#but not quite yet

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

HOT OFF THE PRESS

by me ❤️ (chapter two up now!)

[popcorn-plots]

who you say you are

i feel like shit so here we are

possible TW for discussions of periods and everything that happens during them, like bleeding through three layers of clothing (that was a wonderful night)

Stephen hated his periods. He hated the general feeling of unwellness during that week, and he hated having to clean blood out of everything after he inevitably bled through.. everything. The worst part about it, however, wasn't even the blood. It was the dysphoria. It was the fact that every month, his period would bring the lies of his mind, telling him that he wasn't a real man and never would be. That he was weak for whining about it.

That he was never Stephen and he never would be. That he was too feminine, or that he was never 'good enough' to pass as a man. The worst was his mind telling him that he'd always be a girl, that deep down... he was never Stephen in the first place. He was just little Lucy, trying on her dad's shirt.

On those days, Stephen would curl up on his bed, clutching a hot water bottle. Cloak would hold him as he sobbed, telling himself over and over again, like a mantra, that his name was Stephen Strange. On those days, he would ask Wong not to bother him, despite every fiber of his being yearning to be held, begging for someone to call him handsome and take away the pain.

He didn't think that Wong knew. He was near-positive that Wong had no idea that Stephen was trans. As far as the other sorcerer knew, Stephen was just another man. A man with a broken soul to match his broken hands and scarred chest.

~

It was one of those days (Dark Days, Stephen called them) when Stephen was in his room, clutching a pillow to his chest. A second was between his legs, pressed to his crotch. It was surprisingly helpful when dealing with cramps, the pressure on his lower abdomen easing the discomfort. Unfortunately, he had forgotten his heading pad in the library from when he last used it and when he finally needed it again, he was too comfortable to get it.

Magic was out of the option as well considering just how horrible he felt between the pain, dysphoria, and his hands. It was a bad hand day, because of course, and he really didn't want to move. Which, unfortunately, meant breathing through the pain and trying not to cry.

Eventually, he managed to fall into a light sleep, nodding off then jolting awake again. He woke up in a way that jarred his hands and he groaned. It might be time to sacrifice his comfort for some much-desired relief.

He was mentally preparing himself to climb out of bed when there was a knock at the door. "Stephen?"

Stephen blinked. "..Wong..?"

"You left your heating pad in the library." Wong announced.

Stephen sighed. "I know. Leave me alone."

"I warmed it up for you. I thought you might need it. May I come in?" Stephen didn't respond. Wong had found his heating pad and warmed it up for him. For a second, Stephen wondered if Wong knew, but he had hidden it so well-- "Stephen?"

"...yeah. you can come in."

There was a click as the doorknob turned, then Wong was walking across the room in brisk strides, stopping in front of the nest of blankets that was Stephen Strange. "Here." he set the heating pad down near Stephen's hands. "I also have tea and some of your painkillers. It's raining today."

Stephen let out a shaky breath. Maybe Wong was just looking out for his hands. That would explain it, right? But Wong was never so... caring. Aside from his the week after Everest and his usual quiet help when Stephen needed to handle large stacks of books.

"You're paler than usual. If you turned yourself into a vampire on accident, I will kill you again." Stephen huffed.

"I'm not a vampire."

Wong reached out a hand and felt Stephen's forehead. Stephen nearly froze at the contact, but didn't say anything. He tried to look anywhere but Wong until the hand was gone. "You're not running a temperature."

"I'm trans." Stephen found himself blurting out.

Wong looked at him. Blinked. "Do you need any supplies?"

Supplies...?

"Pads, tampons? You disappear in your room once every four weeks, only coming out for food and when you do, you look horrible. Deathly pale, hunched over as if in pain, it wasn't hard to figure out."

Stephen looked up at his friend. Wong had taken a seat in the armchair next to Stephen's bed -- one of the large library chairs that had found itself in Stephen's room after a few too many vigils of Wong's when Stephen found himself injured.

"You... you never said anything."

"If you wanted me to know, you would have told me when the time was right."

"You... always made my favorite meals."

Wong huffed a rare smile. "I have never menstruated, but I can sympathy. I have a sister. She was always... vocal with.. everything. I did what I could to make her feel better."

Stephen smiled. "It sounds like you love her."

"Very much." Wong was smiling ever so slightly. Stephen found that watching Wong smile seemed to take the pain away.

"What's her name?"

"Li." It was soft, spoken just above a whisper. "You'd like her."

"Li. Pretty name." Stephen sighed. "Mine was-- is--"

"Stephen."

Stephen paused. He stared at Wong. Wong stared back. "Your name is Stephen. You are Stephen Strange. Do not give me your dead name. It is dead for a reason. You are who you say you are, not what someone else wants you to be. You told me on your very first day that your name is Stephen Strange. That is who you are. If you wish for me to use a different name, then I will. I respect you, and I will respect you, whoever you decide to be."

Stephen swallowed, tears pricking his eyes. He refused to let himself cry in front of Wong, of all people. Wong looked at him again and nodded. "You are Stephen Strange. Remember that."

Before he knew it, Wong had closed the door behind him and Stephen was sobbing into his pillow.

A few hours later, Stephen woke up feeling a hundred times better than before. He decided to find his way to the kitchen for dinner, now that the cramps had disappeared.

He found Wong at the stove, making friend rice. Wong's go-to comfort food that had quickly become Stephen's as well."

