richie "trashmouth" tozier (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
measuringdicks) wrote2020-09-07 02:32 am
measuringdicks) wrote2020-09-07 02:32 am
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deercountry inbox.
welcome to the trench chapter of interdimensional hostage bullshit anonymous! unfortunately no one can come to the phone right now because we’re being fucked over by the multiverse again, so leave a message after the beep. we’ll get back to you if we’re still here.
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Yeah, I'm fine now. (He had Richie. He sniffs a little and looks back at the camera, aching in some big way. He remembered clearly how eager Richie had been to hang out with him after their week of not talking. How even when Eddie was being weird and cold Richie had made a point of trying to take care of him.
Eddie had no idea how to be loved, but if there was anyone it felt natural with, it was Richie. A shy smile creeps onto Eddie's face and he was almost positive that Richie was going to be one of the few people to say that but maybe that was okay. As long as I have him, I can handle anything.)
It's pretty good to see you too, man. Like, really see you. I missed you. (Like crazy. He rubs at his nose, sniffing again, and good lord he was going to give Richie such a hug when he saw him.)
You didn't have to make anything. (...) But I am pretty hungry. Thanks.
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Okay. You're welcome. [He throws some candy bars, potato chips, and a single apple into his duffel bag, then reaches for the Fluid.] I missed you too. A lot. I'll be there in like, ten minutes. [Because he's carrying hot soup, and he doesn't want to spill it, he worked very hard on it. So instead of just chucking it into a basket and biking over, he's going to walk as briskly as possible.
Sure enough, around ten minutes from when Richie cut the video feed, he shows up at the greenhouse—a little taller now than before, as if his growth spurt has finally deigned to hit him. Venkman the Mimikyu is perched atop his shoulder, then hops off to start trilling for any one of Eddie's many animal buddies. Come on out and play!
Richie finds Eddie pretty fast. The first thing he says to him in a week is this:]
I made you soup. It's like, instant noodles, so don't expect it to do much more than make you less hungry. [Although that is the priority, at the moment. As he hands the container over, he asks, with more concern than anything else:] So—what the fuck happened last month, anyway? You've been acting really weird, lately.
[It's the first time Richie has raised this topic with Eddie himself, the first time he's felt safe enough to do it. The last couple of times, Eddie had been acting so unlike himself that Richie had kept his mouth shut about it and kept an eye on him, because he didn't know if Eddie would appreciate him pushing, or even bringing up how strangely he was acting. Now that Eddie seems well enough, Richie can finally ask.]
I thought it was October hangover, but it wasn't, was it? 'Cause you were the only person I knew going through it. [He exhales, looks down at his hands, twiddles with the hem of his sleeve.] Chloe said it was probably the town, Varian thought it was another Sleeper fucking with you. I didn't ask Ben. [Since he died, and all, and came back with not a whole lot of memories rattling around.] So what was it? And is it going to happen again?
cw: weight loss, demon stuff
Gucci does wake up when Venkman gets closer, her tail immediately starting to wag. Eddie, meanwhile, was busy staring at Richie who- yeah. Definitely got bigger. When did that happen? Eddie huddles down in his sweater, feeling awkward in comparison. Living with the demon had shaved ten pounds off of Eddie and for Eddie that was - a lot considering he didn't have much to work with in the first place.
Richie, on the other hand, looked-.)
Oh. Thanks. I'm- my appetite's kind of trying to come back anyway. Not sure I could eat more than soup right now anyway. My whole system's rearranging after all the weird shit I ate all month long.
(Eddie moves over to sit down at the small iron-wrought table in the middle of the greenhouse. He sets the soup down and mostly picks at it, a frown already drooping on his face as Richie started to ask. His eyes flicker up in surprise when Richie mentions having talked with other people about it, and there's this twinge of warmth. Knowing that some of the people in his life had actually noticed, had actually talked about it. The mention of Ben makes his stomach drop out and he stares down at the soup.)
I was possessed by a demon. (Long story short. He twists a fork slowly through the noodles.) Remember how at the beginning of November I had that huge headache? I mean - it was really awful. It hurt worse than almost anything I've ever felt before and I felt this horrible feeling - I can't explain it. I just felt off after that. Like someone had tipped everything in my life to the left. But I thought maybe - I don't know. I thought it was other stuff. Then I had this huge fight with Ben...
