie’s fortune cookie is an eye, representative of his incredibly deep fear of being seen and known

[deadlytes]

remember when miniseries ben gave half a bottle of champagne to his limo  driver and said “reCYCLE”? because i sure do

[deadlytes]

fearwatched‌:

  eleanor falls back onto to the couch. exactly zero space exists between the two of them, because she never quite learned the meaning of personal space. “oh stanley, we all know patricia is a saint. i get you want to defend her honor, but how ‘bout you let me pretend she has one single, minor flaw for, like, a second? just this once?” she pleads, one arm draping around his shoulders to give an unnecessary squeeze. her brother married well, too well. his relationship with patty makes her string of failed relationships look even worse, a feat most would consider impossible. “greg is literally camped out in my apartment right now. locked the doors. refuses to let me in. that’s why i had to stay here in the first place. so have mercy on me, bro. let me pretend your beautiful wife is a gold digger.”

    he lets out a little fond laugh, nudges her knee with his. no need for personal space between them, if you ask him. family is allowed up close, especially his baby sister. stan shakes his head, telltale smile still present on his lips even as he rolls his eyes at her.  “you can pretend, but i have no intention of playing along.” white teeth flash in a grin, knowing that the response will probably annoy her and loving it. but his face falls the second she says the name–– greg. stan is a peaceful man; a foil to patty’s fire. and to eleanor’s, come to think of it. but he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment, if he had the opportunity, to put greg in the ground. he tilts his head, deflating a little without meaning to. “ellie,” he says softly, worry pinching his brow. “you should have told me. i would have come over.” a gentle hand rests on her knee, squeezes affectionately. “you know you’re always welcome here. just don’t tell my beautiful wife you were cracking wise, mm?”

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fearwatched‌:

❝ you’re not supposed to crack your back like that. ❞           @deadlytes​ / stan

      eleanor crosses her arms and leans against the door frame, face contorting in a dramatic display of mock offense. “ah man, are you gonna abandon the flashy, fast-paced world of accounting for a chiropractic degree? because i would run that by the wife first. patty is used to a certain standard of living.“ she gestures around the spacious kitchen, immaculate and full-stocked. meanwhile, the damn dog chewed the shit out of her only spatula and her sink is currently overflowing with dirty dishes.

      stan can’t help the fond little smile that plays on his lips. ridiculous as she is, rude as she is sometimes, eleanor means everything to stan and he’s happy to see her regardless of the fact that her crashing on their couch usually doesn’t mean anything good. “don’t talk about patty like that,” he admonishes gently, “you make her sound so materialistic.” careful not to spill a drop, he brushes politely past his sister with two mugs of tea and sets them down on the coffee table. eyebrows raised, he pats the spot beside him.

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I believe in Santa Claus. I believe in the Easter Bunny. I believe in the Tooth Fairy. But I don’t believe in you. This is battery acid. Now, you disappear!

Dennis Christopher as Eddie Kaspbrak in IT (1990)

[deadlytes]

Mom, please, please. Don’t cry, okay?

[deadlytes]

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