float away

"who has two fanny packs?"

[pukaoart]

a house, a home, a window you were here before the floorboards broke in on themselves like black holes are the promises you keep just for people that you want

because you can’t read any of our old conversations but i read them so often it’s like we still talk

[slaveofimagination]

Yo, seriously, if authors keep writing shit in which Stan is dead and all the losers - even Eddie - are alive and they name dogs and birds and fucking lizards after Stan’s name I’ll fucking write a piece in which all the Losers - minus Stan fucking Uris - died because of a staph infection and Stan will have a zoo with animals named after each and every loser. Say hello to Rich the Ostrich.

[anisangel-deactivated20230307]

the losers + polaroids: stanley!

[nohomohank-deactivated20200218]

[tozierbraks]

I know you’re down there. There’s something I have to know.

[prettysadforagirl]

[queirogis]

another day another it fanart

[owlpip]

the sad thing about balloons is that they’re temporary. they pop and deflate and break. the red ones are the worst when they go; they’re the ones that look like blood.

[anisangel-deactivated20230307]

FFFFFFFFFF

[anisangel-deactivated20230307]

credit to @feralwlw​  & @reddieiovebot on twitter!!!

[eddiesoft]

beep beep, motherfucker!

[beetlejuicecrap]

stan: hey eddie what r u being for halloween

eddie: richie’s boyfriend

stan: that’s pretty horrifying

[artozier]

i’d still be alive if it wasn’t for you, Bill.

[itslosersclub]

[gentlesleaze]

Ben. What the fuck, man… You’re like, you’re hot. You’re like every Brazilian soccer player wrapped up into one person.      Leave him alone, you’re embarrassing him.

[billdenbrough]

the adult losers would be appalling on holiday. like, eddie overpacks and only brings polos instead of actual light fabric shirts. bev packs decently but nobody else can fit anything she brought. ben almost exclusively packs shirts with sleeves (short sleeves, but Sleeves) and they’re all cotton-y rather than linen and he Swelters. mike’s only just moving out of derry and only owns maine attire. bill’s too busy thinking about how to end a fucking book to use his brain cells to pack a suitable range of clothes and ends up with two leather jackets, half a suit, a pair of jeans & one of audra’s thongs. stan packs well but he has patty packing too so the losers refuse to give him the credit. richie is the only one prepared, remotely, by virtue of having like six hawaiian shirts in his luggage at any given point. one day the others all get fed up of the heat and raid his luggage, despite all having the funds to buy a shitty hawaiian shirt themselves. stan wears a clean one but patty braves it with the rest of them (even eddie, but that’s just because he knows this one isn’t Dirty, it just Smells Like Richie). richie has no clothes and has to wear the only thing he can find, one of eddie’s hoodies, and it only comes halfway up his torso & he has it partially unzipped. they all laugh at him when he stumbles down to breakfast and he’s like, “ok fuck you guys, just because you can’t handle that i have the best fashion—-bev you’re a designer.” benverly make the photo of them all their christmas card design that year.

[billdenbrough]

this is when all the rest of the losers find out that ben has a boat. and like, not in the rich person way, but like he Actually Knows How To Sail. richie is simultaneously Very Nonchalant and Extremely Dubious about actually being on a boat, because contradiction in terms, that’s richie tozier, but he cajoles stan about it after mike mentions seeing boats for hire and bev mentions that ben can sail (cue blushing. january fucking embers, man. richie’s never going to get over the way they look at each other.) but he doesn’t account for patty, who immediately says it sounds like fun, and stan raises his eyebrows but agrees, soft and amused, a slow and sweet smile spreading across his face, and the losers could love patty for giving stan that expression alone (but she’s also really cool, and richie told stan she was too cool for him, and stan was like, “noted”, with a grin so wide on his face that nobody even beeped richie for it). anyway they end up on the boat and eddie is Prepared, Obviously, but richie refuses to have a life jacket anywhere near him, let alone on his body (“it’s like the fucking showercaps again,” stan mutters, and richie swats him. eddie laughs, though, bright and warm and full of light, and the losers all pause for a second to soak it in). bev and mike are playing charades with bill and patty, laughing so hard they’re almost in tears, and richie catches ben looking at them and Rolls His Eyes because oh my god, ben is So In Love, but he doesn’t say anything, just this once. would love for it to be bc he decided to be tactful but in actuality, he sees a bird and stands up immediately to point it out to stan and ask if it‘s Something Exciting (it was a seagull) but before he can, Gravity Occurs (as is wont to happen, when you’re over six feet tall and suddenly stand up on the edge of a boat) and he falls overboard.

