#Lambchop says

[vellichorom]

sic 'em, boy.

( ft @tomiechu's shelby with her hubby bubby ~ ❤️ )

[barstoolblues]

the most shocking part of nash’s autobiography that stands out to me still is that apparently stephen is a good cook

[bluejaybytes]

His touy.

[paper-cities]

What’s a lamb doing here?

[kaleschmidt]

not to tkp on main but I get kinda sad thinking abt Naomi in the main dayshift true end. When Jack and co ACTUALLY get to rest. Because like. You have Naomi who had been taken care of by her uncle jack for about a decade after her parents DIED in a car crash, and then out of nowhere, said uncle then distances himself and kicks her out with no explanation and the only news fae hears about him is months later, and is about him and his business (THAT FAE RARELY HEARD ABOUT) burning up. And there's no one fae recognizes at the funeral, and fae doesn't understand anything being said- faer uncle helped free several lost souls, or something like that? And after his ashes are buried, some phone woman offers her condolences and tries to offer byte some comfort. But it doesn't help because all Naomi can think about is how she's alone again. Orphaned again.

And life moves on. She still lives with her friend instead of accepting the deeds of the house because of the bittersweet memories. Fae graduates, and there's no one there in the crowd to root for fae. Byte'll probably live a majority of bytes life not understanding why bytes uncle did any of what he did, and live a peaceful life hating him.

[brighteyedspitz]

BIRFDAY BOY

[heartfullofleeches]

Fast Food Reader: Who are you?

Retail Reader: You, but with a body count :)

Fast Food Reader: I get around- Still haven't actually slept with anyone, but I've kissed Lambchop a couple times.

Retail Reader: [laughs] Haha- Not like that, friend. See my uniform shirt? It was white when I first started working at my job. Red looks a little better on me, though- Don't you think?

FFR - taking several steps back: Whatever you say, man-

[demonictacobeard]

Alastor, his ears twitching two times before he speaks: So, while I was gone for tea my dear your father brought us a new….guest?

Charlie, laughing awkwardly: Uh yeah, Dad’s been watching him since after the battle. He’s having a really hard time adjusting to Hell, and wants to get back into heaven. And that’s what we do here! So I thought, why not give it a try. Everyone deserves a second chance after all, are you alright with that? I know you faced off in the battle…

Alastor, smiling tightly: Well of course I’m fine with it Charlie! Why I did battle with our dearly ascended friend Sir Pentious as well, a little spat won’t effect my ability to provide a resident with the care needed to reach heaven

Lucifer, whispering so Charlie won’t hear: Spat my ass, you lost that fight deer dick head

Adam, at the bar, trying not to laugh: I can’t believe he can actually be funny, my day is fucking ruined

Angel, leaning against the bar and raising a dry eyebrow: As opposed to the wonderful life you’ve got going on down here?

Adam, turning to him and staring at him: Aren’t you supposed to be a porn star, not a fucking strawberry looking comedian

Angel Dust, smirking: There’s duality in showbiz Lambchop

Husk, glaring at Adam who was starting to answer: One slur out of you and I’m texting Nifty that the bad boy is at the bar

Adam his yellow eye, with an X in it, starting to twitch: I didn’t even say anything pussy cat

Vaggie, destroying a Mammon patented stress ball: This is going to end in death or tears, I know it

[harmonictechnicality]

my heart is my armor for @thefreakandthehair's Spicy Six Spring Challenge (mwah mwah!) | *ao3 link here*

Eddie doesn’t understand Steve’s sudden interest in having a garage sale. Everything that they own is junk disguised as furniture. None of it is worth looking at, let alone buying.

Besides, they don’t even have a garage. They’re still slumming it in this dingy duplex, too broke to afford decent cutlery.

“A garage sale with no garage is just false advertisement, babe.” Eddie flops onto his stomach, hears the boxsprings of their shitty mattress groan underneath him.

“We need to do some spring cleaning anyways.” Steve sinks his nails into Eddie’s hair, scratches at his roots the way Eddie likes it best. It’s all mindless now, physical affection. Five months ago, both of them would’ve been scared shitless to behave this way. Now, it’s easy.

Routine bliss.  

“Might as well make a few extra dollars out of it.” Steve adds.

Eddie scoffs. Flattens his face into the mattress, ignores the questionable dude smell. “What the fuck is spring cleaning anyways?”

“Just a thing. Always has been.”

“Hmph.”

