Tweak

InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "and a knock upon the door,"

Richie Trashmouth Tozier (trashmouthloser) wrote in snapthread,
@ 2020-02-09 18:26:00

Entry tags:

dan torrance, richie tozier

WHO: Richie Tozier, Dan Torrance
WHAT: Checking for evil space stuff.
WHERE: Dan’s House.
WHEN: Sunday, Feb. 9th

Richie did not want to be doing this. He really, really didn’t. But Beverly was right - the longer he did nothing about it, the worse things were probably going to get. The fucked up dreams of things that might be (or might not! Who the fuck knew!) weren’t really letting up and Richie was more stressed than not lately. Which didn’t help with much of anything, including: headaches going on migraines, Beverly frowning at him over having lost weight, and Eddie giving him sad, scrutinizing looks recently.

He didn’t care for any of those things, obviously, but the last one was probably the worst. It was why he hadn’t said anything in the first place.

The point was, just because he didn’t want to focus on his own fucked up issues, didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to. So, here he was on Dan’s doorstep, two cups iced coffee in hand, even though it was still balls cold out, and a wary, pinched expression on his face. His hands were full so he just kind of… kicked the door awkwardly to knock on it. Even though he sort of already knew Dan was up and crossing the room to answer the door even without Richie needing to knock. Psychic shit, and all.

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-11 02:07 am UTC (link)

It had the potential to be loud, though. Multiple TVs playing games all at once would be a real racket. An arcade would probably have been more apropos -- and maybe it'd been that when he'd been a kid, someone who'd thrived on sociability. But Richie had learned how to shut himself in over the years. How to be alone even in a crowd of people.

It wasn't a snowy hedge maze, but it wasn't exactly a place that cultivated public relations either. This was his place, apparently, and he didn't make it user friendly for anyone -- not even really himself.

I dunno, he said, of remembering where anything was. Because he supposed, just like in real life, he couldn't always keep up with his own order of things, either. There were games on high up shelves that he was sure was dusty, had things in them that were forever lost.

He turned, fingers brushing over the spines of all the cases. How? he wanted to know. Because how could he find something that he didn't really know, that he hadn't even been sure existed before this -- even if he'd had a suspicion?

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doctoring
2020-02-11 02:39 am UTC (link)

We'll look around. Do some exploring, was Dan's suggestion. Let me know if it gets to be too much. He could pull them out, in that case - send them spiraling back into their own heads, the connection severed. That might hurt a little, but it was better than the alternative - even so, he'd only hit the panic button if necessary.

He flipped the channels on one of those televisions, static and the barest bones of a picture - he kept going, until he found something that might sync up with the next screen. It could be some type of puzzle - match all the pictures, like a Rubik's cube, and unlock the prize. It's like looking through a million lines of code on a computer, finding the one that's corrupted, he said. Maybe there's a way to scan for it without going through one-by-one.

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-11 03:16 am UTC (link)

It was distracting, every time Dan flipped a station on the television -- it felt a little like an involuntary twitch on his end and he wondered if that was sort of the case. It only just occurred to him that they were quite literally fucking with his brain here.

Which was almost too much, in terms of sheer knowledge. But not quite enough for Richie to say so, even if he did feel a little breathless.

He didn't know how to find things either, not really. Maybe his organization was too scattered? He didn't know where to start, not really. So he let Dan fiddle with one tv (twitching every time that channel changed) and randomly plucked a game off of a shelf in order to pop it into one of the systems and -- well. See how it worked.

Hey-- he said, and then sort of stopped up short when the screen spazzed out on him before loading up an entire screens worth of save files.

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doctoring
2020-02-11 02:27 pm UTC (link)

Whaaaa- oh, Dan cut himself off when he saw the screen have a freakout moment - it was some sort of gaming system he wasn't familiar with, but obviously Richie knew what it was.

This seemed to be a good place to start.

Even if he felt this sense of anticipation (dread, perhaps?) pushing against him like an invisible gale. He could sense his own heartbeat, and Richie's, synced up and beating against that cage of bone and cartilage - this was why they were here. To figure out what had seeped in, infected the organized systems of thoughts and memories.

Open them? he suggested. He'd pull them out, if it got to be too overwhelming - he was poised to do it, but he hoped they could find some answers first.

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-11 10:30 pm UTC (link)

Yeah, that was definitely dread. Because Richie was having a whole lot of anxiety over the way the screen had freaked out --and for the fact that the dates listed on the save files were... not dates that had happened yet, and all the files seemed to have different lengths of play times.

I don't want to, he thought, not quite sullen, but something else, something on the verge of concern. But he picked up a controller anyway and clicked on the first file.

Which was, really, when he started to feel things go wrong. The light in the room faltered, the stained glass dulling bright and loud to dark red. The screen fritzed again, violent static, and Richie had to pinch at his nose, before the file screen pulled itself back up, like he'd never chosen anything to begin with.