"Thank you." Stephen whispered. Wong responded by dishing Stephen and himself a large helping of rice.

"Of course, Stephen."

[notmoreflippingelves]

Alastor/Vox? for the ask meme

Hazbin Hotel is a fandom where I don't really ship anything especially hard or have any OTPs, but there are a handful of ships that intrigue me quite a bit and I can see myself potentially getting much more invested in them in the future. Vox/Alastor is definitely one of the ships that I am most 👀 about. Foe yay/enemies-with-benefits/enemies-to-lovers are some of my favorite ship dynamics so I was definitely sitting up with interest when Vox's whole obsession with Alastor was introduced (and esp that it was one of the defining characteristics of Vox from the very start). Am very curious to see if/where this goes with S2, especially as I believe that it was announced that the Vees are going to be the major antagonists next season.

[maybege]

jesus i wish someone would have told me that post-concert depression is real

[dreamerking27]

I think I want to read some newborn Gideon angst again 👀 (Please revise your grad school essays too if you have the spoons 🥰)

Okay so I knew there was something I wanted to talk about in my essays that I hadn't done yet but I didn't know where to put it, so I just wrote it at the end under a line break, and now I think I might be writing them over. But that's okay because I have time.

And here's that Gideon for you:

“All right, I think I know one thing we could try,” Grindala says. “What do you think it’s like where Ramu is now? If he got to pick, what do you think that would look like?”

“Here,” Gideon says, automatically. Because here is where Gideon is, and he thought that Ramu always wanted to be close to him. But that wasn’t really true, was it? He shakes his head as soon as he says it. Ramu never wanted to be here. He didn’t want to be alone. But he didn’t want to be here. He was trapped here. The only reason he had stuck around as long as he did was that he didn’t have a choice, and as soon as he could, he’d left. “No. That’s not true. He’s not here, obviously. Why would he want to be here? Um. I don’t know.”

Maybe he doesn’t know Ramu at all, really.

[narwhalsarefalling]

my (cis) brother is using my old license to buy wine and it has the gender marker F on there. so whenever he gets asked he just says “oh i’m trans”. its literally worked every single time.

[brave-symphonia]

Oh, you can't answer it yet?

It's been a little over 20 years, how about now? No?

[leupagus]

It's really fucked up when you treat characters like people and people like characters.

[goosec0id]

“God's a house. Which is not to say that our house is God's house or even a house of God. What I mean to say is that our house is God.”

[xamag-draws]

[Monster High] so since pink lagoona is a hot topic in the fandom, i though it'd be a fun challenge to try and make some pink lagoonas myself. there's actually a lot of material to work with imo!

these are all essentially looks for a recolored g1 lagoona, only the last one being intended for her g3 personality. i wanted to make more for g3, but didn't quite like them in execution, so maybe another time..

tropical treasure: beautiful, glamorous, colorful, but a bit more of an aquarium decoration than a strange beast. loosely inspired by bettas

ghost ship cruise: etherial haunty lagoona, inspired by jellyfish. light, translucent and probably cold to the touch

coy classic: elegant mermaid pond lagoona, inspired by koi fish. this one is kind of an amalgamation of her g1 dolls that exists in my head tbh

little axolotl: cute and quirky, like the new lagoona. inspired by axolotls and sea slugs :)

[watchingwisteria]

listen there really was just something about how in the book, snow’s 3-page descent from hesitant lover boy to deluded mfer happens entirely in his mind. lucy gray gives him no indication whatsoever that she suspects him, that she’s going to leave or betray him. he’s just sitting quietly in the cabin waiting for her to return when that seed of calculated suspicion, which he has needed to survive the capitol, takes a hold of him and chokes the life out of any goodness left inside him. it really drives home your terror as a reader that “oh my god did he kill her? did she escape? what happened to her? why would he even think that?” in a way that when the movie had to adjust for visualization it lost some of that holy shit this guy has lost it emphasis.

[parisoonic]

last ones i swear

[worldwright]

arthur "--when I die--"

john, panicking: "IF you die!!"

arthur, audibly deciding not to confront john with his inevitable mortality right this second: "yeah ok fine, IF I die"

[saturnisfallingdown]

I HAVE. A QUERY. for artists who have been posting stuff online for several years now....

[nezuscribe]

gojo fucks you so well because he's so terrified that any time might be his last. he holds you close to his chest, your sweaty bodies writhing against each other as you can't get any closer, and he pounds into you like there's no tomorrow.

his brows are furrowed, his lips as curled tightly as if to contain any of his moans.

"'toru, fuck, wait..." your nails are scratching deep red lines on his back, your brows furrowed in pleasure, but confused as to why he's like this. normally he's slow, teasing.

he doesn't answer, his eyes connected to where the two of you meet, your essence dripping down his balls. his hair is falling into his face, his breath hot against your neck as he buries his face in it, sucking on the column of your skin, his tongue soothing over where his teeth would nip.

he wants to mark you. he wants you to carry him on your skin because a part of him deeply worries that some night might be the last time he could do this.

he angled his hips to reach into you deeper, your back arching as your tits pressed against his solid chest, his lips finding yours as he hungrily made out with you, his grip on your waist tightening.

"love you," he'd mutter against your swollen lips, his eyes finding yours as he picked up his pace, "love you s'fuckin much."

and he fucks you to show you how he means it.

[yvainart]

sending letters to each other (yes that’s the birdie or other of their kind from book 3)