#it’s a plural feeling day for us ;p

[thebookishwallflower]

we’re thinking about doing a podcast on figures of mythology, folklore, cryptid-tales, and the sort :) if anyone has a beloved creature of stories please share them~ we need some inspo

one of our personal favorites is the baba yaga but we might save her for a bit anyways, we would love to hear about both main-stream and obscure things of all sorts

[lockeswoodss]

The Crimson Glow: Chapter 1

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!MDNI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You had long given up on meeting your soulmates. At 33, you felt like you'd miss the window. Pathetic off white pink strings, that had only darkened twice, were your only claim to them. That was until you started your across-state journey from Philly to P-burgh. Feeling brash after a recent breakup you threw caution to the wind and applied for a job across your home state. To your surprise, you were hired. With the encouragement of your close friends and brother, you committed to the new experience. For once, you were excited for adventure, that was until your strings began to darken.

CW: none? I guess cursing? If you see something please let me know 💛

A/N: While this chapter does not include smut there will be some in future chapters; it's a slow burn. Smut chapters will be labeled

Taglist: @nocturnalrorobin (also the requester of this prompt ^-^)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It would be an understatement to say that you’ve grown pessimistic when it comes to your soulmates. I mean fuck you were in your early thirties and your soul link of red strings had only changed from a pale pink twice in your life before going back to the default light pink. Yes, strings plural. You were part of the 2% of Americans who are estimated to have more than one soulmate. Despite this occurring in 1 in 50 people, your parents were from a generation where those who had more than one soulmate were ostracized. In turn, they had trained you since you were able to talk to only refer to one string. It had been ingrained in you to the extent that even now, as an adult, you had only told less than five people outside of your family about having two soulmates. Two of which were close friends, and the other two were past long-term relationships. Fuck what you wouldn’t give for a quote of your first words, or a countdown timer. Anything other than this off-white string that had been hanging over your head since childhood.

You knew that you could only be mad at fate to a certain extent. You had chosen to be career driven and bet on sure things rather than chasing after strings that had been stagnant for almost your whole life. In a way, you wish you could be as carefree as your twin brother. Benjamin, ever the romantic, took what was supposed to be a gap year from undergrad to grad school to find his mate. He headed east to Europe and backpacked across the entire continent before finding his soulmate, now husband, in Sicily. He ended up settling in London with his soulmate, Dante, eleven years ago and never looked back. Your parents’ reaction to his “lifestyle choices” was the final nail in the coffin before you both went no contact. You were the only thing left trying him to the US. You visited him at least once a year and talked regularly. You always wished you could be as carefree as he was. Despite your own situation, you were beyond happy for your brother. If not a bit envious, which led you to now, you pulled off at a rest station off of Route 76 on the verge of a panic attack.

You had just passed Harrisburg, two hours into your journey west from Philadelphia to Pittsburgh. For the first time ever both your strings were red, overlapped and darkening as you got closer to Pittsburgh. You didn’t know what to do or how to process this new information. Your strings had been overlapped for about two years now, and you had dealt with and accepted the fact that your soulmates had most likely found each other.  No, it was the darkening that threw you for a loop. This had only happened twice, the first time the string had gone from off-white to red only to turn back light pink within a few hours. That same string, pointing east across the Atlantic, had briefly turned black to grey back to light pink. You’d never forget that day one of your soulmates had almost died. Your sting had gone black for a minute and 57 seconds.

You shook your head, dismissing that thought; you were already stressed as it was.

You don’t know how Benji and your friend, a Pittsburgh native, had convinced you to take life by the reins and be impulsive. Between your recent breakup and a job opportunity across the state, you had made the improbable choice. You quit your job and got an apartment on the other side of the state. You regret it now, dread building in your gut. You weren’t spontaneous, no, you were practical and thorough. You didn’t take these kinds of risks.

Fuck, you felt like you were going to throw up. You quickly exited your maps app. Your thumb was over your brother’s contact info when your call screen suddenly took over displaying an incoming call from him. You picked up before the first ring had ended.

“You’re okay,” Ben’s voice rang out before you even had the chance to greet him. The wails of your nephew faint in the background.

“I-” You started, voice shaky, you paused before taking a breath.

“It’s okay,” he said once again, voice level.

“They’re red Ben, like properly red, like the ones in the movies.” You responded, you somehow managed to get the words out evenly, before taking another deep breath.

“Sis, that’s a good thing,” he responded, smile clear in his voice.

“No, I don’t know what to do,” you sighed, pressing your forehead flush with the top of the steering wheel, “I always know what to do Ben.”

“It’s okay to not know what’s to come, most people don’t know what’s going to happen before they meet their soulmate. You just have to lean on fate for a bit before going back to being a know-it-all,” he joked, hoping to lighten your mood.

“Okay,” you sighed, breathing going back to normal. “But what if I’m not what they’re expecting?”

“Then they’ll be pleasantly surprised,” He responded,

“What if it’s a bad time? Or if I meet them before making it to Pittsburgh?” You ask.

“There’s no perfect time to meet your mates, and if you meet them before Pittsburgh, you’ll figure it out. Like you always do.” He said comfortingly,

“What if-what if they don’t want me?” you said, finally voicing your deepest concern.

“Sis,” he replied softly, his voice just loud enough to register on his phone’s mic.

“I’m just-Fuck, I’m a mess, I start at my new job in less than two days, my apartment isn’t set up, and I definitely needed to do a everything shower this morning, but gaslighted myself into not washing my hair.” You sighed, “Just,” you breathed, “What if I’m not good enough?” Your voice wavered.

“Hey, watch your tone, I know you’re not bad mouthing my sister. Not the one that put herself through college, a master’s program, and a licensing process to become an art therapist. Not the woman who devotes everything to her patients within boundaries. Not the one who worked pro bono at a grief summer camp because of a staffing shortage. Or on top of everything is an amazing artist. Cuz she’s an empathetic badass, who is way too smart to say any of that shit.” Ben responded.

“Ben,” you said, sniffled, eyes watering.

“You’re going to be okay. They are lucky to be blessed with your presence and happy to meet you. If not, I’ll fuck them up.”

You let out a wet laugh, a single tear escaping each of your eyes as you blinked.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, a soft smile on your lips.

“No problem. What are big brothers for?” he asked, jokingly.

“Just cuz you cut in line does not make you older.” You responded to a lifelong debate with an eyeroll he’d never see, “Sorry for falling apart on you.”

“Sis, I’m sleep training a five-month-old, who is on what I hope is the tail end of colic. You were a much-needed break.”