(Really big. Had said so many awful things about Bev, Ben, the Losers in general.)
And then I went off to the mountain sinkhole on my own and - everything after that's pretty dark, I won't lie. It's just this really chaotic, shitty clusterfuck in my head. I felt like I was just in this dark void inside my own head, staring up at some screen while someone else took the reigns. I guess the worst part was that they kept using my own personality against me and people I knew. I don't...know if it'll happen again. I hope not. We uh- made a seal. Um. The guy who saved me did anyway. Because uh...
(And this was the awkward part. Tough part? He tugs at one of his unstyled curls, frowning even harder, and finally glances up at Richie.)
I might have been possessed by my car. Specifically.
tw demonic possession discussion
[Along with Eddie not saying anything about the, ah, rather messy state Richie’s house is generally in. He follows after Eddie to the table, more or less just flopping down into a chair and sticking a leg out under the table.]
Yeah, I remember. You said it was your navigation thing. [And maybe it had been, partly, but now Richie’s looking back and dissecting his interactions with Eddie over the past month, wondering how many of them he really had with Eddie. Some friend he was. He didn’t even figure out Eddie was possessed, just thought he was being influenced by a Sleeper.
It’s upsetting to hear that Eddie’s fought with Ben, because, well, it’s another Loser. It does explain why Ben went to a sinkhole by himself, like a fucking dumbass, but it still leaves the mystery of who killed Ben open. And to hear about Eddie going through all this, alone, in a dark void where he couldn’t affect anything—
Richie reaches his hand out for Eddie’s, to squeeze.]
They didn’t get it all right, though. We all thought something was off. [Although Richie would not have put money down on demonic possession, himself. Chloe had raised it as a possibility, sure, but—well, who would want to possess Eddie, of all people?
.......apparently his car.]
Wait, Christine? [Oh.] Fuck, Eds, I’m sorry your demon car decided to take you for a ride, that’s fucked up. I thought she liked you.
Re: tw demonic possession discussion
(Ben included but Eddie really was not ready for that conversation. Plus he actually wanted to talk to Ben about it before he talked to anyone else. He gives a tiny nod, and it had been partly true, absolutely, but the demon had already slipped in by then.
The hand startles him but what startles him more is the shocking amount of comfort that washes over him. The touch made him feel utterly safe, steady. Touching Richie had always soothed him, but this was different. This felt like the perfect anti-anxiety and anti-depression in one single touch. Touching anyone this month might provide some comfort, but considering how much of this came from Richie even without Deerington's influence meant the touch packed far more of a punch than anyone else's would. Eddie goes languid and calm. Every racing thought and hurt from November goes quiet, and he thought This isn't so bad.
It's the most peaceful he's felt in...months. He slides their fingers together, marveling over the feeling.
He looks up at Richie, his mind a bit sluggish on the uptake. Right. Demonic possession.)
Yeah. I think that's why she possessed me though. The thing with Christine is she's jealous. She makes me jealous. I think she wanted me all to herself. (She possessed him and worked on destroying his relationships. Wanted to cut him off- it seemed obvious when he thought about it.) I think anyway. This dude figured it out 'cause he's used to demons back in his own world so he exorcised her outta me. It sucked a lot. But he put a seal on her and I think she should be safe to drive now. She doesn't feel as - weird anymore.
(...It was going to take Eddie more than a demonic possession for him to fork over a 1958 Plymouth Fury, okay. That car was slick as fuck and the auto insurance of her fixing herself couldn't be beaten in a town like Deerington.)
no subject
[The comfort is—not a surprise in itself, honestly, Richie has always sought Eddie out for the simple reason that he likes being around Eddie, that touching him makes his heart hammer against his chest, makes him hyper-aware of how warm their bodies are. Now, though, the comfort that washes over him is a lot. It's like a hot shower at the end of a long day, the warmth of the water seeming to seep into his muscles and his bones. The racing heartbeat is still there, and the hyper-awareness, but now Richie...kind of wants to get closer.