Spring cleaning sounds like a tradition that rich assholes invented as an excuse to throw away the winter jackets they never even wore - never even took the tags off of. Eddie can just imagine a gaggle of housewives, swishing their wine and speaking in some fake transatlantic accent: ‘Oh sweet darling lambchop, it’s not wasteful. It’s simply a bit of spring cleaning.’

“I never agreed to do spring cleaning.” Eddie says.

“You never agree to do cleaning, period.”

“That’s not true. I did the laundry last month.”

Which isn’t a lie. Eddie did three (two) loads of laundry after Steve refused to go anywhere near it. Claims that the final straw was seeing some sort of mutated rodent emerging from their hamper.

“Oh that?” Eddie had fished his brain for a plausible explanation. “That was just a mouse or a rat or a… miniature possum. Something like that.” At the time, he phrased the whole thing like the weirdest multiple choice quiz - the most suitable answer being Something Like That. 

“Whatever.” Steve snorts, likely recalling that same night. He turns off the lamp, lets the dark bleed into the room, swallowing the light. 

They both inch into the middle of the bed, where it’s naturally starting to dip at the center. All of their belongings are used, including this mattress. If money weren’t an issue, they would invest in a new one.

Or not. Eddie kind of likes that it sags in the middle, where they always meet. Like it’s giving in, shaping itself around the weight of their relationship.

The thought makes him smile, a stupidly smitten grin at his stupidly pretty boyfriend.

“What?” Steve pokes a finger at the corner of Eddie’s mouth.

“Nothing.” He catches Steve’s finger, pretends to gnaw it off his hand till Steve laughs. Best fucking sound, even better in their bed. 

Christ, he’s so in love. Wants a megaphone to scream about how in love he is with Steve Harrington. Wants to call a local radio station and request the sappiest love songs imaginable. Wants to be able to just say it, then never stop saying it.

That feels colossal though. Like the playfulness will fizzle out or the blissful routine will rupture. 

So he just says it in other ways, like tonight. 

“Okay, fine. You win.” Which is a direct translation to those three important words, because Eddie hates losing. One of his top ten least favorite things in this world is losing. 

He folds Steve’s fingers into a fist, kisses over every knuckle. Looks up to see Steve blinking slowly, half-asleep. Looks happy. 

And damn, that makes it all worth it, right? Losing so Steve can win. That makes it tolerable, almost enjoyable, for a soft expression like that.

“I’ll do the non-garage garage sale.”

Steve yawns, nuzzles into his side of the pillow. “I knew you would.”

Eddie complains the entire time they clean. Makes the biggest fuss, stomps from room to room. Their place is small, sure. Yet somehow, they generate enough dust and dirt to fill multiple trash bags. Which means multiple trips to the dumpster.

Fuck Spring for making cleanliness a seasonal personality trait.

It’s late into the afternoon when they finally take a break. Both of them are pretty disgusting, so they sit on the front steps of the duplex.

“Quit scowling, you big baby.” Steve passes a glass of water to Eddie. Takes a long chug from his own glass, throwing his head back to get more down. 

No human being has the right to look this sexy without proper legal representation. But Steve wears dirt and sweat like an accessory. Makes the grime so damn rugged, utterly hot.

Yeah. Eddie finally can relate to all the women that drool over erotica novel covers. Fully gets the appeal.

“So, find anything worth selling?” Steve asks. 

“As a matter of fact, yeah. I did.”

Eddie reaches to his side and grabs a black binder: Steve’s baseball card collection. An extensive one at that. 

He smooths over the plastic cover, fluttering his lashes up at Steve, who seems to be seconds away from hulking out over the suggestion.

“Oh fuck that, man!” Steve yanks the binder from Eddie’s hand. “I’ve had those since I was a kid!”

“Which is exactly why it’s time to retire them. Give them a new home. One that’s not a brothel for cockroaches.”

Really, Eddie gets far too much pleasure out of this. Watching people squirm under the uncomfortable magnifying glass of his sense of humor.

Steve cracks his neck to one side and snarls.

Ha. Perfect. Eddie has dwindled him down to nonverbal replies. Just caveman actions that are equally as sexy as the dirt and sweat.

But Steve throws a curveball, too quick to catch. He slips into the house and returns with one of Eddie’s favorite cups. “And what about these, huh? What about your dorky Star Wars glasses?”

Okay, ouch. This game is not funny anymore. Totally bypassed Humor and went straight to Dire territory.

Han may have shot first, but Steve Harrington is aiming where it hurts. Cutting him deep (deeper than that very unlucky tauntaun…).

“These are collectibles, Steven. Collectibles!” Eddie exaggerates every syllable, first-grade teacher style. “I spent two years tracking down the complete Empire Strikes Back set. Still missing three from Return of the Jedi, but whatever. Progress is progress.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, these are valuable.” 

