#THICK MILK CHOCOLATE IM GOING TO EAT GLASS

[buckyssoul]

Sweeter Than Syrup

Paring: SamBucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,425

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: polyamory, sexy times (a dumb amount of dirty talk), a little bit of a praise!kink, my general foul language, also an abundance of pet names (I have absolutely Zero self-control okay,,)

Summary: just a cozy day in with your boys,,, breakfast, cuddles, oh and a hella explicit threesome. fr it’s like 85% smut, im so sorry hhhh.

A/N: HEY!! I died for like a year. But I’m back now with renewed inspiration thanks to the sambucky show (: also huge shout out to @empyreanwritings​ for beta reading for me. I don’t know what i’d do w/o you, steph. ilysm <3

Bucky was pulling the last of the French toast off the skillet when he heard you and Sam walking down the hallway to the kitchen of your shared floor at the Avenger’s compound. He smiled when he heard your harmonious laughter as you came through the doorway.

“Hey, Bucky” you smiled as you walked over to him swiftly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and placing a delicate kiss on the tip of his nose. “It smells delicious in here” you sighed happily.

He smiled warmly and placed his hands on your hips, “Hi, baby” he replied softly as he leaned in to kiss your lips. He pulled back sooner than you would have liked and smiled at you with nothing but love in his eyes. “You guys are back just in time, everything’s ready.” He pecked your lips once more.

Sam came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, squishing you between your two beautiful boyfriends. He kissed your neck softly from below your ear down to your shoulder causing a tingle to go down your spine. He then leaned forward, squeezing you between them more in the process. But you didn’t care, in between Sam and Bucky’s arms was your favorite place to be. He kissed Bucky softly on the corner of his mouth, “Hey Buck, we missed you” he smiled happily at the soft puppy looking man.

“You dorks were only gone an hour” he chuckled lightly, smiling as his heart warmed being so close to the two loves of his life.

“Which is 59 minutes long enough to miss you” you replied with a genuine warm smile as you leaned in to kiss his dimpled chin.

Sam pulled away first, turning around to get the plates, cups and silverware out of the cabinets to set the table. You gave Bucky one more soft kiss on his plushy pink lips before going to get the butter and drinks from the fridge. Bucky smiled to himself, wondering how the hell he got so lucky. He grabbed the syrup from the pantry as well as the French toast from the counter and made his way to the table where you and Sam were already sitting. Sam poured himself a glass of orange juice then he handed the bottle off to Bucky knowing that’s what he would want too.

“Here, baby. You want some?” Bucky asked lifting the orange juice bottle toward you.

“You know my girl loves her chocolate milk, Buck” Sam jested and winked at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” you couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head at him, “You’re right though, I do love me some chocolate milk.” You winked back at him as you grabbed the half gallon and started filling your glass.

You filled your plate first and started to dig in before either of the boys. A deep moan erupted from your throat, “God Bucky, this is so fucking good,” you sighed as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Bucky and Sam locked eyes smirking at each other, which you missed being lost in the wonderland that was Bucky’s French toast.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, sweetheart” he gave you a cheeky smile.

“I’m glad too,” Sam smirked.

After breakfast was done you all found yourselves in the living room. Bucky was lounging on one side of the couch and Sam was on the other, they liked to have you sitting between them. You went to sit down on the middle cushion, but Bucky grabbed your arm and pulled you into his lap before you could sit all the way down. You squeaked as you fell ungracefully into his strong arms. He pulled you close to his body and began planting light kisses all over your face.

You were giggling uncontrollably, “Bucky, stop!” you laughed harder as his fingers started to tickle your sides.

“I’ll save you baby!” Sam shouted as he grabbed your legs and dragged your body to lay between them. Your head was now in Bucky’s lap as Sam crawled up to lay between your legs. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your breasts, “Ah, my favorite place to be” he sighed as you chuckled at him, chest still rising and falling heavily from trying to catch your breath.

Bucky ran his fingers through your hair, you looked up at him and smiled softly before relaxing your head back down and letting your eyes fall shut. You brought your hands up to begin rubbing Sam’s toned, muscular back. His eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed further into you, letting himself take in this moment with the two people he cared about most in the world. Bucky looked at you both, smiling to himself, he was so in love.

You released a soft moan as Bucky started massaging your scalp. Sam’s eyes shot open at the noise. He looked up and his eyes immediately locked with Bucky’s. They shared a smirk with each other again. They loved the sounds you always made for them. Sam slid his hands up your sides and slowly started massaging your breasts. You let out a higher pitched whine and heavy sigh at his ministrations.

Sam sat up so Bucky could tug your shirt over your head while he tugged off your jeans, you didn’t protest. Both of them took in your appearance, your soft skin on display for them only covered by your thin black lace bralette and matching thong. Sam, still sat up on his knees between your legs, started to massage up your thighs while Bucky reached down to toy with your pebbled nipples through the fabric of your bra.

“So soft and warm for us, angel” Bucky hummed lowly as Sam lightly rubbed his thumb over your clothed clit.

You arched your back up at their gentle touches, silently begging for more friction.

“You’re so pretty, love” Sam praised you, voice barely above a whisper, as he pulled your thong off. He leaned down to put his mouth to work on you, but you stopped him by planting your foot against his chest gently.

“You two are wearing far too many clothes” you smirked and raised an eyebrow at him daring him to test your patience. You rolled off the side of the couch to your feet and turned to face them, waiting for them to lose their clothes. They stripped faster than you’ve ever seen them do so before, both of them left in just their boxers within seconds. Without speaking you gently moved Sam by his shoulders, so he was laying on his back in the middle of the sofa. You leaned down to kiss him, moaning when he pushed his tongue into your mouth, you could still taste the syrup lingering on his tongue from breakfast.

You pulled back with a soft smile, “I can think of somewhere else I’d like that tongue to be” you chuckled as he nodded enthusiastically.

“Ain’t gotta tell me more than once, baby” he smiled as he tugged you by your hips to straddle his face. You sighed in immense pleasure when his warm lips wrapped around your clit.

You looked over to see Bucky with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, slowly stroking his shaft as he watched Sam eat you out, eyes hooded, tip of his cock red and weeping, begging to be touched. You salivated seeing him standing there, naked and needy.

“Come here, baby” you motioned for him to join you on the couch. He came and rested on his knees in front of you. You pulled your bralette off, tossing it to the other side of the room.

You grabbed Bucky, lacing your fingers through the silky hair at the base of his neck and pulled him to you connecting your lips, he brought his flesh hand up to cradle your jaw as his metal hand started lightly pinching your hard nipples. The sensation causing you to moan into his mouth and grind your hips down on Sam’s face. Both of them took advantage of your haze, Bucky sliding his tongue into mingle with yours, loving the lingering sweetness on yours from the sugary breakfast you finished not too long ago. And Sam doubled his efforts-- grabbing your ass in his palms, massaging and squeezing your cheeks. You took Bucky’s throbbing cock in your hand gently and began stroking him. He growled deep in his chest, you smiled as you pulled away from his mouth, teeth nipping at his plump bottom lip.

