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talesfromthesnogbox · 4 years

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A Love Story in 10 Parts

Summary: After Eddie and Richie fell in love, how did they not see their daughter falling for her best friend?

“They’re taking bets on when Sam and Maggie are gonna get together.” Bill piped up, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Stan spluttered. “Excuse me?”

“I have to say man, your kid is a real Cassanova.” Mike raised his eyebrows watching the two sway.

Word Count: 7,974

Notes: This is a continuation of "Richie Tozier and the Birth of His Child". You don't have to read it to know what's happening, but there's a few nods back to it! The fic is the brainchild of my headcanon "what if Reddie's kid fell in love with Stanpat's kid?" Anyways, I've plopped in two references to two of my favourite mid-2000's movies, 10 points if you can find them! Enjoy!

Tagging: @richietoaster

AO3

A Love Story in 10 Parts

The house was clean, the fridge was stocked, and six month old Maggie was nearing the end of her nap. Perfect timing as her aunts and uncles of the Losers club were finally coming down for a late baby shower.

“Hey Eds, you have the dip—”

“For the veggie platter? Still in the fridge.”

“And the wine—”

“Shiraz is on the counter, Moscato is in the fridge chilling. There’s some beer and cider chilling as well.”

Richie nodded, taking stock of the kitchen, pristine for the first time since Maggie’s arrival.

“Good, good. Why do I feel like I’m forgetting something?”

Eddie chuckled. “Well the guest of honour is getting her beauty rest.”

Richie grinned. “Right, can’t forget her. No, I’m forgetting something that’s right under my nose… or rather it will be in a second.” He leaned down to kiss his fiancée. “Can’t forget to tell you how much I love you before the others get here.”

Eddie frowned. “You’re gross.” He muttered just before the doorbell rang.

“But you love it!” Richie called out in a sing-song voice, rushing to let his friends in.

Unsurprisingly, it was Stan and his little family to arrive first.

“Stan the man! Welcome dude, come on in guys.” He caught little Sam’s eye, but the boy quickly shied away.

“Hey Sammy, do you remember who that is? It’s Richie!” Patty asked, brushing the boy’s hair back.

“Chee.” The boy whispered, sending Richie into a fit of giggles.

“Oh my god he’s huge! How’s it going little buddy?” Richie waggled his finger in front of the 18 month old’s face.

“You know, ever the explorer. Just like his mum.” Stan said waltzing into Richie and Eddie’s house. “Where’s the little princess?”

Eddie chuckled as Stan mocked Richie. Ever since Maggie was born, Richie had become so attached to her. He’d taken to calling her his “little princess” in their group chat. None of the other Losers quite understood it, not even Eddie really, but it was entirely endearing to watch how enamored he was with his daughter.

“Just you wait till you have a girl Staniel, then you’ll get it.”

“I somehow doubt I will.”

Richie ran off to collect Maggie, and when he came down, he had a full house.

“Wow, you all showed up on time!”

The Losers chattered and giggled, all catching up with the others, passing Maggie around.

The infant was already in love with Beverly, of course, being her biological mother, but she was also quite taken with Mike. Eddie had to admit, the man had a gift with children.

While Mike held Maggie, Bill couldn’t help but notice that Sam had become rather interested in the little girl.

“Mama,” he whispered, “baby.”

“That’s right sweetheart. Would you like to see the baby?” Sam nodded and turned on his mother’s lap to face Mike.

Mike turned Maggie, and the moment her eye caught Sam’s, a wide smile took over her face.

Bill chuckled at the two youngest Losers as he looked between them. “How did she somehow make Trashmouth’s smile adorable? I just don’t get how she’s Richie’s kid and so cute.”

“Looks like someone else thinks she’s cute too.” Mike said glancing pointedly at Sam.

“Aww, Sammy’s got a crush!”

Richie scoffed. “Please, I will not tolerate any heteronormativity in this house. He’s not even two.”

Stan rolled his eyes, while Patty let out a snort.

Two and a half years went by, and the Toziers were finally tying the knot.

The day had come, and everything was perfect. Both Eddie and Richie had custom suits made by the one and only Beverly Marsh-Hanscom, and little Maggie even got her own Marsh Original. She couldn’t stop twirling in her little white flower girl’s dress, looking back in the mirror every time she caught a glimpse of the oversized bow fastened to her back.

“Why do you have flowers?” Sam, now four years old, asked her, poking her arm.

“Because I’m the flower girl. I have to put out the flowers so Papa can find Daddy at the end of the aisle.”

“Well why do I have to carry rings? What if I want to carry flowers?”

“Because you’re the ring bear. You have an important job.”

“Why is it a ring bear?” Sam asked, playing with the flower crown on Maggie’s head.

“I don’t know, I don’t make the rules.”

The girl turned around when she heard a gasp coming from behind her. “Wow sweetheart.”

“Papa!” Maggie squealed, running into Eddie’s arms.

“You look like a princess.” He kissed her forehead. “Have you gone to see Daddy yet?” She shook her head no. “Well you should go see him before it’s time to start.” Eddie put her down and watched her run off in her little tulle skirt towards the other little room across the hall where Richie was.

“Daddy!” She ran right into Richie, hugging his leg.

“Hey my little princess, let me take a good look at you.” Maggie flashed a signature Tozier smile up at her dad, and it brought tears to his eyes. “Wow, look at how beautiful my little baby is.” He picked her up and the tears started falling.

“Oh my god Trashmouth, don’t tell me you’re crying again.” Bev walked up to Richie, pressing a kiss to Maggie’s cheek and handing him a handkerchief.

“Daddy, don’t cry, why are you sad?”

He sniffed. “I’m not sad baby, I’m happy, these are happy tears.”

“Dry your eyes bridezilla, the ceremony is gonna start in a few minutes.”

Richie gave Maggie one last kiss on the cheek and she ran to meet Sam again in the hallway.

The music started, and the crowed “aww’d” as the two walked down the aisle. Maggie, being an absolute ham, smiled with her rosy cheeks dropping rose petals in her path until her and Sam reached the end of the aisle.

There wasn’t a dry eye at the ceremony as Eddie walked down the aisle towards Richie. Richie’s parents held onto Maggie’s hand tight, but as Eddie began to approach the altar, she let out a wail.

“Maggie?” Both Eddie and Richie looked her way to see the girl sniffling, her shoulders moving, but no tears falling.

“Maggie are you okay baby?” Richie bent down to caress her face.

“Yeah Daddy, I’m happy crying!” the congregation laughed, and Richie kissed her cheek before rejoining his groom at the altar.

The ceremony was short and sweet, and Eddie came by to pick up Maggie in his arms before walking back down the aisle with his new husband. The little girl smiled as she saw her basket of rose petals left behind for Sam on her chair.

Photos followed the ceremony, and just as Richie had suspected, Maggie was totally in her element. She was a Tozier through and through, dramatic, witty, and absolutely adored being the center of attention. She listened to everything the photographer said, even didn’t complain when Sam left a wet kiss on her rosy cheek in one of the snaps.

Sam’s favourite part of the day came a little later… the dancing. This was both Maggie and Sam’s first wedding, and neither child had experienced the joy of an open dance floor.