“Like, worth a lot of money?”

“No. You know what I mean…” Eddie stands. He carefully grabs the glass from Steve and holds it up to the sun. 

All the designs are just as vibrant as the day he found them. Him and Wayne had searched almost a dozen Burger Kings before he found this design - the scene on Endor. Eddie will never forget that day. 

“The memories.” He finally answers. “These are sentimental and shit.”

Steve hums, nodding. “They mean something to you.”

“Precisely.”

“Noted.” He takes the cup back inside. There’s silence for another minute before Steve lurks around the door, saying: 

“Then I guess we’ll have to sell one of your guitars instead.”

Oh shit.

Another direct hit to Eddie’s blackened heart. 

“You little fucker!” He chases Steve all around the kitchen and into their bedroom. Wrestles him down on their saggy bed, instantly dirtying up again.

They end up with a decent amount of items to sell that Saturday morning. Duplicate records and cassettes, a few kitchen gadgets from Steve’s grandma, and some trinkets that Robin kindly donated. A hodgepodge of treasures, that’s what Steve keeps saying.

He’s so proud of their three tables of junk. Hodgepodge treasures, whatever. Just keeps rearranging things and straightening them out. Concentrating so hard that his eyebrows crease together. Adorably focused. Eddie loves when he gets like this. If they weren’t in a conservative small town in broad daylight, he’d kiss Steve’s twisted-up lips, make him relax a little.

“I…” Eddie starts, quickly tripping on his own tongue. Stumbles over that dumb fucking word. Four letters should not hold the power of an entire emotion, goddamnit. 

He scoots out of his lawn chair, stretching upward. “I think I’ll go pester the lemonade stand across the street. Haggle the price down to a penny or something.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “You get more bizarre every day, Munson.”

“So does the economy, Harrington.”

The lemonade stand is an immediate mistake. A little girl peers up at Eddie, eyes starting to swell with tears. Maybe the clouds are casting a big, scary shadow over him, making him look twice as evil.

Or maybe he severely underestimated how badass his look really is, who fucking knows.

He dives right into his haggling-monologue, when the girl points to his latest Iron Maiden patch on his vest. Asks in the thinnest voice who the ‘skeleton man’ is. 

And look, Eddie doesn’t mess around when it comes to educating this fine nation’s youth. So he answers honestly:

“Eddie the Head. A vessel for soul-sucking metal.”

The answer is probably what makes her run. But it’s definitely the voice that opens up the floodgates.

Anyways, he’s not just gonna let all this freshly-squeezed goodness go to waste. That would be a shame. A travesty, even.

So he helps himself to two full cups of lemonade. Makes a quick escape before the kid’s parents bring pitchforks.

Eddie sneaks up behind Steve, whispers nervously in his ear. “Well… there’s good news and there’s bad news.” 

“What did you do?” Steve doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I got the lemonade for free.” He hops up on the table, waves the proof around with a big, cheesy grin. Still no reaction from Steve, so what the hell? Might as well get all the information out there. 

“Bad news is, I made the pigtailed kid cry.”

“Dude!”

“It’s not my fault!” Eddie is suddenly very defensive. “She asked who this ‘skeleton man’ on my vest is and I couldn’t lie.”

“You lie about shit all the time.”

“Not about history, Steve! Get your head out of your perfectly-shaped ass.”

Steve puts his hand over Eddie’s mouth, gesturing to the nearby shoppers. Not that Eddie is overly concerned about what the elderly couple can hear from this distance. And he assumes that the suspender-wearing dude admiring the Barry Manilo record, would probably agree on his Ass Opinions.

However, Steve is shrinking further into his chair from Eddie’s commentary. Grunting something unintelligible but mostly likely explicit. 

“Here.” Eddie determines that the safest solution is to back down. Ease off until Steve’s complexion returns to normal colors. “You can have the lemonade that isn’t diluted with the tears of a child.”

Steve laughs into the cup and takes a long swig. Chases it with an exaggerated ‘aaah’ like all of those airbrushed models do in the commercials. 

Eddie is just so damn crazy about this guy. Would drink a thousand tear-soaked beverages for Steve if it meant getting to experience every day just like this. With a smile like that.

“How is it?” Steve asks. 

“Tastes like citrus and fear.” Eddie responds proudly with a wink.

There’s a pause before they both erupt into laughter. Steve slapping Eddie’s knee rather than his own. Eddie snorting like a sitcom dweeb. He’s laughing so hard that he almost misses Steve uttering the most incredible sentence:

“God, I love you.”