Bucky stared down at you through his lashes as you lowered your head to take him into your mouth. You looked back up at him as you flicked your tongue out to tease the tip of his painfully hard cock. His whole body tensed at the sensation and his flesh hand flew to your hair, lightly caressing your scalp as you took him deeper into your warm waiting mouth. His tip reached the back of your throat and you relaxed your muscles to take him in even deeper, using your tongue to caress the pulsing vein on the underside of his thick cock. You caught him off guard with the throaty moan you released due to Sam sliding two of his fingers into your soaking wet pussy, instantly finding your most sensitive spot. His lips sucked on your swollen clit, his tongue flicking over it rapidly. You tensed up and pulled Bucky from your mouth, replacing it with your hands, as you started breathing heavily, feeling your orgasm approaching quickly.

“That’s it, baby. Come all over Sam’s face, you know he loves your sweet pussy juices. Sweeter than sugary syrup. Come on, angel.” Bucky was encouraging you, stroking your jaw as you continued panting.

“Fuck!” You whined, “Feels so good Sammy, please don’t stop.” Your thighs started twitching uncontrollably..

Sam groaned as he felt your walls starting to constrict around his fingers, the vibration on your sensitive clit throttled you over the edge, hard. You came with a scream, gushing all over Sam’s mouth, he continued to lick at your overstimulated core as you came down from your high.

“So good for us, baby” Bucky cooed, pulling you up to his mouth to kiss your swollen lips.

Sam rolled out from under you and quickly scampered off to the kitchen. You melted into Bucky’s strong supportive arms, letting him cradle your weak body while you recovered from your earth-shattering orgasm. He kissed along your jaw to nibble at the spot below your ear that always made you moan and shiver.

“Oh, Bucky” you sighed into his neck. Bring both your hands up to run through his chocolate locks, you started kissing and nipping at his throat.

You felt his still hard cock pressing against your hip. You pulled away from his neck, leaned in to press a short kiss to supple lips before whispering, “I want you both to fuck me, Bucky.”

“You know we’ll give you whatever your heart desires, sugar” he smirked, “All you gotta do is ask” he finished leaning in to kiss you once more.

“Absolutely, babydoll” Sam agreed as he came back into the room with a glass of ice water. “Drink up” he said handing the glass of water to you. “We aren’t done with you yet.”

You took the glass and chugged the whole thing, thanking Sam with a kiss as you walked back to the kitchen to place the glass in the sink.

You walked back into the living room to see your boys kissing and gently stroking their still hard cocks. “I’ll be waiting in the bedroom for you when you’re ready, boys”

They slowly broke their kiss and followed you to the bedroom. When they arrived, you were sprawled out on the satin sheets of your king sized bed. They stared at you for just a moment, taking in your gorgeous form. Your eyes shut, hair laying around your head like a halo, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, whimpers escaping you as your fingers massaged your sensitive clit. Your other hand pinched and caressed your breasts, your pussy dripping already with arousal.

“You’re stunning, angel” Bucky mused, voice rough and thick with need.

“An absolute vision” Sam agreed.

Bucky approached the bed, wasting no time crawling between your legs and licking up the juices dripping from your cunt. You released a high-pitched breathy sigh at his actions. Sam crawled up next you on the bed giving your soft breasts some attention with his smooth lips and warm tongue. He swirled his tongue around one before closing his lips around it and sucking on it gently. He alternated between them, showing each nipple equal amounts of attention. Bucky was doing the same to your swollen clit, his lips wrapped around it gently sucking and massaging the sensitive nub with his velvety tongue.

“Mmmh, so good to me boys” you sighed. They both hummed, keening at your praise. “I love your mouths, so careful and tender for me” you continued. You reached down wrapping one hand around Sam’s cock, stroking him slowly. The other hand you tangled in Bucky’s hair, gently caressing his scalp. “That’s it, right there, Buck. Make me come, baby” you whimpered when he slid one cool metal finger into your warm fluttering walls.

“You’re so good for us, darlin” Sam cooed, kissing up your chest and throat until his lips sealed around yours swallowing your moans. You began to stroke Sam’s cock faster as your orgasm approached, the coil in your stomach winding tighter every second.

“You wanna come again, baby?” Sam asked, voice thick with desire “You wanna come all over Bucky’s face too? Let him taste that sweet pussy nectar?” His words were pushing you so close to the edge you could scream if your voice box knew how to function properly. “Come on, sugar. You’ve gotta get that pussy nice and wet for us if you want to take both our cocks,” he added, you whimpered at the thought. Bucky plunged his tongue deep into your pulsating pussy, bringing his finger up to flick rapidly at your clit, “Come Y/n, come on Bucky’s tongue” Sam demanded, his voice stern and gravely. And you obeyed, coming with a broken scream, hand squeezing and pumping faster on Sam’s cock, fingers gripping tightly at Bucky’s soft hair, thighs clutching around his head.

“That’s a good girl” Sam praised you, stroking your jaw as you caught your breath. “You look so pretty when you orgasm, princess” he added as he leaned down to softly kiss your cheeks nose and forehead.

“You really do taste sweeter than syrup, baby” Bucky mused, sitting up to wipe your juices from his face.

“I think I’m ready for both those gorgeous cocks now” you sighed after catching your breath for a minute.

Sam laid down on the bed and you leaned down licking at the little bit a precum already escaping his tip, his eyes rolled back in pleasure. You sucked and licked him softly a few more times before straddling his hips and rubbing him against your slick entrance.

“Oh fuck darlin, can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock” he sighed.

You sank down on his cock slowly, feeling every inch of him as he slid into your warmth. You moaned once your hips met his, feeling incredibly full. “You feel so good inside me baby” you praised him as you leaned forward to capture his lips with your own. You began rocking back and forth at a languid pace, enjoying the feel of his cock dragging along your most sensitive nerve endings.

After a minute or so you felt Bucky’s hands on your hips massaging down you where you and Sam were connected. He gently wedged two of his flesh fingers into you alongside Sam’s thick cock, doing his best to ease you open enough to take both of them at once. You whimpered and slowed your pace at the intrusion.

“It’s okay, baby” Bucky reached up with his metal hand to gently caress your beautifully round ass, “just gotta get you ready for both of us at once. You’re doing so good, sweetheart” he praised.

You disconnected yourself from Sam’s mouth, whimpering and kissing down his jaw to hide your face in his neck, kissing and nipping lightly at the flesh under his ear.

Sam reached both his hands around you to rub up and down your sides slowly, stopping at your hips and coming back up to caress the underside of your breasts with his thumbs, “You feel so good, babygirl” he cooed. “Are you ready for Bucky to join us now?” he asked softly. You couldn’t respond verbally, so you just nodded ‘yes’ into the side of his neck.

“Okay, sweetheart” Bucky started as he rubbed his tip at your entrance. “I’ll go slow, tell me if you want me to stop, okay?” you just nodded again, holding your breath as he slid into you, next to Sam. You whined into Sam’s neck and Bucky stilled, about halfway in, “you okay, doll?” He asked with worry edged into his voice.

You breathed out heavily, “Y-yeah, Buck. Keep going, baby.” You reassured him after taking a few deep breaths. He pushed in the rest of the way, settling in easily due to your wetness. You were stretched to the max though, neither of your boys were small, and you were feeling fuller than ever before. “Please move” you begged after taking a few moments to adjust to their size.

