#olson ocs

[olsonshroom]

I started drawing this in September I believe, inspired by colder, winter mornings, and even tho spring is approaching it still feels accurate for the season, since it tends to get pretty chilly in the morning in March!

I felt like drawing Charlie and Ollie a bit older, maybe 20 something, in their first apartment:') sharing tender little moments together

[angel1creaper]

Chased.

Reblog to save a artists life 🪽

[dilophosauridae248]

OK ok this is self indulgent BUT I didn't know what other character to use for my demonstration. ANYWAY the little claws in void Danny's face would grab onto ones face during kisses... leading to being clawed. It's probably worth it!!!

[ladyveronikawrites]

Impolite Part 4.5

Pairing : Jolly Karlsson x f!reader x Ricky Olson; mentions of Noah x reader

CWs: D/s, threesome, double penetration, Sex toys, guided masturbation, partner sharing, drinking, service submission, coffee rituals, bratty reader, spitting, possessive Jolly, fisting, choking oral (m and f receiving), voyeurism; if I missed anything please let me know <3

AN : As I wrote Leather & Latex I was thinking about how both Jolly and Ricky (irl) like coffee. I feel like they are very particular about their beverages, so this was fic was born. Please take note of the triggers. Thank you to @sitkowski and @concretejunglefm for allowing to scream into their dms about this fic. I'm pretty sure it's the longest fic I've ever written. also unbeta'd filth, please enjoy <3 minors dni

Can be read as standalone, sequel to Leather and Latex for context

happy birthday Jolly <3

WC : 4686 || IMPOLITE MASTERPOST || tag list sign up dividers @saradika-graphics

18 + content below the cut

With a start, you wake up from the low rumbling between your legs. With a sigh of relief, you recall the instructions Mr. Karlsson gave you the night before. While in the bath, he prepared you for this moment. On FaceTime, he watched and instructed you on how to tease and touch yourself; legs trembling, forehead slick with sweat, heart racing as your fingers plunged in and out of you, causing the water to slosh around. The second Noah came into frame and ordered you to come, the tight coil in your belly snatched instantly. 

It was the first time all three of you tried something like this, Mr. Karlsson and Noah watching you fall apart, but miles away. You've been waiting for your punishment since you and Noah taunted Mr. Karlsson while he was in an important meeting. And the vibrating toy nestled deep inside you is just the icing on the cake. 

Groaning as the incessant vibration persists at a constant low rumble, you roll out of bed and stretch your tired body. Did they use the toy last night while you slept? You vaguely remember tossing and turning… and moaning. Heat flames your cheeks, and you rush to your phone to check your call list. 

Mr. Karlsson 1 hour

Then you frantically check your missed texts.

Good morning, love

I hope you slept well 😏 Here are the texts from last night to confirm that we all agreed to test out the new toy last night. I think you broke Noah lol. I hope you had fun and enjoyed yourself. Once you notify me that you are awake, I will turn off the toy. Please remove it, clean it, and charge it… There is more fun to have later tonight. 

Noah’s whimpers and pleas filtered through your sleep-deprived mind.

“Please let me come,” he begs.

“Come with me, Noah.” Your voice is hoarse in the recollection. Unfamiliar, yet assured. 

Suddenly, you’re pulled from the hazy memory when the toy inside you increases in speed. Shit.  With rushed fingers, you type out your routinely morning text, sucking in a breath as the pressure builds within your core. You all but collapse on the bed, sweat forming on your brow as your pussy starts to throb. Now your clit aches for friction and for a half of a second, you consider sliding your hand between your folds to satisfy the growing need. 

But then it all stops. 

Ding.

See you tonight.

You’ve been so busy with work, preparing the band for their first summer festival, that you completely forgot about the pop-up show. Sighing, you center your spiraling thoughts and then make your way to the en-suite bathroom to get ready for the day.

The first ritual coffee of the day brings your racing thoughts to ease. Since Mr. Karlsson is away, your rule is to record yourself preparing what would be his coffee, but now your own. Every day he’s away, you unbutton your blouse just a little lower or lean into the frame more to tease him with your breasts. To your surprise, he never mentions your infractions, but deep down, you know it drives him mad. Something a little wild stirs excitement in your stomach about the idea of your punishment. You press send anyway.

The rest of the day drags on in preparation for an interview and merch signing before the show. By early afternoon, Mr. Karlsson dismisses you from your work tasks to get ready for the show. With a few pictures and instructions, Mr. Karlsson selects your outfit, perfume, and even makeup application for the evening. 

As you wait for the bath to fill with water, you get another text, but this time it's from Noah.

You open the voice memo to find heavy breathing and a slight groan when he says “Hey princess...” he sucks in a gasp and that’s when you hear the slick wet sound in the background. Your cheeks heat and pussy throbs when you realize he’s jerking himself off this very instant. 

“Let me get that pretty little pussy all nice and wet for us.” Noah’s voice turns breathy and desperate, and when he moans us you instantly feel dizzy. 

You set your phone on the tray just as the screen lights up, notifying you of a video call. Before your hands get wet, you slide the screen unlocked to find Noah’s smiling face. 

“Hey, sweetheart. You look comfy.” His lips curl into a small smirk, eyeing your wet and naked body. You feel your cheeks flush even more despite the hot water. Noah’s voice has always had this effect on you; your heartbeat skyrockets, and a lump forms in your throat. 

“Hi,” your voice is soft and shy. Noah has seen your naked body and has touched you countless times, but you know what’s coming, and it is simultaneously exciting and infuriating. Noah brought the topic up to Jolly, who came to you a few days before they left for tour. 

“Darling, Noah and I want to try something new with you while we are gone. Remember the toys I got you before we left?” 

You nod, “Yes, Mr. Karlsson.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him on his lap.

It’s not every day that Mr. Karlsson or Noah or both of them bring you to the edge of an orgasm due to touring constraints, but they do their damnedest to make it up to you on their days off, sneaking on the bus or the hotel room to tease and torture you. The first week was rough, you came close a few times to climaxing on a video call as Noah and Jolly were making out in the back of the tour bus. It was exhilarating, but it made you so desperate for their touch. It’s been a few weeks now, and your body has been conditioned to your Snapchat notification to heat with desire. 

“God, I miss your tits. Rubbing my head against them and just…” Noah sighs, looking off into space for a second before returning his attention to you. “Give them a little pinch for me?” You comply, rubbing small circles around your nipple before giving it a tweak, and then you do the same to the other. “Now get your middle finger wet for me, dear.” You pop the digit into your mouth, swirling your tongue to cover it completely in saliva. Suddenly, your lashes flutter and a moan slips from your stuffed mouth. Noah chuckles, “Imagining it’s my dick aren’t you?” 

The finger slides from your mouth with an audible pop. Then you flip him off and add, “Actually, Mr. Karlsson.” Something mischievous flashes in his eyes. His jaw clenches. Conflict crosses his features briefly before softening in resolve. “I don’t blame you, I think about his cock quite often too,” he smirks.

“Fuck off, Noah.” Narrowing your eyes, you glare at him. You consider hanging up on him, but you stop yourself when he gets up from the hotel bed and heads to the door.  Shit, shit, shit!

“You want Mr. Karlsson to hear that mouth of yours?” Noah’s eyebrow raises, and his voice hardens to a low rasp.

“No, please don’t,” you blurt out.

“I didn’t think so,” Noah sneers, returning to the bed. “I wanna see your tits again.” Feeling bratty, you sit up closer, putting your breasts on display for him. You start slowly, groping the soft tissue, tugging and twisting your pert nipples. The second your thumb brushes over the now sensitive bud, your breath catches in your throat. 

“Interesting,” Noah says a little breathlessly. “Enough teasing, let’s get the pussy warmed up.”

You relax into the tub, leaning your head back and closing your eyes. Then you slide your dominant hand between your thighs. “Now don’t get greedy, tease that hole a little.” When you touch the warm skin, it sends a shiver up your spine. “Go ahead, darling, I won’t keep you waiting any longer. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll last.” Desperately, you plunge a finger inside and then another. It doesn’t take long for your body to heat up with arousal from all the teasing. When a soft moan that isn’t yours rings into your ears, your eyes jolt open. On the screen, you find Noah laying on the bed fisting his cock. 

“Please, let me come,” he all but whimpers. The desperation in his voice sends you over the edge. 

“Yes,” is all the permission you can give as your body trembles, the water sloshing around you. Fueled only by Noah’s persistent moans do you fuck yourself through the shock of your oragsm with another threatening to crash over you. 

“Look at me, Noah.” Your command triggers his climax. He releases all over his tummy and fist, sparking another orgasm of your own. 

“Thank you,” he says softly. A pretty shade of pink flushes his cheeks. “You’d better get ready, see you tonight.” 

“See you tonight.” You blow him a kiss, and then he disconnects the video.

Matt is the first one to spot you when you enter the venue. “Someone can’t wait to see you,” he mutters with a smile and ushers you into the green room. Your heart just about bursts from your chest at the sight of him. 