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doctoring
2020-02-11 11:27 pm UTC (link)

Oh, because that wasn't ominous or anything. Even Dan, with his dry sense of humor, could recognize a 'have you tried turning it off and then back on again?' joke. But he didn't say it. Or think it. Instead he needed to focus on what exactly went wrong here and why.

Let me check the - Well, what was he supposed to call it? Cables? The connections. Something may be frayed.

And by connections he meant Richie's network of synapses; memories were neurological realities, pathways connecting neurons. There were a trillion of them though, but he supposed that starting here - where there seemed to be some kind of glitch - was the best place to start. It might tickle, he warned.

Then he was off, his psychic presence gliding through that maze of synapses - they were firing every which way, splashes of electricity, jumping, beans in a tin can. He tried to hold on, seeking out frayed connections and the dark red shades that matched the color the stained glass had gone. There was definitely something there, he could sense it - whatever it was, it buzzed like the drone of heavy summer bees, an electric fence in a rainstorm. It grew louder and louder, traveling up the coil of Richie's brain past the dark whispers of muddled memories. Then it just snapped.

Dan pulled back, out of Richie's head, away from the video game mindscape - he tumbled back into the physical plane, blue-denim eyes opening suddenly. "...are you okay?"

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-12 02:04 am UTC (link)

Whatever the fuck it was Dan was doing up there wasn't really a tickle. Sure, it might have started that way but the electric of it, the constant buzz of noise that only escalated the more time passed had him feeling a little bit like his head was going to implode. The fact that they were in his head while he was feeling that really didn't make him feel any better about the whole situation.

So when something snapped and they went barreling back to real life, or whatever the fuck it was he was living in this second, Richie didn't even really know how to process it. It was dizzying, and he was already sitting still but he felt like maybe he could be stiller yet if he just tried hard enough.

The buzz was still there. Quieter now, but not gone. Richie listed slightly to the left and blinked dazedly at Dan for a long moment. "I think my nose is bleeding," he said, awkward and sort of blank, even as he brought his hand up to his face.

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doctoring
2020-02-12 02:16 am UTC (link)

"Mm - yeah, it is." Shit, a tissue, he needed a tissue - Dan found one for Richie, handing him the whole box in fact. "Okay...well..."

He wasn't even sure how to put this. The corrupted files. The - whatever sneaked in, after Richie saw something he shouldn't have. Obviously he'd ended up with more than he should have as well, puzzle pieces trying to fuse - but the fact of the matter is, there was something already there.

"You already had the Shining. Most people - they don't unlock it all at once, but I think..." He leaned in, studying Richie's face - besides the bleeding nose, he seemed - well, shaken, but that was to be expected. "I think those corrupted files sort of nudged it along."

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-12 02:48 am UTC (link)

Richie took the box on offer, pulling tissues free to press against his nose, not particularly relishing the feeling of blood-soggy paper on his fingers. Still, it was better than the alternative of throwing up, which was usually the first thing his body wanted to do when Richie was doing or thinking shit it was against. It probably wasn't too late, mind, but he was avoiding it for now.

And -- well. Okay. Richie had no fucking idea what that meant, what Dan was telling him. And for once in probably his entire fucking life, he really couldn't think of anything to say in response (the fact that he had a fistful of tissue in front of his face wasn't really helping, he supposed). So after a beat, when it didn't really seem like Dan was going to explain what the fuck a Shine was or what unlocking it all at once meant, he rose what he thought to be a very polite and not at all sarcastic (mostly) eyebrow up in questioning.

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doctoring
2020-02-12 02:56 am UTC (link)

Yeah, he was bad at this. Real bad. Dan fully admitted it.

His bedside manner was more suited toward those who were dying - they were on their way out, peace washed over them, and he just...helped it along. Ensured that as they shuffled off this mortal coil, the last things they saw were memories bright as the sunshine and warm as fresh laundry from the dryer.

Living people - well, what the hell did he know?

"I'm sorry, I'll - I'm not used to doing this, but I'll get better at it," he promised, sipping miserably on his coffee - maybe the caffeine jolt would ensure he'd find the right words. Okay then. "The Shining - it's what we call psychic abilities. You know - mind reading, seeing the future, things like that. Some people are born with it. You were born with it, you just - never knew. That happens sometimes. People go their whole lives without knowing. But - whatever you saw that you weren't supposed to, it...dug into parts of your mind. Like a puzzle piece, kind of, but it fits kinda awkwardly. The presence of that amplified what you already had and now it just...unlocked. Does that - help a little?"

He hoped so. But even so, Richie probably wanted to know what to do next and, well, Dan didn't exactly have an answer. He'd help, if that's what Richie wanted - but if he didn't, Dan would understand that too.

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-12 03:39 am UTC (link)

Pretty bad, yes. Richie wouldn't disagree with that assessment.

