the-stanley-blog

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Stan & the cistern.

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Music url tag

I was tagged by @birdsatthequarry !!!

Rules: spell out your url using song titles, then tag as many people as there are letters in your url

Ill do this in this acount because the url is longer

The new great depression-the moth & the flame

Hey driver-lucky boys confusion

Every breath you tak-the police

Stacy's mom-bowling for soup

This is the end(fot you my friend)-anti-flag

American idiot-green day

Numb-linkin park

Level of concern-twenty one pilots

Everybody wants to rule the world-tears for fears

Your song-elton john

Belt-say anything

Losers-chosen jacobs

Our house-madness

Give me novacaine-green day

Im too lazy to tsg people, so if you want to do it, go ahead!

[the-stanley-blog]

stanley uris + dirty water? 🥺

here he is!!! I miss him ; ;

palette challenge

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Make me choose  →  Anonymous asked: bill denbrough or stan♡uris?

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let stan have .5 minutes of peace

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wyatt mercilessly killing andy bean over and over again

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can you draw stanley barber? i love how you draw him!!

disaster bi

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ianowt meme ↬ 1/1 characters: stanley barber

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the only clowns here are the ones who dont love and support stanley uris

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Sophia Lillis and Wyatt Oleff for Flaunt Magazine

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There! There! Freeze it there! Yeah, you see? What is that? Um…

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wait why am i the key lady? because you’re good with your hands ew.

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hc: richie refuses to wash away the ‘blood ring,’ leaving a temporary stain. around this time, he also meets patricia uris, and they bond over unfortunate similarities.

there were so many peculiarities in her love — peculiarities patricia never knew of. stanley was complex, of that she was always aware, from his distorted childhood to the paradox of his soft, witty charm. but she would not have expected him to be acquainted with an individual such as this. 

her visitor, the one supposedly an old friend of stanley’s, is haggard. with his too-large glasses, horn-rimmed and magnified, she wonders if he knows they lay crooked across the bridge of his nose. whether the thick crack in the lens is a rift in his vision. 

“so you… you knew stanley?”

weak. she sounds weak. her teacup wavers, cradled in uneasy hands. 

he has not accepted his own tea. he seems fearful, in a way, of taking it. fearful of disrupting the ghosts that linger, unattended, within the uris home.

“i know. i don’t exactly look the type, do i?” the corner of his mouth twitches, as if in bland imitation of a smile. “but… stan was tolerant. particularly of me.”

“yes. yes, he was.” she peers at her tea, heat caressing her cheeks — not at all near an adequate substitute for stanley’s touch, tracing the indents, the fine curves in her face with such a sensitivity her mind shatters. “if you don’t mind me asking… you wouldn’t…” her heart lurches in her throat, delaying sharp breath. “you wouldn’t know why…”

richie glances to his hands, untangling from their claspe. his thumb graces a single finger, lined with a pale ring, a ring where she assumes a band might have once resided. 

“stan was a complicated fellow,” he says, lost somewhere, somewhere among another plane. one in which she does not belong. “but that is not why he did what he did. i-i know that for sure.” his gaze flits to hers, dulled with brimming falls. “something happened when we were young. it’s foggy, but i remember that it was bad… maybe bad enough to push someone to that.” 

a small shake of her head, bobbed curls a rippling frame. “why wouldn’t he tell me? why wouldn’t he just talk—”

“he — he was probably just afraid.”

“of me?”

“of it… whatever it was.”

silence descends. a clock ticks from another room, counting the seconds trickling down the drain. patricia studies this old friend before her, like a work in the louvre without a card to detail its meaning. she studies the tear tracks breaching the reckless stubble speckling his chin, the crinkles beside his eyes. crinkles likely from a time long forgotten. her brows pinch, thoughtful, at that grave of a wedding band, the faint circle about his finger. 

“you have a partner?”

his head rises from his hands, palms damp. some other ghost, one not of stanley, teases further tears. “i — what?”

“your band…”

comprehension occurs in the glimpse of his left hand. 

she swears he breaks. like ceramic against a tile floor. like thin twigs underfoot. not visibly, rather internally. internally, and eternally — this break has always existed, but rarely has it been exposed so openly. rarely do the stitches come undone so swiftly. 

“i… no — i mean, i wanted to... we weren’t really ready for each other. then…” he blinks. “i… lost him.” 

she whispers a near silent prayer, adding, slowly, “so you know what it’s like?”

richie nods, curt. “it’s… mostly why i’m here. now that i know what it’s like… i didn’t want my best friend’s wife to go through that alone.”

for the first time in weeks, patricia garners some frail understanding of her late husband. for the first time in weeks, she smiles. 

[the-stanley-blog]

stanley uris and 6?

stan + 6!! i wonder why enjoys the presence of such a chatty bird,,,

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it’s them boys

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