Hazel eyes find yours in an instant, drawing you in. Your body aches to move toward him, but you know the rules: Mr. Karlsson must approach you first. Your eyes don’t leave his as he saunters over to you. There’s nothing hurried about his step as he takes you in. Your fingers twitch at your sides to tug at the hem of the short dress he chose for you, but you stop yourself. “Don’t you dare pull your dress down, darling, it fits you perfectly.” His hands grab yours and pull them to his lips, kissing each knuckle delicately.  “I’ve missed you.” He then pulls you into him, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’ve missed you too, Mr. Karlsson.” Your eyes flick up to meet his and then steal a glance at the lips you’ve missed so much. 

“You’re not very subtle, you know. I see everything you do,” he says in a quiet and taunting whisper. “So tell  me  what  you  want.”

“I want you to kis-” Before you can even finish, warm lips crash onto yours, his tongue quickly parting your lips. His hands come to rest at your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin with a possessive touch. Eagerly, you tilt your head slightly, giving him more access to deepen the kiss. His hands slide over your hips and cup your ass, pressing you against him. “You look perfect tonight. I can’t wait to rip this dress off later.” Your breath hitches when his hand snakes to the front of your black silk dress to its destination between your thighs. “Mhmm, no panties,” he growls into the crook of your neck. 

“Just like you asked.” There’s a challenging yet confident tone to your voice that you hadn’t expected. But it feels right. You catch Mr. Karlsson’s now dilated pupils and take note. It’s going to be a long and wild night.

The set goes off without a hitch. From side stage, you watch Noah stalk towards you, and for a moment, you consider stepping aside to let him pass you, but you stand firm. Your eyes fixed on his, an evident adrenaline-induced storm rages behind them. His large body collides, lips crashing onto yours. His hands explore every inch of you before tangling in your hair. His steps guide you backwards until your back presses against the wall. Noah widens his stance and presses his hips against your lower belly, successfully caging you. His tongue splits your lips apart with ease, hungrily exploring your mouth. The taste of him, his body heat, and his scent are all too much yet not enough. In this moment, you don’t want to be anywhere else. You’ve missed him so much as well.

Through the whooshing in your ears, you hear someone clear their throat. “Mine. Now,” Mr. Karlsson demands. Noah's lips go rigid, and his hands still at your hips. He pulls away slightly with conflict in his eyes. He relents, but not before pressing his arousal against you as if that would encourage you to defy your Dominant. You take pity on him when you step out from his embrace and accept Mr. Karlsson’s outstretched hand.

Some eclectic mix of electro pop emanates from the club Mr. Karlsson leads you into. It’s dimly lit except for the strobe lights and LED bar top. A flash of dark red hair catches your attention. Curiosity has you walking through the crowd unaccompanied, where you spot the drummer of Motionless in White, Vinny Mauro, at the DJ booth. Excitement swirls in your stomach, urging you to move closer. Mr. Karlsson had mentioned during a few of your nighttime conversations that Bad Omens had been sharing festival stages with Motionless. They’ve worked so hard and accomplished so much. 

A solid body presses into your back, jolting you from your thoughts.

“Your drink,” A deep voice rasps from behind you. 

You turn quickly, stunned to find Ricky Olson handing you a drink. He’s hauntingly beautiful in all black under the neon lights. Heat flushes through you as he looks you over, his stormy grey-blue eyes so very piercing. 

Frantically, you search the dancefloor and then the bar for Mr. Karlsson. You spot him at the bar, and he raises his drink approvingly at you. Drinking a few gulps, the sweet fruity liquid bursts to life on your tongue. You can hardly taste the liquor, which could be dangerous if you were out with anyone else, but you know Mr. Karlsson will keep a close eye on you. 

“Jolly has told me a lot about you,” Ricky whispers loudly against your ear, now that the music is louder. Hearing Mr. Karlsson’s nickname at first is a shock to you, but you are quick to nod, hoping Ricky doesn’t catch your moment of hesitation. “Has he?” you ask coyly. Mr. Karlsson never speaks about his personal life to anyone outside of the band, which means Ricky must be a new close friend. 

“He’s very lucky to have you around,” Ricky says, his breath hot against your neck. Any closer and his lips would graze your skin. 

“Thank you,” you say softly, the compliment makes your heart flutter. 

“He better thank you everyday.” Closer. His lips are so fucking close. 

“H-he does,” your voice trembles as a shiver runs down your spine. You strain your neck slightly, an open invitation to this beautiful stranger. 

“I was told I could look,” he whispers in one ear and then the other, “But I can’t touch.” 

You stand frozen. The drink is warming in your hand as Ricky stalks around you. Other bodies press into you, but never his. He’s taunting you at this point, and it’s working. The sexual tension and the body heat, the loud music, and most intoxicating is his constant dark stare. 

You suck in a gasp when he leans in, “I’ll see you later.” There’s a smug smirk on his face when he turns to leave, disappearing into the sea of bodies, leaving you alone and breathless. Without a second thought, you down your drink and head to the bar where Mr. Karlsson awaits. 

“I see Rick introduced himself.” Mr. Karlsson says nonchalantly, silently signaling the bartender.

“He did.” You can feel your cheeks heat at the mention of his name. The moment the drink is set on the illuminated bar top, you grab for it, taking a few big gulps to cool down your body. 

“Slow down, love,” Jolly says, gently pulling the glass from your lips. “Let’s get some food, and then we’ll dance the night away.” You take his free hand as he leads you to a secluded booth. His grip tightens on you to keep you from falling in your inebriated state.

The California sun is way too bright when you wake up the next morning. He let me sleep in. Blinking quickly, your eyes adjust as memories from last night flash in fragments; suffocating body heat on the dance floor, DJ Vinny, Ricky’s devastatingly beautiful eyes, Mr. Karlsson’s body pressed against yours… Relief washes over you when you recall Mr. Karlsson helping you dress in your pajamas. You mumbled in a drunken slur, “Guess you won’t be ripping the dress off.” Mr. Karlsson smiled warmly, “No, not tonight.” He kissed you on the forehead before tucking you in. At some point in the night, he joined you in bed, holding you close. 

For the first time.

Electronic buzzing comes from your bedside table, pulling you back to reality. Sliding out of bed, you grab for the liquid IV-infused water and chug it and then scroll through your notifications.  Mr. Karlsson instructs you to drink all of the water, bathe, and then dress in the uniform of your choosing.

Sometime later, you descend the staircase in your favorite set: a blood red blouse and leather skirt with an exposed zipper, to the main level where Mr. Karlsson awaits. Your headache has subsided, clearing your mind to be ready for whatever he asks of you. At the base of the staircase, your heart flutters at the sight of Mr. Karlsson lounging on the sofa in the living room. 

The late morning sun bathes him in a warm, ethereal glow. His hands, decorated with silver rings, move in sync with his mouth, but his attention is on someone else. Curiosity propels you forward into the room until your feet stop dead as if weighed down by cement. 

Striking blue-grey eyes capture your attention. There’s a softness to them, accompanied by a flash of perfectly white teeth that calms your nerves. Richard Olson doesn’t miss a beat chatting with Mr. Karlsson as his eyes roam over you. You can feel your cheeks heat under his assessing gaze, and the corners of his lips curl up into an approving smile when he speaks. 

Next, Mr. Karlsson turns to you, “I invited Rick over for some coffee as a thank you for his generosity.” In the corner of your vision, you track Rick’s expression turns smug. Your mind starts to wonder what happened, when it hits you all at once. Your cheeks flame red, recalling Mr. Karlsson’s rendezvous in a festival tent. Your thighs clench together at the thought of watching him in his stage outfit pleasuring two other women. 

Suddenly, Mr. Karlsson clears his throat, pulling you from your lusty daydream. “Of course, sir,” your now dry throat rasps out. 

Quickly, you bow and then turn on your heels, hoping to hide your embarrassment. As soon as your hands reach for Mr. Karlsson’s favorite mug, your mind eases into practice routine. There’s a sense of peace in the ritual of making his coffee, knowing it will please him. 

When you reach for a mug for Rick, your fingers freeze. You peer over your shoulder to find Rick watching you intently. His gaze practically strips you bare, making you acutely aware of how your skirt hitches higher when you lean up on your tip toes. There’s a spark of mischief in his eyes that stirs bold disobedience in you. Swallowing the lump of guilt in the back of your throat, you reach even higher for a mug on the shelf above. Satisfied with your cup of choice, you prepare his espresso to be extra bitter. Rick seems very particular about his coffee, as Mr. Karlsson rarely invites people over just for coffee. 

You can feel Rick’s constant gaze on you as you pour his cup, topping it with a small amount of cream. Defiance swirls in your gut as you present the men with their coffee. Mr. Karlsson with his perfect cup, and Rick with something he will most likely punish you for, and you welcome it. 

Mr. Karlsson hums, satisfied with his drink, while you watch Rick swallow down a grimace. Disgust flashes over his features, but he’s quick to cool them into neutrality; only the whitening of his knuckles on the mug gives way to his true emotions. 

