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eddiesasspbrak · 5 years ago

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Carnival Games

Eddie sneaks out to attend the annual carnival with his friends and meets someone he hadn't been expecting.

A request from @caleigh-rayne hope this is what you were looking for!

Requests currently open for most IT ships

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4k+ words

Throughout Eddie’s life, he’d been denied the enjoyment of many things. He’d never been to a classmate’s birthday party. He’d ridden a bike once and when he fell off one time his mom sold it. He’d never been roller skating, skateboarding, ice skating or climbed a tree. He’d had chances to do many things in secret, but his mother’s warnings were drilled so far into his brain that her voice would come out every time he even thought about it. One thing he was definitely not allowed to do, was attend the annual fair.

He’d always wanted to go. They’d drive by it every year and he’d see the rides, the games and the food that smelled sinfully delicious when he’d roll his window down just a bit. He’d see the other kids running around, playing and lining up with their friends, excitement on their faces and practically vibrating off of them. Every year he asked his mom to let him go, and every year it was, “no son of mine will associate with carnies.” Or, “those rides are dangerous and the people who run them don’t care if they’re up to safety regulations.” Or his personal favorite, “they skewer dead rats on a stick, dunk them in batter and then deep fry them and sell them as food. Is that what you want Eddie? To eat a rat?”

Eddie knew it was all bullshit. His friends went every year, and nothing ever happened to them. Other than a stomachache from eating too much or Ben puking after riding a roller coaster. Eddie would love to experience it all - the good and the bad. Bev would always bring back a stuffed toy she’d won for him and Mike would sneak him a soft pretzel when they’d stop by afterward to check on him.

The summer of their seventeenth year, when the heat was at its peak and the haze of summer was setting in, the fair came the town once more. Eddie sat on his porch with his three friends, watching families with young children go by headed to the fair when it was more child friendly. All the kids he saw were excited, bouncing along holding their parents’ hands and smiling brighter than the sun. It just made Eddie sad.

“Come on, Eddie. Sneak out and come with this year.” Bev was saying in a hushed voice in case his mother was close by. The windows that lined the front porch sat open to let any gentle breeze pass through the sweltering house.

“I can’t. If she finds my bed empty, she’ll call the police. She’s done it before, and I was just in the bathroom.”

“Slip her a sleeping pill.”

“I’m not going to drug my mother so I can go to a fair.”

Bev shrugged and instinctively reached for her pocket, stopping herself when she remembered where she was and wiping her hand down over her denim jeans instead. All of her friends knew she smoked, but if Sonia got even a whiff of smoke, she’d ban Eddie from seeing his friends ever again and would search every inch of his room for cigarettes. The one time Bev had shown up smelling of smoke she’d had to quickly come up with a lie about a group of unruly teens that she’d had to walk by. Sonia hated them all and looked for any excuse to banish them, but she’d bought it anyway.

“Can’t you say your staying at my place tonight?” Ben asked, his eyes leaving Bev for the first time in ten minutes.

“She’ll suspect something. She knows the fair is in town.” Eddie sighed.

“What about mine? The farm is far enough away from the fair that it should be ok, right?” Mike asked.

“Nah, she’ll just come up with a reason to keep me away from farm animals. It’s useless guys. One more year until I’m free and then I can go to as many fairs as I want.”

All of his friends could practically see into the future, his rebellious phase an inevitable as soon as he was out from under Sonia’s constant supervision. They often wondered if Eddie would continue to talk to his mother at all when he was eighteen and away from home. He’d learned long ago that she didn’t have his best interest at heart. She just wanted to control him, keep him from enjoying life and getting a taste of what life could be without her. It was going to happen, and that day was approaching fast, so her hold got even tighter.

Eddie’s friends left when Sonia called him inside to help with dinner. He waved goodbye and watched them head down the street. They’d go to Ben’s and wait for it to get dark before heading to the fair. He wished with all of his being to go with them. Inside, his mother was in the kitchen, listening to the radio and cutting up vegetables for a stir-fry. Eddie joined her, stirring the bit of chicken in the pan on the stove. The rice cooker sat on the countertop, steam coming from the lid and making the air just a little bit hotter.

As soon as the food was done, Sonia made her way to the living room with her plate, where she liked to eat in front of the TV. Sometimes Eddie joined her, but he didn’t much want to be in her presence at the moment. If it weren’t for her, he’d be going to have fun with his friends. The sun was just barely beginning to dip in the sky, casting purple across the clouds. They wouldn’t have left yet.

“Eddiebear, will you fetch me a scoop of ice cream?” Sonia called from the living room when she’d finished her meal.

Reluctantly, Eddie mumbled back a “sure” and dumped his plate in the sink on his way to the freezer. The blast of cold from inside was enough to cool Eddie down for a second. He reached up into a cabinet to grab a bowl and his eyes fell to the cabinet door beside him. The cabinet that held all of their combined medication, fake and real. “Slip her a sleeping pill.” Bev’s voice echoed in his head.

It wouldn’t be so bad, right? She took sleeping pills all the time. Just one wouldn’t hurt her. Peeking over his shoulder, into the living room, he could see her slipper covered feet dangling off the recliner but knew she couldn’t see him. Slowly as he could, careful to not make any sound, he opened the cabinet and pulled down the little orange bottle. He shook out one, putting the bottle back in its place exactly as he’d found it. He went about scooping the ice cream like normal, topping it with the sprinkles she liked to mask any grittiness. Using the back of the spoon, he pressed on the pill until it broke in half. The sound of the TV masked the little click it made as it broke. From there he kept pressing it with the spoon into smaller and smaller pieces.

When it resembled a powder, Eddie scrapped it off the counter and into the spoon, sprinkling it on top and then mixing it and the sprinkles into the cold dessert. For a final touch, he added whipped cream and a single maraschino cherry. He quickly cleaned the counter, wiping away any evidence, and put everything back where it belonged.

She smiled at him as he carried the bowl in. “Oh, Eddiebear you spoil me!” She gushed.

He forced a smile and made up an excuse about it being too hot and wanting to go to bed early. He said goodnight and ran to his room, shutting the door behind him. He changed his clothes into something more fair appropriate. Denim shorts that went halfway down his thigh, a t-shirt with blue and white stripes and a small breast pocket, a pair of tennis shoes and a sweatshirt tied around his waist incase it got cold. He waited anxiously for forty minutes. Enough time for her to finish her dessert and the pills to make her tired.

As quietly as he possibly could, he snuck down the stairs and peeked into the living room. Sonia was still in her chair, the TV playing but she was fast asleep. He knew they worked quick on her, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. But the sun was rapidly setting, and his friends would head out soon. Making sure he had his keys and wallet he locked the door behind him and dashed down the street. The air was hot, but the wind going past his face as he ran felt like freedom. He wasn’t supposed to run because of his supposed asthma, but he could run fast and for long distances and never have a problem. Besides, he was breaking the rules tonight.

When he arrived at Ben’s house, he could see the retreating shapes of his friends just a little ways away. Smile on his face, he called out to them, earning a startled reaction.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing here?” Mike asked.

“I’m going to the fair with you guys.” He said between heavy breathing, catching his breath from the run.

“No fucking way!” Bev beamed. “We finally get to pop your carnival cherry. How did you get your mom to agree?”

“She didn’t…exactly…”

“Oh Eddie, you didn’t.” Ben frowned.

“I wasn’t thinking and before I knew it, she was eating ice cream with a sleeping pill in it.” He confessed.

“Ignore him. I’m proud of you.” Bev said, nudging Bens’ side with her elbow.

“She’ll be ok, right?” Eddie asked nervously.

“How many did you give her?”

“One. The dosage on the prescription she has is one and she hadn’t taken any before that.”

“Then she’ll be fine.” Bev reassured, grabbing his hand and then Ben’s. “Come on, let’s go.”

Being dragged along, Eddie reached out and grabbed hold of Mike’s hand as well, grounding himself to reality, his friends like a tether tied to his wrists. Everything would be ok. He just had to keep walking. Tonight, he was free.

It wasn’t a long walk to the fairgrounds given how small the town was. By the time they got there, the sun was all but gone beyond the horizon, orange and yellow painting the sky at the edges. Soon it would be dark. They passed by the fence around the edge of the grounds and immediately they were engulfed in the festivities.

Eddie felt a bit overwhelmed by the lights, sounds and smells but the excitement was buzzing off of him in waves. Bev’s hand is his seemed to keep him calm as she dragged him through the crowd and toward the ticket booth. Every year they saved up for months so they could go on the rides as often as they wanted, eat as much fried food as their stomachs could fit and play enough games to go home with at least one cheap, useless bobble.

With enough tickets to satisfy their adrenaline cravings, they set off to a slow ride to ease Eddie into it. He’d never been on a Ferris wheel and it was the slowest ride they offered, aside from the rides meant for small children. The line was short and mostly full of couples. Eddie offered to ride alone with Mike so Beverly and Ben could ride together, but they insisted they wanted to be there for his first ride. When it was their turn, all four crammed into the seat, the bar coming down over their laps. Eddie sat in the middle with Bev, Mike on his other side. Mike mentioned to the operator that it was his first ride and the guy winked at him. Eddie looked at Mike, wondering what kind of exchange he’d just witnessed.