Says it just like that. Clear as water. Easier than oxygen. Like he has told Eddie that very phrase a thousand times before.

And Eddie… Eddie can’t locate a single word in his brain. His access to language is padlocked after hearing that. Experiencing that. 

All he can do is move. Move away from the table. Move behind the clothing rack full of used jackets. Move his arms outward, pulling Steve along with him.

He kisses Steve before he does something stupid like scream or flail around. If he’s going to open his big mouth, it’s going to be against Steve’s lips. Licking the drops of lemon clean off his mouth. Pushing his linen-soft hair back and holding it between his fingers.

They’re obscured by clothes and scarves, but it’s risky. Too risky to linger into a deeper kiss like Eddie craves to do. So he lets go of this moment and ducks into the house to catch his breath.

The rest of the day goes by at hyper speed, too fast to notice details. Not that anything could possibly top hearing Steve say what he said. It’s tattooed deep into everything Eddie hears, permanently inked in his mind. 

Once they head back inside, Steve flicks through the wad of cash, counting their profit. It’s not much, merely pocket change - but certainly more than either of them expected. Eddie chalks up the surprising amount to Steve's charm and short-shorts. The yummiest eye-candy of the whole damn neighborhood.

“We should save up for a trip.” Steve suggests.

Eddie raises his brows. “A trip?”

“A vacation. You know, get away from this shithole town for a weekend.” The more he talks, the more Steve’s face glows. Fucking shines with daydreams. “A change of scenery might be nice.”

Eddie holds back the urge to remind Steve that he’s the best scenery in the solar system. He already gushes too much, too often. It’s bound to scare Steve off at some point.

So he simply kisses Steve’s shoulder instead, agreeing with a soft hum. 

He starts to fall asleep while listening to Steve name all the places they should travel to. The last one he remembers is Boston.

“Boston would be fucking awesome, right?”

Eddie nods. Drifts off.

Thinks that anywhere with Steve Harrington would be fucking awesome.

Eddie heads up north for a couple of weeks to help Wayne move into his new place. Since Hawkins was previously sliced apart like pizza, Wayne wisely decided to retire early. Used his government hush-money in the most predictable way he could.

“All I need, son, is an empty mind and lake full of fish.” And that’s exactly what he gets. A one-story house near the top of Lake Michigan. Has one hell of a view too.

They head out to the private dock to chat and fish. Except Eddie isn’t too keen on jabbing sharp metal into a water-dweller’s mouth, so he keeps Wayne company on the dock. Lends an ear for all of his stories.

“Shame that Steve couldn’t make it.” Wayne waits to bring him up till they start packing up for the evening.

“Yeah. It is.” Eddie agrees. Misses him already. “Next time though.”

During his last weekend with Wayne, a package arrives on the front porch. It’s addressed to Eddie, which is strange. The only people that know he’s here are his boyfriend, his bandmates, and his boss. More than likely, Steve probably told their crew of demon-destroyers too, but still…

Why would anyone bother to send him a package if he’s driving back home in three days? Doesn’t add up.

He cuts into the cardboard, practically ruins the box. Inside, there’s an absurd amount of tissue paper. It’s stuffed in every corner, overflowing at the top, just a sea of noisy paper.

“Whatcha got there?” Wayne peers over his shoulder.

“Not sure yet.” Eddie sifts through the noise. Digging around more carefully now because he takes notice of the ‘Fragile’ labels on every side of the box.

He pulls out one of the overly-wrapped items, begins removing it from the tissue paper. After twirling through a few layers, he realizes exactly what it is. 

Glass. Colorful designs. Fits in the palm of his hand.

The Star Wars cups. The last three Star Wars cups that had been missing from Eddie’s collection. 

“No fucking way.”

“Watch it.” Wayne warns.

“It’s a warranted response, I promise.” Eddie hands the pristine Darth Vader glass over to Wayne.  “Look!”

Wayne examines it for a while before letting out a long whistle. “Well I’ll be damned. Haven’t you been looking for these since-”

“1983.” Eddie answers. He gently picks up each glass, thumbs over the artwork to feel the tiny ridges of paint. 

They’re in perfect condition too, more than perfect. No chips, no blemishes, no smudgy fingerprints (except for Eddie’s now). He has to place them back into the box because his hands are shaking with excitement. Smooths his palms against his jeans, head shaking in disbelief.

“That romantic asshole.” Eddie grumbles. “Couldn’t just wait to give me these once I get back home.”