So par for the usual, just turned up to eleven.]
Oh. Oh jeez, that's honestly really shitty of your car. [He can't help but think of Sonia Kaspbrak, screaming at them for breaking her baby's arm. Wonders if Sonia in the fifties did much the same, even though Bowers, and fuck that guy, was the one who broke Eddie's arm. Does not try to pursue that parallel further down, and decides not to mention it either.] I guess I can see why she'd do it, but—it's really fucked up, and you didn't deserve that, getting stuffed in the back of your brain while something else took the reins.
[wait wait wait]
Is it going to happen again? Not to you, and not Christine specifically, but—what're we gonna do if it happens to someone else we know? I don't wanna just sit and keep an eye out, not after this.
no subject
(Richie wasn't entirely off beat for that comparison. The situation in Eddie's timeline was a little different - but had more or less still happened with different circumstances. Eddie hadn't been around for Sonia screaming at his friends that he specifically never wanted to see them again. She had wanted to make it seem like Eddie's choice. But of course, his friends hadn't bought that for a second.
It felt unsurprising to Eddie. He was so used to women wanting to control him that somehow a female car doing the same thing just felt expected at this point.)
Thanks, Richie. (It...Actually felt weirdly nice hearing Richie say he didn't deserve it. Being possessed had severely fucked with his sense of self and he blamed himself for what happened more than he probably should. It wasn't too off the base of how he usually wound up blaming himself for upsetting Sonia back in the day.
He sighs, dragging his hand reluctantly away from Richie's. He slides his hands through his hair and for a second just rests his face against his own palms.)
Dude. I haven't been demon-free for more than three days. I don't know what to do if someone else gets possessed. Can I like - recover first before we start theorizing about the next poor son of a bitch? (He drops his hands, his prosthetic landing with a clunk.) Sorry. Not to sound selfish or whatever but Jesus. It'll probably happen. I have no idea. We'll figure it out when it does. That's all we can do. I don't know.
(He felt a little bristly and he doesn't entirely know why - no. No, he did. He was just exhausted and stressed. Some part of him was panicky that it wouldn't happen again to him specifically and it was hard to even concentrate on the possibility of it happening to someone else. Not that he wanted to but, shit. He pokes at his food, feeling tired all over again. He wanted to hold Richie's hand again, but he doesn't let himself.)
It's Deerington. This shit happens all the time. Getting mind-fucked is a regular occurrence here and the whys-and-hows change constantly. Could happen to me again just with a different monster. If you wanna make some gameplan, go for it, but those never work in this place when we barely know what's going to happen tomorrow. This is a lot more of a 'you gotta think on the moment' situation.
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Sorry. I just—y'know, ever since I got here I keep thinking, what if this happens again? To you or me or someone else we know? [He sighs.] But I get it. Shit's unpredictable and you never know what's coming next. I just wish—y'know, I wish we could do something to at least keep the damage down.
[He hates that they essentially can't, that all they can do is just ride this shit out and hope for the best. There's no Pennywise they can go after that'll stop the killings, no demon that can be exorcised out of someone that'll put a stop to all the horror, no single supernatural force that can be beaten. Yeah, there's Sodder, and Mother Superior, and that whole mess they're tangled in, but it's so much bigger than Richie can even imagine. All they can do right now is just hold on.
His fingers drum restlessly against the tabletop. For some reason, he feels more—adrift, now that Eddie's hand isn't anchoring him here.]
But anyway—what've you been doing these past few days, since you got un-possessed?
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It's the worst part about living here. It never stops feeling like everything's out of your control. (He knots their fingers back together and feels that warmth and comfort ease back into him. He shifts the soup to the side and leans down to rest his chin on his own arm.)
It can be super depressing sometimes. You just have to invent things you do feel in control of and...(Cope. It's no one's favorite answer. He folds his prosthetic over the table and rests his cheek against that instead, watching his normal hand play with Richie's.)
You're looking at it. I've just been in here.
(Doing...nothing. Trying not to have fifteen mental breakdowns but Eddie doesn't want to tell Richie that. He didn't want him to feel suffocated by Eddie's issues. Especially not that Richie was finally here again. October felt...