As the ride started up, Eddie’s stomach did a little flip. He wouldn’t get sick. He wouldn’t freak out or be afraid. He was going to enjoy this if it was the last thing he did. Taking a deep breath, he pushed his mother’s voice from his head and looked out at the world in front of him as they began to rise into the air. Beverly reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers.

Eddie’s eyes were fixed on the view in front of him. Everything looked so small below him and he could see all the way to the edge of the town, or at least close to it. When they reached the top, the ride came to a stop, their seat rocking back and forth. His friends all looked at his face, smiling expectantly.

“What do you think?” Ben asked, looking across Bev to see him.

“The town looks so small from up here.” He said.

“The town is small.” Bev reminded him.

“Yea but I mean…even smaller than that. It’s pretty though. All the lights.”

“This is just the beginning.” Mike grinned, putting an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and squeezing.

After the Ferris wheel, they took him on the bumper cars and then the spinning apples. Every ride getting faster and preparing him for the rollercoaster. He was nervous in line, staring up at the little cars speeding over the tracks, but as soon as they were seated and things started moving, he was all excitement. Cheering and whooping loudly, laughing and throwing his hands in the air alongside Bev. All these years, this is what he’d been missing. He really did feel free.

After a few more rides, they took a break for food. Fried Oreos were disgusting and amazing at the same time. Eddie had never had a hotdog that tasted so good, covered in ketchup, mustard and onions. The elephant ear was sweet enough to rot his teeth and he loved it. He never knew before that cotton candy actually melted on your tongue. Full of food and needing a break before tackling anymore rides, they dragged him to the games. Balloon pop, basketball, shooting cans with a toy rifle, spraying water into a plastic clown’s mouth to fill the balloon on top of its head. Eddie was terrible at all of them, but he was having fun trying. Bev told him they were rigged anyway, making them hard to win.

Mike and Ben had separated to find a bathroom, leaving Bev and Eddie to walk arm in arm around the fairgrounds that used to be a church parking lot. They avoided classmates they recognized, watched others play the games and talked about the potential danger he was in for drugging his mom. As long as she didn’t realize he’d done it and gone to the fair, it would be ok. Bev was preparing to break him out if he was caught and locked in his room indefinitely.

They were joking about hiding him in the clubhouse Ben built when they were younger, when a ruckus over by one of the games caught their attention. A boy who they both recognized from school was sat up on the seat above the water in swim trunks and shirtless. A boy they knew from the soccer team, Chet, was lined up in front of the target, a baseball in his hand. He seemed to be concentrating and wound up to throw only for the boy above the tank to call you “Oh yea, look at that form!” When the ball left his fingers, he flinched, missing the target entirely.

“Better luck next time Chet, my boy! I guess this is why you’re on the soccer team and not the baseball team!” He yelled as Chet angrily walked away, flipping him off.

Bev and Eddie would know that smart mouth anywhere. Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier was known in the school for his fantastic academics but his horrible ability to keep his mouth shut. He’d gotten in trouble for talking in class and making jokes more than anyone else in the history of the school. They didn’t know him personally, but it was hard not to know who he was.

The next guy stepped up, Nicholas Monroe, most popular boy in school and number one Richie Tozier anti-fan. His girlfriend, Missy Jones, was on his arm and both were smiling and looking confident. Everyone watching could tell that he was determined to sink Richie. To sink the Trashmouth and use it as material to make fun of him for weeks, maybe months.

“If it isn’t Nick.” Richie grinned. “Come to show off your skills at handling balls?”

“Shut the fuck up Tozier.” He said, winding up with the first ball and throwing it as hard as he could. It smacked the tarp hanging behind it, missing the target by a few inches.

“Oh, nice try Nicky but you need to hit that big red circle over there.”

“I said shut up, Trashmouth!” He angrily threw the second, missing again.

“Getting a little feisty there aren’t we. Bet that’s why you like him, huh Missy?”

She giggled, her cheeks coloring pink, but stopped as soon as Nick looked at her angrily, a shy smile still lingering. With the last ball he’d paid for in hand, he gripped it tight and squinted his eyes as if trying to focus his sight only on the target. Once more, he threw the ball, this one coming the closest but still hitting above the target instead of on it. He cursed, balling his hands into fists.

“Sorry Nick, you can’t make me wet. You’re just not my type.” Richie winked.

“I’m gonna kick your ass the next time I see you, Trashmouth.” Nick put his arm around Missy and dragged her away, though she looked over his shoulder at Richie as they left.

Eddie and Bev were laughing, enjoying the way Richie made these boys feel stupid with just a few words. Of course, he was likely to pay for it later. He wasn’t a stranger to being beat up for saying the wrong things. He still had the remnants of a healing black eye behind his glasses. It didn’t help that every girl in school seemed to be attracted to him, taken or not. Except maybe Bev who only had eyes for Ben.

Eddie could understand why. He’d had his sexual awakening years ago and Richie was definitely a part of realizing his sexuality. He’d always been too afraid to talk to him. Bev kind of knew him because he was a smoker as well and hung around the bleachers by the field between classes. He’d wanted to ask Bev to take him with her on a smoke break so he could at least stare at him for a bit, but he never did.

With the line momentarily empty, Richie looked around at the crowd, hoping to goad someone else into trying to sink him. His eyes landed on Bev and Eddie, whispering to one another and laughing and his face lit up with a smile.

“Well, well, Ms. Marsh I see you’ve dumped Benny boy for a new piece of arm candy. This one isn’t as buff but definitely cuter.” Richie called out to them.

Eddie felt warmth wash over him but wasn’t sure if it was from the hot summer air or Richie’s words. With their arms still linked, Bev dragged Eddie close to the dunk tank so she could talk to Richie.

“Hey there, Trashmouth. Didn’t know you were working here.” Bev greeted him, leaning against the top of the tank.

“Picking up some extra summer cash. It’s an easy gig and only a few people actually manage to hit the target. I’m starting to wish they would. It's hot as hell out here.”

“Seems you're enjoying yourself. We’ve been watching for a while. Aren’t you worried you’ll get your ass kicked?”

Richie shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He looked from Bev to Eddie, who had been looking up at him since they walked over. “Gonna introduce me to your friend?”

Bev pulled her arm from Eddie’s and placed her hand on top of his head. “This cutie pie is Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie, Richie.” She introduced them.

“Hey Eddie. Wanna take a chance at getting me wet?” Richie asked, tilting his chin up.

If Eddie wasn’t already blushing, he was now. “I don’t think I’ll be any good.” He said in a small voice, hoping Richie could still hear him.

“You sure? You’re small but I bet you’ve got power in those arms.”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Come on, Eddie. Give it a go.” Bev nudged him. “It’s only a dollar a ball.”

Eddie chewed his bottom lip. He wanted to try but he also didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Richie. Leaning down, Richie put his elbow on his knee and lowered his voice.

“Tell you what, we’ll make it interesting. If you win, I’ll do one thing just for you. Anything you want.”

“And if I lose?”

“You have to give me your number.”

“What? W-why would you want my number?” Eddie stuttered, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’ll tell you if you win.” He winked.

Feeling like his skin was abuzz, Eddie paid the three dollars and took the baseballs from the attendant. He could feel Richie��s eyes burning into him as he stepped up to the line. His hands were sweating, and he tried not to drop the ball before even throwing it. His first throw missed, hitting too low.

“Oh, so close Eds. Two more to go!” Richie called.

Eddie’s breath hitched at the nickname, making him throw the second ball too far to the right. Bev patted him on the shoulder, giving him some encouragement. Taking a deep breath, he rolled the last ball between his hands. He kept his eyes on the target as he threw it, hitting the target right in the center. The seat beneath Richie collapsed, dropping him into the cold water below. Water splashed out over the edge and Bev whooped and hollered, wrapping her arms around Eddie’s shoulders. The attendant handed him a small purple bunny.

Turning back to the tank, they saw Richie coming up from under the water at the edge closest to them, his glasses in his hand. He ran his other hand over his face to remove the water, before pushing his hair back out of his face. Eddie thought his heart might burst out of his chest at the sight of his long, curly tendrils hanging in his face and dripping water down his neck. His mouth was suddenly full of saliva and he swallowed it down, hoping no one else noticed.

“Guess you win.” Richie said, putting his arms over the edge of the tank, letting water drip from his fingers. “That means I’ve got to grant you one wish.”

Eddie stared up at him, his mouth now going bone dry. He’d agreed to the terms but didn’t actually expect to win. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask of him. Before he got the chance to properly think it over, Mike and Ben were calling out to them, Stan and Bill in tow.

“Hey, look who we found!” Mike said, his arm around Stan’s shoulders.

Stan’s face was flushed, a happy little smile on his lips.

“Bill wants to ride the roller coaster. You guys up for another go?” Ben asked.

“Hell yea.” Bev grinned, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pulling him to follow the others.

Eddie looked back over his shoulder at Richie in time to see him waving goodbye. More rides on the rollercoaster, a few rides on the tilt-a-whirl, and another round of bumper cars with all six of them and they were beat. Bev wanted to get another snack before the fair closed down for the night and Mike wanted to play a few games with Bill and Stan. Eddie stuck with them while B3 went to satisfy Bev’s cravings.

He watched Stan and Mike at the basketball hoops, each attempting to outdo the other. It was obvious to everyone except Mike that Stan was crazy about him and would do anything to get his attention. Eddie couldn’t help laughing at their back and forth, neither one making a single basket. He and his friends were known for being the most athletic. Except perhaps Ben.