Gently, the boys began to rock in and out of you in tandem. As Bucky pulled almost all the way out, Sam would thrust back in and vice versa. You began to moan and whimper unintelligible nonsense into the side of Sam’s throat, hands clutching at his muscular shoulders.

“You’re so wet for us, princess” Sam whispered, tone flooded with pleasure, hands still caressing your sides. You sighed happily at his praise.

Bucky sucked on two of his flesh fingers before reaching around to strum at your clit. You clenched around them tightly at the initial contact, letting out a high-pitched whine into Sam’s shoulder. “Fuuuuck baby” Sam panted, “Squeezing us so tight.”

“You gonna come for us a third time, babygirl?” Bucky teased and he rubbed your clit faster.

“Oh fuck” you whimpered, “Don’t stop, I’m so close” you panted.

“Come for us, baby” Sam grunted as he thrusted harder into you, he and Bucky both increasing their paces. “Wanna come for you sweetheart, but you’ve gotta let go first” Sam panted, his release nearing as well.

“Gonna fill you up with our cum” Bucky added, “but you have to come for us first babygirl, come on” he begged.

A few more flicks of Bucky’s strong fingers against your swollen nub and their cocks pumping into you vigorously, stroking every inch of your sensitive walls, and you came with a strangled shout, gushing around them. Your warm, slick release and the clenching of your muscles around them sent both your boys over the edge. They came grunting and panting, mumbled praises of how good you are to them. You felt the warmth of them coating you and mixing with your juices. It was running down your thighs as they pulled out of you, leaving you feeling exhausted and empty. You rolled off Sam, eyes closed, breathing heavily.

Bucky came up beside you, brushing your sweat slicked hair back from your face. “Hey, honey” he whispered, “You wanna go shower off and take a much-deserved siesta?” He scooped you up in his arms when you lazily nodded ‘yes’.

You rested your head where his neck met his shoulder, pressing gentle kisses to his collarbone, “Love you, buck” you mumbled in a sleepy haze.

“I love you too, babydoll” he smiled and kissed your forehead before gently setting you on your feet in the shower between himself and Sam.

“Mmmm, I love you Sammy” you cooed leaning in to give him a soft kiss under the warm stream of the shower.

“I love you too, sweetheart” he kissed you back softly.

The boys took their time washing you and themselves before helping you out of the shower and drying off. Sam carried you back to bed, and you cuddled up with your two boys under the thin sheet of your bed, drifting off to the feel of three soft hands on your body and one smoothe cold one.

*~*~*

I hope that was alright for a coming back from the dead piece. Thank you for reading!!

Tags: @wintersxsoul​ @barnesnroses​ @emilysallysmith​ @gennyld-blog​ @velvetbarnes​ @hiddles-rose​ @writingsoftheloser​ @legendaryloki​ @wolfsbucky​ @namebydot​ @geeksareunique​ @if-n0t-l8ter-when​ @snuggleducky​ @prettybabyboyjay​ @empyreanwritings​ @krystallynx​ @netflixa​ @loricameback​ @suz-123​ @buckys-cherry​ 

*not on my list but might be interested in reading: @sebs-nose​ @versdan​ <3

[guns-n-crue]

Thanks for the tag @eatmyshiftsticky  ⭐ ⭐

50 Things You’ve Never Been Asked…. Let’s lighten the mood & have some fun! I always enjoy reading these and seeing a quick glimpse into my friend’s lives.

1. What is the color of your hairbrush?

Black

2. Name a food that you never eat.

Brussel Sprouts

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Too warm, it’s a joke from my Mum that I’m already going through menopause

4. What is your favorite candy bar?

Turkish Delight or Mars bar (Are they specifically Australian?)

5. What where you doing 45 minutes ago?

Watching ‘The Killing of a Sacred Deer

6. Have you ever been to a professional sports game?

A lot of NRL. Member since I was 6

7. Favorite flavor of ice cream?

Cookies and cream ....now I’m craving

8. Last thing you had to drink?

Pepsi

9. Do you like your wallet?

It’s alright

10. The last thing you ate?

Chocolate pudding

11. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?

Nope, quarantined and now out of a job >.<

12. Last sporting event you watched?

Superbowl 

13. What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn?

Salted Caramel babay

14. Last thing you said out loud?

This question lol

15. Last person you messaged?

My dad a picture of one of our cats

16. Ever been camping?

Yep, not since I was 15 tho

17. Do you take vitamins?

When I remember to

18. Do you go to church every Sunday?

Nope. Haven’t been since I was 13 plus now I’m pagan

19. Do you have a tan?

No? I’m not pale nor tan

20. Do you prefer Chinese food over pizza?

Kinda??? It really depends. I have pizza more often because it’s cheaper

21. Do you drink soda with a straw?

Yup, normally

22. What color socks do you usually wear?

Patterned

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?

I can’t drive, but I once went 10km over in my first lesson EEK

24. What terrifies you?

Don’t know

25. Look to your left, what do you see?

Green Arrow comic book poster

26. What chore do you hate the most?

Vacuuming, god I hated vacuuming at work I always wanted to mop

27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?

Mel Gibson because I only recently heard it for the first time lol????

28. What is your favorite soda?

Vanilla Coke

29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive in?

The fast food place near my uni is walk in only so yeah

30. What is your favorite number?

6 and 14

31. Who is the last person you talked to?

Idk????? Probably my brothers. Actually probably my cats lol

32. Favorite cut of beef?

I genuinely have no clue haha

33. Last song you listened to?

I threw glass at my friends eye and now Im on probation by Destroy Boys

34. Last book you read?

Currently reading all the Illuminae files, currently on the last one Obsidio

35. Favorite day of the week?

Wednesday

36. Can you say the alphabet back words?

No fuckin way

37. How do you like your coffee?

With milk??? When I go out I get a Cappuccino, don’t normally add sugar. Idk I just drink it. I used to drink all the mistake coffees at work

38. Favorite pair of shoes?

My bright red gogo boots but I rarely have a reason to wear them

39. Time you usually get up?

At the moment pulling solid 5ams-1pms

40. What do you prefer? Sunsets or sunrise?

Either? I’m never up for a sunrise but when I am it is surreal

41. How many blankets on your bed?

One thick one

42. Describe your kitchen plates?

We have like 5 different sets, some white some blue some patterned

43. Describe your kitchen at the moment?

Clean-ish, with our unfinished walls from when we started renovating in 2010 lol

44. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

Jack and coke or Rum and Coke

45. Do you play cards?

I don’t mind playing cards I just don’t do it often

46. What color is your car?

White, even tho I can’t drive

47. Can you change a tire?

Yea

48. Your favorite state?

In Australia, Victoria.

49. Favorite job you’ve had?

It’s hard to choose between babysitting and waitressing??? I miss my waitresses at the moment and also really miss the kids I used to see every week :(

50. How did you get your biggest scar?

Falling over on the brick steps outside after it was raining on my chin. Bit a flab of tongue too so that was gross

@madsthegroupie @antheasnow @celtic-orgin

[ephrampettaline]

52, because I love that AU of them.