Wayne cuts him a vicious side-eye, one that makes Eddie’s spine shiver. He's received this look many times throughout his childhood, even more in his teenage years. It’s Wayne’s signature stare before he calls Eddie out on his bullshit.

Apparently, it still has the same effect on him too. Works like witchcraft.

Wayne looks over the gifts, then back up at Eddie. His edge melts away, turns into something softer. Kinder.

“You know… some things can’t wait, son.”

With that, the tension in Eddie’s spine unravels. His chest inflates, warming up a few extra degrees. His whole body knows exactly what he needs to do - the thing that can’t wait another second.

The phone only rings through one time.

“This is Steve.” That voice. Hits like a homemade remedy.

“Hey, it’s Eddie.” His nails are tapping next to the phone speaker, rapid and impatient. “Listen, I just got your package and-”

“Oh, god.” Steve sounds pained all of a sudden. “Was it too much? Is it gonna be too difficult to transport back home? I know it would’ve just been easier to wait, except-”

“I love you.”

There it is. The words that can’t wait. The phrase that demands power.

“You… what?”

“I love you. Just, so much.” Eddie feels lighter, weight lifting from his lungs each time he says it. “And I couldn’t wait another second to tell you. So, yeah. Really, really in love with you, Steve.”

All Eddie can hear is Steve’s breath. Just as rapid as his nails tapping.

“Wow… um.” Steve clears his throat, but the sound comes out small. Strained.  “Do you mind if I call you right back?”

Not the response Eddie was expecting. “Oh. Uh.”

“Just - hold on a sec.”

And the line clicks dead.

After the third hour of organizing pans in the kitchen, the only room close enough to launch himself at the phone if it were to ring, Eddie accepts defeat. Retreats to the guest bedroom, contemplating what the fuck went wrong.

He groans into the bedspread, claws at his hair till it’s a fucking jungle. Frizzed out beyond repair, just like his nerves.

“That’s enough moping.” Wayne knocks at the door, creaking it open. “We’re going down to the lake.”

There’s no point in arguing with him. The man is the human embodiment of Stubborn - more so than Eddie, which speaks volumes.

Besides, moping in a different location won’t make him any less pathetic.

Wayne is a master in the art of distraction. Doesn’t waste any time before telling Eddie all about the local gossip he overhears downtown. He quickly transitions into asking Eddie questions about his job. Continues this pattern till the sun falls into the horizon. Not allowing Eddie’s mind the chance to jump to conclusions until they get back to the house. To the phone. 

The phone that’s still not ringing.

Wayne nudges Eddie’s arm. “Wanna give him a call?”

Yes. Desperately yes. 

“Maybe. Gonna go change first.”

Eddie opens the door to the guest bedroom, and his lungs slingshot out of his chest.

Steve is there. Sitting on the bed. Looking at him with that knockout smile and slightly tired eyes.

“Hi.” He sits up a little straighter. Gives Eddie the tiniest wave. 

“You’re… you-”

“Caught the first flight out here.” Steve cuts him off. “Had to.”

“How?”

“The vacation cash jar.”

No no no. 

Eddie’s throat feels swollen with that realization. Knows just how fucking much that potential trip to Boston meant to Steve. 

“But-”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not, I’m not.” Eddie spits out. Needs to swallow this barrier of emotion in his throat so he can form an actual sentence, for christ’s sake. “Fuck. You just… have no idea how much I love you.”

Steve perks up even straighter, seems fully awake now. His smile creeps up to one side of his face, outright mischievous. He tilts his head to the side and holds an arm out, reaching for Eddie.

“Get over here and show me then.”

In one fluid motion, Eddie lands on the bed, draped in Steve’s arms. They kiss and cling to each other as if they might float off somewhere. It’s all too good, too delicious. Just can’t get enough of how Steve tastes, needs to savor it after not having him around for ten days. 

Being under the covers, kissing wildly, is becoming dangerous. And if Wayne weren’t in the room directly across from them, Eddie would have Steve in unspeakable positions by now. Steve tugs multiple times at the zipper on Eddie’s jeans. Causes physical damage to Eddie’s horny soul to pull Steve's hand away.

They stay like this instead. Leisure, molasses kisses. Knotted fingers and tangled legs. Closer than skin.

Steve lifts up onto his elbow, swipes Eddie’s bangs off of his forehead to make room for another place to kiss. “Can’t believe it took a few dorky cups to make you realize you were in love with me,” he says, lips still smushed in that spot before backing away.

Eddie flips onto his back with a heavy sigh. No way he can look at Steve’s face while admitting this outloud. “I’ve loved you since the day you fed me a curly fry that you had twisted around your pinky.”