When a hand gentle came to rest on his shoulder, Eddie just about jumped out of his skin. His first thought was Beverly, Ben or Bill coming to join them, but when he turned, he found Richie standing there. He was smiling, apologetic for startling him.

“Hey, it’s Eddie, right?” Richie asked.

Eddie nodded his head, suddenly feeling nervous because wow he was ever cuter up close. He was fully clothed now in long cargo shorts, a graphic t-shirt covered by a hideous short sleeve button up and sneakers. His hair was still wet, slicked back and out of his face. Eddie felt a shiver go through him despite the heat.

“Glad I found you. I still owe you one wish for winning earlier.”

Eddie help up the little purple rabbit for him to see. “I already won this from it.”

“Yes, but the rabbit wasn’t a part of the deal. I said I’d do anything you want. So, name your price. Can’t have unfulfilled debts lingering over me now, can I?” His smile was crooked and so charming it made Eddie want to melt.

He searched his brain for anything he could make Richie do. Maybe buy him a soda or a pretzel. But his mind was sinful and suddenly he knew what he wanted; he just couldn’t ask for it. More than anything, he wanted to be kissed by a beautiful boy and Richie was ideal. He’d been kissed before during games of truth or dare and by Jenna Newman in the 6th grade. But he’d never been kissed and at that moment, that was precisely what he wanted.

Feeling brave, the rush of adrenaline that had been pumping through him all night taking over he muttered a “follow me” and took off. Mike and Stan didn’t notice the two boys leaving them, headed toward the edge of the fairgrounds where things were beginning to shut down for the night. It was nearly deserted, only a few people walking by on their way to leave or get one last ride in. Eddie lead Richie behind a stand that had already closed down, leaving the area around it dark.

Cast in shadow, Richie looked down at Eddie curiously, the smile never fully leaving his face.

“What are we doing back here?” He asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Instead of answering with words, Eddie took a step closer, placing his hands on Richie’s chest and looking up at him with half lidded eyes. Richie breathed out a single “Oh” before Eddie was standing on his toes and pressing his lips to Richie’s. Leaning down to meet him halfway, Richie pulled his hands back out from his pocket and cradled the back of Eddie’s head with one, the other trailing down the bac of his neck to his back. Eddie shivered, tilting his head back for a better angle and parting his lips. He didn’t fully know what he was doing, but he knew what he wanted when he licked at Richie’s bottom lip.

Richie opened his mouth slightly, sucking Eddie’s bottom lip between his teeth before diving his tongue into the wet heat of his mouth. Eddie’s head was spinning, the feel of Richie’s tongue, teeth and hands sending him out of his body. He was vaguely aware of the little moans coming from deep in his throat, but he was too far gone to be embarrassed. If he’d known just kissing someone, he was attracted to felt this good, he would have done it a long time ago. Did every kiss feel this good, or was it because it was Richie?

When Richie pulled away, sliding his hand to gently cup Eddie’s cheek, his eyes were shining behind his thick glasses. For the first time, Eddie wondered if maybe he did have asthma as he struggled to catch his breath. Deep down, he somehow knew it was because of Richie.

“I wasn’t expecting that, but I think we both won.” Richie said in a low voice.

“Still want my number?” Eddie asked.

When Eddie and Richie rejoined his friends, who had been looking for him, he apologized for disappearing. He made up a lie about going to get a soda with Richie and sitting to chat for a bit. All six left the fair together, walking home and splitting off one by one. Mike was staying at Stan’s, too tired to drive back to the farm. Richie walked Eddie all the way to his doorstep and said goodnight with a chaste kiss and ruffle of his hair. Eddie watched him leave, leaning against the door and feeling dreamy.

When he snuck back in, his mom was still fast asleep in her chair. Eddie tiptoed up the stairs and kicked off his shoes before collapsing on his best, hugging the little purple bunny close to his chest. He’d gone out wanting freedom and found so much more on the tongue of a Trashmouth.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #It (2017)#it (2019)#Ro writes #requests #caleigh-rayne

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bewareofchris · 5 years ago

Note

#2 awkward dinner with the ex and kids for Bill and Alec?

Pg-13 | Alec Hardy/Bill Masters | Broadchurch/Masters of Sex | Anatomical terms? Children.

Alec comforted himself with the fact that he had survived worse. He reminded himself (as he had been reminding himself) that there were far more scary things in this world than standing on the front stoop of Bill’s ex-wife’s house waiting for the door to open. He had been chanting a list of things that were easily qualified as ‘worse than this’ since he’d agreed to go. The chanting got louder as the echo of the doorbell came to an end.

“Keep breathing,” Bill said.

“I am breathing,” Alec snapped back.

“She’s really very nice. Nicer than I am.”

Nice enough that she’d put up with Bill’s affair for a few years. Nice enough that she’d invited and welcomed said affair in her home on holidays for all those years. Nice enough that she had agreed to invite Alec to a holiday dinner a month before Christmas because Bill wasn’t going to be on this continent at Christmas. (No, they were doing this again in a month. Except Alec knew what to expect from his ex-wife and his child. And there was only one child to worry about. And she was older than Bill’s children.)

The door opened to a beautiful woman with perfect blonde hair, dressed like she was auditioning for a photoshoot in a magazine from the 1950s. Her smile was as perfectly pressed as the unused apron tied around her waist. She wasted a few seconds looking at Alec from the top of his unimpressive head to the slight dustiness of his best shoes. Then she looked at Bill like she would have preferred to murder him and said, (oh so civilly), “he is a man,” like there had ever been any doubt.

“Libby,” Bill said. He was still grasping a bottle of wine like it was going to save him.

“Excuse me, where are my manners,” she said. The door opened wider as she stepped back to give them space to enter. “Please come in.”

The door swung shut behind them, and it sounded like Libby said, “this will be very interesting,” under her breath.

There were two very nicely dressed little boys standing in the far doorway. They had collared shirts and nice trousers. They stood unmoving, and unblinking, staring at Alec like a pair of well-dressed skeletons.

“Daddy!” The little girl was wearing a dress with a frilly bottom and lace-topped socks. She launched herself at Bill with something that approximated genuine enthusiasm.

“Johnny, please take your father and his guest’s coats. You can lay them on your bed for now.”

Johnny was the older skeleton. He said nothing as he extended his hand, and Alec nearly apologized for handing his coat over. Once the boy had both weighting him down, he spared Alec a particularly gloomy and unwelcoming frown, and said, “I didn’t think English people had Thanksgiving.”

“I’m Scottish,” Alec said.

“Do Scottish people have Thanksgiving?”

“Uh, no.”

Johnny’s frown pulled down even farther. He didn’t bother to say that the distinction was meaningless without new information. Instead, he turned and walked away and his smaller skeleton brother followed him.

“Jenny,” Bill was gasping as he tried to pull his daughter’s arms off his legs.

“Dinner will be ready in ten,” Libby said from the doorway. “You’re welcome to wait in here until it is.” Then she turned to leave, and without being called, the little girl detached from Bill’s leg and followed after.

“She hates me,” Alec whispered.

“No,” Bill countered. He dusted his pants leg off, and ran a hand down his shirtfront. “She hates me. You’re an innocent victim.”

Alec might have said something further but the smaller of the two sons had come back. He was standing three feet from Alec, head cocked to the side, just staring at him. It was awkward enough to still be standing by the door, and more awkward to be doing it under such close supervision. He was working his way up to greeting the little boy. (Howard, if he remembered right.) Certainly he could have said something about he was aware of the child’s existence, and indicate he was spoken of fondly. He might have managed to do so, if not for how the boy opened his mouth first.

“So do you help my dad with his sex research?”

“Howie,” Bill admonished.

“Virginia helped him with his sex research. She helped him all the time.” Clearly the boy had overheard some colorful stories. “Johnny said that dad was expanding his research to include ‘alternative sexual activities’.”

The child even lifted his fingers to do air-quotes as he said the words with great emphasis. Alec couldn’t have summoned a reply to the statement if he’d been given a lifetime’s worth of preparation. The best he managed on short notice was look at Bill for some help.

“Howie,” Bill repeated, “that’s not appropriate conversation.”

“Do you have a vagina?” Howard asked.

Alec was very sure that no further harm could be done if he simply turned and walked out the door. It seemed that it might even improve his future relationship with Bill’s extended family if he never visited them again.

Across the room, looking very smug, stood Johnny with his arms across his chest.

Bill crouched down by his youngest son with a hand on his shoulder and another motioning in the air between them. The tone of his voice was the patience of an impartial teacher, and that meant they could very well be here indefinitely. He said, “Howard, that’s an inappropriate question to ask someone when you’ve first met them in a social setting.”

Thank God Bill Masters was here to make that distinction. There might be settings where asking a man if he had a vagina was acceptable.

Johnny was as merciless as his mother, because he invited himself into the conversation. “I guess he just doesn’t understand why you’re dating a man now, dad. I didn’t think I could explain it to him. He’s only a kid.”

“Is he really a man?” Howard whispered at his father, “does he really have a penis?”

“Excuse me,” Alec said. He stepped around the two little boys looking at their father with spite and pleading. He invited himself through the open doorway, through the dining room and into the delicious smelling kitchen.

Jenny was sitting on a stool by the counter, watching cartoons on a tablet propped up by an empty bowl. Libby was staring at a pot of slow-warming gravy on the stove with one arm across her stomach and the other idly stirring. She looked over her shoulder when he came in.