…we had us some fun

well sir I guess there’s just a meanness in this world  |  spree killers au

“Pour me a glass of milk there, would you, darlin’?”

Bellamy rattled the glass bottles in the metal carrier that she’d collected from the back door that morning after the milkman had come, counting out, “Heavy cream, skim milk–” she made a derisive sound, turning to face Ephram and flopping around the folds of the silk robe she’d had to double-lap and tie up on her tiny frame, before going back to the bottles she was unloading on the counter, “–chocolate, yum, and oh here we go!” 

She took out a bottle of whole milk and pranced over to the kitchen table where Ephram was eating his leisurely breakfast of bacon and eggs accompanied by a pile of sliced white bread and margarine and a half pack of cigarettes (not his brand, but you know what they said about beggars), smiling brightly as she poured a jelly glass full of milk for him. “There you go, honey,” Bellamy said, her voice as sweet as silk pie as she pressed a creamy lipsticked kiss to his forehead. Her pretty house slippers danced around the spreading dark thick stain on the linoleum as she sat on the counter next to the milk, drinking the chocolate straight from the bottle.

“Don’t you look pretty, lil girl,” Ephram said, leaning back in his chair as he chewed and smoked, not his brand but dang they’d do in a pinch. “Too bad the daughter din’t have no scanties like them ‘uns.” He gestured at her getup and Bellamy pouted, sticking her full bottom lip out.

“I know,” she whined, kicking her feet. “Just the fat old mum. Can you imagine her dressed up all frilly tryin’ to get her old man in the mood?” Bellamy laughed, the carillon of the sound a jarring counterpoint to the staccato gunshots of the night before.  She’d laughed then, too, of course; Bellamy had never been anywhere or done anything, she’d told Ephram when she’d jumped into his car after he’d finished his day job putting up fences on her daddy’s ranch. She was just a bored girl, a cute girl, looking for some sort-of kind-of excitement in a town too sleepy for how awake she was at only fifteen.

And she knew how to shoot a gun if she was standing close enough to what she wanted to hit, and it turned out she was real good at strangling the life out of twin little boys with the cheap cowboy lasso from out their toy chest. They’d done the twins first, then their teenage sister who preferred jeans to dresses, then the mom when she went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee, then the dad with the shit taste in cigarettes when he came home from work. Ephram had done them, the adults. It was a more sophisticated job than doing kids, he told Bellamy, but the truth was that he liked how adults could really understand what was coming. The little kids, they didn’t really get it right up until their animal terror kicked in, but the parents? Yeah, they caught on. The mom screaming for her kids before the answering silence registered in the anguish on her face; the dad knowing in one searing moment that his entire life and all the life he’d helped create and nourish, it was already over.

“They had them three kids,” Ephram pointed out. “She must of been pretty good at getting ‘im in the mood.” And just like that, like it was on cue, they both heard it: the stuffy, mewling gulps that precursored a bawling infant cry from one of the upstairs rooms they hadn’t gotten around to exploring yet.

Bellamy’s eyes lit up. Ephram tapped another of those cigarettes from the pack, switching the new one out for the one he was finishing and lighting it with the cherry. Not his brand, these fuckin’ cigarettes, but hey – they’d kill you just the same.

[thelastspeecher]

Spy AU - Toxin, pt. 3

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a follow-up to this scenario in the Spy AU, where Ford gets hit with a toxin while on a mission, and said toxin later de-ages him to three years old.  The previous installments (in chronological order) are here, here, here, and here.

              Ford was woken by something wet being shoved into his face.  He opened his eyes.  It was the dog Stan and Angie had gotten for their daughters a couple years ago, Apple.

              “Apple, get off,” Ford whined.  He pulled the blankets closer around himself.  “‘m tired.”  Apple let out a small huff and licked his nose.  “Noooo, leave me alone.”

              “Apple,” a voice called.  Apple raised his head.  “C’mere, boy.”  Apple’s tail began to wag.  The person clapped their hands.  Apple bounded off Ford’s bed.  Ford raised his head.  Angie beamed at him from the doorway.  “Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Angie said.  Ford rubbed his eyes.

              “Good morning, Angie.”

              “I think Apple misses the girls,” Angie said.  “So he went to find the next closest thing.”  She smiled fondly.  “The only other lil one in the house.”

              “I’m not a ‘lil one’,” Ford muttered, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.  “Despite all appearances to the contrary.”  Angie merely nodded.

              “Okay,” she said diplomatically.  Apple, standing by her side, started to move toward Ford again.  “Uh-uh, poochie.”  She grabbed Apple’s collar.  Apple barked.  “I’ll let ‘im into the backyard fer a bit, so he can burn off some of his energy.  In the meantime, get dressed and head to the kitchen.  Stan made breakfast.”  Ford nodded. Angie left and closed the door to the bedroom most of the way, leaving it open just a crack.  As Ford puttered around the room, locating the clothes that had been purchased the day before, his mind focused on that detail.

              She left it open.  Why?  Did Stan tell her that I couldn’t reach the doorknob in the middle of the night? His face flushed red with embarrassment. No, Angie’s observant.  She might have realized I can’t reach the doorknob on my own.  He slowly took off his patterned pajamas and pulled on the Loch Ness Monster sweater Angie had found yesterday, along with a pair of jeans. My instinct shouldn’t be to doubt her motives.  He exited the guest room.  The noise of radio chatter carried from the kitchen, along with the scent of food. Ford made his way down the hallway.  The house seems so much larger than usual.  Granted, I’m not usually this small.  There was a loud bark as Ford was tackled by Apple.

              “Apple, no!” Angie scolded, marching over to drag the dog off Ford. She picked Apple up.  “I’m so sorry, Stanford.”  Stan poked his head out of the kitchen.

              “What happened?”

              “Apple keeps goin’ after Stanford,” Angie said.

              “Huh.  Doesn’t he normally hate you, Ford?” Stan asked.  Ford nodded.  “Weird. Guess he misses the girls.”  Stan frowned.  “Or…”

              “Or what?” Ford asked.

              “Well, we got Apple from the pound, and they said he was trained as a therapy dog.  He comforts people who are going through a rough time.”

              “You think Apple is trying to be therapeutic toward me?” Ford asked.  Stan shrugged.

              “Maybe.  Anyways, come on in and get some Stancakes.”

              “Stancakes?” Ford queried as he walked into the kitchen.  He sniffed the air.  “It just smells like regular pancakes.”

              “Yeah, but these are my own recipe,” Stan said proudly.  He flipped a pancake on the stove.  “Also they probably have a bit of my hair in ‘em.”

              “I’ll pass, in that case.”  Ford climbed onto one of the dining chairs.  His eyes were level with the table’s edge.  “Um, Stan?”  Stan looked over.

              “Oops.  On it.” Stan grabbed a thick cookbook off the counter and walked over to the table.  He lifted Ford up with one hand, put the book on the chair with the other, and then set Ford down on top of the book.  “Better?”  Ford nodded. “Good.”  Stan went back to the stove.

              “Would you mind turning on the coffee maker?” Ford asked.

              “Nah.  I’m not in the mood for coffee, and Angie doesn’t drink it.”