“Tell Atlas his auntie loves him.” You said, taking one last deep breath. The weight gone from your chest.

“I will.” You could hear the softness in his voice shift, Atlas most likely finally calming down for Dante in the other room, “If you need anything, feel free to call.”

“I will, love you,” you reply.

“Love you too,” he responded before you clicked off the call.

You took a deep breath; you plugged your phone back into its charging port and clicked on maps and cued up a hip-hop mix. You shifted from park to drive and merged back onto I-76. You took one last stop two hours in, but it just made you more tired. You white knuckled it until you got to the parking garage adjacent to your building. Your strings continued to darken, color plateaued when you drove into the city’s limits. They weren’t overlapping anymore. On was pointing up, something you’d never seen before, and the other was pointing off to the right as you face your apartment building. You texted Ben and your friend who lived in the city that you got in safely. You unloaded your backpack and a single suitcase that held all your valuables. For the first time, you found yourself liking the annoying squeaks of its broken wheel. It was something familiar.

After you locked your car, the next half hour was a blur. You signed the final paperwork at the office and got your keys. You boarded the elevator and clicked on the tenth floor.

Your breath caught in your throat as the red string that was pointing upward started to move laterally down, while the other started to point down. The above one kept moving downward until it was back to the height of your palm. Was this it? Were you about to meet your soulmate? Despite bitching about not meeting them for the better part of thirty years you felt wildly unprepared. The ding of your floor snapped you out of your daze.

Were they living on the same floor as you?

You shook your head, turning left as the building manager had directed you. You slowly made your way down the hall; your suitcase’s broken wheel squeaking was the only noise. Your head snapped down as you passed the last apartment on the right before yours. The string was bright crimson, bolder than you had ever seen before. As you walked on, the string went through you, through the wall into that apartment.

You paused. But then there was nothing? Maybe they were asleep? It was four in the afternoon, but you weren’t really one to judge; you always loved a good nap. That or maybe they worked nights? After waiting for a beat, you slowly walked down to your apartment door, keeping an eye on the door as you opened yours.

Maybe this was okay? While you were desperate to meet them, you also had just completed an over five-hour drive, and you felt and you’re sure, looked like hot garbage. You gave yourself no time to take in the apartment before crossing through the sea of reusable boxes to your bedroom. You quickly tossed your backpack on the sheetless mattress resting on a built bed frame. You pulled out the lounge wear you packed along with a towel and washcloth from one of the totes before rushing to the bathroom. If you were gonna meet them today you were gonna have clean hair god dammit. You turned on the water as you stripped, your string remaining solitary to the one spot in your neighbor’s apartment. You unpacked your toiletries onto the shower’s ledges before jumping in. Your nerves got to you again, loitering in the shower as long as you could justify. After drying off, you did your full extended post-shower routine; eyes never straying far from the solitaire string.

While you tried to start to unpack, you couldn’t help but stare at the string. Should you just go and knock on their door? Before you could scheme any further, your stomach grumbled. It was already five and you hadn’t eaten since the last rest stop. Maybe going to grab something to eat wasn’t the worst idea ever. It’d get you out of your current impasse of staring at a wall. You picked a well-rated Thai restaurant around the corner, ordering way too much for a single person. The entire trip lasted about a half-hour, but it was a nice break. You got some fresh air and were able to stretch your legs as you took in the neighborhood. When you got back to the lobby, your other string started to darken quickly, like it was speeding towards you. You debated waiting for it or going back upstairs so that you could all be together. You opted for the latter and retreated back to your apartment. The string on your floor remained still, only starting to move as you closed your door.

Your heart began to hammer in your chest as you placed the food down on your kitchen counter. You were about to check in with Ben before a loud knock sounded off. Hesitantly, you approached the door, strings bright red, almost glowing. They formed a “V” shape as you wrapped your hand around the door handle.

This was it

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! I am in the last month of my semester, so I don't have an update schedule as of now. Will hopefully be more consistent after mid-May. Hope you're doing well whenever you are 💛

[thebleedingwoodland]

TS3 World Adventures - Mooncakes & Mooncake Machine Maker Remastered: Mooncake Mesh & Texture with Enhanced Graphics & Enabled to Buy Mode & Renamed Mod (All Languages) & Icons Replacement Mod

D E F A U L T   R E P L A C E M E N T

New custom Mooncake mesh & texture, to replace EA's "Fortune Cookies" machine maker and edible cake taken from machine maker with working Geostates & animation

EA's graphics from 512x512 with noise was enhanced to 1024x1024 with less noise and adding Simlish Hanzi to replace EA's "bad handwriting" texture on the machine maker. Click this picture below to enlarge.

Enabled to Buy Mode (Appliances > Miscellaneous Appliances), for easy access no need to type cheat "Buydebug" mode ever again.

STBL Renamed mod, from "Fortune Cookies" to "Mooncakes" translated to all languages.

月餅 （Yuèbǐng）= Moon Cake

ⓘ For language translations except Chinese, I use online translator to change word "Fortune Cookies" ---> "Mooncakes" & "Mooncake" depending on singular and plural context. Feel free to correct in comment section if you feel the translation and the grammar is wrong or I accidentally deleted other word.

Icons changed from EA's Fortune Cookies to Mooncake

Reason why I made the change:

Because Shang Simla is taking place in China, not American Chinatown, thus the portrayal of the cookies should be authentic of actual China in real life, not American cookies that are foreign to actual Chinese people. Fortune Cookies are U.S.A.- made cookies: American invention originating in California. History of Fortune Cookies (source: fancyfortunecookies.com) Mooncakes are cakes originated from China, dates back over 3,000 years to ancient China. Mooncakes are a traditional treat during the Mid-Autumn Festival, which is celebrated on the 15th day of the eighth month of the lunar calendar.

Mooncakes are the must-eat Mid-Autumn food in China. They are a traditional Chinese pastry. Their round shape and sweet flavor symbolize completeness and sweetness. At the Mid-Autumn Festival, people eat mooncakes together with family, or present mooncakes to relatives or friends, to express their love and best wishes. Mooncakes are usually eaten after dinner while admiring the moon. History of Mooncakes in China... (source: chinahighlights.com) Fortune Cookies are made in USA and only exist in USA, but mistaken by USA people themselves as "Chinese" cookies just because the cookies are sold in American Chinese restaurant in USA. We actual Chinese live on our country have never seen Fortune Cookies, as we only know the presence of those cookies in Hollywood (U.S.A.) movies. Not just culture inaccuracy, I enabled this machine maker in Buy Mode section for easy access because this item must have been forgotten in the corner and only been played once when the player visit Shang Simla.