Her smile was softer here, “I’m sorry about Johnny. He’s been egging Howie on all week. I tried to tell him to quit it, but Johnny said that their dad always told them there’s no shame in being curious about your own body and there’s no question about sex too embarrassing to ask.”

Libby stepped away from the gravy long enough to pluck a wine glass off a shelf by the stove and set it on the island between them. She filled it from a half-empty bottle on the counter by the stove and pushed it toward him. “Still,” she said, “I guess they’ve got a right to ask.”

Alec didn’t touch the wine, he lingered on the thought that running was still a viable option. He didn’t even know what he was going to say before he was already speaking. “I think Bill deserves to answer their questions. Probably, he deserves a lot more than that.”

Libby’s smile quirked at the edge. “I could write a novel about the things that Bill Masters’ deserves. You,” she said as she raised her own wine glass in a toast, “wouldn’t be in it.”

Alec pulled his wine glass across the counter top. He cleared his throat, “thank you for inviting me.”

“I hope he’s better for you than he was for me,” Libby said (with great sincerity). “And if you can keep getting him to show up to see his children, I think we’ll get along fine.”

It wasn’t a great start; but it was a start. Alec took a drink of his wine, and hoped for the best.

#holiday prompts #illogical husbands #alec hardy #bill masters

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elisaphoenix13 · 5 years ago

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The Sorcerer's Cub (Ch.4)

"Boss. Peter is in distress."

Friday's voice breaks through the last haze of Tony's dreams and he was glad for it. They weren't dreams, they were nightmares, and if his assumptions were correct, Peter had one too. The poor baby. It was bad enough he had them as a teenager, but he was even tormented with them as a baby and it was very likely toddler Peter didn't understand.

Tony pulls his arm out from under Stephen as carefully as possible, a little surprised that the sorcerer hadn't already flown out of bed at the mere mention that Peter wasn't happy, but he was fast asleep. The only time he slept that deeply was whenever he and Tony had a nightly romp in the sheets and they had done that not three hours ago according to the clock on Tony's nightstand. With a sleepy sigh, he pulls on some pajama pants and shuffles out of the room and a couple doors down to Peter's bedroom while attempting to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes. Dealing with a fussy baby while half asleep was not ideal and he had to learn that the hard way with Diana. Especially since she had that phase when she only wanted Tony. Whenever Stephen tried to calm her, it made things worse and Tony not only had to console a screaming baby but also a heartbroken Mama Bear.

Tony slowly opens Peter's bedroom door so not to startle him anymore and finds him huddled in the middle of his bed, crying into the teddy bear that was almost as big as him.

"Bambino." He calls softly and Peter looks up from his bear, and then immediately holds his arms out to Tony. The man quickly walks over and scoops Peter up and cringes at the feeling of an unmistakable wet diaper. "It's alright kiddo. Let's get you cleaned up. Where's that night light Porcupine gave you, huh?"

That was a good question for the next couple of minutes as Tony searched for the small ball if light. He would have thought that finding a literal ball of light would be a piece of cake to find, but it was being elusive. It must be buried under enough to keep its light from shining through as he was sure that Quill was very much alive.

Just in case though, he asked his AI where the space pirate was.

"Downstairs asleep Boss. Should I wake him?"

"No Fri. Just making sure of something-aha!" Tony exclaims when he pushes aside a couple of pillows and a thick blanket to find the small sphere of light.

He hands it to the baby in his other arm who takes it with a wet sniffle and lays his head on Tony's shoulder, and Tony turns his attention to gathering a clean diaper. Peter only whimpered for a brief second when Tony laid him back down on the bed to change him, but as soon as he realized that his father wasn't going anywhere, he calmed down. With experienced speed, Tony changes Peter and disposes of the soiled diaper before moving Peter back up toward his pillows and laying next to him. He watches quietly as the baby holds the ball of light in his hands, and raises an eyebrow whenever it dims as soon as either of them look directly at it. Quill really thought of everything. He didn't want the light to hurt anyone's eyes if they looked directly at it, so it dimmed whenever Peter or anyone else looked at it.

"Bad dream buddy?" Tony asks quietly as he plants a kiss on the soft curls on Peter's head. When he nods, Tony grabs the previously forgotten teddy bear and places it on the ither side of Peter. "What was it about? Do you remember?"

Silence hangs in the air long enough for the engineer to start wondering if maybe Peter didn't want to talk about it, until the baby finally whispered. "It was dark. Couldn't move. Daddy wasn't there."

Tony wracks his mind for the nightmares that teenage Peter had told him about in the past, and it finally hit him that he had a dream about the building falling on him when he confronted the Vulture. It was the one nightmare Peter didn't talk much about. Not even to Stephen. He just told them what it was about but never went any further. Now his baby counterpart had given him a very important detail.

Daddy wasn't there.

Tony hadn't been there to save Peter. Granted, the teen shouldn't have been there in the first place, but he had been, and in nothing but a sweat suit. Peter was being crushed by tons of concrete and he had been terrified, hoping that by some miracle, Tony would know he was in trouble and come save him. Tony couldn't have known, but some illogical part of himself beat himself up over the fact that he wasn't there when Peter needed him. He had to dig himself out of his concrete tomb by himself, and go after the Vulture with who knew how many wounds...because Tony took away his suit.

"I'm sorry baby...but I'm here now. You know that right?" Peter doesn't say anything except roll over and cuddle against Tony's bare chest. "...Daddy had a bad dream too."

"Scary?"

"Very." Tony confirms but doesn't elaborate.

There was a chance that teenage Peter would retain these memories and Tony didn't want a description of his worst nightmare to be remembered. It was the one nightmare he didn't tell anyone, not even Stephen...or Rhodey. It was much worse than what Wanda had shown him all those years ago when she was still the enemy. Instead of the Avengers though, it was his immediate family. Stephen, Harley, Peter, and Diana. Dead. His mind killed them in so many different ways each time he had the night terror, but it always ended up the same. He couldn't protect them and they always ended up dead. It was so much worse than the whole deal with Thanos and the snap because in his dreams he knew there was no bringing them back. Even Cassie had been among their bodies because she had become like a daughter to him in those five years he took care of him when Scott was stuck in the Quantum Realm. The Avengers were his family, but his immediate family? They were his life. His reason for living.

"Where's Mama?" Peter asks as he rubs his eyes.

"Sleeping bambino. You're stuck with me tonight. That okay?" Tony says with a soft chuckle as he gently brushes away a loose curl.

"Uh huh." Peter replies with a yawn.

Tony pulls the covers over the both of them, fully intent on staying with Peter until a little after he fell asleep. Of course his plans fell through five minutes later because he was tired himself and fell asleep with a protective arm around his son. That was how Stephen found them the following morning. He had woken to Tony's side of the bed cold and bare, and his first instinct was to check Peter's room. When he found Tony curled around the baby in his bed, the sorcerer had quietly closed the door and went downstairs to start breakfast. Diana was the first to wake up and she had been happy to help Stephen make blueberry pancakes, Harley was next and surprised the sorcerer when he saw Peter in the teenager's arms.

"He was coming out of his room when I came out of mine." Harley elaborates with a slight blush while he sets Peter in an empty chair.

Stephen places a couple of freshly cooked pancakes on the plate next to Diana. "Where's your father?" He asks.

"Sawing wood in Peter's room." Harley grins and Peter frowns.

"Daddy's loud."

"Let him sleep. Breakfast will wake him soon enough."

The sorcerer turns off the stove and helps his daughter off the counter and they walk over to the table with a plate stacked with pancakes. Harley serves himself after Stephen serves the younger children and sets aside a plate for Tony, and leaves Diana to her own devices once he cuts her pancakes. Peter on the other hand needed a little more supervision unless Stephen wanted to clean syrup off of everything for the next week. Which he didn't, but syrup tended to get everywhere on a baby no matter how closely they were watched, so Peter would probably need a bath after breakfast.

"Babe, you better get your food before patatino eats them all." Tony says when he appears in the kitchen and leans down to give Stephen a good morning kiss.

"I can always make more."

Harley scrunches his nose. "Why do you always have to give me some potato nickname?"

"Because." Tony sits down and grabs the plate Stephen had set aside. "You were the one that threatened me with a potato gun, so now you get related names." He slips a couple of pancakes onto Stephen's plate before giving Diana a second one when she requests it. "How did you sleep piccola?"

"Like the dead!" The five year old responds enthusiastically and Harley snickers. "I have a light like Peter's that Uncle Quill gave me and it turned into stars!"

Diana shovels pancake bites into her mouth after Tony cuts it for her, and Stephen eats his own breakfast subconsciously, still focused on trying to keep the guaranteed syrupy mess on Peter. Maybe the table. The table would be easy enough to clean.

Tony grins. "Hey honey?"

"Hmm?" Stephen hums in question without looking away from the toddler.

"Have I mentioned you're a MILF?"

Harley chokes on his pancakes in surprise and starts laughing once he passes the danger of choking and Stephen looks over at Tony with a look of impassiveness. Diana thankfully wasn't paying any attention. Blueberry pancakes were more deserving of her interest.

"It may have come up once or twice." Stephen replies smoothly.

"It makes sense." Harley starts after his laughter dies down. "Mom's always eat last. You're definitely a mom."