A raging storm darkens his eyes as he stalks toward you in quick strides. You bite down, the satisfied smile threatening to curve on your lips. You fake fear in your wide eyes as you back into the kitchen island. Adrenaline surges in your veins, and arousal flares in your core. 

Rick sets down the rancid cup and then grips the edge of the counter, caging you in. His heat and cologne fill the minuscule space between your bodies, making your mind go hazy. His proximity and scent drive your senses wild.

“You did this on purpose,” he whispers coldly into your ear. His quiet disappointment surges your defiance. 

“I di-” Rick silences your admission by shoving his tongue down your throat. You moan into his open mouth, back arching the cool granite counter as he presses harder against you, your once balled fists come to cling to the collar of his shirt. Desperately, you kiss him back. The bitterness from the coffee tastes like burnt toast on your tongue.

Breathless, Rick parts from you. “I heard that Noah makes you all flustered.” His hand grips your jaw. “Do I make you flustered?” You look from him over to Mr. Karlsson, who nods approvingly, and back to Rick.

“You do,” the final word melts into a muffled moan when he kisses you again. His hands, hot through the sheer fabric of your blouse resting on your hips. Suddenly, a yelp slips through your parted lips as Rick hoists you up onto the countertop. A second later, he hops up onto the counter, standing over you. Turning your gaze to him, your jaw drops in shocked astonishment, your heartbeat racing, anticipating Mr. Karlsson’s disapproval, but it never comes. 

“Good. Keep that mouth open and close your eyes.” You comply instantly. You feel his slender fingers grip your jaw as your mouth starts to dry. Behind the whooshing in your ears, you hear the couch creak and soft footfalls pad towards you. Flinching, something warm and wet hits your tongue and splashes onto your face. What remains slides down the back of your throat. 

“Swallow the filth you served me.” Rick sneers, gripping your jaw tighter. 

Your eyes jolt open at the command, but you dutifully swallow the disgusting coffee with a forced gulp. He releases your chin and kneels beside you. His face hovers near yours, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you again. You lean into him, and suddenly he licks at your cheek and then at your lips. You open your lips to him, hungry for more of whatever he’ll give you. 

“Filthy, dirty girl,” Rick groans against your lips. “You liked that, huh?” he moves to nuzzle your cheek. “Not so prim and proper are you?” he whispers into your ear before sucking your earlobe between his teeth. 

You open your mouth to sass back, but it dies in the back of your throat. Large warm hands spread your thighs out wide before resting at your hips. Another mouth replaces Rick’s at your neck, kissing and sucking hickies all over the exposed skin. 

“Mine,” Mr. Karlsson growls, the vibration against your throat goes straight to your pussy. 

Closing your eyes, you surrender to them both. Allowing them to use your body in whatever way they see fit. Lips crash onto yours, hard and desperate at the same time, deft hands unzip your skirt until the stiff fabric falls around your bare hips. 

It’s all too hot and too cold, too much yet not enough. 

“Fuck,” Mr. Karlsson groans spreading legs out wider and then pulls your hips to the edge of the counter. Moans of mutual pleasure fill the room. Rick’s mouth on yours and Mr. Karlsson's tongue on your lower lips. Rick is the first one to come up for air, chest heaving and cheeks flushed rosy. You’re certain the man between your thighs would die happy where he is. 

Your eyes pop open the moment Rick’s lips part from yours. A deep groan from Mr. Karlsson has piqued your interest. Rick lets you turn to center. The soreness in your side irritates you enough to almost pull you out of the moment. But the second you stretch slightly and your body is no longer stiff, your brain slips into subspace. 

Your fingers weave their way into Mr. Karlsson’s hair. The soothing action grounds your overwhelmed state. Your shoulders relax, and you exhale as the pressure builds within you. 

“That’s it, breathe,” Rick coos. A hand comes to rest at the base of your neck to keep you upright as the other turns your chin to him. Mr. Karlsson sucks your clit between his teeth and you let out a yelp. 

“Scream against my cock,” Rick smacks your cheek with his hard cock before he shoves it down your throat. The second Mr. Karlsson shoves his fingers into your dripping cunt, it’s over. You whimper, clenching around Mr. Karlsson’s fingers as he fucks into you. Rick’s hand slides from your chin down to your neck, where he squeezes the pulse points slightly.

“She's so fucking wet,” Mr. Karlsson groans. “Don't stop, Rick.” Rick applies firm pressure, and it earns him a staccatoed groan from deep in your throat, which is jilted by his relentless thrusting. You feel so full of Mr. Karlsson’s fingers and Rick’s thick dick that you couldn’t possibly take more. 

But Mr. Karlsson proves you wrong. 

On the verge of another mind-blowing orgasm, he slides all of his fingers into you. “Take him,” Rick commands, pulling out of your mouth. “The stretch feels good, doesn’t it?” All you can do is nod as drool dribbles down your lips. 

“Gonna come again, princess?” The nickname usually reserved for Noah just about throws you over the edge. Recognition ignites your veins the moment Mr. Karlsson presses into your sweet spot and Rick plunges his cock deep into your throat. 

In the distance, Noah's voice fills the emptiness in your brain. “Be a good girl and come.” 

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Rick curses, releasing rope after rope of hot cum down your throat. At the same time, Mr. Karlsson withdraws his fist from your cunt only for you to release all over his face. He licks and sucks you clean as you swallow. You don’t love the way Rick tastes as you much prefer Noah. Noah. 

Rick pulls out his now softening cock from your lips before tucking himself back into his boxers and then hops off the counter. 

“Good girl,” Rick praises with a peck to your cheek. Mr. Karlsson helps you redress. He pulls your arms around his neck before lifting you off of the counter and gently places you back onto the floor. 

Your knees feel heavy, threatening to buckle at any point, so you lean into Mr. Karlsson for support, his cologne and comforting body heat aiding in your come down. Your eyelids feel heavy, but your gaze lands on an unfamiliar silhouette. 

Mr. Karlsson must sense your confusion, so he guides you to the sofa in the living room. Your body stiffens when dusk washes the stranger in warm purple light. It’s really him! 

He’s devastatingly handsome like this. Relaxed and serene with your favorite bright smile and big brown eyes. It’s the complete opposite of the last time you saw him. Feral and possessive, hot and sweaty, and desperately hungry to devour every inch of you. 

“Thank god, I don’t drink coffee,” Noah smirks, breaking the tension with his witty charm. You huff a laugh, rolling your eyes at him. Glad that you get to see him again before the band leaves for Europe. 

“Speaking of coffee, I’ll take another cup,” Rick adds from the nearby barstool. 

“The coffee shop is closed,” you quip. “But who wants cocktails?” 

tysm for reading!<3

Royal Readers👑

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Please show your support with a reblog! If you want to be a part of Royal Readers👑 (tag list) please fill out this form OR you can leave a comment or send me a DM - whichever you prefer💜

[sootchild]

[kait16xo]

I wish I could get over the discomfort I get from writing real people bc I could be BREWING in google docs rn.

[supoysoup]

Rayshelle Peyton, Perdita Olson, and Cecil Terwilliger as high school seniors at a prestigious boarding school somewhere between Capital City and Springfield

[trickibe]

a kenny for the masses the masses being @chaoticgrimm a fucking moth flew into my room it's the second time this has happened and it's not left coz i heard it chitter ffs if it's laid eggs somewhere i'll lyk x-x

[chaoticgrimm]

I have a very clear favorite of all my tf2 ocs

[sitkowski]

kinktober 2024 [masterpost]

header by me // dividers by @adornedwithlight

read on ao3 || masterpost || taglist signups

⋙ friends in sin - miw kinktober

𖦹 hum static (twist it, grasp it) - ryan/justin/ricky, multiple penetration 𖦹 late night devil, put your hands on me - vinny/oc, vinny/chris, tasks & assignments 𖦹 drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart - werewolf!ryan/vinny - monsterfucking

⋙ kinktober in the concrete jungle - bad omens

𖦹 in smoldering embers - girl!nicholas/girl!folio, sensory deprivation 𖦹 other poison devils - jolly/ryan, edgeplay 𖦹 sink into me - girl!noah/f!reader - bondage 𖦹 i will wrap you in cold - vampire!jolly/noah, haunted house

[clownteeth6]

School doodles

[angel1creaper]

[dilophosauridae248]

Hi hi first drawing based on @nothomegal my little oni Danny. I was so mad when you couldn't play any other killers in that event, your drawings saved me 🙏

The others are just self indulgent sketches from yesterday...

[yeahiveheardofbears-fics]

Right Where You Left Me

Oh man guys, I'm nervous for this one. This is the Gator Tillman fic I've been working on for the better part of a year. It has a thriller/crime element to it eventually, but I felt like I was doing too much at once, just because I love the universe, so i've slowed the pacing a little on it and started to rewrite it.

it is a Fargo fic so there will be a lot of tw, but i'll include them in every chapter.

there are a LOT of folklore, evermore, and TTPD references in the chapter titles. I have arttributed most songs on those albums to be such a perfect fit for Gator lovers. you don't need to enjoy them to enjoy the story, but for those that do, i hope you see the little references throughoput the chapters!