October, yeah.
They really needed to talk about that. Typically the idea would be enough to give Eddie indigestion but today he just feels mildly queasy. Maybe it was holding Richie's hand that was doing the trick. He should ask how Richie's been doing though- he really should.)
How are you holding up? I mean, besides all this, have you been...okay?
no subject
[He shrugs, as if to finish the sentence with that alone. Things tend to happen to people like them, interdimensional refugees/kidnappees/hostages—it's barely, if ever, the other way around.]
You've been gardening? [It's sort of adorable that Richie assumes Eddie has actually been doing something instead of having breakdowns. To be fair, Richie's idea of dealing with a breakdown is to ignore it and do literally anything else besides dealing with it.
They do have to talk about October, at some point. They are absolutely going to have to talk about it today. But first, an update:]
Uh—well, I'm looking into applying for a job at the movie theater. I was going to months ago, but, y'know, shit happened. [A pause.] I could sneak you in once I get the job. If you want. I haven't seen a manager around the place for ages, they probably wouldn't mind.
no subject
(None of this was ever easy to keep up. The past two places Eddie had been in weren't any different either. Though in Reims they had been able to learn a curve at least a little. He stares down at their hands and absently thinks about how many times in his life he's held Richie's hand. More than he could count and since he was seven.)
Huh? What? No. (Eddie looks up at Richie with wide eyes.) I've been crying under the hydrangea. It's just peaceful and safe-feeling in here.
(At...least he's honest. He's putting it lightly but he also didn't want Richie to worry too much.)
Wow. Look at you. (Eddie grins a little and bumps his feet against Richie's under the table.) Getting a job.
(He's going for a teasing tone but mostly he just winds up sounding faintly proud of Richie. Even though Eddie has been a practiced medic/nurse for years now, he still winds up feeling like he's not working. It somehow felt very mature and cool of Richie to land a job.)
That's cool. (Two words but entirely sincere.) Do you get to see whatever movies you want as many times as you want? That'd be so fucking cool.
(He brightens a bit.)
Doesn't beat the drive-in buuuut that would be neat-o. (Eddie, ur 50s is showing.) We could see so many R-rated films. (That they could already see on their Fluids but it's ten times cooler to do things you're not supposed to in public. Everyone knows that.)
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[This is nice. This is really nice. Richie idly brushes his thumb over one of the lines criss-crossing Eddie's palm, feeling a little steadier now that they're holding hands. In the back of his head he's distantly aware that this simple action is setting off even more fireworks inside him than usual, but then it does that already.]
Oh. Yeah, watering the plants with your tears works too, I hear. Scientists proved it and everything in 2008. [Just...trying to lighten the mood here, yeah.] Do you need a hose now or have you still got more plants to water that way? [Hidden underneath the humor: are you okay?
He ducks his head when he hears the pride in Eddie's voice, cheeks tinging faintly pink.]
I mean, I've got an extra mouth to feed and all, [nodding towards Venkman, who's playing with Gucci,] so I figured I'd get off my ass and pick something up. And it's not like there's a newspaper in town to throw at people's doorsteps, so, movie theater it is. [He rests his cheek against his free hand.] Yeah! And they're paying me to do it, too, all I gotta do is show people to their seats, probably do some clean-up too. Can't be that bad.
[He says, having forgotten about the time he dumped an entire soda on Henry Bowers' head in the Aladdin.]
Yeah, the drive-in's great, but there's nothing like a movie theater if you really want an immersive experience. [Hey, Richie, your 80s is showing.] You wouldn't have to pay for it and I wouldn't have to look older either just to get in. We can just hang out in the back row and watch Jason Voorhees take someone's head off.
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(Cause really how funny would it be to walk around in those shirts?
Some small part of Eddie didn't want Richie to leave. Life would be better if they just stayed in the greenhouse and this was it. Them. Holding hands. Some flowers. It was probably the first time that Eddie didn't feel like they were under some massive microscope. His mouth trembles into a full smile and he laughs lowly.)
I think...I think I'll probably have to start using the hose again. (I'm okay now. Now that Richie was here and they were talking without some crushing sense of anxiety in the way.) I can't break my tear ducts. I'm only 15. I have so many mental breakdowns to look forward to.