Colour & Presets: Same as original EA's: 3 Presets & original EA's Fortune Cookies Machine Maker colour channels.

How to Change Default EA's Fortune Cookies to Mooncake in Shang Simla world.

Fortune Cookies maker in Shang Simla doesn't automatically change to Mooncake due to different coding in-game.

❗You must buy Mooncake Machine Maker from Buy Mode (Appliances > Miscellaneous Appliances) to load the texture first, then travel to Shang Simla world, do "Reset Textures" using Nraas' Debug Enabler.

You need to install Nraas' Debug Enabler (Core mod by Twallan) in order to work correctly ❗

Follow these steps to reset textures: 

Click on the Fortune Cookies Maker > Nraas > Debug Enabler > Options: Lucky Factory Mooncake Maker > Object… > Reset Textures > (Choose one) All Sims3.Gameplay.Objects.Appliances.FortuneCookieMaker or This Object

Requirement: World Adventures Expansion Pack

Thank you credits: - Simlish Hanzi: Komorebigo font by Deastrumquodvicis - Mooncake Vector: by Shutterstock - Mid-Autumn Festival Vector & Images by Freepik

Instance code compatibility: 0x010F16B00BA8342B

As usual, install one of these packages on Package folder. You can safely delete the package if you no longer want to use the default replacement.

[ Download Mooncake Machine Default Replacement ]

Language Translations: Click this picture below to enlarge.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Chapter 11 - The mirror is a trap that saves

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 3.2K

TWs: Elvis is a little dominant, use of daddy in a sexual context, bit of dollification, objectification if you squint, possessive kink, praise kink, p in v sex.

It's Christmas eve, and Elvis scratches his bearded chin as he walks arm in arm with Tegan and their dog through the snowy park. He's grown a beard to make it easier for him to dress up as Santa for the grandkids, but he started too late and it's itchy. Tegan told him that the itchy stage would finish soon (her ex had a beard) but he's preoccupied by how annoying it is right now. The dog is a chow cross that they chose together at a rescue centre, as soon as Elvis found out that Tegan loved dogs as much as him. She made the mistake of telling him about the Welsh language band Ffa Coffi Pawb - literally meaning “everyone's coffee beans”, but pronounced fah-koff-ee pow-b which made it sound a lot like fuck off everyone, in a combination of Welsh and English - Wenglish - and he decided that was the perfect name for their new furry friend. In the end he went for Ffa Coffi, which Tegan thinks doesn't really work as a pun, but Elvis enjoys saying regardless. Tegan also doesn't think a dog can be called Coffee Beans (bean would be fine, but the plural just seems crazy) but mostly they just shout “COFFI!” which works in either language. The most important thing is that Coffi is laid back and will barely chase after a ball, never mind other people's pets. And he puts up with Tegan cuddling him all the time without ever trying to lick her face. Sometimes when Elvis sees them curled up on the sofa together he wonders if he will ever get a look in. 

The beard and the fact that he’s wrapped up for the cold mean that barely anyone recognises Elvis, and so they’ve come out without any kind of back up. Elvis feels more and more comfortable doing that nowadays, happy to just walk around with Tegan and Coffi. They don’t see the paps often in the cold, and when they do they just do their best to ignore them. As they make their way through the snow, he’s reminded of the day at the zoo, when they definitely did have to have back up. 

“Hey, I bet if we went ta the zoo today no-one would bother us.”

Tegan snorts. “And all the animals would probably be indoors by the fire with a cocoa.”

“Cocoa?”

“Oh, hot chocolate.”

“Ah.”

They carry on for a while in silence, then Elvis pipes up again. 

“I’m sorry about that day, honey. Ya didn’t deserve bein’ dragged through the press like ya were.”

Her smile is slight as she remembers the horrible events of the day after. “Neither did you.”

Stopping, he turns to her and looks into her face seriously. “Ya didn’t deserve the way I treated ya, either.”

Her eyes dart around, awkwardly, and she eventually settles on looking down at Coffi. “Well, that was a while ago, now, ‘raur. Things have been much better since then.”

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he reaches for hers to hold them. The dog lead slips onto her wrist and Coffi sits down between them, looking up patiently. 

“Ya know yer beautiful, right?”

She frowns a little, still looking at the dog. “I’m not sure what that’s got to do with… before.”

He steps towards her and the dog whines a little at being hemmed in between them. 

“Will ya look at me, pretty girl?”

Her nose wrinkles and she looks up cautiously. “We’ve been through this, ‘raur. I’m almost 40 years old.”

“Alright then. Look at me when I’m talking to ya, woman.”

There’s a trace of a smile on her face as he moves his hand to her cheek and pulls her towards him, making her stagger forwards for balance as he crashes his lips against hers. 

“Mmm. ‘Raur,” she chides, a blush rising on her face as he pulls back. 

“Can’t get ya ta listen otherwise, can I?” He grumbles, letting out a low whistle and shaking his head. “Now I’ve got yer attention, will ya answer me?”

“About what?”

Elvis growls deep in his throat, making Coffi yelp in surprise. “I want ya ta tell me yer beautiful.”

“Elvis…”

“No.” The word is sharp and the force of it makes her tremble. “Don’t Elvis me. Tell me what I want ta hear.”

“I guess I look better now I've had my hair and nails done…”

Nudging the dog out of the way with his foot, Elvis closes the gap between them and puts his lips to Tegan’s ear.

“Well if yer not gonna tell me now I'll haveta fuck it outta ya later.” His voice is low and gravelly and she trembles again at the pitch and the force of the words. She can feel a blush rising on her cheeks and finds her thighs rubbing together almost of their own accord. “Hm?” He prompts, not moving his mouth from her ear. 

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispers back. 

He's half-tempted to reply “yes, Daddy, what?” but he decides not to push it outdoors, and responds with a quick “good” instead. He steps back and takes the dog lead off Tegan, gently tugging Coffi towards him. 

“Time ta head back.”

They turn and walk back towards the car, Tegan’s stomach flipping as the words he’d just said run through her mind over and over again. As well as the consistent erections, the pills had given Elvis a little more confidence, but he’d never said anything like that outside of the bedroom, let alone outside of the house. On the drive home they make small talk about when they’re going to put out the presents, and what they’ve bought for other people, but Tegan’s brain keeps short-circuiting to him telling her he’s going to fuck it out of her. She watches him carry on doing normal, everyday things when they’re back at Graceland. Feeding the dog, making coffee. 