              “Yes, but I’d like a cup,” Ford said.  Stan laughed.  “…What?”

              “A toddler just told me he wanted coffee.”

              “I’m an adult.”

              “Ford, you’re not gonna get coffee.”

              “But-”

              “Angie and I don’t want you to even lock the door when you take a bath. Do you really think we’re gonna let you have coffee?” Stan asked. Ford wilted.

              “When you say it like that, it does sound ridiculous,” Ford mumbled. Stan looked over, his expression guilt-ridden.

              “Shit.  I didn’t mean to be that harsh.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “It’s- I keep forgetting I need to put on the kid gloves.”

              “Pardon?” Ford asked.  Stan glanced away.  “What did you mean by putting on kid gloves?”

              “Not criticizing you,” Stan said.  “Kids your age, they- they’re sensitive.  Still figuring out the world, y’know?  Angie gave me an earful about it when the girls were about three.  I made a joke, Danny didn’t realize it was a joke, she started crying, it was a big mess.”

              “I’m not ‘sensitive’, Stanley.”

              “When I said you couldn’t have coffee, you acted like I just kicked your dog.”

              “It was the way you said it-”

              “Exactly.  That’s why I gotta use the kid gloves,” Stan said.  Ford was silent.  “I’m not upset with you, Ford, I’m upset with myself.”

              “I don’t want to be looked down on.”

              “How many times have we been through this?” Stan asked.  He placed a few pancakes on a plate and brought it over to the table.  “How many times have you been a kid and I was an adult and we had to keep things professional?  I’m not looking down on you.”

              “I don’t know if I believe that.”

              “…That’s your choice,” Stan said after a moment.  He set the plate in front of Ford.  “Gimme a sec.  I’ll get syrup and stuff.”  He walked over to the fridge.  

              “I told you that I didn’t want-” Ford started.

              “Just eat the damn pancakes, okay?” Stan snapped.  An awkward silence fell.  Angie poked her head into the kitchen.

              “Stanley, take Apple outside and watch him fer a bit,” she instructed. Stan turned off the stove and left without saying a word.  Angie sat next to Ford at the table.

              “I don’t understand what set him off like that,” Ford said.  Angie rubbed her eyes.

              “We’re goin’ to do our best to accommodate you, Stanford,” she said after a moment.  “We don’t want to put any of the pressure of this sit’ation on you.  Well, any more than there already is.  But…”  She trailed off.

              “But?”

              “But it’s hard on Stan.”  Angie clasped her hands.  “It’s definitely harder on you than it is on either of us, don’t get me wrong.  But that don’t mean Stan isn’t kickin’ himself every single time he sees you look upset.”  Ford looked down at his pancakes.  The one on top had a smiley face made of chocolate chips.  “He’s a good dad.”

              “I know.”

              “Yes.  And it’s somethin’ that Stan knows, too.  That’s the main reason he felt like we could take care of ya while HQ whips up a cure. He’s tryin’ to use those dad skills he learned, only they don’t translate quite right when the kid is actually an adult who don’t want to be treated like a kid.”

              “You’re doing well,” Ford said.

              “Yer not my twin brother,” Angie said calmly.  “I can distance myself a bit from this.  Stan can’t.”

              “Yesterday he-”

              “He was doin’ better yesterday ‘cause he was in full-blown dad mode,” Angie replied. Ford thought back to Stan’s behavior. Stan’s instincts the day before had been to treat him like one of his own children, only to be visibly guilty upon remembering the reality of the situation.  “He decided to try to balance it out today, to make you feel better.” Angie reached out to stroke Ford’s hair. “It’s a tightrope walk, but Stan wants to do it fer ya,” she said, untangling a few knots.  She let out a small huff.  “You didn’t brush yer hair at all this mornin’, did ya?”

              “No.”

              “Daisy’s hair gets just like this when she sleeps in pigtails.”

              “Hmm.”  Ford continued to stare blankly at his breakfast.  Angie abandoned the hopeless task of untangling his hair.

              “Stanford?”

              “Yes?”

              “Is somethin’ wrong?”

              “No, I-”  Ford cut himself off.  “That’s a lie.  Of course there’s something wrong, I’m three!  I- I can’t do anything on my own, I can’t even sit at a table!  And Stan’s the one who feels bad?  That’s-”

              “Stop.”  Startled by the harsh tone of voice, Ford fell silent.  “Look at me.”  Ford met Angie’s gaze.  “I didn’t tell ya that to try to brush over yer problems, Stanford.  I told ya that to explain why Stan snapped.  He’s tryin’ his best to balance bein’ a dad with bein’ a brother.  He got frustrated with himself fer not balancing it right, and that frustration spilled over.  We are here fer you.  We want to make sure you are comfortable and safe.  But if you lash out at Stan-”

              “I didn’t mean to,” Ford interrupted.  “I’m just...well, frustrated.”  Angie nodded.

              “I think we all are.”  She smiled weakly.  “Once we get ya on a schedule, though, things should settle down.”

              “Right.  A schedule.”

              “Mm-hmm.”

              “What exactly is on the schedule for today?”

              “After breakfast?  We’re goin’ out.”

              “Out where?”

              “The farm.”

              “Your parents’ farm?” Ford asked.  Angie nodded.  “Why? Isn’t that a long drive?”

              “We’re not drivin’.  Ma is flyin’ us out.  We won’t be able to be there fer a long visit, just enough to sit down and chat. She wants all of us to meet there to discuss the sit’ation.”

              “Why there?”

              “It’s safe.  And you’ll have fun.”  Angie grinned.  “You’ll get to chase all the chickens ya want.”

              “I don’t want to chase chickens.”

              “When ya see ‘em, ya might change yer mind,” Angie said playfully.  Stan walked into the kitchen.  “I was just tellin’ Ford ‘bout how we’re headin’ to the farm after breakfast.”

              “Good.”  Stan hovered uncertainly in the entryway.  “Look, Ford, about earlier-”

              “It’s fine,” Ford said.  “You were under stress, and I wasn’t helping things.”  Angie beamed at him.  Stan seemed relieved.

              “Yeah?”

              “Yes.”  Ford cleared his throat.  “Um, if I could have some silverware?”

              “You got it.”

              “And since I can’t have coffee, perhaps a glass of…”  Ford trailed off, trying to think of non-caffeinated beverages.

              “How about milk?” Stan suggested.  Ford nodded.

              “That sounds good,” he said.  Stan began to rummage in the fridge.  Angie stood.

              “And I’ll grab a hairbrush to tame that rat’s nest on yer head.”  She strode out of the kitchen.  Stan set a glass of milk in front of Ford, as well as a knife and fork.

              “Is she really going to brush my hair?” Ford asked.  Stan shrugged.

              “Unless you brush it before she comes back, yeah. She’s got this whole thing about tangled hair.”  Ford opened his mouth.  “I don’t know why.  All I know is that you should brush your hair first thing in the morning, or she’ll come at you with a comb.”  Stan ruffled Ford’s hair.  “Eat up, pipsqueak.  You’re gonna need energy to deal with the flight.”