Sam pulled her into a slow sway as Richie and Eddie took to the floor for their first dance, and as much as the Losers wanted to watch Richie and Eddie finally get their happy ever after (and their shit together, it took them entirely too long to come to their senses about how they felt towards each other), they couldn’t take their eyes off the two kids on the dance floor.

“Something tells me this is foreshadowing for the future.” Mike whispered to Bill, Ben and Bev.

“You think?” Bill took a sip of his beer.

The four of them watched intently as Maggie rested her cheek on Sam’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Ben laughed.

“But if she’s anything like her dads, and her godfather, she’ll be sixty before she says anything to him.” Bev poked Ben’s side.

Ben glowered at his wife. “They won’t end up like those two idiots. Stan had a ring on Patty’s finger before they even finished college.”

“What did I do now?” Stan and a mildly pregnant Patty took their seats at the table.

“They’re taking bets on when Sam and Maggie are gonna get together.” Bill piped up, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Stan spluttered. “Excuse me?”

“I have to say man, your kid is a real Cassanova.” Mike raised his eyebrows watching the two sway.

“Alright, I’m gonna need another drink.”

III

Stan, Patty, Sam and their youngest Abigail had all moved down to Santa Monica shortly after the Tozier wedding. Maggie loved showing her best friend Sam (and new friend Abby) all the fun things they could do at the beach.

Now that Maggie and Sam were older, about to start 9th and 10th grade, all the adults agreed the beach was great for their independence, especially since Richie and Eddie had just bought a big house that backed onto it. The teens could have their privacy, and Eddie could make sure they were safe without hovering too much.

Usually Maggie was the first to get the door when she knew Sam was coming over, but today, it was Eddie that answered.

“Hey Sammy, I think Mags is sitting out on the deck.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks Eddie.” The boy wandered through the house and out the backdoor to find his friend with her head in her hands.

“Maggie?”

“Don’t look at me, I’m hideous!”

Sam frowned. Maggie wasn’t hideous; sure he teased her about the size of her teeth, and her unruly brown hair, but she was fourteen and in her awkward stage… and far from hideous in his humble opinion. He and his family had gone to visit his grandparents in Maine for the month of July, and he was anxious to see her and catch up. He’d really missed his friend, awkward stage and all. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She turned to him with tears in her eyes, tears that had been obscured by a pair of tortoise-shell glasses.

“Hey, you got glasses!” He rubbed her shoulder. “They look good.”

“No, they don’t! I look like such a freak.”

“Oh come on, wearing glasses doesn’t make you a freak, your dad wears glasses.”

She looked up to him, shooting daggers through her eyes.

“Okay, you have a point, your dad is kind of a freak. But hey, who called you a freak?”

“N-nobody.”

Sam’s heart broke at how quiet the stuttered word was. “Seriously Mags, who called you a freak?”

She was silent for a moment. “Liam Donahue.”

Liam. I’m gonna kick his ass. Sam thought, seeing red. He lived down the street from Sam and Maggie, and in summers past, he’d hung out with the two of them. He’d all but disappear once the school year started up again, but neither of them really cared, they just liked having people their age to hang around with on their break. “W-what happened?”

“Well I asked him this morning if he wanted to grab lunch with me after my appointment, and he said yes. But when I met up with him at the diner, he… he…”

Sam pushed her hair away from her face. “What’d he say Mags?”

“He laughed in my face. Told me I looked like a four-eyed freak. I guess one of the girls from the soccer team told him I had a crush on him a-and he got spooked.” She sniffed, rubbing her eyes under her glasses.

“What an asshole.” Sam shook his head. Why couldn’t Liam see what a great girl Maggie was? She was smart, unapologetically herself, witty, absolutely adorable… he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t have a slight crush on his best friend. “You’re not a freak Maggie, you’re my best friend. Don’t listen to Liam and those other dickheads, you’re way too good for him.”

“Really?”

“I promise. Now come on, I think I saw your dad brought stuff home for s’mores.”

The conversation Richie had overheard about that jackass Liam Donahue was now years behind them, and the Tozier couple was now leaving their daughter behind at Berkeley. The first hour of their five-hour drive back to Santa Monica was quiet, but as soon as hour two hit, Richie became a blubbering mess.

“I just can’t believe we just moved her into college. College Eddie!”

“Yes, Richie, that tends to happen after kids turn 18.” Eddie was sad to see their daughter go too, but he trusted her, and he knew that despite all the worrying he did before she was born, they’d raised her well.

“B-but what if… what if something happens? What if someone tries to hurt her, or what if she gets homesick and wants your homemade pizza?”

“Rich you’re starting to sound like my mother.” Richie’s blubbering halted. “Maggie is a smart girl. We’re only a phone call away from her, she isn’t that far, and besides, she’s got Sam with her.”

Sam had taken a year off between high school and college to work and save up money for school. When he’d found out both he and Maggie had gotten early acceptance to UC Berkeley, everyone was over the moon that the two best friends would be together.

“Sam’s been good to her Rich, he won’t let anything happen to our Mags.”

Richie nodded. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure your little princess will call you all the time.”

As always, Eddie was right.

Maggie made sure to check in every night, whether it was through their family group chat, weekly FaceTimes, or simple texts, but one Friday evening, Richie didn’t hear from her.

“Eds, did Maggie text you last night?” Richie asked, snuggling his husband closer in their bed on that lazy Saturday morning.

“No, why?”

“Nothing, I just haven’t heard from her.” Richie frowned and pulled out his phone, texting her privately. Hey my little princess, I miss you. Everything OK?

It wasn’t until noon that he heard back from his daughter.

“Hey princess, are you alright?” He answered the incoming FaceTime call. She looked like hell.

“Yeah… no… not really… I’m pretty sure I have a wicked hangover.”

Richie laughed out loud, taking in her ruffled appearance and the dark circles under her eyes. “Yeah, college will do that to you.” A weight lifted off his shoulders as she giggled along with him. “Big party last night?”

“Yeah dad, it was wild. Now that midterms are over, I think we all needed to let loose.”

He nodded in agreement. “You’re partying responsibly though, right?”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “Yes dad, I knew my limit and stopped within it.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Hey dad… is pops around by any chance?” Her eyes shifted downward suspiciously.

“No, we’re having the Losers over tonight so he popped out to grab some snacks. I can get him to call you ba—”

“No! No, it’s fine. I just… something happened last night and I’d rather him not really know right now. You… you know how he is.”

Richie’s heart sunk, but he kept a straight face to not alarm her. “Yeah, yeah I know. What is it sweetie?”

“Well… I um… I kind of… kissed Sam… last night.”

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Oh… is that right? A-and how do you feel about that?”

“I dunno, I mean, he’s my first kiss, he’s my best friend. What if… will things get weird?”

Richie shook his head. “You can’t think of it that way. Things will only get weird if you let it get weird. Have I ever told you about my first kiss?” She shook her head. “Well, surprisingly enough, it was with pops.”

She scoffed. “What? I thought you guys didn’t get together until you were like… 25 or something.”

“We didn’t, but it was a spin-the-bottle situation. Bill threw a party, and he was really trying to impress this girl, so he started spin-the-bottle, and of course, I landed on short and angry. We kissed, my heart soared, but we all thought he was straight, so I played it off as a joke rather than telling him how I felt.”