I really love my OC for this. she is an extension of myself in some ways, just like my Stranger Things OC, Mac. I hope you guys like it as much as I like living in my little fantasy world for it. <3 background on OC here (not necessary but good for story immersion)

tw: mentions of fatphobia & body shaming, mentions of dv, a nasty beautiful stupid man spitting

Samantha Olson adjusted her grip on the steering wheel as she pulled up the long driveway of her father’s farm. The paint of her car, a relic of her late mother’s youthful dreams, gleamed under the afternoon sun, but inside the air felt stifling. She rolled the window down halfway, letting in the cool North Dakota breeze, but it did little to soothe the knot twisting in her stomach.

The farm looked just as she’d left it—wild sunflowers growing along the fence line, the  barn leaning slightly to the left, and the wraparound porch with its peeling paint. The porch swing, swaying  like an old friend trying to decide if it should greet her or just fall apart entirely. Samantha sighed, pulling her car to a stop in front of the house.

The front door creaked open, and there he was: her father, Jeremy Olson. At fifty-seven, he was still a strong, towering man, his broad shoulders softened only slightly by age. His salt-and-pepper beard made him look older than he was, but his bright blue eyes—a match to Samantha’s—were kind.

“Samantha!” His voice boomed across the yard as he walked toward her. “You made it in one piece!”

She stepped out of the car, smoothing the front of her sundress and squinting against the sun. “Wouldn’t miss a bumpy landing for the world,” she called back, plastering on a smile she didn’t fully feel.

As Jeremy reached her, he pulled her into a bear hug, his embrace grounding her, even as she felt the weight of everything she was trying to leave behind. He smelled like fresh hay and the faint scent of motor oil—a scent she hadn’t realized she’d missed.

“Look at you,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “Still my Sam Bam, though you’ve grown up more than I’d like to admit.”

“Don’t remind me,” she replied, forcing a laugh.

Behind him, a figure stepped onto the porch, and Sam’s heart sank just a little further. Holly. Blonde, thin, and eternally dressed like she was auditioning for a department store catalog, her stepmother had her arms crossed as she surveyed Sam with sharp, critical eyes. Holly looked like she was calculating how much weight Sam had gained since the last time she saw her.

“It’s good to see you, Samantha,” Holly said, descending the porch steps with deliberate grace. “Though I thought you’d dress a little more... put-together for your big return. First impressions matter, don’t they?”

Sam stiffened, fighting the urge to smooth her rumpled dress more, and kept her smile in place. “Nice to see you too, Holly.”Jeremy shot Holly a look that said, Knock it off, but Holly just smiled tightly. Sam didn’t give her the satisfaction of biting back; she had enough battles to fight coming back home without adding this one.

Instead, she walked back to her car and started unloading her bags. Jeremy moved to help her, lifting the largest suitcase with ease. “The house hasn’t changed much,” she said, glancing at the familiar outline of the porch swing. “Feels like I’ve been gone a lifetime.”

“Not much does change here,” Jeremy replied, his tone laced with too much truth, both good and bad. “But we’re glad to have you back, Sam Bam.”

Sam didn’t respond, her eyes fixed on the house. There was a strange stillness about it, like it had been holding its breath waiting for her to come home.

As soon as she stepped inside, the familiar creak of the wooden floorboards greeted her. The house smelled the same—like lemon polish, old wood, and the faintest trace of her dad’s cologne. Holly’s decorations were everywhere now, but the bones of the house were unchanged. Sam carried her bags up the stairs, ignoring Holly’s hovering presence, and pushed open the door to her old bedroom.

It felt like being sixteen all over again. The pale pink wallpaper covered in floral prints, the bookshelves overflowing with old novels and photo albums, the slightly faded quilt on the bed—it was all the same. Her eyes traveled to the bay window seat, still piled high with pastel cushions. More rows of books lined the shelves beneath it, and she could picture herself curled up there on lazy summer afternoons, escaping into a fictional world while the sun poured in.

Her fingers brushed over the top of her desk, where a small stack of forgotten papers sat, the edges yellowed with time. Above the desk, framed photos hung in neat rows—school pictures, one of her and her mom in matching sundresses, and another of her at the Stark County Fair, wearing her princess sash and crown.

But it was the photo to the right of her desk that caught her eye, her breath catching for just a moment. They were seventeen in the picture, laughing in front of his beat-up old truck. His arm was slung lazily over her shoulder after one of his football games, his grin cocky as ever. She looked happy—like a different person entirely. Ten years had turned her into someone else entirely.

She set her suitcase down by the bed, pausing to run her hand over the soft quilt. There was a cardigan draped over the back of the chair by the window—a soft cream colored one she hadn’t worn in years. Seeing it there made the ache in her chest flare, sharp and unrelenting.

Taking a deep breath, Sam turned away from the cardigan and began unpacking her bags. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions spiral, not now. It was a cruel joke. This farm—this town—being her ‘new’ start, even if there were a lifetime of memories in every corner of Lehigh.

But as she glanced around the room, her eyes kept drifting back to that picture. It stared back at her like a ghost of everything she used to be.

The crunch of gravel under tires drew Sam’s attention as she walked from the barn toward the house, a stack of freshly folded blankets tucked against her chest. She squinted against the  sun, her brow furrowing when she saw the familiar brown Stark County Sheriff’s cruiser pulling into the driveway. The driver's door swung open with practiced ease, and out stepped Gator Tillman.

From the moment he stepped out of the car, she could see that plastered on, cocky, self-assured asshole mask she remembered, now with the badge to match. His tactical vest over his chest gave him an air of authority that he wielded like a weapon. His sunglasses reflected the golden light, hiding those brown eyes she didn’t want to meet anyway. He leaned casually against the cruiser, the glint of his badge catching her eye, and took a long drag from his vape.

Sam tried to ignore the way the sight of him made her stomach twist, chalking it up to irritation rather than anything else. She adjusted her grip on the blankets and kept walking, determined not to engage unless absolutely necessary.

But, of course, he wouldn’t let that happen. He was probably here for her after all. She knew that. 

“Well, look who’s back,” Gator drawled, his voice carrying across the yard. He exhaled a cloud of vapor, the scent of artificial mint wafting through the air and making her nose wrinkle. “What happened, Sammy? Boston not shiny enough for you?”

Sam stopped mid-step, rolling her eyes before continuing toward the house. “Oh good, the Tillman royal envoy has arrived,” she said flatly, not bothering to mask her annoyance or turn around. “Let me guess, you’re here to bring goodwill and warm wishes from the king himself?”

Gator smirked, pushing off the cruiser and taking a few steps toward her. She could feel his gaze trailing over her as if he were cataloging every change since he last saw her.

“There’s goodwill, alright,” he said, his tone laced with mock sincerity. “Dad’s hosting dinner tomorrow. His orders. You know how he loves a full table.”

Sam stopped in her tracks and raised an eyebrow, finally turning to fix him with a look that could melt steel. “Hard pass.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” he shot back, his grin widening as he took another drag from the vape. “But then again, that’s always been your thing, ain’t it?”

She opened her mouth to deliver a cutting remark, maybe call him crude, but her father’s voice interrupted her from the porch.

“Gator!” Jeremy called, stepping out onto the porch and wiping his hands on an old rag, walking over to the two of them. “Didn’t expect to see you here today.”

Gator tipped his cap toward Jeremy, the smirk softening into something almost polite. “Just doing my rounds, sir,” he lied, sliding the vape into his pocket. “Roy’d like you and the missus to join for dinner tomorrow. And Samantha, of course.”

Sam muttered something again under her breath, earning a sharp glance from her father.

Jeremy ignored her beyond that and nodded to Gator. “We’ll be there,” he said firmly. “Been a while since we had a proper dinner with Roy and Karen.”

Sam bristled, shifting the blankets in her arms. “Dad—”

Jeremy held up a hand, cutting her off. “You’ve got errands to run tomorrow anyway,” he said, and then turned back to Gator. “She needs to pick up some stuff in town. You mind taking her with you? Gives me the time to do a tune up on her car.”

Gator’s smirk returned instantly, and Sam wanted to deck him. “Don’t mind at all,” he said, his voice dripping with false charm. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Olson.”

Sam gawked at her father. “You can’t be serious.”

“Perfectly serious,” Jeremy said, ignoring her protests. “It makes sense. I’m sure Gator’s already heading that way.”

“I’ll make sure she’s home safe and sound,” Gator said, tipping his Stark County cap again, thus time in an exaggerated way toward Sam, his cocky grin widening. “Be ready by eight. Sharp.”

Jeremy clapped Gator on the shoulder, offering a small thanks before heading back inside. Sam stood frozen, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for a rebuttal, but Gator didn’t give her the chance.

“Guess you’re stuck with me, county princess,” he said, leaning casually against the cruiser and taking another drag from his vape.

Sam glared at him. “Don’t call me that.”