ben may be Very Focused on beverly but he is still an Angel, first and foremost, and immediately notices when richie splashes. (admittedly, eddie’s cry might have helped.) the boat stops, and mike heads over to let down the side ladder and throw out a rope (bill and bev are both closer, but are too busy laughing at richie). “are you okay, rich?” eddie asks, and richie grins up at him from just outside the boat, having pulled himself close. “just felt like a swim, eds,” he jokes, and then bev’s jumping beside him, and then bill, and then patty. anyway that’s when they all find out mike actually doesn’t know how to swim

[billdenbrough]

richie’s like, “mike, what the fuck, you’re moving to fucking florida, man, and you don’t know how to swim??” & bev tells him to be quiet but mike just laughs, shrugs, spreads his hands with a helpless smile, and even richie ‘the mouth’ has nothing to say to that. he’s a little in love with him in that moment, a little in love with all of them. they all are, maybe. the sun is setting and they’re walking back from the pier and they were meant to go back to the hotel and get changed out of their still-damp clothes and go to dinner, but ben had caught sight of a house with frankly unreasonable architecture (“like, this should be physically impossible,” he’s stressing, and richie’s nodding, like, “those angles don’t even… make sense??” and the rest of the losers are rolling their eyes but it’s all fond, and bev spontaneously presses kisses to both their cheeks, and eddie isn’t even trying to hide how closely he’s listening, obviously enjoying their presence and commentary) and dragged them down a side street and they’ve just been wandering through the cobbled paths. and like, they’re forty, which is objectively too old to just be meandering without a destination, but like. this is the first time in their lives where they’ve had the sheer pleasure of just being together, in the presence of those they love, with nothing and nobody demanding things from them, pushing them, hurting them. seven losers and patty, this woman their best friend loves so much that he looks at her like she hung the moon, and they’re all halfway to loving too, just moving at their own pace.

they find some hole-in-the-wall shack, and they’re a mess, all right, like everyone’s clothes are rumpled, eddie’s still wearing richie’s shirt he stole because of course he’d had it in his pack, and his shirt was still soaked, so obviously he changed into richie’s, and fuck you he doesn’t care that it’s buttoned up askew (he does, a little bit, but he’s not giving the rest of them the satisfaction of fixing it, and anyway—-there’s something that feels a little free about it, a little giddy, because no matter the shit they give him, none of them give a fuck what he looks like, and he likes nice things, but there’s something about how he doesn’t have to care about anything with them except for them that makes him feel absolutely sky high), and bev’s hair is mussed, and richie’s not even wearing shoes, and ben’s clothes are beyond wrinkled, and patty and stan have somehow swapped shirts, and mike’s wearing two pairs of sunglasses for some reason, and bill’s inexplicably sporting one of his leather jackets but no shirt (“who,” bev asks, laughing so hard that she’s leaning on eddie for support, “who brings a leather jacket on a sailing trip and not swimwear or spare clothes?”), and the owners look slightly overwhelmed for a second, before welcoming them in, pushing together two tables to fit all of them, and it’s warm and homey and together. they’re together.

[gusdapperton-inactive]

Stan & the cistern.

[nssindelkdld-deactivated2020051]

I’m no sweet dream, but I’m a hell of a night.