“Elvis?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Can I have a kiss?”

He moves to put his arms around her, pulling her in close. “Of course ya can.”

His lips are soft and the kiss is gentle. Tegan feels herself relax. She smiles as he pulls back. 

“Thanks.”

He chuckles softly. “Mmm. No problem.” Stroking her cheek, he continues, “you lookin’ forward to dressin’ up as Mrs Claus later? Puttin’ on that little outfit I bought ya?”

She looks at his expression for a moment and then shakes her head a little. “It’s obscene, isn’t it?”

He pretends to look offended. “Obscene? Somethin’ I bought fer ya?” When she carries on staring at him with one raised eyebrow he relents. “Okay, yeah, so it’s a little short. Gotta show off my girl’s legs though, haven’t I?”

“To who?!”

“Ah. Okay, ya got me there.” He ponders the question for a moment. “Alright. It’s self-gratification. Jus’ wanna see ‘em myself.”

She keeps shaking her head but they’re both giggling and then they’re kissing again. Tegan hears someone clearing their throat and pulls back quickly. 

“Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds, but I’ve got two kids demanding lunch.” Lisa-Marie smiles at them both. 

“Chefs are on their way in,” Elvis explains, looking at his watch. “Ten minutes or so an’ then they’ll be makin’ somethin’. Kids’ll have ta be patient.”

The impatient children appear as if they’ve been summoned by the conversation, and Elvis suggests they all go down to the den and hang out there instead. Ben follows his sister, explaining some comic book or other that he’s been reading to her in painstaking detail, whilst she pulls the most bored face Tegan thinks she’s ever seen. Elvis settles into an armchair and pulls his girlfriend into his lap. One arm rests around her waist whilst his other hand brushes her hair away from her neck to give him easy access to press kisses to it every so often. He always seems to know when she needs reassurance. 

“You two are so sweet together,” Lisa remarks. 

“Ah, I’m lucky she puts up with me,” Elvis replies, his fingers combing through Tegan’s hair. “She’s got the patience of a saint.”

“Don’t talk about me as though I’m not here,” Tegan complains. 

Lisa starts saying something about him being a pain in the ass, but Tegan can barely hear it because his lips are next to her ear again, murmuring, “think ya like it when I do that, honey.” Her pussy tingles at the words and she swallows, thickly. Managing after what seems like minutes to tune back into the conversation, only to hear Elvis saying,

“She’s way too good fer me, and far too pretty.”

The tingling between her legs intensifies. She does like it. She likes it way too much. Fuck. She tries to calm down as she hears Lisa ask her a question to draw her back into the conversation. 

“Oh well, I mean he is better than me at karate, I suppose…”

They bounce back and forth and she starts to feel herself relax. But Elvis had felt the way she’d tensed and seen the blush on her face. He certainly hasn’t lost his touch, when it comes to knowing what women like, he thinks. Not at all. 

***

Tegan looks at herself in the mirror, turning to the side and tugging at the hem of her dress a little. She’d been right when she accused Elvis of buying her an obscene costume - it only just covers her ass. At least it’s not skin tight, she muses. But there’s no way she’s bending over in it in the best of the house. She pulls the santa hat onto her head and laughs at her reflection. If someone had told her a year ago that she’d be in one of the bedrooms in Graceland, wearing a skimpy Mrs Claus outfit and getting ready to arrange presents underneath the Christmas tree (a task that was now definitely seeming impossible to do without flashing someone) she’d have laughed them out of town. And yet, here she is.

Her thoughts are interrupted by the appearance of Elvis in his own Santa costume. She turns and runs daintily towards him, the red sparkly heels he’d bought her slowing her down a little. Throwing her arms around his neck she grins as his hands grip her lower back. 

“You look very handsome as Father Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I look like an old man in a Santa costume, honey.”

“You look handsome,” she tells him firmly, and he leans down to kiss her with a smile. 

“Father Christmas,” he teases, doing a bad impression of her accent. 

She sniggers. “Daddy Christmas.”

His hand reaches down to squeeze her ass. “Yeah, ya can call me that if ya want.”

They both giggle a little before he insists on looking at her properly in her outfit, twirling her around and making approving noises. 

“You’ve outdone yourself here, Presley,” he says, to himself. 

She can’t help smiling, despite the ridiculousness of the situation. He lets out a sharp breath and then shakes his head quickly as if to dispel the dirty thoughts. 

“Right, let’s get these gifts done.” 

He gives her a quick slap on the ass and she squeals. “Elvis!”

“Thought it was Daddy Christmas,” he replies, one eyebrow raised and a little smile playing on his lips. 

“You are incorrigible.”

“You are incorrigible, Daddy Christmas.”

Tegan doubles over laughing at that, which Elvis particularly enjoys given the length of her skirt and the lacey panties he’d bought her to wear with her outfit. 

“I swear these pills have made you worse.”

“Ya won’t learn, will ya? Call me by my name or I’ll have to put ya over my knee and we’ll never get these gifts done.”

Managing eventually to keep a straight face, she puts her arms back around his neck and looks up into his face. 

“Sorry, Daddy Christmas,” she coos. “I promise I’ll be a good girl. I don’t want to miss out on my presents.”

“I’ll definitely be givin’ ya somethin’ later if yer good,” he teases back. 

After more giggling, nose scrunching and forehead kisses, they eventually untangle themselves and head downstairs to arrange the presents, fetching them from outside of bedroom doors and piling them up underneath the tree. They fill the kids’ stockings and Elvis eats the cookie left out for Santa, leaving the glass of sherry to Tegan, since she’d insisted on it. Much to her relief, no-one comes out to see them at work so she doesn’t have to worry about her modesty too much. It’s still good to be in Elvis’ room afterwards, especially when he tells her he has some gifts to give her now. 

“Don’t think this is somethin’ everyone needs ta see,” he explains, handing her a beautifully wrapped package. “An’ the other one,” he gestures at the box next to her on the bed, “is somethin’ I want ya wearin’ tomorrow.”

“Which one first?”

He taps the package in her hand. “That one.”

She unwraps it carefully, then immediately bursts out laughing. It’s not just one present - it’s a set of three pairs of panties with ELVIS embroidered on the back in silver script. 

“Oh my God! Did you have these made?!”

He nods, grinning a little bashfully. “Thought you might like ‘em. Ya can wear a pair tomorrow under that dress I bought ya.”

