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[derrydyyke]

[derrydyyke]

"...something we both knew well enough (without saying it out loud)"

"War of the Foxes" by Richard Siken // It: Chapter Two dir. Andy Muschietti // IT by Stephen King // "The Trap" dir. Robert Singer // The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt

[derrydyyke]

eddie kaspbrak loves cooking shows. like, he loves them. the food network is his favorite channel, and he watches everything from diners drives ins & dives to good eats to the pioneer woman, not to mention all the different cooking & baking competitions (gbbo is, ofc, his favorite) that crop up every year. eddie kaspbrak loves cooking shows, but eddie kaspbrak doesn’t know how to cook. it’s hilarious! it’s hysterical, even! because sure, for that brief period in college between sonia & myra, he learned some basics, like toast and grilled cheese and scrambled eggs, but for all he watches he’s pretty clueless in the kitchen. ask him to roast potatoes or make a soup from scratch and watch him flounder. he’s never had to do anything like that himself before, you know. he’s never been allowed to.

and it sucks, it does, because food is a form of love. and he knows that because, while he doesn’t have many memories of his dad, almost all of the ones he does have revolve around food. frank kaspbrak loved cooking. he loved best cooking polish recipes from his youth, stuffed cabbage and haluski (eddie’s favorite) and pierogis and chalka bread (eddie’s second favorite) and borscht, and eddie loved to watch. frank would hold eddie on his hip and let him see it all, even let him help sometimes, and when eddie got a little too big to be held, frank would drag a chair in from the dining room to the stove and hoist him onto it so he could stand and watch every step. while he chopped vegetables or showed eddie how to bread pork or worked on dough, frank would tell stories about his childhood, and how he learned to cook from his mother and his grandmother, and how he would cook with eddie until the recipes were all stuck in his head like they were stuck in how own, because they had never been written down before, and it made eddie feel close to him, made him giggle to think about his big strong dad being small and standing on a chair and watching just like him.

frank kaspbrak loved cooking, and then he got sick. very sick. the last memory eddie has of his dad is curling up with him in his hospital bed and listening to him whisper-rasp promises, with what was left of his ravaged lungs, of fresh chalka and pączki and haluski and potato pancakes once he got better. the trouble was that he never did.

lots of things changed after he was gone. eddie learned quickly that his dad hadn’t lied—none of his family’s recipes had ever been written down. he also learned that hospital food was not love, and neither was takeout, but that even though it was different, his mother’s cooking was, and even more so, over time she taught him that not letting him too close to the hot stove or sharp knives was love, too. cooking for him and not with him was love, keeping track of his allergies was love, teaching him to fear food that wasn’t good for him was love, because taking care of him was love.

myra seemed to know those things inherently, and when he married her, she showed him that she loved him in the same ways. she looked after him, she cooked for him, she made sure he stayed away from too much sodium and sugar and butter, she protected him from everything including himself.

and all the while, eddie kaspbrak loved cooking shows. well, he loves cooking shows. in the hospital, after pennywise, he watches a lot, and he learns, but not how to baste a turkey or throw together a corn salad. no, he learns that actually, takeout can be love when your friends sneak it into your hospital room to cheer you up, and yeah, okay, maybe hospital food can be love, too, when you have someone who will make you laugh about it or split your jell-o with.

he divorces myra once he’s out. his friends support him, and richie is quick to offer his home for eddie to stay while he gets back on his feet. eddie is just as quick to accept. they’ve always been best friends, haven’t they? he moves in more than he crashes. it sort of feels like they’re kids again. and, you know, richie tozier loves cooking. for the first time in thirty five years, eddie feels compelled to watch, and so most nights he perches on the other side of the island while richie pretends to be on a cooking show, just for him. it’s a fucking riot! but it’s something else, too. it’s special, because they laugh, and they talk about anything and everything and nothing, and they share their meals together every night, and it makes eddie feel close to him.

eventually, richie starts to involve eddie, calling him his lovely assistant, or his little sous chef. he walks eddie through the best way to cut up potatoes, or how to do a dry rub, or how to make an egg wash. eventually, he has eddie start sautéing the onions, or dredge and bread the pork chops, or throw together a fucking roux all on his own, without having to be shown. eventually, he starts to ask what eddie wants him to do, just as much as the reverse, and renames their imaginary cooking show after them both.

one year to the day after eddie moves in, richie shows him recipes he found online for chalka bread and some cabbage and noodle dish, i think it’s called haluski or something? whatcha think, chef k? eddie knows that richie knows exactly what haluski is. richie’s already gone and bought all the ingredients for both, and so they make them both for dinner that night. richie lets eddie take the lead, and later he reaches across the table to hold his hand when eddie starts crying after the first bite. it tastes just like his father’s recipe, you know. it tastes like love and comfort and home. they wash up together after dinner, eddie scrubbing and richie drying as he yaps on in one of his voices, and eddie has to stop right in the middle of it to grab richie’s face with his soapy hands and kiss him. the rest of the dishes are left forgotten until the morning.

eddie kaspbrak loves cooking shows, and he loves cooking, and holy shit, he loves richie tozier, too.

[derrydyyke]

[derrydyyke]

concerned!benverly and reddie (◠‿◠✿)

[derrydyyke]

Really old drawing of loser inspired ice cream?? It was connected to another idea i had with another character cough cough but I feel too cringe to post him so fucking gay ass popsicles  🍦

[derrydyyke]

i’ve talked about this a bunch of times on here, one of my favorite things about tumblr is looking up fandoms that you thought were dead and they’re just. alive and well. i was reminiscing today and i thought about the first fandom i was ever in, the fandom for the 2017 It movie, and I thought “oh i wonder how long ago that fandom died” and i searched for a couple of seconds and saw that something was posted to the ‘it 2017’ tag 27 MINUTES AGO. HUH?? why does this fill my heart with so much joy

[derrydyyke]

Eddie: I’m not clingy

Also Eddie: Richie if you don’t kiss me right now I’m going to die

[derrydyyke]

Kissing practice💕❤️🌌

[derrydyyke]

I think I’ll never finish this, so here it is already

[derrydyyke]

Richie Tozier being the smartest loser means so much to me

[derrydyyke]

richie is so pink pony club

[derrydyyke]

Reddie ❤️

[derrydyyke]

i love three best friends

[derrydyyke]

wake up babe it’s time for your weekly ‘they could have carried him out’ post

[derrydyyke]

rip eddie kaspbrak, you would have loved heaven is a place on earth by belinda carlisle

[derrydyyke]

Babe, listen

Your fic isn’t a flop, it’s a cult classic. Only the coolest freaks like it, don’t worry about it, it’s great.