“That was the moment?”

“That was the moment.”

He can hear the smile in Steve’s voice. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Never gonna dodge that ‘freak’ reputation, am I?”

“Not a chance.”

The sky is dusted with stars that night. Not the kind of night sky they ever get to see in Hawkins. Steve marvels at them, mentions that he’s never seen so many at once, not even through a window.

“We could go outside?” Eddie offers. “See even more, if you want.”

“Fuck that.” Steve burrows his nose into Eddie’s neck. “Too comfy.”

Eddie agrees with a laugh. “It’s a good bed, isn’t it?”

“Ours is better.”

It’s not, it’s really not. Their bed is rotting, the oldest relic of their home.

But it bends with them, forms to their bodies perfectly.

And since this bed has yet to learn their language, Eddie takes the lead.

“You’re right.” He curls himself around Steve. Leans in closer and Steve follows. “Ours is definitely better.”

Even miles away from home, they somehow always manage to meet in the middle.

[creekfiend]

I hope its okay to say but I think about lambchop (yamtop) everyday. I know our grief is different but know that it is shared.

it is very okay to say 💕 I'm glad she is still troot-trooting around in your thoughts. mine too.

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Platonic Yandere Wolverine and teen reader

Okay, @yanderefangirl ! Just, general headcanons, or a drabble, or scenario? I'll go with...headcanons:

• Wolverine is the sort of guy who'd see any teenager (especially one with an odd mutation) and adopt them on sight. That is one of the few things that almost every X-Men media gets right/keeps

• Reader likely is at the Institute, because how else would they meet him (unless he rescued them or met them if they were both from Wepaon X)?

•This man may not hug much, but if the weather is cold and/or he and Reader are stuck out in the cold wilds of Canada on a mission, he will use himself as a personal space heater for them (and the other mutant kids). Would be the sort to on a regular day to bundle them up in a jacket or sweater so they don't get a cold or the flu. He may be immune to diseases and ailments, but his kid isn't, so he's going to do everything he can to keep then healthy

• Reader cooks him dinner once, and now he can't get enough. He will have cook-outs with them, seeing who can cook the best steaks, burgers, fish, shrimp, salmon, chicken, turkey, porkchops, lambchops, mutton, tenderloin, you name it, and he and Reader taste-test what the other makes. And the other X-Men don't mind, as they get to eat whatever those two don't (they make a lot of food, and the teens and adults will fight over who gets to eat the best bits )

• Reader mentions problems with a bully a few times, and because he doesn't stand brats hurting his kids, he pays them a visit... Suffice to say, they leave Reader alone after that

• Sometimes he spies on Reader and the others. He knows that it would be called overreacting, but there are bad people out there, who'd gladly hurt the kids for being mutants or for being near him. He's not having any of that, and the few times he catches any creeps, bigots, or even once an agent, he deals with them permanently as long as none of the kids can see him (The Professor knows about these, as Logan tells him, but the Professor doesn't stop him)

• If Reader wanted or tried to leave, Logan is adamant they stay. They don't need to leave, they're young, impressionable, and there are people out there who would break them until there wasn't anything left. If they're still insistent (or sneak out) he's putting them under house arrest. He loves them, like he loves all his kids, but he can't lose them. He can't. And if that means he has to keep them bound to the Institute, then so be it.

• All in all, the guy's is a papa wolf/mama bear. Mess with his kid, you'll wish you hadn't, hurt their feelings, you'll get hurt, and if you so much as look at them inappropriately, he'll make sure that he and his claws are the last thing they EVER see...

[arcadekitten]

Any ideas on how the Stellamb/Witchywool wedding would go?

Lambchop has a top hat i know this to be true in my heart

[gothiethefairy]

a kaer morhen scenario i thought up today.

it’s late in the night, and jaskier is starting to feel sleepy. geralt, eskel and lambert are having casual talk over a brew of white gull. jaskier says he’ll be going to bed and leans over to give geralt a goodnight kiss. geralt happily accepts this, so used to jaskier’s kisses.

lambert, who is buzzed and likes being a little shit, goes “hey, where’s my goodnight kiss, pigeon?”

geralt throws him an annoyed glare, as eskel, who is also a little bit drunk, chuckles under his breath. jaskier playfully rolls his eyes, and slowly walks up to lambert.

he leans over, gently holding lambert’s face and gives him the softest kiss on his forehead. “good night, lambchop.” jaskier whispers. lambert doesn’t answer back, he is flustered out of his mind.

eskel shyly clears his throat and mumbles about wanting a kiss too. jaskier giggles and walks over to him as well. gently holding eskel’s face as he brushes some of his hair away from eskel’s eyes. he gently kisses the side of eskel’s face where his scars are. “good night, sweet eskel.” jaskier whispers.

jaskier leaves the witchers be, walking back to his and geralt’s bedroom. all three of them are so flustered, lambert doesn’t realize his spilling his drink. eskel just feels giddy over his kiss and tells geralt he’s one lucky bastard. geralt just feels stupidly proud. “yeah i know.” he says smugly.