“So I should play it off as a joke?”

“No! I mean, if you don’t have feelings for him, then don’t say anything about it, but if you do… you should tell him sweetie.”

Maggie sighed. “But… but dad… what if he doesn’t like me back?”

Richie’s heart swelled. As much as his little girl growing up so fast saddened him, it was sweet that they could share the experience of being in love with their childhood friend. “That’s the risk you take when you put yourself out there. It’s your choice, you don’t have to say anything now, or tomorrow, or even a month from now, but if you really like him, I think you should tell him. Trust me, I think his answer will surprise you.” Richie knew for a fact that his answer would surprise her. He saw the way they looked at each other, Richie may have been blind to his own love life at his daughter’s age, but now that he was past that, he could clearly see how much Sam cared for her.

“Thanks dad.”

Richie kept his lips sealed tight when Eddie returned, he even didn’t say anything when their friends arrived, but Richie couldn’t be trusted with a secret around alcohol.

“How are the kids doing at school?” Mike asked after spilling the beans on the woman he’d met while travelling in Vancouver.

“Sam’s great, he loves his program!” Patty gushed.

Richie chuckled. “Yeah, Mags is great too. Even better after last night though, right Staniel?”

Stan looked at him confusedly. “What?”

“Mags and Sam? Sharing a little smoochy smoochy time?”

“Wait, what?” Both Eddie and Stan shouted. Patty and the rest of the Losers couldn’t contain their laughter.

“You t-totally called that at their wedding!” Bill high-fived Mike as their laughter died down.

“Oh fuck, I was not supposed to tell you that.”

Richie was lucky that the Losers loved him enough to keep Maggie’s secret. Nobody had spoken a word about it, at least not until the Christmas break the next year.

Their 19 year old had only been home for all of two days, but Richie was already dreading bringing her back to Berkeley.

“You’re so dramatic, she doesn’t go back until January, Rich. Get some sleep, it’s three in the morning.”

Richie yawned and started to doze off when a thump coming from Maggie’s bedroom made them jolt up.

“Mags?” Richie was out of bed in an instant, with Eddie hot on his feet. They burst into their daughter’s room, only to find out she wasn’t alone.

“Sam?”

He spluttered. “Uhhhh, hi Mr. Tozier… Mr. Tozier.”

Maggie groaned as the lights came up and the two tried to hide how disheveled they (and the bedsheets) were.

“Care to explain why you’re in Maggie’s room, without a shirt, at three in the morning?” Eddie crossed his arms, trying to look intimidating in a pair of boxer briefs and one of Richie’s old tour shirts.

“Well, um… you see…”

“Dad, pops! Stop it! I invited him over.”

“Okay, but that still doesn’t explain why you’re shirtless, Sam. Unless this has something to do with what happened last year?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised.

“Last year… Oh my god, dad did you say something?”

Richie winced. “Sorry sweetie.”

“Ugh!” Maggie let out a huff of frustration. “Dad! How could you?”

“I know, I’m sorry I fucked up, but you shouldn’t be… sneaking around Mags. I thought we could talk about this kind of stuff.”

“I’m sorry Dad.”

Eddie shook his head. “Put a shirt on Sam, I’m calling your dad.”

Sam followed Eddie out of the room, his head hung low. Richie stayed back for a second and threw a quick thumbs up at Maggie. “I’m proud of you for saying something to him sweetie, but next time, please don’t sneak around, just… ask if he can stay the night.”

“Really, you’d let my boyfriend stay the night?”

“Well… no, I wouldn’t, but hold on, boyfriend?”

She blushed. “Yeah, we um, we got together when the semester started.”

Richie’s heart swelled. As disappointed as he was that she kept something like this from them, he couldn’t help but root for her. “You can tell me about it later, I’m sure we’ll be spending all the time in the world together while you’re grounded.” He kissed her on the head and joined his husband downstairs.

Stan was just as grumpy as Richie thought he’d be when he and Patty arrived.

He looked at his son, a tired expression on his face. “You, car, now.” Sam skittered off past his parents towards the car.

“I’m so sorry guys, he must’ve snuck out after we went to bed.” Patty shook her head apologetically.

“It’s fine guys. Sam’s a good kid, I think it was more Maggie’s persuasion that got him over here if I’m being honest.” Eddie laughed. “Man that whole intimidation thing was fun though.”

The four adults spluttered trying to contain their laughter at the situation.

“So… they’re dating?” Stan questioned.

“Yep, since September it sounds like.” Richie confirmed.

“Fuck, that makes us in-laws, doesn’t it?” Stan rubbed his eyes.

“Fuck! That means Bill and Mike were actually right!” Patty shook her head.

After that fateful December night, Sam became an even more permanent fixture in the Tozier household.

Maggie had never dated at all before Sam; everything was new territory to her, and to her parents. She now had this dreamy eyed look on her face on nights where she facetimed them after he’d left, and her Instagram was filled with pictures of the two of them, smiling and in love.

“They look rather cozy in that one, don’t you think?” Eddie pointed out, looking at her Instagram story over his shoulder.

“Yeah… they do. Do you think they’re being safe?”

“What? The hell do you mean—” Eddie’s brow furrowed.

“Well I never taught her about protection, I thought you had that covered!”

“I—” Maggie’s face popped up on his screen as her facetime request came in. “Fuck. Hi sweetie!”

“Hey pops, hi dad. Sam just left, I thought I’d see what you two were up to.”

“You’re being safe, right?”

Eddie’s eyes widened and he playfully slapped his husband’s chest. “Richard! You… you can’t just—”

“Dad!”

“What! It’s a valid concern, Stan would kill me if he became a grandfather at the ripe old age of 35.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, 35 sure.”

“Well honey, you have a boyfriend now, you know you can call us if you have any questions… or if you need anything… some snacks, a condom…” Richie baited.

“Yes, because you two know so much about hetero sex.”

“Hey, I was a closeted comedian until I was 25, I know plenty about heterosexual relations.”

“You do?” Eddie eyed him carefully.

“Okay… so I’m not a great liar, but I’m a great listener and I have Bev on speed dial.”

Maggie giggled. “Thanks dad, but I think I’ll leave the girl talk to mom, if that’s okay?”

“Of course, sweetie. Your dad and I are always here if you want to talk, but we understand if you’d rather talk to Bev about this stuff.”

“Thanks pops.”

Richie and Eddie took everything Maggie threw at them growing up in stride, but were so incredibly thankful for her and Bev’s strong bond, especially once she became a teenager. They did all the hard lifting, explaining everything, and doing all the research to teach their girl, but Eddie will always remember the panicked phone call on that rainy Sunday morning standing in the drug store staring at a wall of tampons, and could never thank Bev enough for her help.

VII

But of course, Bev couldn’t always be around to help.

Richie and Eddie were having a quiet Saturday morning brunch when they heard their front door slam. Their 24-year-old Maggie rushed up to her room, bag in tow, which was unusual, considering she and Sam had an apartment not far from them.

Shortly before graduation, the two of them had moved in together. Eddie loved Sam, he really did, but ever since that point, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’d seen it for himself with many college friends of his… college relationships don’t always last. So when he heard that door slam shut… he had an idea of what was happening.