(He looks over towards their pets, grinning, and he realizes now, a month later, that Venkman had definitely been protective of Richie. He was gonna get that thing so much peanut butter.)
How responsible. (He looks back at Richie and snorts.) Dude. We were awful at the movies.
(Because he sure did not forget that. He also distinctly remembers kicking the first drink by accident while he had been cowering into Richie. Man. Everything was way simpler then.)
None of my jobs have cool perks except like hooking you up with prescription drugs or a bunch of free flowers.
(Eddie glances around said garden. After a few seconds he bends over to snap off one of the daisies and sits back up and proceeds to hold it out to Richie. Clearly thrilling as Jason Voorhees being beheaded. But there was a mild shyness as he does this, his eyes on the flower instead.)
So. (He clears his throat and forces himself to look back up at Richie.) I know I said we didn't have to. But we probably should...talk about October. And the whole...kissing thing. If that's okay with you. I don't really want the only time we talked about that to be because of some weird blood purging month, y'know?
tw forced outing, internalized homophobia
Then the light comes on, and he snaps his fingers.] Oh, shit, that's right! We dumped soda all over Bowers and his goons! Fuck, it's been a while since I thought about that. [Long enough that it had started to fade into the mists of memory. He should probably be more worried about it than he is, but that happens in time, doesn't it? You forget things that used to be so sharp in your mind's eye.] Yeah, I guess we were shitty, but we weren't so bad, at least we came to watch a movie and not make out in the back row.
[So awful, trying to watch the best scenes and meanwhile he could hear the sounds of two people playing tonsil hockey behind him. Speaking of tonsil hockey...
Yeah. October. Oh, boy. He takes the flower from Eddie, tucks it away in his front pocket so it's peeking out.]
I think I was the one who asked if we should, so. [He hunches in on himself, a little. He still doesn't want to talk about it, but what Richie wants, Richie doesn't always get. And he knows they'll have to talk about it.] Yeah. Yeah, we should, 'cause last time was...
[Last time Eddie was possessed and Richie was still reeling, so.]
'M'sorry I flipped out like that. And didn't talk for a while. [If it helps, Richie was a miserable wreck all that time spent not talking to Eddie.] I just, it just—
[He thinks, do you know how long I've wanted to kiss you, do you know what I'd do for you, do you know how much I love you? And there's a version of Richie who had all of that, who got to kiss Eddie, and it hurts that he—this version, who has been away from home so long, too long—is still too scared to even say the words. I love you.]
D'you know a guy named Caleb? He was the first person I ever came out to, but it wasn't—I didn't want to. [He breathes out.] I had to, because he accidentally saw Bowers chasing me out of the arcade for looking at his cousin, and he saw It trying to kill me. I didn't want to tell anyone, even him, and he was my friend. And he had a boyfriend. I couldn't tell him unless Paul fucking Bunyan was trying to split us in half. But you...
[He huffs out a breath.]
I couldn't bear it. You not knowing. Or having to find out about—about me 'cause of this town's bullshit. If you were going to know I wanted it to be because I told you. [He pauses.] I...did tell you, right? Those other times I don't remember. [sadly:] I wish you told me before. It doesn't excuse me yelling at you like that, 'cause that was just shitty of me, but—I wish you told me.
Re: tw forced outing, internalized homophobia
I mean that could always change.
(Eddie you should probably focus on actually discussing this Kissing Trauma business before casually flirting. Oh, to be fifteen and hormonally stupid as fuck sometimes. Though the hand-holding might have something to do with that extra slice of bravery pie he was serving up.
That brief bravado dies down pretty fast. He's careful then. Face arranges into a neutral expression and he tries hard to focus on Richie's glasses instead of his actual eyes. He knew he had to play this conversation right. He was the one who had kept the secrets. And there were others to keep still. How honest did Richie really want him to be? How honest was too honest?