Elvis had bought her yet another gold dress, which he somehow hadn’t classed as a Christmas present, having given it to her earlier in the week. She thinks she ought to be overwhelmed by all the presents, and she’s certainly nervous to see his reaction to what she’s bought him, but every time he produces another one she’s filled with a kind of warm joy. He loves giving and she loves receiving. They’re a match made in heaven. 

She smirks and once she’s finished looking at the panties she reaches for the next present. Under the wrapping paper is a beautiful velvet box, and inside the box is… 

“Oh ‘raur!!” She exclaims, very carefully lifting the tiara out of the box. It’s gold and covered in diamonds and she hates to think how much money it must have cost. “Oh cariad, it’s beautiful.” 

“Put it on, honey.”

She pushes the santa hat off her head as she gets up and walks over to the full-length mirror. Carefully replacing the hat with the tiara, she fiddles with her hair and turns her head from side to side, looking at the stones sparkling in the light. Elvis comes up behind her, slipping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“My beautiful Queenie.”

She blushes and looks down. “Oh ‘raur. It’s too much.”

“Uh-uh. Nothin’ too much f’my Queenie.”

“Thank you. I love it.”

He kisses her cheek this time and his eyes lock with hers in the mirror. “Let’s see ya in it and those panties, then.”

She spins around in his arms, her arms reaching around his neck. “Am I just some kind of naughty fashion show for you?”

“Yep,” he replies, patting her ass. “Off ya go now. Do as yer told.”

Part of her can’t believe she’s just going along with this, going into the en suite to take her dress and underwear off, and put the new panties on. She hadn’t thought that being with Elvis would be like being his little doll sometimes, and she also hadn’t thought that she’d like it so much. She opens the door slowly, then steps back into the bedroom. Elvis is still fully-clothed, sitting on his bed waiting for her. As soon as he spots her, looking a little shy only a few steps into the room, he beckons her over. 

“C’mere. That’s it. Spin round fer me. Mmmm. Lookin’ good, Tegan bach.”

Once she’s finished with being paraded around in a circle for the second time that evening, Tegan gets onto Elvis’ lap. She much prefers being close to him like this to being made to strut about like a catwalk model, and she presses herself up against him, enjoying the feeling of her naked skin against his soft, almost furry suit. His hands rub up and down her back, kissing her deeply as she rolls her hips against him. 

“Ya gonna tell me what I want ta hear yet?” He murmurs in her ear. 

“Mmm. No. Think you promised something about fucking it out of me.”

He hums and pulls his belt off, before reaching into the pants of his suit and pulling his dick out. “Sit on it fer me, honey.”

She moves to take her panties off and one of his hands grips her arm. He shakes his head. “Keep ‘em on. Jus’ move ‘em to the side.”

Moaning, she slowly eases him inside her until she’s full, sitting on his lap, her head against his shoulder, panting. 

“Good girl. Want ya ta remember who ya belong to.”

“I couldn’t…forget… Elvis.”

“Mmmm. Yer all mine.”

She tries to steady her breathing, still leaning heavily against him. 

“Okay, baby?” He asks, softly, when she still doesn’t move. 

“Mmm. Yes. Fuck.”

“This enough fer ya?”

She smiles against him. “I was promised a fuck.”

He smiles back, thinking how much he loves her in this moment. His hands move to grip her hips and he uses them to move her, slowly at first and then gathering pace. The tiara slips and she quickly removes it, setting it safely on the bedside table. 

“Now?” He asks, pulling her up and slamming her back down on him, hard. 

She whines. “I… oh… fuck…”

“That’s not it, honey.”

“I… oh, fine! I’m beautiful! I’m… fuck…” she forces the words out and at around the same time her orgasm hits her with the force of a speeding truck. 

“Yes ya fuckin’ are,” he replies, through gritted teeth as he feels her squeezing him. His hips buck a few times and then he’s cumming inside her too. 

She falls down against him like a ragdoll, puffing and panting. Once he's managed to get his santa suit off he pulls her back into his arms. They lie together for a while, basking in the glow of their orgasms. Tegan starts to think about the next day, and who will be arriving when, her brain lazily trying to figure out logistics. They chat about it for a while, Elvis reassuring her that she doesn’t have to worry, he’s already planned it all.

“So that’s everyone, I think.”

“Sure you haven’t missed anyone?”

“Oh, yeah. Jerry will be comin’. On his own, though. Wife left ‘im. Thought he might want company.”

“Who’s Jerry?”

“Friend a mine from before. Lives in LA now. Pretty boy, ‘bout seven years younger ‘an me.”

“You didn’t say.”

“Musta forgot, honey. Ya’ll like ‘im. Everyone likes Jerry.”

“Did you tell him about me?”

“‘Course I did, honey. He’s lookin’ forward ta meetin’ ya.”

Tegan thinks she’s looking forward to meeting him too, for some reason she can’t quite define. They carry on talking until Elvis starts to drift off, and so Tegan extracts herself from his arms and gets more comfortable. Imagining Graceland on Christmas morning, bustling with life and joy until she falls asleep too. 

***

Part 12

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[calico-constellation]

Hi! Feel no pressure to answer, but I have a few questions (regarding DID)

So I'm aware of what an endo system is, but I'm a bit confused on why it would be considered valid since the condition is directly caused by trauma, which is the thing that endos lack. Could you please explain your perspective on it? And maybe your perspective before you became pro-endo?

Hey! I've been sitting on this ask for a few days now. I do want to start out by thanking you for reaching out to me and asking about my perspective. Please note that you are not obligated to agree with me, or to change your mind just from my answer to your questions. I like having you as a mutual, and I will continue to do so regardless of your syscourse stance.

I'm going to grab a term that some of my mutuals in the DID community have used, and say I'm really more pro syscourse conversation than I am pro endo- pro endo is just the easiest way to communicate my basic stances.

I think the most important thing to understand here is that a lot of the time, the "are endos real" debate suffers from both sides fundamentally misunderstanding what the other's stance actually is. While there is a small subsection of the endo community claiming that DID isn't trauma based- which I vehemently disagree with, DID is absolutely trauma based, and that's backed by all of the research- that's not the majority.

Most endogenic systems are not claiming to have DID. They are claiming to experience themselves as more than one. I am by no means an expert on this, but I know that it is a very western-centric view to assume that everyone subscribes to being one singular self. If you want to learn more about non-western views on the self and on plurality, I would recommend looking at @system-of-a-feather's blog. They make great posts on the subject!