[astrroha]

aesthetics tag

I was tagged by @jinniesmeow!!!! Thank you so much! this is so cute!

rules: bold all the aesthetics that you relate to, then describe your aesthetic

side a - the city, glittering lights, yawning, skyscrapers, broken glass shards, street gangs, hip hop music, late night strolls, blinking stars, sleek cars, flickering neon signs, glittery earrings, small tattoos, empty subways, dark eyeshadow, snapping cameras, cozy apartments, fried churros, silver necklaces, dyed hair, ripped jeans, bright lipstick, dazzling smiles

side b - the book nerd, large glasses, steaming hot chocolate, thick books, lofi music, hot pastries, soft smiles, large sweaters, quiet libraries, small flowers, melting candles, sweetened coffee, messy hair buns, soft pillows, fairy lights, vanilla scents

side c - the stereotypical girl, soft pinks, mini skirts, crop tops, romantic fantasies, love songs, strawberry milkshakes, lipgloss, high ponytails, candy hearts, nail polish, starbucks coffee, clear skies, hoop earrings, excited ramblings, stuttering heartbeats, rose bouquets, soft blushes

side d - the stereotypical boy, arcade games, graphic t-shirts, baseball caps, chocolate milkshakes, messy rooms, acoustic guitars, chocolate chip cookies, multi-colored bruises, rap music, nightly escapades, stolen glances, pencil-drumming, chocolate milk boxes, low hums

side e - the nature hippie, mini plants, cloud-watching, star gazing, damp forests, sandy beaches, ocean waves, wildflowers, hiking, iced lemon tea, gardening, hippie music, buttered toast, birds chirping, multi-colored leaves, evening sunlight, fruit cups, sundresses

side f - the rebel, cherry lollipops, devil hand signs, grape flavored bubble gum, rock music, killer boots, dark make-up, horror movies, denim jackets, switchblades, handguns, stargazing on rooftops, glowing cigarettes, large headphones, skull rings, converse shoes, graffiti murals, glowing moonlight, rose thorns, fishnet stockings

side g - the winter, busy cafes, oversized hoodies, drizzling rain, small snowflakes, marshmallows in hot chocolate, loose hair, sad music, reading a book, blanket forts, frozen lakes, crackling fireplaces, old movies 

side h - the summer, tank tops, lemonade, sunny days, dripping popsicles, short haircuts, tinted sunglasses, cotton candy, amusement parks, traveling, blasting music on the car radio, wagging dog tails, large sunflowers, snow cones

side i - the autumn, pumpkin lattes, warm bakeries, warm colors, hair braids, soft sweaters, colorful leaves, purring cats, dark chocolate bars, romance movies, soft music, zentangling, vintage cameras

side j - the spring, floral scents, peach tea, mint shampoo, tinkling laughter, video cassettes, colorful paintings, excited smiles, lollipop sticks, blooming flowers, melting snow, action movies, singing in the shower

my own aesthetic – the moon, soft easy smiles, hard punches, eating a whole bag of cherries, blasting music while walking, singing while working, iced coffee, black lipstick, crunching fall leaves, falling asleep under a tree, misty nights, dancing in the rain, messy curls

 let’s be honest I could go on for days lol.

Im going to tag @bigcowboyseokjin @bambisiwon @taeofcups @vixsynsblog @rain-xox @maybeitdontmakesense and @calicoyoongi

[the-shy-lonely-weirdo]

Johnny is Dead

I made up a story based on the “Murdoc is God” song. I understand that Johnny is probably supposed to be Jimmy, the guy that was planning on killing the group, but I thought this would be an interesting “What if” scenario. Here is a story about Murdoc and his relationship with Johnny, and how it affected him further in life. This story will cut past to present with each chapter.

Chapter 1

Murdoc is King

              Though the store clerk had his mature magazine laid out in front of him at the counter, it was very clear he was not actually observing the large chested women in it. His blinks carried on for far too long and his head lobbed back and forth like a newborn trying to get their bearings. He was nowhere near the spriness of a newborn though, judging by his wrinkles, as defined as those on a bald cat, his grey hair, that’s path came from his sideburns, down to his chin, up his lips, into his nose and ended sprouting out, and his glasses as thick as a hookers left boob. It was clear that he had spent a long time in the old town of Stoke-On-Trent, and didn’t have much time left.

               No one would blame him for his inappropriate choice of reading, or his lack of duty as the shopkeeper at a time like this. By now, all the residents of Stoke-On-Trent would be happy at home, eating their home cooked meal, or huddled around the heater watching the telly or reading a book. If anyone were to come, it would be some steaming drunk sod stumbling in or some sprog tossers looking to cock up his night with their endless goddy and disregard for the rules. He had the Old Bill on speed dial because of those folks. Still, not a single customer had come in for sometime, and with closing time being soon, the elder suspected the day would end with not a single disturbance. That was until he heard the familiar chime of his store front door.

                The clerk’s gaze was high at first, expecting a red faced adult or a rambunctious teen. Nothing. He pauses and looks slowly down, to meet eyes of a young boy. The boy was no older than 5, clothes tattered and worn. From some of the holes, the man could see a few bruises and bandages. The boy’s hair was very crudely teased, he could tell from the occasional curly hair flicking out. When their eyes met, he could see what looked to be an infection in one of the boy’s eye, making it look red. But out of all this boy’s features, the most striking was his skin. It was green! Green as a leaf! Green as money! Green as a turd!

‘How in the world did this boy get green skin?’ The shopkeeper thought ‘... And why does he remind me of someone?’

The man decided to not ponder this and instead address the boy.

              “Bit late for a young chap to be out an’ about, wouldn’t ya say?” The clerk asked as the boy walking past his counter. He didn’t even give a glance, he simply walked into the nearest aisle and started scanning the shelves. The clerk huffed and shrugged his shoulders, now awake he peered back to his naughty Penny-dreadful, not caring about the company he had in his store.

               The boy didn’t have time to talk to some old sod, he was on a mission. The boy’s mismatched eyes roamed the aisles, looking for specific items. He had one hand in his pocket and another swinging back and forth. Before his hand would reach for an item, he would look at each end of the aisle, just in case that crusty dimwit was there.

               When he was done, he returned to the checkout area. The old man flinched slightly when a carton of milk and a box of crackers were shoved right in his face, as if he forgot about his young customer. He looked over his counter and peered at the little one.

“You better ‘ave good money fer this.” The clerk warned.

               The boy nodded and the clerk started to ring him up. As he added up the milk and crackers prices, his mind wandered back to trying to figure out why this child was so familiar to him. He gave the kid a price and he shuffled through his pockets, taking out the change he needed. The elder suspected he would have to count it out for him, but to his surprise the boy already did so and give him the precise amount.

“Quiet the smart little man ya are.” The man commented. He was met with silence.

The man put his items in the bag, but stopped just before handing it to the boy.

“I got it! I know who ya are!” The old geezer said, snapping his fingers.  “Yer dad, ‘is name is Sebastian, in’t it? Or was it Jacob?”

               The man could have sworn that he saw the boy’s face go pale at the mention of his father’s name, but it must have been his imagination. The boy looked away from his face, clearly not wanting this conversation. The old knob pressed on though.