At the mention of another guy's name, Eddie's brain immediately jumps to all the worst conclusions. He wants to break away from Richie and fall into a dead sprint towards the door and run away from this conversation. His neutral expression cracks and a look of genuine anxiety crawls over him. He wasn't ready for this conversation at all. He wasn't ready for--
Oh. Eddie loosens his grip on Richie's hand slowly, a thin breath crawling out of him. ...Breathe. Once the panic peeled away from his mind, he began to catch up on the rest of what Richie was saying. The fear is slowly replaced with a thoughtful look, and this was exactly why October had been hard.)
Okay I'm - gonna explain a lot of stuff all at once. I know I do that all the time but just. You asked a question that has four years worth of answers and several different Richies of answers, okay?
(He leans forward, and he tries to remember all the way back. This time he's looking at Richie's chest, but mostly because he was zoning out on trying to scratch back to age eleven.)
You were the first person I ever came out to period. When I was like twelve. We were on the space ship still and I mean I didn't really...come out come out. I made a really vague statement but...You knew what I was saying and you didn't tell me you were the same. But you made it obvious you didn't hate me for it either. And you never told me that first time. (Which he hasn't really thought about until now. And that kind of makes him sad too and he realizes a bit of what Richie might have felt back in October.) Then you left the first time and it was tough. You were gone for a long time. When you came back you were...weird. I didn't tell you anything that time because you were kind of an asshole to me about...About...
(He glances around them and snorts.)
Flowers? That's when I was getting real into flowers and gardening because it was my job to be. And you were weird about touching me and kind of were...Just different and I was paranoid it was 'cause you found out and suddenly didn't like me for it or something. I didn't know how to act around you? Then you vanished again. Uhh..When you came back after that you told me but not really because you wanted to. I won't lie. It was super messy and you were really upset because this town fucked you up about it.
(Eddie doesn't think Richie intended to tell him that day.)
And the thing is I can't even blame you. Even after all this time...It still makes me freak the fuck out and feel panicky. It just scares me. Even though I've gotten way better about it I just wish I wasn't that way at all. I don't even wish I was into girls either. I just fucking hate thinking about -- that stuff. But then at the same time, the only time I ever feel brave is because of - (You. Eddie falters. He stops, looking at Richie right in the eye, and then something occurs to him.)
Wait, did you ever tell the version of me you knew from your world? Did you guys ever talk about it?
tw internalized homophobia
[False, Eddie can catch his attention more than a movie can. Even a comedy he adores like Ghostbusters or Gremlins.
Okay. So—it's happened once before, on Richie's side, and a lot of times on Eddie's side. Richie wonders then how he might feel, if Eddie suddenly disappeared and then came back with no memory, acting strangely and in a hostile way. He'd—well, he'd assume pretty much the same thing Eddie did, actually: that maybe he'd been found out and now he'd lose his best friend for it. And then this last bit, about Richie not even intending to tell Eddie the last time he'd come out.
He huffs out a tired breath.]
Yeah. Yeah, I didn't—I think you're the first person I came out to properly? Here and back on superhero world, I never got to just say it. People either found out because of some stupid memory-sharing bullshit or just because I was too obvious. [Yeah, he can see why this past version of himself would be really upset. Richie has been there, been in the position where he can't do anything but watch in horror, as his dirty little secret gets dragged out into the light. He hunches in on himself, looks down at Eddie's hand again, and squeezes it, as if trying to draw a bit of comfort from Eddie's nearness. It works, and he relaxes.]
You are brave. [said quietly.] I can't imagine an Eddie Kaspbrak who's not brave. It's just that, yeah, you're right, it's fucking scary, especially if the sentient town or demon clown or what-the-fuck-ever has a history of digging your shit up and shoving it in your face.
[There's a silence. Then Richie shakes his head.]
No, never. God, never. [Because then Richie had been too terrified of scaring him off, of ruining their friendship, and if there's anything that Richie does not think he'll be able to handle, it's losing Eddie because he couldn't keep a fucking lid on his feelings.] It was the eighties, we lived in Derry, Bowers was on our asses every day—I didn't tell anyone, I didn't tell him, you, him. I couldn't. I was scared shitless about telling anyone.
[Especially about telling Eddie, because he had worried his other secret would come out too: the initials on the kissing bridge, R+E carved forever into the wood, permanent and almost defiant.]