And- here's a real kicker- not everyone with a CDD- CDD standing for complex dissociative disorders and including the likes of DID, OSDD, P-DID, UDD, etc- actually identifies as plural. Not everyone with even DID identifies as plural. So if someone with a CDD can identify as one, what's stopping someone who doesn't have a CDD from identifying as more than one? This post puts it pretty well, so I'm just going to link it here! And if you're looking for scientific backing on endo systems? Dr Colin Ross, one of the very well known DID researchers, believes in non-traumagenic self states.

Basically, I'm choosing to believe people when they talk about their subjective personal experiences.

Now you did also ask about my anti-endo days and I will also gladly talk about those. I will admit, I was the worst kind of anti-endo. I was the type of person who would throw even other CDD systems under the bus as fakers because I wanted to seem more legitimate. Everyone who didn't present the "right" way was a faker. And endos, my goodness. They were the worst fakers of them all.

It was an extremely reactive position to take. I was suffering from my plurality, therefore everyone who wasn't had to be faking. They were making a mockery out of me! At least, that's how I perceived it.

And then I started interacting with endos, and pro endos. I realized that they were also real people, not just an abstract concept to make fun of to make myself look more legitimate. And I started reading blogs that had the rawest, realest content about CDDs that I'd come across thus far... and they were pro endo. And the arguments as to why were really good.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that the things that were leading me to being anti endo were the same things that made me into a transmed when in the 2010s. I believed that people had to meet a minimum quota of suffering to be real. In a way, I was defining people by it. And ultimately, if they are lying? It costs me nothing to believe them. I'd rather believe some liars than not believe people who are telling the truth. I've had enough experience with people not believing me. It sucks. I didn't want to keep doing that to others.

That's about the end of this yap session! Seriously, thanks again for asking, I really enjoyed writing this post. I hope I answered in a way that makes sense to you!

[mrprettywhenhecries]

home for the holidays [s.h]

Steve Harrington ✘ f!Reader

⇾ w.c. 1.9k words ⇾ warning(s). f!reader, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, soft smut ⇾ a/n. Day One of HoHoHoe Week. Prompt - Childhood Bedroom.

Steve comes to your family’s house with you for the holidays.  Despite the fact that you and Steve live together, however, your parents are adamant you stay in separate rooms while under their roof.  Unable to stay apart, Steve sneaks to your childhood bedroom during the night.

[ masterlist ]

“If it’s alright with you guys, I think Steve and I are gunna turn in for the night.”

Sharing a pointed look with your boyfriend, you feigned a yawn, covering your mouth with your hand and he did the same, following your lead, an amused expression on his face, though not tired in the slightest.

“Oh, you poor things, you must be exhausted, especially after such a long drive to get here,” your mother exclaimed, looking between the two of you.  “Of course that’s fine, we should probably get ready for bed too,” she said, patting your father’s knee before pushing out of her chair.

“Why don’t you show them to their rooms, dear?” she called as she headed for the kitchen and your dad grunted as he got to his feet.

“Yeah, alright,” he murmured and your brows drew down.

“Rooms?” you repeated, emphasizing the plural.  “You are aware that Steve and I live together, right?” you asked with a chuckle, wondering if your parents were just messing with you.  “As in, we sleep in the same room all the time,” you added and your father turned to give you a stern look.

“We’re aware,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at you before offering Steve an apologetic smile.  “No offense, Steve, but while you’re under our roof, we’d just prefer if the two of you slept in different beds.  You know, allow us the illusion that our little girl is still a pure little angel,” he joked, making you roll your eyes.

Steve, however, bless him, took it better than you, a bemused grin stretching across his face.  “I understand, sir, no offense taken,” he said, holding a hand up while wrapping his other arm around your waist.

“Good lad,” your father said, nodding before turning to the staircase.  “We’ve got Steve set up in the guest room, and sweetie, you’ll be in your old room, hope you don’t mind,” he explained.

Oh, you knew what they were doing.  The guest room just happened to be right next to theirs, while your childhood room was down the hall.  If you tried to join Steve in his room, they’d inevitably hear it and your room still only had a twin sized bed.

“Thanks again,” Steve exclaimed as your parents bade you goodnight, retreating to their own bedroom.

As soon as they were gone, you let out a groan.  “I don’t think I can handle a whole night away from you,” you whined, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend.

“Me either, but they were nice enough to let us stay…” Steve murmured, grinning softly down at you, pulling you closer to steal a lingering kiss.  

“Yeah, but— I’m needy,” you hissed under your breath, pouting up at him and Steve groaned, clearly feeling the same.

“Are your parents light sleepers?” he asked, pitching his voice low.

“Not after all the eggnog they drank earlier,” you chuckled.

“Well then, when they fall asleep, I’ll sneak to your room and we’ll have a little fun.  What d’you say?” Steve asked, pressing his forehead to yours, mischief sparkling in his brown eyes.

“Alright,” you breathed, giddy at the thought of sneaking around like a teenager again.  “It might be a bit of a tight fit, but I’m sure we can manage,” you purred, biting your lip.  “Meet me in a half hour, okay?  I’m the door at the end of the hall,” you said, reluctantly pulling away.

Steve grinned.  “See you soon,” he murmured, watching you disappear down the hall before slipping into the guest room.

Exactly thirty minutes later, your door opened to admit your boyfriend, his eyebrows climbing at the sight of you sprawled out atop your childhood bed with naught but a blanket suggestively draped over you.

“You like?” you asked, smirking as Steve carefully pushed the door shut behind him before pulling his sweater over his head and dropping it to the floor.

“Oh, I definitely like,” he grinned, crossing the room to you and stepping out of his flannel pajama pants.  “You’re such a naughty girl,” he teased.

“Were my parents asleep?” you asked, your heart beating faster as he slowly pulled down his boxers before crawling under the covers next to you, his body instantly warming you.

“Oh yeah, I heard your dad snoring through the wall,” he chuckled, rolling atop you on the narrow bed.  “Cute room by the way,” he murmured, stealing a kiss that was much too short for your taste and you whined softly when his lips moved elsewhere, traveling along the line of your jaw.  “I didn’t know you were so into unicorns.”

“I’ll have you know they are very majestic creatures, okay?” you exclaimed, fighting a grin, your breath catching as Steve’s mouth latched onto your neck, his tongue rolling slowly against your flesh, soothing the spot he’d nipped playfully, sending heat rushing south, settling between your thighs.