He exhaled a cloud of smoke, his grin never faltering. “I’ll call you whatever I want. Eight a.m., don’t make me come lookin’ for you.”

Before she could get far, she heard the distinct sound of him spitting onto the gravel. She cringed, stopping in her tracks but refusing to look back.

“Disgusting,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

“You’re welcome,” he called after her, his tone infuriatingly cheerful. “Looking forward to tomorrow, Sammy.”

She stormed into the house, slamming the screen door shut behind her. Her father gave her a pointed look from the kitchen, but she ignored him, her mind already racing with ways to get out of tomorrow’s plans. Unfortunately, she knew her dad well enough to know there was no way she was winning this one.

She sat cross-legged on the floor of her childhood bedroom, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes. A soft beam of early evening sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting a warm glow on the clutter she had spent the better part of the day trying to organize. Old journals, trinkets from her high school years, and a faded blue ribbon from her last Stark County Fair were strewn around her like artifacts from another life.

She sighed, running her fingers over the ribbon, her mind drifting somewhere far away.

The knock on her door startled her, and she quickly shoved the ribbon back into the box. “Come in,” she called, trying to sound nonchalant.

Jeremy stepped in, his tall frame filling the doorway. His graying hair was mussed, the smell of motor oil still clinging to him. He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest as he took in the room. “Still feels like your mom decorated it yesterday, doesn’t it?”

Sam nodded, not trusting her voice to say much more. The wallpaper, the shelves of neatly aligned books, and the photos on the walls were frozen in time, untouched by the years she had spent away. Even the familiar scent of lavender from an old sachet in her closet lingered faintly in the air.

Jeremy stepped inside, his work boots creaking on the wooden floorboards. “So, about earlier,” he said casually, though the way he glanced at her suggested he already knew how she felt about it.

Sam only let out a dry laugh in response, getting up to put the trinkets on her desk. She took the photo of her and Gator off the wall, skimming over it with her fingers.

“I’m guessing you’re not thrilled about tomorrow,” Jeremy continued when she didn’t respond.

Sam placed the photo face-down on her dresser, brushing her hands on her sundress. “What gave it away?”

Jeremy chuckled, stepping closer. “Look, I know it’s not what you wanted, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing. You could use some normalcy right now. It might be good for you.”

Sam stiffened, keeping her eyes on the half-empty box in front of her. Normalcy. If only her father knew how far from normal her life had been for the past year. She couldn’t tell him—not the truth, not the nights spent crying herself to sleep. She had come back to Lehigh to escape all that, to put the pieces of herself back together. But how could she explain that to Jeremy when she hadn’t even fully accepted it herself?

She plastered on a small smile, glancing up at him. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jeremy’s eyes softened, but he didn’t press her. Instead, his gaze drifted to the wall above her bed, where the photo of her as the Stark County Fair Princess hung in a gilded frame. Her younger self smiled brightly in the picture, wearing a pale pink gown and holding a bouquet of flowers.

“You know,” Jeremy said, nodding toward the photo, “they’re probably gonna have a bunch of those up at the reunion. All your old fair photos. People love that kind of stuff.”

Sam sighed, leaning back on her hands. “I don’t even know who that girl is anymore,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Sometimes I’m not sure I ever really was her.”

Jeremy tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “Looks like my same little girl to me.” he said gently.

Her throat tightened, and she turned her head to avoid his gaze. He had no idea how that was both so true and untrue at the same time. She was stronger now, parts of her. But other parts of her felt locked up, like she’d never be able to let them out again.

Jeremy reached out and gave her shoulder a light squeeze. “Dinner’s almost ready. Don’t take too long,” he said, his voice warm but firm.

She nodded, managing a quiet, “Okay,” as he turned and left the room. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving her alone with the fading light and her thoughts.

After a moment, Sam pushed herself up and walked over to the window seat, curling up with her knees tucked to her chest. Her gaze drifted to the photo of her younger self, still on the wall. For a moment, she could almost hear the hum of the carnival rides, the laughter of the crowd, and the announcer’s voice as he called her name: Samantha Olson, your Stark County Princess!

Her eyes fluttered shut as the memory washed over her, pulling her back to the last Stark County Fair she had attended—the summer of 2014… 

The evening sky was streaked with shades of pink and orange, the kind of sunset that made everything feel a little more magical. Samantha stood on the small wooden stage, her satin sash draped over her shoulder and a sparkling crown precariously balanced on her head. The applause echoed across the fairgrounds, mingling with the laughter of children and the distant hum of carnival rides. But her eyes weren’t on the crowd. They were fixed on the boy leaning casually against a nearby fence, his arms crossed and his usual grin plastered across his face.

“Damn right!” Gator’s voice cut through the polite claps and cheers, loud enough to make heads turn. He let out a sharp wolf-whistle, grinning even wider when she flushed crimson. A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, but the disapproving looks weren’t far behind.

“Of course he’d show up and cause a scene,” someone muttered nearby.

She heard them. She always heard them. But the thing was—she didn’t care. Or at least she told herself she didn’t.

Because Gator was grinning like an idiot, and for reasons she didn’t want to examine too closely, that grin made her stomach flip.

She rolled her eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at her lips. He was impossible, infuriating—and yet, there was no one else she wanted to see standing there.

When the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, she moved through the throng of well-wishers with practiced grace. She posed for photos, thanked the judges, and ignored the pointed stares of parents who thought she should be more careful with who she spent her time with. Being Jeremy Olson’s daughter meant she was town royalty. The Olson farm was where most of Lehigh’s crops came from, and he was a good man at his core, despite his inevitable ties to Roy Tillman.

Later, after the sky had darkened to a velvety blue and the fairgrounds had taken on a quieter, dreamier quality, she slipped away. The crown sat lopsided on her head as she walked, finally stopping by the Ferris wheel. She perched on a low bench, her fingers fiddling with the rhinestones on the sash. From this vantage point, the carnival lights looked like stars scattered across the ground. The voices from earlier lingered in her mind, nagging at her.

“She’s too good for that Tillman boy.”

“Doesn’t she know his family? His father?”

She knew. Everyone in Lehigh knew. They shut their mouths, hypocrites afraid of the wrath, but desperate for security despite the cost. But they didn’t know Gator—not really. Not like she did.

The sound of footsteps pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see him strolling toward her, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jeans. He had that lazy swagger she always teased him about, the kind that drove the church ladies insane and made half the girls in their high school swoon.

“Thought I’d find you here,” he said, his voice low and easy. Without waiting for an invitation, he plopped down beside her and held out a stick of cotton candy. “Figured you could use a snack, Your Highness.”

She snorted, taking the treat but refusing to meet his eyes. “Thanks,” she muttered, her lips quirking into a small smile despite herself.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the distant sound of carnival music playing faintly in the background. Gator leaned back, his arm stretching across the back of the bench in a way that felt casual but deliberate.

“So,” he said, breaking the quiet, “you gonna wear that crown to school on Monday? Really let everyone know who they’re dealing with?”

She rolled her eyes. “Please. Like they don’t already know.”

He smirked, his eyes flicking to her sash. “Yeah, they know. Stark County Princess. The sweetheart everyone loves to love.”

She scoffed, finally turning to face him. “Not everyone.”

His grin softened, turning into something closer to genuine. “The people who don’t love you are idiots.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone,” he said, bumping her shoulder lightly. “I’ve got a bad reputation to maintain.”

The weight of the day began to lift as they talked, their banter flowing as easily as it always did. He made fun of her for tripping on the stage earlier; she teased him about how he’d stuffed his face with funnel cake and ruined his white shirt. They laughed until her sides hurt, the kind of laughter that felt like a rebellion against everything the world expected of them.

And yet, there was an edge to it. A quiet truth neither of them wanted to say aloud: that this—whatever this was—couldn’t last. Not here, not now. Didn't matter that they knew each other since grade school. Life was bigger than that. It beckond with bigger dreams. Maybe nightmares.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “people talk, ‘bout us.”

“I know,” she replied, her tone equally soft.

“Think I’m gonna ruin your good name or somethin’.” He smirked, but there was an undercurrent of something heavier in his voice.

She hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Maybe you already have. Or maybe I’ve done it just fine on my own.”

The words hung between them, not quite a joke but not serious either. He looked at her, really looked at her, and for a moment she thought he might say something important—something that would change everything. Something that would break down that wavering wall they had built, separating friendship from something more.

“You didn’t look like you were having much fun up there,” he said. “What’s the point of being crowned Princess if you’re just gonna sulk about it?”

“Maybe I don’t feel like a princess,” she shot back, tearing off a piece of the cotton candy. “And maybe I’m sick of everyone expecting me to act like one.”

Gator tilted his head, studying her in the dim light. “Well, they definitely don’t know you like I do if that’s what they’re expectin’.”

Her heart stuttered at the quiet conviction in his voice, but she played it off, shrugging. “Guess that’s the point, isn’t it? If they did, they’d probably riot.”