The promise was nice enough, but Richie didn't know what the fuck to do with that either. Was Dan planning on practicing using cheat codes on more people's brains from here on out and then having much better bedside manner when announcing to them that they were apparently --fuck. No, wait. He'd lost that thought. It was going to be funny too, he was sure of it. But the buzz was still there and it was distracting.

"What?" He asked, vaguely, pulling the tissue away to look at it, because obviously that was how one was meant to gauge if blood was still happening. It seemed mostly okay, though, he was pretty sure. "What about the -- other stuff?" He asked, because Rich wasn't quite ready to deal with the concept of superpowers.

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doctoring
2020-02-12 01:16 pm UTC (link)

Dan hung his head a little, rubbing at the back of his neck - like he was setting himself up for a guillotine blade. Maybe a part of him was still expecting that - still expecting the swing of death's scythe, so he defaulted to what he always did. Which was retreating, hunkering down and living his hermit life; this was what years of repressing his Shine with drugs and alcohol got him. Complete and utter awkwardness.

Abra had sort of fallen into his lap and his 'plan' was sort of just him winging it. He couldn't do that here. Richie didn't have anyone else who actually understood this.

So he sat up straight, rolled his shoulders. Took another drink of coffee, the ice melting within. "The other stuff is still there, so. How about this?" he started. "I'll teach you how to control the Shining - people have varying levels of it, yours seems manageable - and then when you're ready, we'll go in and find those files again and separate them from everything else, lock them away? It seems to be the best option, until there's someone who can remove them entirely." He didn't know what that would take - magic, maybe. Or psychic surgery, cutting those parts out, that Dan wasn't sure he was equipped to do. At least not yet.

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-13 01:05 am UTC (link)

It was a lot. Like, more than he'd bargained for maybe. Because Richie had sort of just been hoping for -- well. He didn't know. He'd been hoping for nothing at all, for all of this to be Very Not Real because he figured alien space clown had been more than enough adventure for one life.

But apparently not. And maybe he was the only person around who would have been absolutely fine building a normal, super power free life in a pocket dimension outside of time and space that was filled with wizards and the universe's best abs. But that wasn't the case.

"Okay," he said slowly, rubbing beneath his nose with his palm, just to make sure there was no more blood wet or dry. Dan seemed -- well. Earnest, in a way. Like he wanted to help. And it'd be really fucking stupid to not take him up on it, right? "Alright," he repeated, although he really just wished the buzz in his head would go down a little. "Let's do that then. I guess? None of these options involve my brain leaking out through my nose, right?"

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doctoring
2020-02-13 01:16 am UTC (link)

"No - your brain will stay where it is," Dan chuckled wryly, reaching over and using a tissue to wipe beneath Richie's nose. He was gentle about it, and what he did next he usually he only did this when he was working - in hospice, it was a part of his bedside manner. But here, it was because he just - wanted to. Felt like it was the right thing to do.

So he projected calm, the emotion washing over Richie - it was warm, like early spring, soothing like the percussive rhythm of ocean waves on sand. It was the forest after early morning sunlight kissed all those colors into being. Dan hoped it helped.

"Do you want - maybe you should rest?" he suggested. "I have extra blankets. You can use my room." He'd offer his couch but, well. He didn't have one yet. These houses didn't come all the way furnished.

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trashmouthloser
2020-02-13 01:30 am UTC (link)

Well, good to know. He'd been sort of worried about that. Well, not really his brain leaking out, but something going wrong with it, maybe. People who looked into the deadlights for too long, they usually went crazy, he remembered hearing. It'd been -- maybe something of a concern for him.

The rush of calm -- slow and quiet, strangely peaceful -- was an odd but actually helpful projection and Richie couldn't help but droop slightly, shoulders curving in and a rush of a breath escaping him. He was tired after all that. It was like... whatever the mental equivalent to running a marathon was, maybe. Exhausting in a way he didn't understand, and he'd seen some really fucking exhausting days in his recent past. "Maybe," he said after a beat. It felt a little weird to stay here when he lived so close, but the concept of stepping outside and dealing with any natural form of light didn't sit well with him currently. "I live like--" he paused, waved his hand very unhelpfully in what was probably the opposite direction of his house. "Maybe for a little while," he decided. "Like, a nap."

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doctoring
2020-02-13 01:39 am UTC (link)

Dan sort of expected Richie to slump a little, to give into the desire for sleep - he needed the rest, the replenishment. "Your mind, it's been through a lot," he said. "A nap might be good. Here - " He pushed his chair back, extending his hand to help Richie up. Be support, in a few ways. "Just come with me."

His room wasn't anything special yet but he had a bed, a dresser to hold those new clothes he'd gotten - some were hanging in the closet too - and he made sure Richie was comfortable before he pulled the curtains closed, casting the room in darkness. "I'll be downstairs," he promised, then added, sleep - pulling the curtains closed in Richie's mind too, lights out.

Not permanently, of course. But he'd wake up feeling refreshed - in the meantime, Dan would just do some reading. Books were always reliable, solid company for him. Some things would never change.

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