"Whenever I get hurt, Mommy makes the hurt go away." Diana adds and Stephens eyes mist over when Harley agrees.

It was Peter that delivered the finishing blow though.

"I like Mama's hugs."

Peter had said it so innocently and with such a genuine (albeit a bit sticky) smile, that Stephen had to clear his throat and stare down at his plate and will away the oncoming happy tears. The kids went back to polishing off their breakfast, oblivious to how happy they made the sorcerer, and Tony just smiled in his direction when Stephen finally looked up at him. There was no teasing. Just a fond smile that nearly had Stephen looming down again in embarrassment. He had never been so glad to have been accidently called 'Mom' by Peter all those months (years to some) ago. Once upon a time, he was alone with maybe one friend. Now, he had many friends, three kids, and a husband...and he couldn't imagine life without them anymore.

"What do you think will happen if I go downstairs and shoot Quill awake with my potato gun?" Harley asks and Tony points at him.

"DON'T purposely piss off a god! Especially this early in the morning!"

"Uncle Quill will kill you." Diana adds seriously.

Even if this life is more hectic than it had been before, Stephen thinks to himself as he takes another bite of his pancakes.

#peter parker #ironstrange #mama bear stephen strange #supremefamily #tony stark #stephen strange #harley keener #diana stark strange (oc)

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clarketomylexa · 5 years ago

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trick or treat

Clarke usually likes to keep an orderly household.

She thinks Lexa has rubbed off on her in that way, which is good because they’ve been together for six years now and out of any habit she could have picked up, she’s glad it’s the one that makes their household a little tidier come back-to-school season.

Halloween tends to get away from her though.

read on ao3

It feels like they’ve just gotten back into a routine after the craziness of summer vacation — the juggling shifts to eke out three uninterrupted weeks with the girls and drowning in Hobby Lobby craft projects to keep morale high through August — and here they are now, already fighting with witches hats pink tulle.

She’s still finding pumpkin stains on the table runner in the dining room despite putting newspaper down when they carved and they’ve pulled three all-nighters this week alone trying to finish costumes that were decided upon at the very last minute.

Next year, Clarke is going to introduce an ‘all costume requests have to be submitted by May’ policy, if only to salvage her own sanity.

She picks a tuft of beige fluff up off the carpet, flicking it into the wicker waste-basket. At least it’s already the night of; tomorrow the pumpkin carving and costume stress that has been hanging over her for the past month will be over.

(She wonders if she can get out of hosting Thanksgiving this year).

Crossing the room, she leans against the ensuite door, pursing her lips against the smell of hairspray and hot hair. Lexa doesn’t see her immediately — if she had, Clarke is sure she costume would have rendered more of a reaction — but she’s happy to escape the craziness of downstairs for a moment to watch her fiancée wrap a lock of blond hair around the barrel of the curling iron.

“Remember to listen to Katie’s Mom tonight, OK?”

“OK,” the nine-year-old poised on the vanity nods — a tiny dip of her head so as not to jostle the way her ringlets have been arranged in their ponytail — but doesn’t take her eyes off the iPad sitting in the nest of red fabric in her lap.

(The sight reminds Clarke to change the password again. She thinks having it as her birthday — the same as the alarm code and the HBO PIN — is making it too easy for little hands to sneak extra screen time when they aren’t looking).

A moment passes and Lexa allows the coil of hair to slide off the barrel of the iron, spritzing it with hairspray before arranging it next to the rest. She picks up the red ribbon sitting on the vanity and tucks it nimbly through the elastic keeping Andy’s ponytail in place and Clarke really shouldn’t be surprised by the ease in which she does it — six years worth of recital hairstyling has meant that there is nothing Lexa can’t do with her hands.

“We should rename it Salon de Lexa up here,” she grins when Lexa looks up, gesturing to the curling iron, bobby-pins and elastics littered across the vanity. Usually, it’s cleaner than it is now — even with three girls’ hair to do in the mornings — but usually, Lexa isn't curling ringlets into Sandy Olsen’s hair.

Lexa’s eyes widen slightly, fingers tight around the bow in Andy’s hair as they drop to Clarke’s bare midriff and the red and navy polyester of her costume before she composes herself and lifts Andy off the vanity.

“Only if I’m being tipped,” she wagers, grinning at Andy who looks at herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that to see the way her hair looks — perfect of course, thanks to Lexa’s careful styling.

The red, felt ‘R’ for Rydell High sits brightly against the white of her jersey, her red peter pan collar folded over the top true to the movie they spent an hour and a half scrubbing through for reference when Andy told them she wanted to be Sandy for Halloween this year — pre-makeover Sandy for course, Katie would be the one wearing the black cat-suit and Clarke has to admit she’s glad her child won’t be the one wandering around the neighbourhood in skin-tight pants tonight — and Clarke may be biased but she’s pretty sure Andy is the sweetest Sandy Olsen she’s ever seen.

“Go downstairs and get Tía to write Mom’s phone number on your arm, Dee,” instructs once Andy looks satisfied.

“Mom!” Andy squeaks in protest — it totally isn’t cool to have your Mom write her phone number on your arm when you’re nine-years-old — but Clarke stands firm. They’ve talked about this. This year is the first they’ve deemed her old enough to go trick or treating by herself — with adult supervision of course — but their decision came with stipulations.

“It’s that or you can go trick or treating with Tía and Aunty O."

Andy frowns at that; the gears in her head whirring. She’s taller than she was six years ago, her hair is longer and her face is thinner — her baby fat lost to gymnastics and elementary school beep tests — and she only has three baby teeth left but Clarke thinks she’s finally beginning to understand her Mom a little better when she tells Clarke she’ll always be her baby. Even with an actual baby in the house, Andy never stopped being three-years-old to her.

“Fine,” she says eventually, her frown still intact as she folds the cover over the iPad, telling Lexa ‘thank you Mom’ before slinking downstairs.

Once she’s gone, Clarke fits her arms around Lexa’s neck, letting her hands wander over the hick material of her costume.

It’s a jumpsuit — complete with sponsor patches gravel burns — that Raven sourced from her friend who races stock cars and Lexa smells sharp because of it, like grease and car exhaust. Even though there's absolutely no skin on show, Clarke thinks it’s the sexiest visual she’s ever seen.

Their costumes aren’t matching — they aren’t even close. Raven suggested Clarke be the pit crew to Lexa’s Nascar driver but they’re so worn into each other now that Clarke doesn’t think matching matters. They could be dressed as Morticia Adams and Miss America and it would still be clear they are a set. Besides, Clarke worked hard to get back into shape after she had the baby; she thinks she looks better now than she did before she got pregnant, so what if she wants to wear a midriff top and relive her high school years?

She can see Lexa in every dip and curve of her body and the way her own fingers fit neatly between the vertebra of Lexa’s spine, and how, instead of being two separate people they come as a single entity now: more Clarke-and-Lexa than Clarke and Lexa.

“Remind me to thank Raven later,” she grins, sifting her hair through Lexa’s dark ponytail where it’s looped through the back of her baseball cap.

“Remind me to thank whoever suggested this,” Lexa replies, gesturing to the cheerleading uniform Clarke has on. The skirt is tight, with two slits up the side and the top — form-fitting with a scoop neckline and a racer back — ends at the bottom of her ribs, emblazoned across the front with a fake team name in red, felt font.

“That would be me.”

Lexa’s lips quiver; a smirk hides in the top corner like Wendy Darling’s kiss.

Clarke tips her head in anticipation, fingers anchoring themselves in Lexa’s ponytail and —

“Katie’s here!”

Groaning at the intrusion, she tips her head into Lexa’s chest.

“Raincheck?” Lexa smiles, hands finding the bare strip of skin above the waistband of Clarke’s skirt and wiggling her eyebrows.

(Suddenly, her late-night Etsy order is the best idea she’s ever had).

When they descend from their Eden, it’s to a house in chaos.

Clarke focuses on what she can do first: taking the candy bowl from where it sits on the bench by the door and greeting the gaggle of seven-year-olds on the doorstep, taking Fish by the collar back into the house when the dog gets under her feet.

Katie, her Mom and three other girls, all dressed as characters from Grease with coiffed hair and pink, satin bomber jackets are standing by the gate — it’s sweet, Clarke thinks, that Andy is old enough now to coordinate costumes with her friends, even if it means their years of planning family costumes are over — and she waves at them to let them know Andy will be about in a minute.

“Got your pillowcase?” she asks when the girl in question appears behind her.

Andy brandishes her patterned pillowcase in her fist.

“Be back by eight-thirty, OK?”

“Mhm!” Andy nods vehemently.

“OK,” Clarke relents, kneeling down. She can’t stall anymore, she has to come to terms with the fact that her little girl is growing up — it just sucks that her growing up has to include missing out on one of her favourite traditions. “Gimme a kiss.”

Clarke watches Andy skip off once she complies, waiting until the blond has looped her arm through Katie’s with an infectious grin before turning away from the door. They’ve already organised for Katie’s Mom to send her any photos she takes tonight and both her and Lexa have the woman’s phone number from PTA meetings and carpool rosters.

The rational part of her isn’t worried at all.

“One down, two to go,” she says as she walks back into the kitchen.

It’s warm and decorated, just like every other inch of the house, with cardboard bats Blu-Tacked to the walls, fake spider webs and black, white and orange bead garlands hung from the mirrors and paintings in the dining room. A tray of Rice-Krispy ghosts — a festive afternoon activity — sits abandoned on the stove-top and the kids’ dinner dishes are stacked in the sink.