He laughed, a rich, easy sound that made her stomach flutter. “Yeah, well, if they knew half the shit we’ve pulled, you’d probably lose the crown.”

Samantha grinned, leaning back against the bench.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came from knowing someone inside and out. Samantha glanced over at him, catching the way the carnival lights played across his face. There was a wildness in Gator that matched something inside her—a part of her she didn’t show to anyone else.

“You’re staring,” he said, breaking her thoughts.

“Shut up,” she muttered, looking away.

Gator leaned back, stretching his arms along the back of the bench again. “You know, I don’t get why you care what they think of us.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she said, though her tone lacked conviction.

“Ya sure about that?” He nudged her foot with his boot. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you care too much.”

Samantha turned to glare at him, but the teasing glint in his eyes melted her resolve. Instead, she shook her head and looked back at the Ferris wheel. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. "I think you like it, though. Least a little."

The words hung between them, heavier than the banter they usually shared. Samantha felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t correct him. She didn’t want to.

“For what it’s worth, Sammy, fuck what they think. You’re the only person in this shithole town who actually matters.”

Her chest tightened, and for a moment, she wanted to tell him everything—how much the crown didn’t mean, how much she hated the pedestal they’d put her on, and how much she valued him for being the only person who saw her for who she really was, even the ugly parts.

Instead, she let out a breath. “Thanks, Gator.”

“Anytime, county princess.”

The nickname wasn’t meant to mock her- not back then. It felt more like a promise.

OH MAN I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT. I REALLY WANT TO CONTINUE <3

[cookies-and-mirrors]

Prison of Stone and Flesh

Chapter Thirty-Three

This is a collaborative fic between @cookiesupplier, @faceless-mirror & @comforting-madness

Dividers by @samspenandsword @cafekitsune @saradika-graphics

Authors Note: Welcome Back! Same bat time! Same bat channel! You know where to find us! Discoveries are made, by Ricky and Noah.

Pairings: Multi-Pairings, Everybody x Everybody.

Triggerlist: transphobia, homophobia, abuse, SA, dubcon, religious trauma, past suicide attempts, mental health issues, grief, death, violence, kidnapping, suicidal ideation, torture, (To be added to)

Christopher, Justin, and Ryan are members of the Gargoyle Order, soldiers fighting in the angels war against the demonic supernatural evils of the world to protect human kind. Through the years they lost comrades and now just the three of them remain in their little town.

Now, Ricky and Vinny are moving into their church, stirring up old and new feelings, along with the past, posing the challenge of navigating this new chapter in their lives.

Can they all navigate this path successfully and break free of the prisons that is their lives of both stone and flesh, or will they all be trapped forever in a world that could prove to be a constant misery?

MASTERLIST HERE

Taglist: @miamore0570 @21-century-tae @dragon-chica @shilohrosechicken @comforting-madness

@missduffsblog @witchyweeb34 @spicywhenspeaking @lacktoesandtoddlerants @blackveilomens

@bngurngheart @dominuslunae @collapsedglasshouses @emmmm127 @sunsshinesunny

@latenightmusiclover @dontdiganothergravetoday @high-wire @awkwardalex

(please comment/like/reblog/message to be added to taglist)

Chapter Thirty Three

For the life of him, Noah had no clue how they managed to convince him he needed to be here. Climbing out of the car, he’d tried to drag his brother to come along with him, but his brother had outright turned him down flat. Noah had begged. He’d even tried to bribe Folio, even. However, when he’d admitted that Riyah wasn’t going to be accompanying them, Folio had just told him he was out, that he wasn’t going to be caught dead in the baby store. Dammit. 

So that was why Noah was stuck here with two mated couples. Apparently that's what they called it in gargoyle culture, Chris and Vinny, Justin and Ricky. What the fuck was he doing here? Though, if he was understanding right, they needed, well, everything… he was not looking forward to any of this. Babies were fine, they were great… but him, baby shopping? Come on.

Ricky had headed right to the rocking chairs, looking over them and trying to find one big enough for him and Justin both to use. He wanted to be sure that Justin would be comfortable giving bottles… and Vinny had darted to look at clothes. She had a cart half full while towing another full of diapers. Meanwhile, the employees just looked on confused, as did customers at the gargoyles who appeared more prepared for a biker gang than… Baby shopping.

Chris gently patted his grandson on his the back, he might not have the physique that Chris and Justin had, but he had the tattoos, the height, that they did, so he was drawing the same stares. Ricky somehow was blending in better, perhaps due to the fact he was so eager… or that he was starting to show. Though, he was not the only eager one out of the group. However, for the gargoyles, this was the first shopping trip. When the troupe birthed young in the past, they used handmade furniture, it was all they could use when it came to cribs and the like. 

Looking around, there was so much there they hadn’t even considered using, bouncers, walkers, strollers… turning to stone, taking their children out into the world during the day had never been an open to them. Justin was ecstatic at the possibility, at the thought of taking the twins out in the world… Taking their kids to the park, playing with them in the sun! He rushed over to look at the strollers to look at them, picking at the very first one he found that he could put both the twins in. “Look, this one will fit both the babies in! Let’s get it!”

Noah walked slowly along, glancing over to Ricky by the rocking chairs, sitting in a massive one, about to ask where it was going to go when he heard Justin call out. Anyone might assume that he was about to get a crick in his neck with how quickly his head practically swivelled around to snap and stare at Justin… Oh, shit. Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. He was walking as quickly as he could toward the gargoyle, “Oh no, no, no, you have no clue about the safety reviews Justin! Strollers have all kinds of safety hazards you have to watch out for, they are one of the biggest recall items you have to be careful of… You have to watch for, for, the folding locks breaking and sharp points cutting the kid, and straps strangling them, hell, amputation, the buckles coming undone… Breaks going wild, or just the seat just falling apart. Nope, nope.”

The tribrid snatched the stroller from the gargoyle and put it back with a stern look, before looking at all the others, “Nothing leaves this store without looking at the safety review, nothing.” Even the clothes when it came to material, fire retardants, and choking hazards.

Dammit… why was he baby shopping again… this was why Riyah didn’t want to come, wasn’t it?

Ricky was feeling the fabric and looking at tags as Vinny looked up and over. “I'm already looking at what the clothes are made of and looked up the safest brands.” Vinny commented warmly as she returned to looking. 

Rick glanced up with big eyes, remembering safety and looked at the reviews before flying out of the chair, charging towards Justin to snatch him. “I need you to sit in these chairs with me.” He said, not planning on clarifying.

Chris was looking over something called a bouncer, sure there were cribs, but there was the tradition that they always made those themselves, why would they need to buy them. As for the chair that Ricky was sitting in, Chris was almost certain he could probably make one of those as well, so he wondered if Ricky even needed to buy one of those. Hmm. Even so, he said nothing as he watched when the nephilim rushed over to Justin. The gargoyle was confused at the younger’s sudden outburst before his mate spoke up. “Oh, okay… I can do that… and if you like it, I can make one for us at home.”

Noah had pulled his phone from his pocket and started scrolling, he had some research to do on these strollers if he wanted to get something safe enough for the twins. He was not about to walk out of here without something safe for them. Either he looked scary, or his rant was daunting, but none of the sale team had approached him, perhaps they were worried about selling him something not up to par and getting sued.

Vinny walked to Chris and kissed his cheek. “Love.” she whispered, “Want help picking two bouncers?” She asked gently as she heard Rick talking about bottles and explaining the chair, the features it had and all.

The eldest gargoyle smiled to his mate softly before glancing back to the bouncer, but he was unsure about them, “I don’t really know. I mean, all the things Noah said about the things that could go wrong. Maybe it's better if we stick to making our own?” If he could figure out how, he’d never handled a bouncer before, then again, he’d helped raise countless young ones… How hard could it be without one?

Justin raised an eyebrow at the mention of the different functions of the chair, “Fuctions, why would a rocking chair need functions… and bottle feeding?” He paused… “Why am I going to need to feed the babies with a bottle?”

“It's safer, these are for when the babies are awake but no one can hold them so they can still see everyone. And… honestly Chris… I will say a lot of the manufactured furniture, it’s safer if you look at reviews. You know we used to use cloths as teethers? Look at these. These are teethers now. They can be thrown into freezers, and they have ones that are antibacterial…” Vinny explained, talking to her mate about the changes. As Vinny explained the changes, Chris was listening, and taking in the information, the teethers were curious, looking over them. Putting them in the freezer? Picking up one of them, he looked over one of the rings, it was clear with bright color balls through it to keep the babies attention for them to gum on.

Ricky was dumbfounded, “If… I need to have you feed the baby…” there was worry in his eyes. Oh gods, don't let Justin turn into one of those… his eyes watered at the thought. 

Justin looked down at the chair and then back to his mate, his confusion only growing right then, especially when he saw the tears in Ricky’s eyes… “Of course I’ll feed our babies, why wouldn’t I feed our babies… but what does that have to do with bottles?” 

“I… you… you don't need bottles?” He asked softly, eyes watering for a new reason now. Trembling. “Babyboy? Why didn't you tell me sooner?”