Eddie shot Richie a look, I’ll get her, and followed her up the stairs.

“Hey, hey baby, what’s wrong?”

“Hi pops… sorry for barging in, I just needed to get out of the apartment.”

“Don’t apologize, you know you’re always welcome here sweetie. Now tell me what happened.” He sat down beside her and rubbed her back as she leaned into him. Hot tears hit the collar of his t-shirt, and his eyes met Richie’s, now standing in her doorway. Eddie motioned him over, and he joined the two on the bed, patting his daughter’s hair.

“It’s Sam… he’s been so distant lately, and secretive. He gets so anxious every time I try to bring it up, and he brushes me off. Today he just… he just snapped. Went into our bedroom and shut the door, he didn’t even say anything. I think he’s hiding something from me, I think he’s cheating on me.”

The two fathers let her cry it out, until she was done with the tears. Maggie fell asleep in her childhood bed, and they left her to sleep it off.

Eddie let out a huff once they’d reached the main floor. “Man, she’s really heartbroken.”

“This is crazy, you know? I never saw those two breaking up.”

“Rich, he’s her college boyfriend, sometimes relationships just… run their course.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know that, but he was just here last week asking for my blessing to propose.”

Eddie looked at his husband incredulously. “WHAT?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”

“You didn’t think to tell me about this, what?”

Richie scoffed. “Shut up, I so told you about this. Remember, we talked about it before bed on Monday… ohhh, your stupid talented mouth totally distracted me from telling you about that. Right.”

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you let me blow you when you were sitting on that information!”

“To be fair, you do tend to suck my soul through my dick, and it’s too good to pass up in the moment babe.”

“You’re disgusting!”

Just then, the doorbell rang. The two of them got up to see Sam on the other side.

“Hey Sam, I don’t really think it’s a good time—”

“Eddie, please, I need… I need to talk to her.” His hands shook as he pulled the little velvet box from his pocket. “I just… I was planning to do it this weekend, and I had this whole plan but then things started falling through one by one, and I wanted it to be perfect, I just got so stressed out—”

“Sam?”

The three men looked towards the top of the staircase to see Maggie standing there, tears in her eyes.

“Mags… please…” He fumbled with the box opening it and tuning out the three collective gasps heard by the Tozier family. “I love you, I love you so damn much, since we were kids.” He moved further into the foyer. “I’ve wanted this forever, from the first time we kissed, I knew you were it for me. Maggie Tozier, I love you, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

Richie let out a choked sob, and Eddie knew he had to drag his husband away. He heard muffled voices talking lowly as he and Richie moved into the living room to give them some privacy, but it was only minutes later that a girlish giggle and a simple three letter word broke the room’s silence.

“Yes!”

Eddie met Richie’s eyes, tears now clearly welling up in both of them as they thought back on their own little love story. They had been older than Maggie and Sam by a few years, but god, they were just as stupid, and just as wrapped up and in love with each other.

“That’s our little girl, baby.” Richie pulled Eddie closer, and kissed the crown of his head.

“Yeah Rich, she’s all grown up.” Eddie wiped his eyes and moved away from Richie’s embrace. “I think I’ve got a bottle of champagne lying around from our anniversary, good time to crack it open.” He smiled as he rummaged about the kitchen.

VIII

Eddie was a totally hands-on wedding planner, but he wanted nothing to do with the dress. Dress shopping didn’t hold good memories for him, and he didn’t want to put a damper on Maggie’s day. Luckily Richie was practically bursting at the seams with joy at the thought of wedding dress shopping with Maggie.

The day of Maggie’s bridal appointment had come, and Richie had never felt more out of his element. The Beverly Hills shop was beautiful, soft grey walls, luxurious couches in front of huge mirrors and pedestals. Gowns lined the walls, and Richie suddenly felt panicked.

“Hey sweetie, you okay?” Bev grabbed his hand, and he nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“I know it’s hard seeing her grow up.” Bev smiled at him, and joined Patty and Abigail admiring a dress with a beautiful satin skirt.

Maggie was whisked away into the dressing room while her “entourage” took their seats, and minutes later she emerged. The dress wasn’t anything grand, it was a simple gown with a poofy skirt and a sparkly belt. The girls let out soft coos, showering the bride with compliments, but Richie was silent.

“Dad? What do you think?” Maggie turned around and met her father’s eyes, only to realize they had misted over. “Dad! You said you weren’t gonna cry today!”

Bev burst out laughing, pulling her best friend close and kissing his cheek. “Oh, be nice to your dear old dad, he just has a lot of feelings.”

“Sorry sweetie, you just look so beautiful.”

Patty pushed his hair back from his face. “Aw Rich, I can’t believe you made me lose fifty bucks to my husband.”

Bev gasped. “Patricia Uris!”

“Damn Patty, I thought you knew me better than that.”

“Well I thought you were gonna hold it together Trashmouth.”

The group agreed that while the dress was beautiful, it wasn’t the one for Maggie, so back to the dressing room she went.

Maggie tried on four more dresses, none of which were winners. It had been a long day, and the group was nearly ready to leave, but one dress in particular caught Richie’s eye.

It was simple, but beautiful. “Hey Bevvy, what do you think of this?” His large hands looked clunky against the delicate lace appliques, the dress was soft and flowy, and he thought it ticked all the boxes on his daughter’s wish list.

“Oh Rich, it’s amazing. I know the designer, why didn’t I think of putting her in something like this?”

Richie raised his brows. “Hey Mags, before we leave, could you just humour me and try this one on?”

The four of them took their seats on the couch when Maggie emerged in Richie’s dress looking like an absolute dream.

“Oh my god baby, you look incredible.” Bev was up right away, fussing with Maggie, fixing the dress, pinning her hair into a messy, fashionable bun and adding a veil.

“Dad?” She turned around, tears welling up as she met his eyes (which of course, were also watering).

“Mags.” His voice broke. Richie stood—the pedestal she stood on and her heels making her just above eye level with him—and took her hands. He stared at the girl, no, woman that stood before him, and didn’t even care when he heard the clicks of Bev’s and Patty’s phone cameras going off. “Maggie sweetie… wow.”

“I think this is my dress dad.”

The next nine months flew by faster than anyone was prepared for, and soon enough, the day came where Margaret Tozier would be wed to Samuel Uris.

“We should get out of bed. She needs to get to the venue to start getting ready.” Richie lie wide awake on that beautiful Saturday morning beside his husband, who promptly smacked him on the chest.

“Shut the fuck up and go back to sleep, it’s six o’clock in the morning.” Eddie groaned and rolled away from him.

“But like… there’s so much shit to do, Eds. The flowers are going to be arriving soon, and the centerpieces, we can’t forget to put the seating chart up at the reception and help set up the favours table, and the photographer—”

“Doesn’t show up until noon. The ceremony starts at four, Rich. Florist won’t show up until one at the venue, and Mike and Bill already said they’d go help set up the ceremony space while Ben shows them the reception hall. Photographer shows up here at noon and another to Stan’s house around the same time. Mags and Bev will head to the venue for twelve-thirty with your mom, Patty and her mom, and the bridesmaids will get ready there. We show up at two-thirty for photos with our tuxes and a shitload of tissue. We’ve been over this babe, we got it down.”