Lexa smiles from a stool by the kitchen counter, their five-year-old — petite, dark-haired and officially theirs as of two years ago when they signed the adoption certificate — in her lap as she fiddles with the strap of a black Mary Jane.

In the living room, Octavia and Lincoln corral their own two kids without much help from either Raven — who is far too interested in Clarke and Lexa’s youngest — or Anya who watches Raven bounce the two-year-old on her hip with a sweet, fond look Clarke has only seen on her face once or twice.

(Clarke thinks Anya has baby fever — not that she would ever admit it to Raven).

“What d’you think, Cee?” Lexa asks, lifting Charlotte off of her lap.

She picks the copy of Madeline and the Cats of Rome up off the kitchen counter and flicks to a page of illustrations, holding it out beside Charlotte for comparison.

“It’s beau-ti-ful,” Charlotte, sounding out each syllable as she twirls. Her dress — the product of Lexa’s handiwork — flares out at the waist above the tops of her white knee socks and Clarke melts, soothing a hand over the ribbons hanging from the brim of her straw hat.

She remembers when Charlotte first came to them — how quiet and unsure she had been — and can hardly reconcile that girl to the one standing in front of her now.

“Alright,” Octavia declares, hustling her three-year-old towards them. “Are we ready to go?” She winds her fingers through her son’s dark, spiral curls.

Murmurs of assent go up around the room and Clarke sends Charlotte upstairs to get a pillowcase for Octavia’s daughter and herself — they swore off buckets last year after the flimsy plastic of Andy’s pumpkin split straight down the sides, resulting in lost candy and tears — and takes AJ from Raven, pressing her nose into the soft terry cloth of her two-year-old’s costume.

They dressed her up properly this year as opposed to just novelty onesies. She hadn’t given them much in the way of what she wanted to be when they asked — ‘she’s two’ Lexa reasoned after an unsuccessful planning session, ‘I don’t know what we expected’ — but Clarke suggested Max from Where The Wild Things Are after her sixth re-read of the story and a last-minute dash to Jo-Ann’s Fabrics, the costume had come out better than she thought it would.

She stands on the porch with them, little arms wrapped snugly around the plastic candy bowl as they watch Octavia, Raven, Lincoln, Anya and the kids disappear down the sidewalk towards the neighbours’ houses, Charlotte and Octavia's daughter Ella holding hands between them.

They’d take her trick or treating next year, they decided. At this point getting AJ to walk more than two aisles through the grocery store is a battle — she has both of them wrapped around her little finger as far as carrying her is concerned — so it would be pointless to take her out now. They have plenty of candy anyway, and no doubt Andy and Charlotte will come back with more than enough to share.

(Candy tax is the best part of Halloween and being a parent and Clarke will go to the grave arguing her point).

An hour and a half into handing out candy AJ falls asleep on Clarke.

They pulled the folding deck chairs with their pinstripe canvas to match the outdoor tablecloth onto the front porch to sit on and Clarke reaches a leg out to tap Lexa with a sneakered foot, indicating to the sleeping two-year-old with a smile.

It’s dark now; the Jack-O-Lantern cast soft, flickering shadows across the yard and across the street the Petersons’ windows are open so that the Halloween playlist blasting out of their living room can be heard by the whole street — even over the squeals of sugared-up children. Clarke thinks she’s heard the Kidz Bop rendition of Monster Mash more times in the last hour than she ever wanted to her in her life but AJ seemed to like it because her eyes started drooping as soon as it began playing

(Clarke makes a mental note of it; filing the song away between Taylor Swift and Tchaikovsky on the list of things that send her youngest to sleep).

“We got the easy one,” she whispers, reaching up to slide her pinky finger under AJ’s curled fist and watching her lashes flutter in retaliation — tiny, blond and perfect. She has Lexa’s pout; this gentle pucker of her lips as she sleeps that lodged itself between Clarke's ribs — right next to her heart — as soon as she saw it. The perfect combination of them, even if it was with the help of a donor.

“Do you want me to put her to bed?” Lexa asks, shaking the candy bowl slightly. They’re still getting trick or treaters — it isn’t late enough for the crowds to start dwindling — but they’re mostly older kids now and they have enough candy to leave the bowl unsupervised.

“Yeah,” Clarke nods, easing AJ off her chest and into Lexa’s arms when she stands up, limbs soft like a rag-doll as she settles against Lexa’s shoulder, her cardboard crown wilting.

They put the bowl on the lawn chair and shut the door, leaving the porch light on and Clarke leans over the banister to kiss Lexa in parting on her way through to the kitchen to fetch the baby monitor from its cradle, flicking it on in time to hear AJ fussing. Lexa’s voice comes next, low and sweet as she coos and talks.

Fifteen minutes later, she reappears downstairs triumphant: it’s the fastest AJ has gone down in three months.

“What’s the time?” Clarke grins, stepping over to meet her, baby monitor in hand as she slides her arms around Lexa’s neck.

“Eight-oh-six,” Lexa whispers, checking the kitchen clock over her shoulder.

“We have twenty minutes,” Clarke leans in gleefully, suddenly frenzied and desperate in the way she’s kissing.

Lexa tastes like Sour Lifesavers and Reese’s Pieces when she stops long enough to consider, her cheeks are flushed Clarke can think of a million different reasons why Halloween is the best holiday — hello sexy costumes and the kids crashing shortly after their sugar highs — but at the moment, nothing can top the taste of Lexa and the feel of her beneath Clarke’s fingers. It’s addictive.

“I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,” Lexa whispers, thready and out of breath as she plucks at the ribbons in Clarke’s hair — red and navy to match her outfit — until the knot gives. When it does her fingers find Clarke’s loosened ponytail.

“If you’re lucky we can have our own half-time show,” Clarke hums, working her fingers under the Velcro collar of Lexa’s jumpsuit, pulling until it gives way with a tear and her neck is visible.

The back towards the staircase — the blinds are open in the living room and the kitchen and Clarke isn’t about to give any nosey teenagers a peep show — an intricate dance, matching each other's movements tit-for-tat until the edge of the banister digs until Clarke’s back and she hisses into Lexa’s mouth.

“Sorry,” Lexa winces.

Clarke shakes her head. “No time,” she mumbles, cold fingers finding Lexa’s jaw and directing her gaze away from the bruise forming above the waistband of her skirt as they stumble up the staircase, Lexa’s jumpsuit hanging open at the neck until —

“Mommies I go three full-sized Snickers'!”

The crack of the door is like a gunshot that well and truly kills the mood and Clarke whines.

“Come on!”

#clextober19 #clexa fic #clexa family #domestic clexa #clarke griffin #lexa #it's not even october anymore #better late than never

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shannrussell-blog1 · 5 years ago

Photo

In this day and age, camping grounds can be quite packed and you often find yourself in close quarters with other people. To ensure you have a happy and safe camping trip, here are some of my thoughts to help you maintain good camping etiquette. Hopefully others around you follow the same practice too!

Remember the days when camping meant chucking the tent and sleeping bags in the back of the vehicle, loading up some food and drink, and facing the vehicle in the general direction desired?

No bookings, no permits, no fees, no people – just wide open spaces with beautiful spots along rivers, creeks and beaches. I can hear the voices now – is this guy dreaming, which planet is he on, etc. All this means is that you are probably a lot younger than me.

Luckily, there still are some places where you can get away from it all but a trip to many of the well-known destinations is certainly not one of them. In this day and age camping often means being in close proximity to others, so some basic courtesies can help make the experience a positive one.

This is never more so than in the often crowded campgrounds of the Kimberley in the dry and those highly sought after spots along the coast in summer.

So, after 40 years of camping experience and a recent 3 month trip up the centre and through the Kimberley, here are some of my thoughts to help ensure a happy and safe camping trip.

Nowadays, you’ll likely be sharing with others at popular camping sites.

Keep the music down

I like Eric Clapton, do you? Ah, no you prefer the 4th aria in the 5th movement of Handel’s second symphony. I know this because I could hear it until 11:30 pm last night.

No matter how brilliant your music collection is, the rest of the campground does not need to hear it. If you must bring the iPod, it came with earphones for a reason. Remember that in the calm of the night, if your group can hear it then so can many around you.

Handel sounds great when you are travelling along in the vehicle but, like other things, it is best done in the privacy of your own home.

Music disturbs other campers and the local wildlife.

Use Generators during the day

Happy hour generally starts at around 4 – 5 pm, depending on just how happy you want to be. Just as the top flips, the cork pops and that beautiful “glug” sounds forth, a steady hum invades the brain.

Hang on, I haven’t started drinking yet, what’s that invasive noise? Before long a symphony of internal combustion dis-harmony rings through the air…

Generators are fast becoming part of the kit for many campers. But, despite how ‘you – beaut’ the technology, the sound carries, especially at night. Many campgrounds now have a generator area away from other campers – it’s there for a reason.

If not, at least ensure it is turned off by early evening. If batteries require charging do it during the day when the sound is better disguised by other noises and people are more likely to be out and about. Better still, embrace the solar revolution and charge for free!

Solar power is a more considerate way to get power off the grid.

Dispose of waste properly and safely

Now it is time to be a little indelicate, the discussion needs to turn to wee and poo. Have you ever noticed how discussion of this topic is often part of happy hour with the various techniques for performing these tasks being discussed with some pride?