“Mmm, you’re adorable,” he hummed, kissing lower, his lips skimming over the soft slope of your breast, making you arch against him, a breathy moan escaping your lips.

“And you were incredibly too sexy in that Christmas sweater earlier, I could barely think straight,” you murmured, running your fingers through his thick chestnut hair.

“Oh, is that what did this?” he asked, slipping his fingers between your legs, coating them in your slick as his eyes flicked up to yours in amusement, hunger lurking in those gorgeous dark depths.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, squirming against him.  “Steve,” you whined as his mouth found your nipple, flicking it playfully with the tip of his tongue before he once more lifted his face to you.

“Yes, Princess?” he prompted, knowing full well what his teasing was doing, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he watched you.

“C’mere,” you huffed, tugging him closer, your stomach giving a flip as his cock brushed against your pelvis.  “Wanna kiss you,” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and he chuckled.

“Is that all?” he teased, sighing into your mouth.

“You know what else I want,” you pouted in between heated kisses, and Steve groaned as you drew your legs higher, hooking them around his waist.  “Want you inside me,” you whimpered, gazing up at him with your best pleading face.

“How can I say no to that?” he purred, grinning wider, shifting atop you to line himself up.

Slowly pushing into you, Steve’s face contorted in concentration and you breathed through the stretch, gasping as he finally filled you, stilling to let you adjust.

“Gotta be quiet, baby,” he reminded you gently, pressing his forehead to yours as he shared your breath, his long lashes brushing his cheeks as his eyelids fluttered shut for a moment.  “I don’t want your parents to find us like this and get thrown out for defiling their little angel,” he joked, holding you close, his chest moving against yours with each breath he took.

“I don’t want you to get thrown out either,” you murmured, admiring him as you pushed the hair from his eyes, enjoying just being close for the moment, warm and complete.  “Though I’m pretty sure they’re aware that you’ve probably defiled me already,” you teased, running your fingertips up and down his arms.

Steve huffed a soft laugh, tilting his chin up to capture your lips as he finally began to move inside you, his rolling thrusts measured and deep, the ridge of his head grazing that spot inside you just right each time his hips met yours.

“Hope your bed doesn’t squeak too much,” he grunted, picking up his pace as you clenched around him so sweetly.

“Honestly, at this point I don’t care if they hear.  I need you so bad, Steve,” you exclaimed in a hushed voice, your breath catching as he hit you deeper, rocking your entire body with the force.

“Me too,” he grunted, his breaths coming faster and you smiled as you held his gaze, caressing his cheek as he brought you closer to the edge.

“I feel kinda dirty doing this in your parents’ house,” Steve breathed, though he grinned, reaching between you to thumb your clit, rubbing tight circles against your sensitive bud, sending electricity crackling through you with each stroke, the blinding pleasure hovering just out of reach.

“You like that, don’t you?” you mewled, squeezing him tighter, your hips rolling to meet his, writhing desperately beneath him.

“Yeah, I think I kinda do,” he admitted, moaning a little too loudly before biting his lip to stifle his noises, though the slap of his skin against yours filled your room.

“Please, Steve, wanna cum together,” you whined, wrapping your arms around him tighter, your nails biting into his back as his thrusts came faster, holding back for you to cum first.

“Wanna watch you,” he urged, groaning as you tensed around him, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, the only sound a high pitched whine as he pushed you over the edge, following after, filling you with each last jerky rut of his hips.

Panting heavily, he dropped his face to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he caught his breath, chest heaving against yours as he went limp inside you.

“Fuck, that was amazing, babe,” you gasped, holding him close, your fingers dancing soothingly over his flushed back and shoulders.

Finally Steve lifted his head, grinning softly at you, affection thick in his gaze.  “No kidding, that was just what the doctor ordered,” he teased, shifting his weight to lay next to you, nestled closely to your side and you rolled toward him, resting your cheek against his shoulder, his arm instinctively wending around your middle, holding you tight against him.

“I hope it wasn’t too awkward, you know, with the scenery,” you murmured, your cheeks heating as you glanced around the room.

Steve shook his head, brushing your hair from your face, his thumb stroking the curve of your cheek as he admired you.  “Not really, I was pretty focused on you.”

“Oh good,” you sighed, running your fingers through the soft dark curls that adorned his chest.

“Although, now that I’m thinking about it… how many guys have you fooled around with in here?” he asked, a grimace twisting his features.

“Steve, why would you think about that?” you chastised lightly.

“I dunno, just thinking about you as a teen, you must’ve been popular with the guys.”

“Steve,” you repeated fondly, kissing his jaw.  “There were a few,” you admitted, moving on quickly when he tensed beneath you.  “But none of them are here with me now, are they?” you asked, arching an eyebrow at him.  “You are, and you’re the last guy I plan on fooling around with in this bed,” you assured him, nuzzling his cheek with the tip of your nose.

“I love you, you know that?” Steve breathed, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“I love you too, Steve,” you murmured, your eyes beginning to droop, your little romp tiring you more than you’d thought.

“Are you falling asleep?” he asked, wondering if he should slip free to head back to the guest room, but you only held on tighter.

“Don’t leave yet,” you whined, pressing your face to his side, feeling Steve chuckle.

A few moments passed before he spoke again, hoping you weren’t asleep yet.

“Do you think I made a good impression on them?  Your parents?” he clarified, a note of nervousness in his soft voice.

“Definitely,” you murmured, shifting against him.  “They loved you.”

“Good,” Steve whispered, listening to your breaths slow, turning to the even breathing of sleep before pressing one last kiss to your forehead and slipping reluctantly out of your bed.  As much as he hated leaving your side, the last thing he wanted to do was lose your family’s approval.

⇾ taglist. @hohohoeweek2023 @b1tchy3lf @heartbreak-sandwich @hawkinsglasscloset @sugarcookiesteve @afestivelegend @birminghamshelbyboys

[zith-ipeth]

Dog Days Diary: Something new? (Someone new?) Experiments

What’s up gaggle of goofs

So ummmm, the feelings of not quite being “just one person” have yet to go away, and are being brought up in therapy, and it’s suggest that I (and her) do more art, and express my(our)selves more clearly and cleanly. I used to do a lot of poetry and opinion posting on this page, and I think I’m gonna try that again, this time tho I’m gonna be adding a tag. -R- for me, and -P- for her. I hope that she doesn’t accidentally slip up and say my real name, but she might say hers.