[jeongintwenty3]

09.17

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

genre: fluff

summary: lee know being his usual endearing self, but in the morning

warnings: none, i think?

author's note: hi! rey here ♡ thank you so sooo much for giving my last fic so much love!! i appreciate it a lot (: here's another one and please forgive me if it's a mess <3 as usual, feedback is very welcome. please excuse any misspellings or misuse of grammar ): enjoy loves 🌻

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"WHY didn't you text me the whole day my lovely one and only? you better have a good reason for it."

"there goes my supposedly peaceful morning", you mubled to yourself.

beside you stood your adorable boyfriend, having to catch a flight at 5 in order to make it to your sister's baby shower wasn't the most ideal, but again, he'd do anything for his other half.

still half asleep, collecting whatever sanity you have left while looking at the clock, you sighed, "min, i just woke up. it's only 9 in the morning."

"yeah ok, so? my day started at 4 and i was lonely for a good 5 hours my love," he replied while blinking quickly, an act that's very endearing, you have no choice but to give in

sighing for the 3rd time since the last 5 minutes you woke up, you rolled over to the other side of bed; a silent invitation for the man screaming in your ear to come and snuggle since it's still quite early according to your body clock. you know that he's sleep-deprived, so you did hole he'd get the message.

but minho didn't. hell was this a challenge, instead of cocooning your half-awake form, he decided to disturb you. again.

kneeling so his face can be at level with yours, he started to pepper kisses all over: may it be your eyes, nose, lips, cheeks, it's safe to say almost 100% of the area got covered with his kisses. on other days, you'd be annoyed and it'll end up a tickle fight or a chase inside the house. but for this particular morning, you decided to savor it, only because you missed him and you had no energy to rebutt his actions.

"are you done?" you managed to squeak out between his loving attacks.

placing a final kiss onto your lips, he replied "yeah, now move." and so you did; you moved onto the other side (or the original position you were in before this man you loved started throwing a tantrum)

he opened his arms and in a heartbeat pulled you into his chest. "i missed you," he blurted out loud. while tiptoeing between the line of unconciousness and being awake, you managed to ask, "really min?"

"mhm", and with that, he attacked you with another round of pecks.

after about 5 minutes or so, he noticed your steady breathing, assuming you were asleep. thinking it was a good idea to meet you in his dreams, he adjusted both of your positions so you could snuggle into his chest with his head on top of yours, your hands on his chest and his encircling your body. he was savoring the moment, as times like these were where he felt really safe and vice versa.

"what did i do to deserve you? i promise, once this whole thing gets settled, i'll be putting a ring on your finger. i'll be the first one you see when you wake up, the one who drives you to and from work, the one who cooks your favorite lambchop, the one who treats you best. i love you. so much," he managed to let it out because he thought the person snuggled into him was knocked out.

luck was clearly not on his side, since you were never really asleep in the first place due to the constant shifting of minho. you managed to smile and look him in the eyes sleepily, while replying, "i love you too, i'll wait for you, min. don't worry, kay?"

a bit taken aback by the one who he thought was asleep, he only giggled and managed to nod.

the both of you really needed this, the warmth from each other, the sweet words and the time. you see, dating a man who has a busy schedule is not that hard. well for some, it may be extremely difficult. but for you? as long as minho showers you with the love you deserve, texts you every now and then, is there for you and wanting to communicate, everything will be okay. he loved you and you loved him, it was the two of you against the world. always.

[wings-of-ink]

I was thinking about an ask I wrote some time ago where MC asked Duri to teach them, if possible, to also be able to turn into a wolf. And Duri, in your answer, used the opportunity to make fun of MC.

But here is a funny scenario: What if against everyone's expectations, MC did end up turning into a wolf after following Duri's instructions. After all, we don't know MC's true origins. By all we know, MC may have some God blood in them, and may possibly be able to turn into an animal and just didn't know.

If you want it would be lovely if, like the original ask, both Oswin and Duri were present. But I understand if you want to limit the scenario to just Duri.