As camping areas become more and more crowded, getting rid of the results of breakfast, lunch and dinner are becoming increasingly difficult. Luckily, many National Park and commercial campgrounds now have reasonable toilet facilities. However, many don’t and nor do many of the free camps that are becoming more and more popular. Many campgrounds are now so popular that even digging a hole is not possible.

There’s nothing worse than discovering used toilet paper in the bush.

If digging a hole is possible, ensure paper is burned [keeping in mind fire restrictions] before back-filling. Animals are attracted to smells and will often dig up toilet holes resulting in toilet paper floating around the area.

Ensure children are well supervised in this process. Under no circumstances just go behind a bush and leave used toilet paper behind. This is nothing short of revolting for those that follow. Zip-lock bags are a cheap, effective and simple way of taking used toilet paper to be disposed of properly.

Snowys have a variety of solutions from seats with bags to portable chemical toilets. These are now cheap, clean and easy to use and the number of dump points is increasing all the time, with a deep hole always an option. However, never empty these into septic systems as the chemicals destroy the system.

And ladies, tampons and pads are sure to block any flushing toilet system.

Use an existing fireplace for your fire

As happy hour rolls on and darkness closes in, another basic human urge takes hold – the need for fire. Is there anything more mesmerising and calming than the flickering of the flame and the glow of coals?

After the raucous discussions of toilet techniques, it’s time to eat and settle down for some calmer chat around the fire, with the assistance of a cuppa, a warming port or other beverage of choice. But, how to achieve this most basic of needs. As camp spots become more popular, firewood is at a premium. Collecting any near popular spots is near impossible.

To enjoy the ambience of a fire, bring your own wood or use heat beads in a small brazier. It is amazing how little wood is needed to keep a few people warm and enjoying that beverage of choice. Also, use existing fireplaces. It never ceases to amaze me on arriving at a nice spot, only to find a number of fireplaces dotted around even a fairly small area, significantly reducing the places to pitch a tent or set up a table and chairs.

These days, I choose to cook using the gas stove and leave my firewood for the ambience of the evening.

Don’t char more of the land then what you need, use an established fire pit.

Keep kids in check

I was lucky enough to go camping as a kid and I took my own kids camping from an early age. I remember being able to run free around the bush because our group was the only one around and I wasn’t impinging on anyone.

This is now a rare privilege now, with most people having to share their camping experience with others around them. Kids should be going camping, but it should be done safely and with respect for other campers. This means no screaming and shouting and running through others campsites, especially in the evening. And that refers to both adults and children.

Supervise the kids properly when out camping.

Pick up your rubbish

Rubbish, rubbish everywhere, but not a bin in sight. Like other human waste, general rubbish is a fact of life. Even though we don’t get to drive the big truck with the massive compactor, we all need to take on the role of refuse-engineer when camping.

Some campsites do have bins, but often these are emptied irregularly, especially in more remote areas. It does not take a degree in physics and meteorology to know that wind will blow rubbish out of an overflowing bin and gravity will ensure it litters the area around it.

If there is no bin or it is full, take it with you and dispose of it properly. Waste paper and cardboard can be kept separately and used to light the fire if having one.

If the bin is full, take your rubbish out with you.

Camping is one of life’s greatest pleasures that can remain that way even in a more crowded world. All it needs is a little planning, a thoughtful approach to the environment, and consideration to those around us.

Do this and we will all be happy campers and do our bit to ensure that the beautiful areas of our country remain open to us.

What do you do to be a considerate camper? Let us know in the comments.

The post Camping Etiquette: How to be the Best Camper! appeared first on Snowys Blog.

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jenkinshortstories · 8 years ago

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Our Home

In Summit, IL, we lived on 74th Ave. in a two story home. At the time, in the 50′s and early 60′s, I was in grade school, attending St. Joseph’s Catholic School. We all walked to school each and every day. It was about a mile from our house. I’m not sure just how big our home was in square footage. On the first floor of our home we had a bedroom, bath, kitchen, living room, dining room, a sun parlor, and a front and back entrance. There was another entrance to the dining room that was never, ever used. I never understood why it was there, or for what use was it ever designed. We had a coat closet in the center of the first floor with hooks to hang our coats on, and the floor was covered in shoes, boots, and goulashes to keep us dry in the winters. In this coat closet was another door that led down to the basement. I mostly remember this coat closet full of jackets and coats that usually landed on the floor either from too many on one hook or peg, or from us being in too much of a hurry to care, and we just tossed the items into the room and quickly shut the door. Oh, I almost forgot about another room on the first floor called our library with a fireplace that I never remember using, and built in book shelves full of books that I never remember any of us reading. Above the large mantle was a picture of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. I never remember a fire being lit. I think the reason was that no one in the family had enough ambition to routinely find wood or any logs to burn in it. This part of the house was later used by my brother, Jim, and his young family of his wife, Shirley, and his first two children, Cheryl, and Jimmy. This bathroom, bedroom, and library was their mini-apartment where they lived while he was still in college and working nights.

Upstairs in the house was a single bathroom, four bedrooms, each with a walk in closet, and a clothes chute or drop. With this clothes chute, we were able to easily dispense of our dirty clothes into the basement where our clothes would often stay unwashed for various periods of time. In the basement was a lot of space, but cluttered with things like a large wooden table, stored storm windows, and even my brother’s old unused brown bicycle that I tried on multiple times to revitalize. There was a never used shower stall, an abandoned hot water heater, an abandoned furnace, an old gas stove and oven that we used two to four times a year.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Easter were days my dad would roast a turkey,ham or prime rib in this old time stove-oven. Next to the stove was a heavy duty double sink and a wash machine with an old fashion clothes wringer. There was no spin cycle as we know it today. You hand fed the wet laundry through the wringer, and then the clothes would be hung up to dry. (We had no gas dryer for years, but eventually, a friend, Louie, aka., Mandrake, the magician, gave us his large, commercial dryer from his dad’s chinese laundry that was in Argo, IL). The clothes got hung outside in the good weather, and hung in the basement in the winters.

I remember our clothes sometimes took forever to dry and smelled sour when we finally got around to wearing them. Often, my mom would spray water on clothes she intended to immediately iron, and rolled them up to keep them moist. Often she never got around to ironing them. They would later be unrolled to find mold growing on them, and the laundry would have to be re-washed again.

On one wall in the basement was a large black board. Most of it was covered with license plates from my dad’s one car. In those days you didn’t get a new registration sticker yearly. They would just send you entirely new plates with your same license number, but plates with a new color. I still remember the Illinois license plate number-42004. Someone correct me if I am wrong.

This was not really a blackboard like we had at school, but just wooden boards painted black. It was very difficult to write with chalk on this board, but it was as good as it got in our household back then. In front of this board we often sat for our “club” meetings. We had various clubs that consisted of my sister Alyce and our friend from the block. Whatever interested us at the time was the current club. No club ever lasted very long. I think we watched too many “Little Rascals” episodes on TV, and tried to do whatever they did. Hey, there wasn’t much else for kids to watch on TV in the 50′s.

The final thing that I recollect of our basement was the door that emptied to the backyard. From the outside, you had to walk down a half a dozen stairs, turn left and down two more steps into a dark alcove that was full of rakes,and other miscellaneous items that were mostly discarded clutter. Then to the right was the door into the basement. Most of the time this door was left unlocked, and often left wide open. This fact often created creepy episodes after dark that I remember very vividly. On may occasions I would come home to a silent house empty of people. The front and back doors would be unlocked. There may have been a light left on or even no lights left on in the house.

I would quickly inspect the entire house and turning on lights as I went from room to room. The purpose was to be sure no one was hiding, and able to pop out and scare me to the core. Lastly, I would open the door to the basement in the coat closet and look down into a darkened staircase. Whenever I felt a draft of air coming up the stairs, I knew that the basement door to the backyard had been left wide open.. In my mind, as a kid, I imagined someone could be hiding in our basement. My routine was to then quickly close this door from the coat closet and lock it with the large, old skeleton key that was always in the key hole, ready to be turned. At least I was always certain that this key would be there. Eventually, someone would return home to give more life to the house.

We had a very large yard. In fact, we, had a total of three lots. Two of the lots held three trees with very sour crab apples, a flag stone grotto with a statue of the Blessed Virgin, and a lot of lawn to cut. For years we only had a push mower that even a fully grown man had difficulty pushing. I guess just being a frugal Chinese family, we went years before this gut wrenching antique was replaced by a gas powered rotary mower. This turned a process that took days to complete into a one day affair.

There were many chores that I took on as a kid. After Katie gave it up, I started to cut the grass, raked and burned all the fallen leaves. (one of my favorite chores since since it always reminded me of what camping would be like.) I changed winter storm windows into summer screens , and visa versa. I took out the trash and garbage most nights, and burned or incinerated it in barrels in the alleyway behind our house.

I would always try to make some spending money along the way by washing my sister Katie’s car, or in the winter, she would reward me for starting her car in the cold, snowy mornings. I would scrape the ice and snow off her windshield, get the engine going, and shovel out the snow from around her car caused by the snow plow that had cleared the street. Remember, I was only about 12 years old. I could not drive a car yet, but I wanted to drive. Starting her car and warming up the engine was something I looked forward to do.