Richie huffed out a breath, but nodded, turning on his side to spoon Eddie. “What would I do without you?”

“Drive yourself mad.”

He laughed. “You know my mom is giving Mags the diamond earrings she wore on her wedding day as her something old?”

“That’s beautiful, Rich. Bev told me she’s going to give her the brooch she had in her hair at her wedding for her something borrowed. Mags wanted to put it on her bouquet.”

Richie kissed the back of Eddie’s head. “I love that, she should have something of her mother’s with her. The dress is new, and her shoes are blue, so that covers the rest of it.”

“Perfect.” Eddie yawned. “Can you believe our baby is getting married today?”

“Not one bit. Remember when I accidentally spilled that Bev went into labour on a radio show?”

“Yes, you idiot. Oh god, you’re totally going to bring that up in your speech, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Richie snickered. “Of course I’m bringing it up, Stan was the first one to visit.”

“I forgot about that, he was, wasn’t he? Who would have thought we’d be here right now?”

“Crazy, isn’t it Eds?”

The two drifted off to sleep for a few more hours before Eddie’s alarm went off. They snuck down the stairs as quietly as they could to not wake Maggie, and prepared her a pancake breakfast spread. She’d spent the night at their house, not wanting to see Sam until she was meeting him at the altar.

“Morning baby girl, it’s your wedding day.” Eddie crept into her room, Richie following with the tray.

Their daughter greeted them with a watery smile. “I love you two so much.”

Richie set the tray down on her side table and jumped into bed with her, cuddling his girl to his chest as tears streamed down his face. “We love you too sweetie, I can’t believe how grown up you are.”

Eddie scootched into bed on her other side, stroking her hair lovingly. Once the tears had dried, and breakfast was eaten, Maggie got down to business.

“Mom just texted me, she’ll be here in an hour to pick me up. I’m bringing the veil, jewelry and Sam’s ring, but can you guys bring the dress and shoes? They’re both in the hall closet downstairs, all together in the garment bag.”

“Absolutely honey.”

“Perfect, I’m going to run a bath. Shoo, go relax or something!” Maggie gave them both kisses on their cheeks and pushed them out of her room.

Just as scheduled, Bev and the photographer arrived and snapped a few pictures of the strange little family in their home before the girls were whisked away to the venue. After the few minutes of chaos, a peaceful silence washed over the two.

“I definitely expected this morning to be crazier.” Richie huffed, playing with Eddie’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah I feel quite… relaxed.” Eddie stood, pulling his husband up with him. “Come on, we’re jumping in the shower before we put our tuxes on.”

“Together?” Richie gasped. “But Edward… I’ll see your… thingy.”

“Oh no, not the thingy.” Eddie deadpanned and dragged him up the stairs. “Get your mind out of the gutter Tozier, we’ve got important shit to do today.”

One (almost) uneventful shower later, the two of them were buttoning up their shirts and lacing their shoes. “God damnit Rich, Bev will kill us if we’re late.”

“Relax babe, we’ll be at the venue in plenty of time, it’s only two.”

He glared at Richie. “Yes, but I want to be able to actually walk my daughter down the aisle, asshole, my legs are still shaky.”

Richie snickered. “Hey man, you started it. Can’t get enough of this magical dick.”

“Fuck you. Let’s go, don’t forget your jacket.”

They locked the door and buckled their seatbelts, but as Richie pulled out of the driveway, Eddie shouted. “Wait! She asked us to grab the dress.”

“Fuck, right! Hold on, let me run up to her room to grab it.” Richie sprinted inside quickly, but when he got to Maggie’s room, there was no dress in sight. “Eds! She definitely took it with her. It’s not here.” He told his husband, wracking his brain to figure out where she put it.

“No she didn’t Richie! I saw them leave, she had her veil and jewelry box, no garment bag. She specifically asked us to bring the dress and shoes.”

Richie looked around her room perplexed. “But… but she has to have it… it’s not here.”

“Fuck.” Eddie looked around panicking. “Fuck! She’s gonna kill us!”

“Hey, Eddie, hey, calm down, we’ll find it.”

“No Richard, we won’t find it and our daughter’s entire day is going to be ruined, and it’s going to be all my fault! Maybe we should have got out of bed at six like you said we should, Richie I’m such an idiot, I have to call her, we have to tell Bev, she’ll know what to do, she’ll know someone who can whip up a dress in an hour—”

“Eds! Babe take a breath, please, you’re freaking me out here. Maggie told us where it was, try and think back.”

“She said a closet, but you said it’s not in her closet! Get back in there and check again.”

“Woah man, I’ve been out of it for too long, you can’t make me get back into the closet.” Richie joked.

“Shut the fuck up asshole, save the jokes for the toasts. I’m going to look again, you go look downstairs.”

The taller man nodded in agreement and kissed his husband’s forehead. His eyes scanned the open concept main floor of their home, looking for the glaringly obvious giant white garment bag and blue box, but couldn’t see anything in plain sight. He checked the spare bedroom, his office, dining room, cupboard, but nothing came up. Finally, he had one place left to look: the hall closet.

Richie felt his breath leave his chest and his heart stutter as he opened the closet to find exactly what he was looking for. “Eddie, search party is off, it’s down here!”

“Thank fuck!” Eddie came careening down the stairs and grabbed the shoebox as he dashed out the door.

When the two arrived, Bev was waiting outside, arms crossed angrily. “Oh my god finally! She was freaking out in there, thinking something had happened to you idiots.”

“No, we uh, couldn’t find the dress.” Richie said sheepishly. “But hey, we got it!”

“Thank god, she was getting anxious. Now come on, the photographer wants a few shots of you helping her get ready.”

Stepping into the room was like stepping into organized chaos. Maggie’s friends paraded around the room in floral silky robes helping each other with their hair and makeup, and finally towards the back of the room, Maggie was in the makeup chair, the artist putting the final touch of lipstick on.

Eddie could tell that Richie was already getting choked up. “You look beautiful Mags.” He held his hand out to the taller man and squeezed it, bringing him closer.

“Wow.”

“Dad!” Maggie blushed. “I haven’t even put my dress on yet, stop it.”

“We’ve got that here for you by the way.” He offered the large garment bag over to her.

“Perfect timing. Can you get mom to come help me into it? I think the photographer wants to shoot you two helping me with the buttons.”

“Of course, we’ll give you some space.”

The next hour was filled with a flurry of activity. The photographer perfectly captured Richie’s face glowing with pride as he laid eyes on his daughter in her dress for the first time since he helped her pick it out. The small family shared a moment together when they could hear everyone shuffling into the ceremony space, right before they would walk her down the aisle.

“We’re so proud of you sweetheart, you’ve grown into such an incredible woman, and I know you and Sam are going to be so happy.” Eddie laced his arm through Maggie’s and kissed her temple as they walked towards the aisle.

“Pops, stop it, you’re going to make me cry!”

Richie sniffed on her other side. “I’ve got extra tissue if you want.”

Finally, the three made it out into the open air of the ceremony space overlooking the water. Gasps could be heard from the congregation as they all took in how incredible she looked, but Maggie only had eyes for the man at the end of the aisle.