Hilarity and chaos would ensue. This is a fun one, lol. ^_^

Link to the first post:

Picking up where we left off:

You feel the burn of embarrassment as you turn your back on the laughing god and start to follow Oswin. You can't help but pout too...you wanted it so badly. Duri may have made a fool of you, but it doesn't stop you from admiring their wolf-form. You want that for yourself, it calls to your spirit. There's a pull, an unspoken link with your soul.

As you make it through the trees, Oswin sighs heavily. "I should have interrupted sooner...I shouldn't have left you alone with that idiot..."

"It's fine. Maybe I was silly to ask such a thing." You shrink in on yourself.

Oswin stops. "I don't think it's silly. This world is more fantastic than either of us thought...it's not wrong to want to play a bigger part in that."

You can't help but smile a bit. "You really think so?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. You're already fantastic in other ways - you don't need to be a magic wolf or anything to be great." He turns to you with a wide and sweet smile, his eyes shining with something unspoken.

The humiliation you feel slowly drifts away as you match his gaze...until his brow begins to furrow. "What's wrong?" you ask.

"Your...well, your eyes..."

"What about them?" You touch the side of your face, perhaps you have dirt near your eyes.

"They're...um, they're glowing." Oswin looks a mix of fright and wonder as he stares at you.

You can barely register what he says before the light bursts from your eyes and surrounds you. You see Oswin flinch from the brightness as you feel a sudden warm sensation in all your limbs. And then, it's over. You look around, and nothing seems unusual...except...now you feel shorter. Why am I shorter? And your clothes...are on the ground. Why am I naked!?

Oswin looks down at you, mouth agape.

You make to speak, but it comes out as a yip. Oh...oooooh.

Duri rushes through the brush behind you. "What was that? I felt..." They spot you.

As you meet Duri's eyes you feel a flood or warmth - a connection - and your heart pulls in excitement. Whatever feelings you had for Duri before are amplified and a whine leaves your throat without your realization.

Duri cups a hand over their mouth and looks from you to Oswin and then back. "They're so cute..."

You growl.

Oswin kneels. "I don't know what to say..."

You watch him closely and notice he's smiling. He's giving you the same look he gets when he sees puppies and seems to be resisting reaching out to pat you. I think he likes this...

Gently, Duri turns your attention back to them. "I had a feeling you had secrets, lambchop, but nothing like this...I hope we're not related..."

You show your teeth - are you smiling or snarling - that's a gamble Duri will need to take.

"What a pretty coat too." Duri guffaws.

I wonder what I look like...

The demigod grins. "Difficult to describe, but your face is black and so are your ears, but the rest of you is a lovely mottled silver. Your eyes are the same color but much lighter than normal - they sort of glow."

You tilt your head.

"And, yes, I can hear you...in a way."

Oswin scoots into your line of sight. "Would you...would you permit me to pat your head? Please?"

Your tail wags.

Oswin gently rubs your head and ears - it feels spectacular. Duri joins in and scritches your chin. No wonder wolves and dogs scramble for this.

Humming in thought, Duri looks you over. "I wonder why you are normal wolf size...maybe you'll grow into it - I was really small when I started. You should get as big as me and we can terrorize the forest together...scare the shit out of the locals." A wicked grin plasters across their face.

Oswin is cupping your furry cheeks, smiling as he gazes at you. "This is wonderful, but I do hope you know how to change back..."

Shit.

[pancake-nikkitty]

So y’all I’m obsessed with Cult of the Lamb.

Like. I cosplayed the Lamb relatively recently (a con in March) and I’ve replayed the game so many goddamn times. And I’ve doodled the Lamb&co. so many times.

So I of course restarted it when the new update came out. But like. Cult names become hard after awhile.

Some I’ve done (that I can remember):

Lambcerations (like lacerations? But Lamb. I did a couple Lamb puns and this is the only one I can remember for the life of me)

Starved Lamb (this was specifically when the Don’t Starve collab came out)

Lamb Rot

Glamb (this is mine&my spouse’s co-op one)

LambChops

I really can’t remember all of them. I put the game down, come back, restart it. Forget the cult name. Lambcerations is the only one I still have because it was the first one I beat before all the content and DLCs came out.

So when naming this new cult I was just being a little silly. And no one really says your cult name again so its just for me.

I also love the poet’s. I have 2 of them and i’m married to one. So I walked up to one of my poet’s trying to clip back into the compound to talk (i need to move my drinkhouse it 🙃) and had this interaction:

Yes Jooglen. Be Gay Do Crime for life. ✌🏻