I really enjoyed our large yard. It was a mini camp ground or wilderness area to me. There were trees to climb, areas of thicket to hide in, roam, and explore. I had a lot of freedom to do what I wanted in the yard. I could climb and sit in a tree, or dig a fox hole and pretend I was a GI in WWII. Sometimes we would did a deep hole, cover it with twigs, branches, and leaves, and make it into a boobie trap for an imaginary enemy to fall into and injure himself. Sometimes this boobie trap would be flooded with water. Often, we would create our own makeshift camp fire, and pretend we were Indians, or campers, or hobos on the run. Our supervision was minimal. We had access to matches and cigarettes. No one ever denied us permission to do any of these activities.

Our absolute favorite summer yard activity was camping out in the backyard. I don’t remember ever having a tent of my own, but we would always end up with one or two borrowed tents. We would pitch them as far away from the house as possible for more privacy. The evening outing usually started with starting a campfire where we usually dug our fox holes and such. We would roast something like hot dogs and finish with marsh mellows, and end with creating ghost stories to try to freak each other out.

After all the lights would go out in the house, we would then come out to roam the dark neighborhood and pull pranks and reek some havoc. Never in all of these nights were police ever called, nor were we ever caught and brought back to our parents for some disciplining. Before most of the night was over, we would eventually retire back to the tent or tents and fall asleep, only to be awakened in the morning by my brother, Jim, who was returning from his night shift at the hospital. He would always pull the tent pegs out of the ground and cause our tents to collapse on us.

I found lots of other places to explore in our house. My parents bedroom had a small closet within their walk in closet. It was for storage, but I think I used it for hiding things more than my parents. In fact, my mom found cigarettes that I hid in there as a kid. I really liked my parents closet. I had some WWII souvenirs. I would play with a steel helmet that actually looked like a WWI helmet. Then, there was the black scabbard long sword that was taken from a Nazi German soldier by my uncle John. I remember several Nazi arm bands that we, also, played with.

In the back of the house under some old boards I happen to find a cistern that was no longer used. I found this interesting since it was large enough to crawl into. I was never sure what function it had originally.

Before I end this story, I have one last memory of the night my brother talked me into helping him clean out the septic tank in the back yard. I’m not sure why we had to do this, and I don’t know if the septic tank was in use at that time. I could not have been older than 6-8 years old. My brother, Jim, promised me he would buy me a pair of new cowboy boots if I helped him. Not sure how much help he expected from me at that age. I remember dropping a bucket on a string down into the septic tank, hauling it back out and then throwing the contents all over the back yard. i think the logic was that it would soak into the lawn, fertilize the lawn, and every body would be happy. I don’t recall the smell or being too put off by what we were doing. I do remember that the next day, to our surprise, there was white streaks of toilet paper all over the place. BTW, I have never, ever, seen those cowboy boots promised to me by brother, Jim!

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junegoff · 5 years ago

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Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids

When a fire breaks out, be it small or large, it is essential to ensure that your kids are well aware of fire safety protocols. It has been statistically found that more than 50,000 fire cases each year are a cause of playing with flammables by children. So it is undoubtedly vital to teaching fire safety tips for kids.

Parents and teachers must work together and ensure that children know the drills and aware of what can cause fire and how to prevent them. These fire safety tips, if taught and practiced intensely, can be used to teach children of all ages about fire safety.

Essential Fire Safety Tips for Kids

Don’t play with flammables

Some common flammables that are accessible by kids are matches, candles, and lighters. Parents at home must make sure that no children can play with these and are kept away from their gasp. If they ever need to use them, they must use it under the parent or any adult supervision and permission. It is, by far, the most critical fire safety tip for kids.

Run extinguished matches and candles underwater

In cases where a kid needs to use matches or candles, it is essential to teach them to run them under water before tossing them in the trash bin. This way, any papers and other flammables from the trash bin will not accidentally ignite.

Never leave flames unattended

This safety tip applies to both parents and children as parents should not leave stoves unattended while cooking, so should be the case for kids as well. Kids must always be taught to leave them unattended.

Don’t plug and use

In the age of electronic devices, children often use mobiles and other gadgets in their everyday life. They should be taught not to use them while they are charging. In scenarios like this, gadgets tend to overheat and burst into flame that can cause damage.

Children must also be taught not to over-plug by plugging too many devices into one socket. It is even better not to let them do this at all, and take that responsibility into your own hands as parents.

Do not play near the fire

It may seem very fun and exciting, but one small accident can be life-threatening if children are allowed to play near stoves or active fireplaces. Kids should be taught to play away from them and never be near them without any parental or adult supervision.

Learn about flammables and their safety protocols

Children need to learn about things that can easily set into the fire. This is especially important for a kid who’s learning to cook. Things like oven mitts, any paper, dishtowels, etc. can set into the fire if kept near burning stove. They should be taught to keep them away at a certain distance from any flame so that no sudden fire accident can occur from them.

Never hide in closets

Hiding in closed areas such as closets, cabinets, and under the bed can be threatening when fire sets out. A kid might end up getting trapped. As they are entertaining for kids, it is vital to make sure that there is adult supervision when they’re playing games like hiding and seek.

Smoke detectors

Kids must make sure that they have enough basic knowledge about fire equipment. Smoke detectors and smoke alarms are the first warnings in the situation of fire. So, a kid must be taught what the smoke detectors sign means and what measures should be taken during that situation.

The smoke alarm sound should also be familiar to them so that when they hear such alerts, they can generate an immediate response. When there is any maintenance going on of the smoke detectors and alarms, kids should be present there to understand more about this equipment.

Develop an escape route together

Determine ways to escape from the house in times of fire. Develop a two-way escape route, usually from the door and the window. Evaluate a plan for extreme cases and make sure kids are well aware of the plan.

They can also be taught of a designated place where everyone is planned to meet when they are separated. The plan should be precise and straightforward and well developed for everyone to follow and understand.

Practice fire safety drills regularly

Once a plan is developed and well taught, make sure the kids have a good practice of that plan. They should know what to do and how to carry out the escape plan in real-life scenarios. A straightforward fire safety tip for kids could be stopped, drop, and roll while escaping.

They should also know what to do when their clothes catch fire. Everything should be taught through real situation exercise. These drills should be exercised at least once a month for kids always to remember them.

Don’t ever use the elevator

In the situation of a fire, elevators are a dangerous place. So kids should opt-out of using elevators as a way to escape from fire. Kids living in apartment buildings should know how to use the stairs and where the emergency escape stairs of the building are located.

Use the sense of touch instead of the eyes

Kids should use their hands to check whether any glass or doors are hot to find an alternative route to escape. They should use towels to touch any door or object, and the sheets should be wet, which can also be used to wipe the smoke out of the eyes.

Feeling their way out of home in dark is the best way to plan an escape. Proper drills should be undertaken by blindfolding them during practice.

Conclusion

Unaware kids are one of the most common causes behind the fire, and many kids die yearly from fire accidents. It is essential to know these fire safety tips for kids and parents. Teachers and adults should always be mindful about maintaining a fun way to teach them so that the reinforcement to get out is at the highest. The fire safety tips created for kids are easy to understand and learn. These kids should be able to prevent fire and also know what to do when a fire breaks out at home.

The post Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids appeared first on Water Damage Restoration Services | Water Damage Cleanup | Flood Doctor.

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sandratroxel · 5 years ago

Text

Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids

Essential Fire Safety Tips for Kids

Don’t play with flammables

Run extinguished matches and candles underwater

Never leave flames unattended

Don’t plug and use

Do not play near the fire

Learn about flammables and their safety protocols

Never hide in closets

Smoke detectors

Develop an escape route together

Practice fire safety drills regularly

Don’t ever use the elevator

Use the sense of touch instead of the eyes

Feeling their way out of home in dark is the best way to plan an escape. Proper drills should be undertaken by blindfolding them during practice.

Conclusion

The post Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids appeared first on Water Damage Restoration Services | Water Damage Cleanup | Flood Doctor.

Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids published first on https://www.flooddoctorva.com/

0 notes

flooddoctorinc · 5 years ago

Text

Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids

Essential Fire Safety Tips for Kids

Don’t play with flammables

Run extinguished matches and candles underwater

Never leave flames unattended

Don’t plug and use

Do not play near the fire

Learn about flammables and their safety protocols

Never hide in closets

Smoke detectors

Develop an escape route together

Practice fire safety drills regularly

Don’t ever use the elevator

Use the sense of touch instead of the eyes

Feeling their way out of home in dark is the best way to plan an escape. Proper drills should be undertaken by blindfolding them during practice.

Conclusion

The post Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids appeared first on Water Damage Restoration Services | Water Damage Cleanup | Flood Doctor.

0 notes

kinaboyer · 5 years ago

Text

Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids

Essential Fire Safety Tips for Kids

Don’t play with flammables

Run extinguished matches and candles underwater

Never leave flames unattended

Don’t plug and use

Do not play near the fire

Learn about flammables and their safety protocols

Never hide in closets

Smoke detectors

Develop an escape route together

Practice fire safety drills regularly

Don’t ever use the elevator

Use the sense of touch instead of the eyes

Feeling their way out of home in dark is the best way to plan an escape. Proper drills should be undertaken by blindfolding them during practice.

Conclusion

The post Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids appeared first on Water Damage Restoration Services | Water Damage Cleanup | Flood Doctor.

Practical Fire Safety Tips for Kids posted first on https://www.flooddoctorva.com/

0 notes