Richie caught Stan’s eye as they approached the arch, and even he had a tear in his eye watching his best friends walk their daughter, his now daughter-in-law, down the aisle to his son.

The ceremony was beautiful. Much like at his own wedding, sniffles cut through the silence between the vows, this time, it was Richie instead of Maggie.

The reception was just as incredibly beautiful as the ceremony was. All the losers took their seats at their table together and watched the newlyweds share their first dance.

“Dude,” Mike piped up to Bill, “you owe me $20.”

“What?”

Mike rested his hand on the table, palm open. “$20, I told you this would happen.”

“When did we make this deal?” The rest of the losers snickered around them.

“At their wedding.” Mike nodded to Richie and Eddie. “Those two were dancing, but those two were the cutest couple I’d ever seen.

“I really can’t believe you put a bet on our kids man.” Eddie shook his head and took a swig of his wine.

“Oh I can, we put a bet on your husband and I lost.” Patty giggled, leaning into Stan.

“When did you put a bet on my husband?”

“Dress shopping, I bet he would break down the second he saw her in a wedding dress, Patty thought he’d keep it together.” Stan kissed his wife’s cheek. “What were you thinking?”

“Yeah honestly Pats, he made some easy money there.”

“Who said it was money we bet?” She threw the table a wink and stared at her husband bashfully.

“Woah Staniel the maniel!”

“Alright, alright, chill out, we’re at my kid’s wedding, remember?” Stan knocked back the rest of his drink and stood up. “Let’s go, we’re all doing shots.”

The next two years saw Maggie and Sam travelling the world. Sam had really made a name for himself as a veterinarian at the San Diego Zoo, and Maggie as a documentary filmmaker, and luckily, their jobs happen to clash when National Geographic offered them a contract travelling the world documenting wildlife foundations and rescue practices.

The holidays were hard without the two of them there; this holiday would be especially hard as Mike and Bill and Ben and Bev would all be gone as well. Eddie was preparing a small thanksgiving dinner for himself and Richie plus Stan and Patty; it would be quiet, but it would still be nice. Besides, Maggie and Sam were due to skype in during dessert.

“Have you heard from them yet?” Patty asked, taking a sip of wine.

“Yeah, Sam said they were going to call in around seven—” Eddie was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing. “Hold on, that’s actually Mags right now. Hey honey, how’s it going?”

“It’s great! But kind of bad news, our service is really bad around here, we may have to push our skype.”

“No worries, wish you guys were here, we made too much food as usual. Whereabouts are you now?”

“Pops? Pops you there? You’re breaking up?”

“Maggie? I can hear you just fine, what’s going on?” Eddie’s heart thrummed in his chest.

“Hold on, let me move into a better reception area.”

The call hung up, and Eddie’s heart sunk. “Mags?”

Suddenly, keys jingled in the front door, and in stepped Maggie and Sam.

“Oh my god!” Richie led the way as the four of them ran to greet their kids in the doorway. “How did you guys get here? How long have you been planning this?”

The questions continued through dinner. Maggie and Sam told them all about the places they’d visited to their parents who listened with open ears.

“Sounds beautiful darling. Hey Stan, we brought that really nice bottle of merlot, why don’t you break it out? Maggie you’re gonna love it, I promise.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “T-that’s okay Patty, I’m a little jetlagged, I’m afraid wine might just put me to sleep.”

“Nonsense, I insist! You’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”

“No, um, mom it’s probably not a good idea if she drinks the wine.” Sam stepped in looking around at the four sets of skeptical eyes that sat on him.

A sudden wave of realization fell over the room. “Maggie?” Richie whispered, looking at his daughter, already feeling the tears stinging his eyes.

“We wanted to surprise you to let you all know that you’re going to be grandparents!”

Everyone jumped to their feet to crowd the couple, cheers of delight echoing throughout the dining room.

“How fa r along are you?” Patty asked.

“Ten weeks, we actually came back to see my doctor and figured it was a good time for a pit stop in to tell you all.” Maggie stood proudly and lifted her shirt. Sure enough, her abdomen was swollen ever so slightly. “You okay there dad?”

Richie blinked. “Y-yeah! I’m more than okay, I’m going to be a gr-grandpa. Holy shit.” He sniffled and immediately broke down. “My baby is having a baby.”

“Oh come on you big old sap.” Eddie rubbed his back, chuckling at his husband, but his voice was also thick with emotion.

“I think grandpa needs another glass of wine.” Stan said, reaching across the table to fill Richie’s glass. “Shit, that makes me grandpa too… three grandpas.”

“Luckiest kid in the world.” Maggie whispered adoringly.

#reddie #reddie fic #richie x eddie #It fic #my writing

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foxhenki-blog · 6 years

Text

Dark Elements

FRONT MATTER

And then things began to happen… This morning, when I got to work, after driving in a vehicle that inexplicably ran nearly perfect despite all of the things that I know are wrong with it, I opened my email to find the most out-of-the-blue message I could think of.

Last year, while taking paternity leave to help with my new son, I kept myself busy by writing an academic paper on information search and retrieval. I say ‘kept myself busy’ but what I really mean was ‘mentally avoid the stress of having a newborn in the house and a new pile of bills from the hospital in the mailbox’. Long story short (you should know, none of my stories are short) I submitted the paper to the International Federated Library Association conference and it was accepted! This was my second acceptance for that conference, the first being in 2014 while I was still in library school.

This paper, however, was based on my actual work work, the research, the data, all of it came from my job. I was operating under a ‘forgiveness is easier to ask for than permission’ maxim at the time. Well, I mixed up the message and after the paper was accepted and I was asked to speak at the conference I went and asked for permission to do it.

That permission was denied. If there is a dictionary definition of a kerfuffle, that was it. I got my fur up, my work flattened its ears, and I backed down. I sent an email off to the conference organizer that I wouldn’t be able to attend. Man, that really stung, but not as bad as when he fired back that my paper would more-than-likely not be posted because of my absence.

Things turned sour for awhile after that, until this morning.

The conference organizer and I were no longer in contact, but I thought I’d try and work around it, took a long shot, and sent the webmaster an email asking when my paper would be posted. A bit underhanded, but you see, all I’ve ever wanted, since I started purposefully putting words on paper at the age of thirteen, was to be published. The first paper was such an awesome rush, I wanted that rush again, but moreover, I sincerely wanted to contribute to the discipline of library science. I had grown to love thinking of myself as a librarian, even though my work had another fancy corporate name for me, that was my self-identity.

The email went into the void and I never heard anything about it, until this morning, inexplicably, more than a year later. In my inbox was a note from the webmaster, a [third and final notice] in brackets, that I needed to fill out the author permission form in order to have my paper published to the library. This was just so out of a clear blue sky, and my enchantments have been gaining such intensity, I can’t help but connect the two.

I filled out the form, sent an email to the unbelievably astute and forthright webmaster of the IFLA site (a year later, who follows up more than a month later in this day and age, God love librarians, I swear) and quickly received word back that my paper was published.