No, no, they didn’t need bottles. Male gargoyles could feed their young in the same manner as the female gargoyles, from their chest. The fact that they split their young between their parents, some as soon as they were born, it was needed, he didn’t even need to switch genders to do it either. It took him a moment to remember, that no, Ricky didn’t, didn’t… Right… Justin smiled guiltily, “Well, at first, I was afraid of overwhelming you with the twin news… Then I forgot you didn’t already know.”

Ricky smiled softly before sniffling and kissing him, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “We need a different chair then. One that we can both sit in for breastfeeding. We still need a pump though… just in case and some bottles.” He whispered softly.

Justin smiled at the kiss, so, the tears weren’t about Ricky being upset with him, and that made him happy. Leaning into him, though, the pump did make him a bit confused, didn’t the babies just suck? As for the bottles, humans had weird ways of doing things, they really did, but okay, okay, he was just going to go with it for now. If Ricky wanted bottles, he was going to go with it, they could get bottles. Nodding, “Well, okay, I don’t know what half of the things here are for, when I helped look after the babies before, we didn’t use any of them.” Then again, the babies also turned to stone during the day too, so it was quite different.

Vinny smiled at Chris with gentle eyes. “I want to have our babies…” she admitted softly.

Looking down at his mate, Chris leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Vinny’s lips with those words. He knew it was a difficult subject, she wanted to have their babies, he would do anything so she could, even offering to have them for her, “We’ll have our babies.” He wished he knew a way for humans to do what they did. Why were they created with such limitations?

Noah was looking up from his phone and staring across the area, he could hear the conversation between Ricky and Justin by the chairs. Though, he wasn’t sure how many of the humans and other customers could make sense of the confusion, but that was probably for the best, but him? Was Justin really saying male gargoyles breastfed the babies… okay… okay… did that… could they… what else could they do? Was there something he needed to know here? Was there anything he needed to be worried about here. Thank fuck he always used condoms, always, admittedly not for that reason, but… Noah, shuffling his way over to Chris and Vinny… “Um, can I ask you a question?”

“The bottles are for Vinny or anyone else non gargoyle if they watch the kids… I want to make sure that if you and I are both working or going on a date… we don’t have to worry as much.” Ricky explained softly, leaning his forehead against Justin’s chest with a smile.

Vinny smiled at Chris before turning her attention to Noah. “Yes? What’s up?” she asked warmly, green eyes a bit watery at the hopeless thought she wouldn’t carry their children this time. Distractions. This was supposed to be happy. 

Justin’s eyes were wide with the thought of going on a date, a date, they hadn’t really been on a date, had they? What was a date? He’d heard humans talk about them, but he wasn’t sure he understood the specific difference is spending the night with Ricky at the bar and going home with him, and a date was? “We can’t take the babies with us?” Why would they want to leave the babies behind… 

The slightly glazed look to Vinny’s eyes gave Noah pause, was she okay? “Are you alright, did I interrupt, I can wait, just um…” Ask someone else… He wasn’t really sure he wanted to ask Shade or Riyah… Even asking Chris… 

“It’s okay. It's just… Chris and I were talking about our babies… if we can have any in the future. Go ahead. Ask away, dear.”

Ricky chuckled, “Well… dates are used for one-on-one time. With no one else there.” he explained warmly with a smile, “I’ll take you on one tonight if you like.” He offered softly, “I would love to… honestly.”

If, “If, that, if is sort of my question… if… um…” Noah glanced over to Justin and Ricky, “They are talking about gargoyles, um feeding babies, like, both men and women, right? And um, it made me wonder about… Who… actually can get… pregnant? Do I have to, be, ah… careful about that? Not that I’m not always careful, condoms, always… just… curious.” He was going to kill Shade and Riyah… If he had been fucking them both for some seventy some years and neither of them told him, he could have knocked them up… Yep, yep, he was going to kill them. Him bottoming was different, he hadn’t known… Fuck… Fuck.

Justin grinned slowly, tonight, a date, tonight… “Tonight, really? Yea, okay! Wait, but, shouldn’t we put together all the furniture and start figuring out what we’re going to do for a nursery?” He wasn’t sure how it would work. While angel magic could help expand the apartment to make room so they wouldn’t have to find a different space, he knew Gwynn was having a hard time of it. Justin felt guilty suggesting they move to a different area for the babies. 

“Hey. It’s okay, Noah. How about we go get more diapers? We need them… Chris, can you look up blanket safety like I showed you? And pick some out. If you see some you like too, don’t be afraid to grab some for us, too. Baby blankets are the softest.” she asked, giving Chris the look that she would handle this awkward one for him.

Ricky smiled at Justin, “We should be okay with this… maybe we can move up into an alcove…. We can talk about it with Gwynn. But we have time to get everything put together. We should get some of this done… and we need to have some time just us. We can go out to a nice dinner. Maybe a movie.”

Chris froze when Noah was asking about getting pregnant. It had been a long time since he had needed to have the procreation talk with any of his offspring. Even then, more often than not, it was about the breeding program for gargoyles and the effect of the consent of breeding for them. Now Noah, everything was up in the air, there was no breeding program involved for him, he wasn’t technically a gargoyle. When Vinny took over and spoke of blanket safety, he nodded quickly, “Of course, I’ll, find some good ones.” Smiling softly, before heading to the blankets.

Noah watching his grandfather go before glancing towards Vinny, “Am I not going to like this, and that's why he’s running away like a scared little boy? I know fear, that was, almost… complete terror in those eyes.” Noah swallowed, god… four hundred years old, don’t tell him it was a fluke he hadn’t gotten pregnant somewhere along the way… or… oh… was he sterile because he was a tribrid? Huh, that could be a thing. He’d read that somewhere, but then shouldn’t half-breeds should be too? From what he heard, Ricky was one as a nephilim, so perhaps that didn’t count when the supernatural was involved, so scratch that… 

“It's more… complicated than that.” Vinny said, grabbing a cart and led the way. “Now… believe it or not… consent is required for gargoyles to get pregnant. They have to verbally consent to each other to breed. The reason that Chris got a bit overwhelmed… well… He and I were supposed to have kids. The next time he was supposed to talk about it… was with our littles.” she said softly, picking a few different boxes up, looking them over thoughtfully. “Basically, no one gets around without consent. No one can force it, for gargoyles. Not even an angel command.” she explained, looking at him gently from the corner of her eye.

Justin sighed, he didn’t want Rick to have to move away from Vinny, he knew what the two of them meant to each other, he saw it. It was what Chris, Ryan, meant to him. Yes, he was okay moving a bit from them, but then again, he could live levels away from them and still hear them like they were almost in the next room. It could sometimes be suffocating. “Let's do something tonight, we can sort the nursery tomorrow, how about that? I’d like dinner, oh… what's Putt-putt?” He’d heard about something called Putt-putt, but he didn’t know what it was.

Hold up… “Wait, wait, no accidental pregnancies? No, sixteen and pregnant issues?” Noah looked over to Vinny as he walked beside her when she grabbed the cart while she talked about verbal consent. Oh, he’d had the consent talk, many times over when it came to sex, many times, but pregnancy, that was something else. Pregnancy was about safety, and condoms, not consent. That was, a different issue. However, hearing that Vinny and Chris were supposed to have kids, he fell quiet, and knowing she had died, he swallowed. That was likely not something they would want to think on. 

Oh… angel command. “Right. Angel command… about that… yeah… I, I might have um, um, accidentally, done that. I won’t do it again. I am vehemently against taking away another person's freewill. Personally, I would rather not be a monster.” Coming up to the newborn nappies, Noah quickly reached to pull off a massive box from the shelf to leverage it into the cart for Vinny.

“Putt-putt is a sport. We could do that. It’s very fun and calm. I think that’d be fun. There’s a dragon themed one.” Ricky offered warmly to Justin, “I think that would be perfect. Putt-putt and dinner.” he said, beaming, hugging him tightly.

Vinny smiled sadly, “No accidental pregnancies.” she established, “I… wasn’t supposed to have kids with Chris. We were mates from the same unit.” she explained, before looking him over, “Angel commands can be used for good. Gwynn asks for consent, usually… unless it's an emergency.” she added, “They can be kind, but… most angels aren’t kind. For gargoyles, Justice, Gwynn… is a saint to all gargoyles… Most angels are cruel.”

Fun and calm sounded perfect, as much as a thrill would be a great. Fun, and calm though, Justin knew they might be lucky to make it through dinner. That was how gargoyle pregnancies went, Ricky had been so tired, but the two of them going out and having some time together, having fun, he looked forward to it. “Perfect.”

“Mates aren’t supposed to have kids, why?” Noah felt laid bare when Vinny looking over him, as if she were studying him for his confession. He truly didn’t want to use that power, ever again. He wasn’t sure how much a command could be used for good, he knew he’d used it for information, but he couldn’t forget the look of pain on Shade’s face, and it had killed him to see it. It made him think about his mother. Talking to Atsuko yesterday after Folio left, he found out that the gargoyle had been his father’s best friend, and the reason the others hadn’t known about his mother was she had been a nephilim. They were considered dangerous by most, not all, so he had kept her away from the others, protected her, loved her… His father hadn’t even known about him before he died… Wait… “Justice?”