“Yeah! Yer dad’s stumbled in ‘ere a few time. All pissed up an’ shouting about ‘is life an’ ‘is brats. Told me he ‘ad two ‘em. One was called Hannibal, the other… the other was… let me think…”

The boy’s gaze moved away from the floor and to the pondering old man, a gaze that was very shirty.

               “Hm… Oh! Yes! Murdoc! The other was called Murdoc! ‘ow could I forget that one? Sebastian complained about ‘im the most. Goin’ on about ‘ow he’s a good for nothin’ freeloader. Always causin’ trouble an’ he wishes he was never left on ‘is stoop.” The man eyed the child. “That wouldn’ ‘appen ta be you would it?”

                Murdoc didn’t answer, he just leered at the aging fuck and stuck out his arm, making it clear he wanted his items more than this conversation. The man huffed and handed over the bag.

                “Didn’ mean ta get you all miffed son, jus’ tryin’ ta ‘ave a chin wag. ‘Ey! At least you ain’t as skint as your dear old dad, eh?” The old man laughs, Murdoc turns to leave. He stops when the man calls to him. “Oi! Those are some odd names yer family ‘as! Sebastian, Hannibal and Murdoc? Hah! Whot’s ya mum’s name? Bloody Mary!”

                The laugh the old fuck gives this time is louder. Murdoc turns his head around to the man that was practically leaning over his check out station with tears in his eyes, cackling away. Murdoc waited for his laughter to mellow out a bit so that his next words could be heard.

“Wouldn’ know.” Murdoc stated “Never met me mum.”

                Murdoc smiled slightly as he walked out the store, leaving a bewildered cashier frozen in place. After getting over the initial uncomfortableness, he righted himself up and peered back at his filthy magazine, grumbling.

“Little bugger…” He mumbled “No better than ‘is sodding father…”

                Murdoc began the long trek out of that daft neighborhood and back to the outer rim of Stoke-On-Trent where his home was. He turns a corner into an alley, taking a shortcut. As he walks, he unzips his coat and licks his lips. Oh, what treasures he got this time! One by one he would take out an unpaid item and examine it. A deck of card, some hard candies, a top, a dark chocolate bar, a toy car, some bandaids and a guitar pic.

                The next stash of treasures were for his brother. A roll of film, hair gel and a small pocket knife. Murdoc grumbled, remembering how his brother broke the last one. Murdoc probably should have taken the hint after the 21st time Hannibal warned him that if he kept “playing” his cardboard box guitar, which was really just him making fake loud guitar noises, there would be consequences. Of course, Murdoc ignored him, and by 22nd time Hannibal bursted into his room wielding the pocket knife. For a split second, Murdoc was scared that Hannibal was going to aim the blade at him. It wouldn’t really have been that surprising though. In fact, it was in those situations that his other knives broke. But this time Hannibal started stabbing the fake guitar Murdoc dropped, again and again, until it was a crumpled mess. It didn’t matter how much Murdoc screamed and begged him to stop or that by the end he was stabbing the ground, his assault only subsided when the blade broke from the handle, leaving it jabbed firmly into the wooden floor. While sobbing, Murdoc could hear Hannibal threaten that if he could not replace his pocket knife, he would end up in the same state as his cardboard box guitar.

                Murdoc didn’t know if Hannibal’s threat was genuine or not. Hannibal was a lazy and dumb nine year old, most of the time never finishing what he started. So half the time his threats would never be carried out. But on the other hand, Hannibal could do what he said he would and more, so to not take any chances, he got him his bloody knife. Hopefully it wouldn’t really get bloody from his own one day.

                 But where as Hannibal’s threats were only sometimes taken seriously, his father’s were always held as completely true. Because they always were. Murdoc shivered, not from the cold air, but from what might have happened to him if he did not complete the task put to him by his father when he sent him to the store. Murdoc took out the items his father demanded from him one by one, just to triple check that he had truly gotten everything he asked for. Some meds that his father didn’t need but said he did, a razor, some foot cream, some John Thomas cream, a nail file, hook shiner and most importantly, a pack of cigarettes.

                  The cigarettes seemed to have trigger another memory. Somehow even worse than the last. One night, while Hannibal and his father watched a football match, Murdoc walked in and examined their behavior. Hannibal would yell “Fuck me ragged!” when his betting team scored, and then yelled “Fuck me!” when the other did. Sebastian was just silent, he never really got into this stuff, but he had 200 pounds staked on this game. Which meant that if his team won, he would come home drunk for a couple of nights. If his team lost, that meant he would beat the crap out of Murdoc for a couple of nights. Either situation would spell bad news for him. Murdoc didn’t want to enter the living room, for fear that a bottle of plock would be lobbed at his head. He watched the bottles move back and forth from his father’s and brother’s face and back to it’s resting place. The others stayed resting in their place on the floor, only moving when a foot kicked one. The other moving objects were their cigarette, doing the similar motion of the bottle.

                  The two were very similar, in Murdoc’s eyes, because when you saw his family members, most of the time they had one or both items. Murdoc wondered why the two older males were so dependent on them. His observations led him to understand that whenever they had those things, they would calm down a bit and smile more. Until they had too much and calmness became shambolic rage. After understanding this, Murdoc, with his mind not necessarily innocent, but still very young, decided he wanted to calm down a bit and smile more.

                  When he was sure that his brother and father were completely engrossed in their game, he tiptoed his way into the kitchen. He took a chair from the table they never ate at and pushed it against the kitchen counter. He crawls his way up and pulls out the kitchen drawer next to him, from it he took out a lighter and a bottle cap opener. He knew what everything was, where it was and how to get it simply from his father asked him to do this action everyday. He almost makes the mistake of hopping off the chair, surely attracting attention with the noise. Instead, he daintily crawls off the chair and walked toward the fridge.

                 Opening it a crack so that the light doesn’t blare out of the kitchen, he reaches his little arm to the nearest brown and green bottle. He softly closes the fridge door and walks to the table. He places the bottle opener and lighter on the table and reached down to his foot. Out of his gross, smelly, torn sock he picked out a single crinkled cigarette. Repeating the action of sticking it between his pointing and middle finger that he saw his father do so many times, and fumbling a bit, he pressed it to his mouth and held it there with his lips. He got on his tippy toes to grab the bottle opener on the creaky table, and once again taking pointers from his father, popped the cap off the bottle.

                  Swapping the bottle opener for the lighter, it took him a few tries before he could successfully flick the light on, burning his tiny finger in the process. He wanted to scream in pain, but he held back. It wasn’t hard, he learned how to not cry in intense pain from experiencing a lot of it. Crying made his father even more vicious.

                   He held the fire to the end of the fag and light it. He places the lighter back on the table and paused. He knew what he had to do but something was holding him back. That thing was fear. But of what? Fear of what this would do to him? Fear of if it would or wouldn’t help? Fear of his dad finding out? It was probably a mixture of those fears, leaving him paralyzed, not breathing or moving. But soon fear was replaced by anger. Anger at himself for facing unbelievable amounts of fear by getting up in the morning and still have the energy to keep going. Murdoc felt constant fear, but he never let it get to him, or so he told himself. But this was the one that would keep him from what he wants? No. His pain was inevitable, so why deny himself this pleasure? He was strong! He was brilliant! He was as great as the king! He was as great as a God! He was a God! Reassuring himself he takes a long deep breath in on the cigarette.