It’s hard to know, because I don’t have any kind of control and have been taking a fairly broad-spectrum antibiotics approach to enchantment this year, what with sigilmancy, some [ok pretty off book but nonetheless intense] Solomonic ritual, a lot of Hygromanteia and even more Saint work, it’s hard to know what is working or if one can even attempt to isolate it.

I’ve got a suspicion that the reputed most-expedient Santa Muerte has been the final kick-in-the-magic-pants that was required. I’ve been getting these visions, the first that, well, the first I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about. They are wild and completely not in character for me at all, which is a mark of their authenticity. Something or somethings are making contact, are beginning to intercede. If we are here to talk about my theories, than I think that Santa Muerte is a type of bridge through time-depth to the entities that I have been trying to establish contact with all year. Death has always existed and time means very little to her. It is just ‘another tool in the toolkit’, you dig? Her silent owl wings fly through both time and space. I’ve been reaching out to Saint Cyprian, Saint Barbara reached out to me through my dreams but, while closer than others, was still very distant. Bringing Santa Muerte down onto my altar, into my life, has had the effect of changing the waveform of the signals I was sending out. I’m now a HAM radio magical phreaker, hacking the ether and broadcasting prayers straight into the first century Europe.

Yeah, things are beginning to happen…

IMBRICATIONS

I always think I’m going to have a hard time with this section. I am into so much stuff, and I get to thinking, what is intersecting? And then I rethink it, and then I overthink it.

The imbrications always come through though. Like last week, let me tell you, El Pinche Maru was *not* on my radar at all. I found him the morning I wrote the post, and he fit so well (and, really, is excellent at what he does) that I had to include him in this section.

That is a similar situation to what we have this week. Let me give you some more context. Next week is National Novel Writers month and this will be the third year in a row that I participate in the NaNoWriMo challenge. This will, however, be the first year that I put out a weekly blog (really two, but the other is for a small cohort of individuals in my industry and is decidedly non-magicy) while writing 1666 words a day towards the NaNoWriMo goal of 50,000 words of fiction in the month of November.

So, I’ve been trying, pretty late in the game, to get ahead on some of my research for Gnome School. I’ve got the next five Lovecraft tales picked out and have critically read 2.5 of them and have done some of the required research. With NaNoWriMo coming up though, I have to shift away from the non-fiction research and start reading fiction. If I were to read information theory or radical feminist biology while trying to push through NaNoWriMo the prose would be complete garbage.

So I’m shifting gears, finishing up the last chapters of The Dark Lord and Rollin’s Santa Muerte, and diving into fiction like Starr Creek, Matt Ruff’s Lovecraft Country, and An Augmented Fourth by Tony McMillen (thanks again Ghostly Harmless). This will change the flavor of the posts, but it should be a nice change.

This week’s post is centered on the Lovecraft tale ‘The Picture in the House’. If I had been going in a different direction, I might not have identified some of the themes in this tale. The clearest one, the one that brings me to this week’s imbrications, is the familiar theme of the ‘Other’. Will get into it deeper below, but for now, I’d like to offer another relative newcomer to my mixtape, Youth Code.

No doubt I am totally late to this party and there is a group of beanie wearing hipsters smoking cigarettes (because that’s cool again) scoffing at the old guy who is just now digging on this group, but I don’t care, they’re freaking awesome.

Youth Code not only imbricates on the theme of ‘Other’ in this week’s Lovecraft tale by setting themselves way outside their bearded banjo playing neo-bluegrass peers, but they also imbricate on the bands from my industrial music upbringing - even touring with the infamous Skinny Puppy and covering one of their classic songs. For a duo so young to get industrial so right in 2017, well, they’ve got my attention. Check ‘em out below!

THE ABYSS STARES BACK

The title of this week’s post comes from the following quote from the beginning of Lovecraft’s early tale, ‘The Picture in the House’:

“The true epicure in the terrible, to whom a new thrill of unutterable ghastliness is the chief end and justification of existence, esteems most of all the ancient, lonely farmhouses of backwoods New England; for there the dark elements of strength, solitude, grotesqueness, and ignorance combine to form the perfection of the hideous.”

There is this stage in Lovecraft, very early on, where his prose has a certain ambience, a different kind of authenticity than is seen in his later work. While Lovecraft is often described as a recluse, a homebody, I can’t help but see him riding through the country and taking in the verdant Rhode Island woods on his turn-of-the-last-century bicycle, breathing fresh air, getting some sun, a normal young man.

He does see things that most do not, however, and the dark colors begin to leap from his pallets quickly:

“little unpainted wooden houses remote from travelled ways, usually squatted upon some damp, grassy slope or leaning against some gigantic outcropping of rock… vines have crawled and the trees have swelled… they are… hidden now in lawless luxuriances of green and guardian shrouds of shadow…”

Lovecraft places this tale in November of 1896. Having written it a decade later, he might have been aware of the auspiciousness of that month, but then again he might not. November 14th, 1896 is the day the first Tesla alternating current generator came online at the Niagara Falls plant. It is the day that the entire planet changed direction and began its journey into the technotopia we now live in. If you’re reading this on your phone, that day is the reason you can do that. But I digress… We aren’t here (today) to talk about the future, today’s archetype looks in the other direction.

A closet academic, unable to afford a college education, Lovecraft often painted ‘heroes’ that were the type of scholar that he likely would have become had circumstances been different for him. I so deeply emphasize with this facet of Lovecraft. I might have mentioned my own path to scholarship was quite hard-won and the majority of my life , prior to pushing through eight years of night school, was spent performing skilled labor. We are introduced to one of these heroes in the following passage:

“I had been traveling for some time amongst the people of the Miskatonic Valley in quest of certain genealogical data; and from the remote, devious, and problematical nature of my course, had deemed it convenient to employ a bicycle despite the lateness of the season…”

This is also the first time that Lovecraft journeyed to the wooded hills outside of Arkham and named the place, Miskatonic Valley.

The story is short and thus, the exposition quickly gives way to action. A storm captures our Genealogist on the wooded trail with nowhere to turn except the aforementioned forbidding shacks and homes hidden in the green hell to either side of the path he is traveling on. Given no choice, he makes his way to one of the homes and let’s himself inside.

The home is dry and kept, not necessarily well kept, but kept, and its furnishing, it is remarked, all seem to come from a time before the Civil War. It is hard for us now to conceive of just how close in time-depth the Civil War was to Lovecraft. It ended in 1865, just fifty years shy of when this tale was written, give or take a day. To put it in perspective, that is like a millennial writing a story today that sets the scene as a house where all of the furniture and books are from the 1970s. Right, The Picture in the House is Lovecraft’s 70s show…

The Genealogist finds, in the drawing room, a couple of books. I always like to mention the books in these stories because, like dates, he is very specific about them. Here we see mentioned Cotton Mather’s Magnalia Christi Americana and, one of the featured antagonist of the story, Regnum Congo by Fillipo Pigafetta. It is then, after investigating the contents of this home’s library, the Genealogist is introduced to the non-book antagonist, the owner of the home who discovers the Genealogist in his drawing room, we shall call him the Recluse.

The Recluse talks about the pictures in Pilgrim’s Progress - using the n-word and the abominable reference to half-beast, half-men hybrids. Let’s consider the source of this information and how the Geneologist has described him as a type of less than human creature. This is a commentary on social status, on classism, more than it is racism. Lovecraft is placing the false construct under a microscope and exposing the gaps between the particles here.