Ricky kissed Justin softly, “I’ll need a nap beforehand, but I don’t think you mind.” he said softly, “Mid-afternoon nap together…?”

“Mates… are not allowed to breed because the twins are supposed to…” she breathed for a moment, closing her eyes. “They’re separated. One per parent to keep troops diverse…” she said softly, “But… yes. Justice was Gwynn’s chosen virtue. No one has held it since. But… Gwynn’s been… Through a lot. The easy way to say it.”

Justin smiled, his lips against Ricky’s, “Definitely. Now, let’s decide on which chair we want, need you comfortable Daddy.” Not to mention, with the plan of the bottles and, the hope of future babies, anything they buy today would be used by far more than just them.

“Oh,” He wasn’t aware that Gwynn would have a virtue like the gargoyles. Noah didn’t know a lot about gargoyle culture, but he knew a little, enough that he knew Riyah’s virtue was Integrity, and Shade’s was Tact. Maybe next time Ryan threw him off the roof he’d go see Gwynn about it, then again, the way Vinny said Gwynn had been through a lot, he sighed a little, “Yea, I got that, from the other night.” He fell quiet for a moment, “Don’t worry, I won’t be talking about it, Ryan made it explicitly clear, issues from that night, are better off left unsaid.” At least to Atsuko. Noah had a feeling he should just stay out of the Heaven crap altogether, he wasn’t a part of it anyway, he was an outsider. 

As he spoke, Noah was adding baby wipes, a ridiculous amount, to the cart, then he stopped, looking back towards Vinny with a look of realisation, “Perseverance, Responsibility, that’s their virtues…” He felt like an idiot to have not connected that, he’s been distracted by seeing Shade’s pain that night and the news about his grandfather and father. “Do you have a virtue? Will I? Did Folio?”

Ricky nodded, beaming gently as he looked up at Justin lovingly, returning to look. His hand holding Justin.

Vinny took in Noah’s realization. “It's not usual for handlers to have one. I was Authenticity. And you will have one. Folio did. He was Cheerfulness.” She sighed softly, thinking back.

Noah couldn’t help but wonder how, why, what it took for him to get a virtue. He was four hundred years old, wasn’t like he was about to change any time soon, he wasn’t very, distinct in a gargoyle kind of way… or virtuous at all. Smiling a little though, cheerfulness, he could see that, he could. “I’m not very virtuous though, I mean, this whole thing is because, wait…” Noah stared at Vinny for a second when he considered what they’d been talking about and realized he’d gotten sidetracked, and he hadn’t actually gotten the answer he wanted to. “Okay, I know you said gargoyles can’t get pregnant if they don’t want to, right, but you didn’t say whether male gargoyles can get pregnant and carry babies in the same way they can feed them?” If they had those parts, did they have the other parts too? 

“The body adapts itself. I as a gargoyle wasn't born female. It was what I chose. We can choose our presentation.” She explained warmly watching him.

Chris sighed as he heard the conversation as it continued, he knew this would be a struggle, especially this part, this question. Pushing a cart full of blankets, he wasn’t about to skimp, blankets for everyone, not just the babies, besides, he remembered who the babies were in the past, they could be rascals. They would need so much of everything, everywhere in the Church. “Choosing our presentation is the greatest gift, so is the gift of being able to switch our physical gender when we were assigned partners in the breeding program. For example, despite mates in the same unit not being allowed to breed, should Honesty and Cheerfulness have wished to breed it would have been simple. Either Atsuko or your brother would have had the choice to switch their physical genitalia for the duration of their breeding until the birthing.”

Now that would have been an interesting pair of babies for sure, Chris, however, continued, “Let’s not tell them I used them as an example, shall we?”

Vinny smiled and turned to kiss Chris's shoulder, gently nuzzling him lightly and thoughtfully. “Thank you.” She breathed out.

Noah looked between the two, that was interesting, but he understood when Chris spoke, no, males couldn’t have babies, but at the same time, they could. Gargoyles were whatever they chose to be, and that realization, seeing Vinny had been reborn as a human. As difficult as Noah knew as it was for many a human to live that life, for someone who had known this life as a gargoyle, that freedom, to be trapped now, it must be so much worse. Well, he was glad she wasn’t giving up.

“Okay, diapers, wipes, powder, I saw Justin with the bouncers, I picked out the stroller and have the tag so we can pay at the counter… High chairs… Babies gotta eat when they get big enough, can’t forget that.” Noah wasn’t going to give up either, they might not be his babies, but he was willing to help… “I’ll, ah, go take care of that.”

Vinny smiled and nodded, “Thank you, Noah.” She said softly before embracing Chris once more with a soft smile. At least she was understood…

Chris arms wrapped around his mate with a sigh, he loved Vinny with all his heart and soul, it didn’t matter the body she came back to him in, he’d always love her. Pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Did you have a good talk with him?” He hadn’t listened in to all of it.

She nodded, “I think he understands gargoyles a bit better, but I think Gwynn will finally be able to have a calm talk with him about angels as well. But… I'm worried about them.” she confessed softly.

Sighing softly, Chris nodded, agreeing with her, “I am also, I have been since they returned. I’ve been attempting to get them to take things slow, continue to heal, not push themself. I have a horrible feeling they are blaming themselves for everything that has gone wrong.” It didn’t help that Ryan was falling apart, and had been tortured by the very angel that had replaced them. “As much as Noah needs help, I’m afraid of putting that pressure on Gwynn.”

Vinny nodded, “I just hope Ryan can talk to them about it and explain himself… they need it…” she sighed softly, “Jerahmiel… He said he’d come back…” she whispered before her throat tightened, foggy memories surfacing.

Chris was quiet, explaining himself, explain… the slap… If Vinny had walked back into his life just the same, after a thousand years, claiming to have never died… it would have killed him. There would have been no slap, he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t have just… Then again, he didn’t think he’d have survived the thousand years that Ryan did. Swallowing, “Gwynn has assured me they’ve intensified the wards of the Church, and we have continued the patrols. Once the boys have moved in and settled, it’ll make things easier. I hope Shade and Riyah are willing to help join us.”

“Me too… I…” Vinny's eyes were glassy and watery. “It wasn't… it wasn't hellhounds. Or humans.” She whispered as she looked up at Chris. Should she tell him? What would happen if she did… or didn't?

Something about the way she spoke, the way she looked at him… 

Chris… stilled.

Not hellhounds. Not humans. Not what he was told, by… him.

“It was Jerahmiel.” Taking in a breath, steel, calm, he shook his head, “BabyGirl, I won’t let him get anywhere near you, ever again.” He would destroy him first, period. He was done dealing with Jerahmiel. 

“He's going to try to kill Ricky. That's what he meant-” she said, swallowing despite her mouth being dry. “He's going to try to hurt Ricky-” Vinny whispered, hiding her face against his chest, trembling. “He…”

“He won’t get the chance.” The firmness in which Christopher spoke as his embrace tenderly squeezed her in contrast wasn’t just her mate, it was every bit the original gargoyle that had out lived every other gargoyle that walked the mortal realm. He was both world-weary and battle hardened. “I know he is coming, and he won’t get his hands on him, I promise you, Ricky, the babies, they will be safe.”

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes and melting into his chest, “I trust you… I always have.” She whispered.

[zombocomme]

Comming soon.

From the BTL AU

'Between the Lines'

*Air the Vault series.*

Hosted by Zombocomme...

A special airing of material from the Ministry TV Vault comming TOMORROW!

Sponsored by Ghriz-kit Productions

Written by [AZ]-Zombo

Enjoy a little pre-game fun during this cojntdown. Here is a tune featured from tomorrow's upcoming episode...

Thats right, Ghriz-kit Radio

has a new Spotify Station! Link drops tonight

It's The Decopia coded music that Jim and Copia probably have covered, and more!

Tracks even you viewers have sent some of these to the Talk to Zombo mail made it into the mix, keep sending em!

Tomorrow, we are diving farther into the BTL universe, we will be introducing a zombo/:original OC cast...

Special behind the scenes under the cut

STARRING

The man of the hour

(Emmanuel Mendez)

The hunky emotionally unstable red head dude...

(Johan Olson)

The Loyal Nordic golden retriever, DILF... wait till we unpack his story!...

Also staring our first and most beloved OC...

(Milagro Montoya)

Our dreamy, spunky, drop dead gorgeous starlette!

Witj a Special Guest appearance of

Mr. 3 sauces tall, himself

Terzito!*

Dive into the Ministry📺TV archives, and join us tomorrow, in another special airing of the surviving clips from one of the most highly rated episodes,

Season 2 ep. 3, "Something Wicked".

And if you're good. You'll get the

*Papa Bonus* Scene

in this AU's timeliness.

It's a multiverse. Just go with it...

Here only on Ministry📺TV!

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