                   And immediately regrets it when a sudden twang of gross smoke goes from his mouth, down his windpipe, to his lungs and back again, leaving him a coughing fit. The smoke that came out of his mouth like he was a cartoon character that just ate something super hot.

                    Now, Murdoc’s father had often spoken of Hell. While it wasn’t spoken in the tone of those raving lunatics on the streets, telling all that they were going to Hell if they do not reach salvation, or those knobish preachers that give their sermons to mugs, telling them they’d have to suck off God or something, else they don’t end up in Hell, there were similarities. He spoke of fire and ash, a place of eternal pain and where no one can save you. But unlike those slag preachers that say there’s hope, Sebastian never gave hope to anyone, especially Murdoc. Sebastian told Murdoc that no one was safe, that all would go to Hell because all were sinners no matter how “pure” they seemed. God was a nobody that didn’t care for his “children,” like Sebastian didn’t care about his. No, the only true way of living was by Beelzebubs rules. From Sebastian’s point of view, that meant living the philosophy of Hedonism. To strive for nothing but pleasure in life and not care what morals or consequences one may encounter, at least, that’s how Sebastian explained it. Sebastian was very good at that, never caring if the people around himself were affected negatively by his actions, as long as they made him happy. Sebastian said that as long as they lived life to the fullest, the man downstairs would give them a full afterlife. Where every deadly sin would be accepted and valued. They could have as many brods to shag, more food than they ever had in life and could torture those cock ups that preached their God would save their grotty souls. They would burn in the fire and ash.

               Just as Murdoc’s respiratory system was burning in fire and ash. Hell truly did exist, in Murdoc’s throat, and the Devil was having a grand time. Murdoc searched desperately for relief, the kitchen fauset was busted and he couldn’t run all the way up to the bathroom for water. His only option was the drink in his hand. Stilling his coughing long enough to press the bottles rims to his mouth, he took a great chug of it.

               Then Hell moved from his lungs to his stomach, burning and gross. It sloshed around down there and went back up to is throat and out his mouth, all over the already dirty kitchen floor. Murdoc left his first puke mark on the floor, along side his other family members. The coughing returned and seemed to go on forever, tears filling his eyes, a mixture of snot and stomach juice dripped out of his nose. When it started to die down, he was hunched over, and used one hand to whip the tears out of his eyes and nose funk away from his mouth. He stared at the brown and green chunky mess he made on the floor, the cigarette he dropped floating in it. He felt lucky to be alive.

                But then didn’t when he heard an older, colder and familiar voice ask “What are you doing?”

                Murdoc turned his head so quick you could have sworn he snapped it and saw his father staring at him from the doorway, with his arms crossed, miffed. He righted himself quickly, bottle still in hand, and tried very hard to find the right words that would make the inevitable beating less intense.

“D-D-D- Dad! I m-mean Sir! I mean- I- I- I- I didn’- i-i’s not- I-I mean it is b-but- P-P- Please don’- I- I- I was jus’- I’ll- I’ll- I’ll put it ba- I-I’m sorry!”

Murdoc attempted to put the bottle back in the fridge, but was cut short by his father speaking again.

“Don’t you dare put that away!” Murdoc froze, his hand still on the fridge handle. His father pointed at the cigarette swirling in his sick. “Pick up that fag.”

                Murdoc paused, looking from the cancer stick to his father, then back again. He did not want to touch something that was covered in his bodily fluids, but when he looked back at his father, whose face was clearly losing patience, he didn’t waste anymore time. He quivered at the smell of his own puke, like a diseased pumpkin threw up in a diseased pigs arse, that ate diseased brusselsprouts, therefor shatting diseased crap with the diseased pumpkin puke. The feel of it was like a rotting slug had a baby with a rotting crocodile and the rotting baby had some sweating and dermatology issues, and was rotting. He was careful not to spill the vile liquid in his hand.  

“Now put it back in your mouth and take another drag.” Murdoc’s father commanded. “And after that, take another swish of that beer.”

Murdoc looked at his father, then to the baccy and then to the pig swill. Finally he spoke. “But… But I don’ wanna…”

“And I don’t want a sodding failure for a son! But look what I got!” Sebastian boomed, making Murdoc jump. “That was a perfectly good smoke and beer, and you ruined them! Just like you ruin everything else! Now you are going to finish both, or you’re throwing up your insides next!”

              Murdoc was wide eyed, his stare remaining on his father, wondering why he was telling him to do the thing he presumed he would be punished for. But seeing no way out, he took the cigarette back in his mouth and had another drag. The coughing and tears returned and it burned twice as hard. Murdoc tried his tactic again of washing it down with beer, but again, it did not work and made things worse. More groote substances escaped his stomach and mouth, hurting more as it came out. Now it was starting to give him a headache, making him sob.  

              “Oh sweet satan! You’re so daft you can’t even drink and smoke right! Don’t cry! What are you a bird?” Murdoc stilled his tears at his father’s words. “You are not going to grow up to be some bender that can’t even keep company properly! In fact…” Sebastian left the kitchen, leaving Murdoc standing in his own sick. A few minutes past, it sounded like a zoo was going through the house, floorboards being stripped away, furniture being ripped apart, his brother screaming “OI!” presumably from his father taking something from him, and then getting slugged in the face for being cheeky, and Murdoc could have sworn a donkey was involved at some point. When Sebastian finally came back, his upper half was obscured by boxes of alcohol and tobacco. He couldn’t understand how his father could have that much and still say he was flat broke, perhaps he saved it all for a special occasion? Well the occasion was now.  

“You’re going to drink and smoke all of this until you get it right!” Sebastian informed, dropping it all on the table, nearly breaking it. Murdoc stared at the pill, gobsmacked.

“... A… All that?”

“All that!”

            Murdoc looked around, trying to find a satan cursed answer to what the hell was going on! Murdoc didn’t know much about what a normal household was like, but he could guess from television and observing the families in the houses down the road, watching them eat and salivating at the meals he would never have in his house. This very thing would be considered severely wrong and highly punishable. Yet, here his father was telling him to do it again ten fold.

“Are…” Murdoc didn’t know why he was promoted to ask this question. “Are ya punishin’ me for stealin’ from ya or fer huffin’ an’ drinkin’?”

Sebastian’s hardened his eyes at Murdoc, in a way that made Murdoc believe ever word of what he said next.

“I’m punishing you for being born.”

          After that Murdoc didn’t ask anymore questions and did what he was told, snookered. He drank and smoked for hours, it didn’t matter how much he cried or how much he threw up, he just kept going. He only stopped when he blacked out, and woke up in his pavement pizza, practically showered in it, the next morning with a splitting headache. His brother stepped over him in order to get to the fridge, laughing and congratulating him on having his first hangover. He couldn’t find the strength to get up, so he just layed there, smelly and weeping. He laid there until midday, finally finding the strength to get up on his wobbly legs and slowly make his way back to his room. On the way, he saw his dad, sitting at his normal spot on the couch, watching another game, not even turning his head to acknowledge his son, with another beer and cigarette.  

At that moment, Murdoc wished he had never been born.