As a juxtaposition, take the following excerpt from Matt Ruff’s ‘Lovecraft Country’. Atticus, introduced early in the book, is an African-American living in Jim Crow era America. For context, the encounter below happens in a rural Indiana gas station.

"'Excuse me,' Atticus said. This got the attention o fthe big man. As he straghtened up and turned around, Atticus saw he had a tattoo fo what looked like a wold's head on his forearm… ‘I need to buy a tire.’ The big man glared at him for a moment, then said flatly: 'No.'… 'I don't understand. You don't want my money? You don't have to do anything, just—' 'No' The big man crossed his arms. 'You need me to say it another fifty time? Because I will.' And Atticus, fuming now, said: 'That's a Wolfhound tattoo, right? Twenty-seventh Infantry regiment?' He fingered the service pin on his own lapel.'I was with the 24th Infantry. We fought alongside the 27th across most of Korea.' 'I wasn't in Korea,' the big man said. 'I was at Guadalcanal, and Luzon. And there weren't any n----- there.'"

I’m not saying there is or is not a difference between the instance where Lovecraft’s character the Recluse uses the word and when Matt Ruff, a white Cornell graduate, raised Lutheran and with predominantly German ancestry, has his character use the same word. I do want to place the two side by side here, in the interest of later conversations and to frame my assertion that this tale is more about ‘Other’ than it is about race, even though it features a man of an age where he would have lived through the Civil War using racial epithets. Thoughts, like skinny jeans, go in and out of fashion, and if we are going to find magical tech inside of Lovecraft’s ouvere, we won’t be able to ignore it many that have come before us have done. The following quote from ‘The Dark Lord’ summarizes how my thoughts on this intersect:

“Eventually, psychological and anthropological ideas go out of fashion and change with the times. New ideologies, new trends in intellectual pursuits mean that we keep looking at the same material from the point of view of where we are standing at the time… The serious pursuit of magic… requires that your point of view shift to that of the source of the knowledge. It requires that you abandon your safe place. Otherwise you are only standing at the edge of the Abyss and taking quick glances over the side. There is no information in that pose, no initiation possible in a state of suspended animation. You must enter a place where all the cool academic theories no longer obtain, where the comforting ‘it’s all in your head’ platitudes and attitudes have no meaning — because your head, your body, your sol and spirit are all fully engaged in ways they never have been before, and it is not what you expected when you bought the ticket.”

This is true when one reads out Solomonic invocations that use the power of God and the name of Christ as protection against the spirits one is trying to bind and interrogate. It is true for us as well, if we are to conjure and wrestle with the entities that Lovecraft was in contact with, we will have to abandon our pose on the edge of the Abyss.

Let’s step off the edge and fall back into our story, for a moment, and listen to the Recluse talk about the picture in Regnum Congo with which he is obsessed:

“What d’ye think o’ this — ain’t never see the like hereabouts, eh? When I see this I telled Eb Holt, ‘Thar’s suthin’ ta stir ye up an’ make yer blood tickle!’ When I read in Scriptur about slayin’ — like them Midianites was slew — I kinder think things, but I ain’t got no picter of it. Here a body kin see all they is to it — I s’pose ’tis sinful, but ain’t we all born an’ livin’ in sin?”

The mention of ‘Midianites’ make me think of the work of my first true dear love in the horror genre, Mr. Clive Barker, and his book Cabal. Sitting here in our wingback chair in the library of the ragged and frightening recluse, let’s peer out the dirty quarter pane window into Barker’s story, to see what we can find:

“No,” Lori replied, “I don’t… want anything… from you.” She felt the urge to express her revulsion, but the scene of reunion before her — the child reaching up to touch her mother’s chin, her sobs passing — were so tender…”

“Let me help you,” the woman said, “I know why you came here.” “I doubt it,” Lori said. “Don’t waste your time here,” the woman replied. “There’s nothing for you here. Midian’s a home for the Nightbreed. Only the Nightbreed… I shouldn’t be telling you this. But I owe you this much at least.” “Rachel.” A voice rose from the door that led down into the earth. A man’s voice. “Come away,” it demanded, “you’ve nothing to tell.” Lori thought. How many other were there below ground, how many more of the Nightbreed?”

How many more of the Nightbreed, how many more Midianites, how many more Others...

The Recluse, the Cannibal, is an archetype of craving, of addiction, but he is also, and really more so, and archetype of a man out-of-time in his pre Civil War home. A human obsessed with cravings he doesn’t understand, someone so remote from society that there are no consequences for him, for there is no one around to play the judge. It is only him and his desires, whatever they may be.

The story ends with another repeated trope, the striking down of the wicked in their home by a bolt of lightning:

“A moment later came the titanic thunderbolt of thunderbolts; blasting that accursed house of unutterable secrets and bringing the oblivion which alone save my mind.”

Maybe this is me and the number 38, I can’t not see that number and it has obsessed me since I heard the Ministry song of that name on their live album ‘You God Damned Son of a Bitch’, but I see here Saint Barbara again, saved from the pagans by lightning and thunder… Another tower burning…

Like it is described in Starr Creek:

“The situation was not going well in those burning digital woodlands.”

Mapping the Recluse, or may we call him the Cannibal, to the Tarot, we find the Seven of Swords to be an excellent match. The Etteilla deck has the keyword Esperance for the upright version of this card. This is tranlated into Hope, which might not seem a fit for this tale, there is no hope in the Cannibals house. We need to, again, step off of the edge and embody the time when the deck was created. Hope was much closer in meaning then as a ‘wishful desire’ (which in turn maps this card to Sigilmancy). The Holistic Tarot states that this card represents a fleeing from the norms of your time, an impulsive personality, the aforementioned disregard for consequences, seeking only one’s own way and desires, and generally not fitting into the crowd.

The Cannibal embodies these characteristics, and is a manifestation of Set. Again from The Dark Lord:

“Set is the Opponent, the Adversary… It is the role of Set to set himself up in opposition to the status quo, to the consensus viewpoint, to traditional beliefs and practices. He is the Other, and as such represents alien concepts and methods… Set is the polarity required by Horus to balance the new religion and bring it into greater recognition… and to contribute to the birth of new — non-human — offspring… Set… represents all that humanity has suppressed, repressed, and oppressed since time immemorial.”

Nothing is more actively suppressed than cannibalism, the ultimate taboo, except, perhaps, for the darker corners of necromancy.

The entire internet is jabbering about that new show, Mindhunter. I haven’t seen a frame, but I can tell the premise. Levenda predicts its popularity when in the final chapter of the Dark Lord when he says:

“We are entranced by tales of serial killers and we have romanticized them to the point that we have made of them the new Dracula: urbane, intelligent, sophisticated, like Hannibal Lecter. But the reality of serial killers is quite different, just as the original vampires were believed to be little more than animated corpses… the Dark [Lord’s] power rests in the things we have hidden from ourselves.”

The Cannibal as the Seven of Swords, holds this type of power. It is Lovecraft peering deeply into the abyss of the collective human psyche.

#Lovecraft #Nightbreed #Set

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