Welcome to my new doggish experiment and experiences, if anyone has advice or resources or just wants to chat, messages are always open

Oh also im gonna be tagging this with mostly plural tags as opposed to my normal therian tags. (Oooohohh scarrryy) but yeah, let’s do this

Run fast, bite hard, bark loud

Peace, love, and gratitude

-Zith Ipeth

[plurapony]

Endogenic Plurality & Our Blog Stances!

Hi everypony! Our stances have changed a bit recently and i wanted to update how it affects our blog 🩷

We are Endo-Neutral. We believe in endogenic plurality and are all for endogenics (even willogenics) who's experiences have a positive benefit to their overall psych. Our wife once told us "it's a lot easier to get through hard things imaging you're someone else" which made us SO happy. It's a hard world out there, we support doing whatever you feel you need in order to thrive - which includes endogenic plurality.

HOWEVER when it comes to our blog, this is a space specifically for those with CDDs. While I wish all endogenics the best, this blog isn't for anyone who experiences non-disordered plurality.

Why? To put it very simply we still have a lot of healing to go through. We are affected by our negative symptoms of this disorder on a daily basis and it affects our content we put out too. We do hope someday we can heal enough to be a mental health positivity blog but we've got a long way to go before that can be a reality. It's important for us that our main interactions on this blog are with other disordered systems.

This isn't necessarily an "endo's dni" it's moreso when we make posts regarding our experiences of being a system and the negative side, we'd prefer not to hear endogenic input. I'll be making a new banner to put on those posts :) If a post doesn't have the banner then anyone is free to interact!!! (or I might make a separate banner :p)

That's all everypony! I hope you have the most incredible fantastic day!!! I hope your day is full of kindness and care 🌷

[mileygoneblogger]

♱⃓ 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬 ♱⃓

word count: (2.7k)

warnings: mild language use, mentions of weird/uncomfortable texts

⚝ return to masterlist ⚝

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐲!

damn the economy. honestly? let's just abolish capitalism itself at this point.

i glared at my bills spread across my table they had personally wronged me. rent. utilities. student loans. grocery reciepts. they all sneered at me, the numbers mocking my rapidly depleting bank account. the numbers didn’t even feel real anymore—just abstract threats in black ink.

i sighed to myself as i stabbed the calculator buttons like it had something to prove, finding the total of my costs for the month. i was hunched over the calculator, paper, and pen in front of me, sat down in my apartment's living room, slumping further into my couch as i saw the number on the small screen: $1,220 total. for one month.

i slumped further into my couch like it might swallow me whole. how was i even alive? no, seriously. i’m a nineteen year old college student with a part-time waitressing job that pays in crumbs and kind-of-okay tips if i smile enough. and somehow, that’s supposed to cover rent, tuition, food, and the occasional mental breakdown? it’s criminal. i should sue.

my mug of tea had gone cold an hour ago, abandoned on my coffee table as i spiraled into financial crisis. my laptop screen had dimmed, buried under a flood of passive-aggressive reminder emails from my professor and unread discussion posts. i was mid-rant to one of my friends from back home—something about capitalism, and student loans. as i was considering the idea of taking on stripping as a night job, she gave me an almost painfully logical answer: a roommate.

why didn't i think of it before? i mean, sure, i'm not exactly the most social person, but, if someone is just kinda in my apartment doing their own thing, and we split rent... hey, doesn't sound that bad to me. after i took a while to think about it, i set up an ad online:

[ad]

🏡 roomie wanted: cheap rent, good times (i hope)🏡

hey stranger :p i’m currently looking for a roommate to split rent with because, well… life is expensive and i’d rather not sell my kidney to afford groceries.

the apartment is decent—small, but cozy. there’s one available bedroom, a shared bathroom, and a living space that’s great for collapsing in after pretending to have your life together all day. rent is reasonable, utilities are split, and i’m close to campus (like a 15-minute walk if you’re aggressively late to class).

about me:

- 19, employed, college student

- primarily introverted, but i’ll talk your ear off about weird dreams and conspiracy theories if you let me

- i mind my business. you mind yours. just peace and harmony.

about you:

- preferably not a serial killer (non-negotiable)

- pays rent on time

- doesn’t force awkward small talk while i’m microwaving leftovers at 2am

general info:

rent: $900/mo (your half = $450) + utilities

available: november 5th

if you’re interested, shoot me a txt: (812) 789-4989

if this turns out to be a disaster, hey, at least we'll have a good story right?

[end of ad]

in all honesty, i wasn’t expecting anyone sane to respond. i mean, have you seen the internet? it’s like craigslist and tinder had a cursed lovechild. but hey, it was worth a shot, right?

a few hours later, the responses started rolling in. and let me tell you—nightmare fuel.

some highlights:

- one man asked if he could bring his pet rats. plural.

- a girl wanted to know if i was okay with “frequent overnight visitors” (translation: random hookups).

- guy who seemed halfway decent casually dropped on me that he was on house arrest for the next six months. i'd be lying if i said i wasn't interested in his backstory.

- one message just said “u up?” at 2am. spiritually? i wasn't.

don't even get me started on the degenerates. i didn't realize how low some people's self-respect can be until now.

my phone buzzed against the counter—here we go, another text. another stranger responding to my roommate ad like it was some kind of dating profile on plenty o' creeps.

seriously, i was two seconds away from tossing the damn thing into the garbage disposal, even though it would probably survive just to spite me. the thing had survived being dropped down three flights of stairs and left out in the rain once. a little white iphone 3g with not a single crack, the screen only covered by a veil of scratches and scuffs. i'll take whatever the hell steve jobs was on when he was making these things.

this text was... interesting, to say the least. here it is:

[unknown number]

7:26PM

💬👀: hey baby. not only can i bring you cheaper rent, but i can also bring you some romance, and a good time. a real good time. ;)

i blinked.

this wasn’t craigslist personals. it was a roommate ad. for housing.

what part of 'quiet, clean, non-creepy individual' translated to 'yes, please sext me'?

before i could even mentally formulate an insult, more messages popped up.

💬👀: just give me a chance. please.

💬👀: i just can't be alone anymore. i can't.

the screen stayed lit in my hand, thumb frozen. i stared, slack-jawed, while the next one rolled in:

💬👀: ...i'm a feminist? if that's your thing?

my first instinct was to throw my phone before this guy sends me something else i would want eye bleach over. second instinct was to screenshot it.

then, after a full minute of silence from me:

💬👀: fine then. you don't have to be such a bitch about it.

blocked.

that was my cue. so long, cassanova.

i felt like i needed to move. i definitely needed some fresh air after... whatever that was.

that was my first thought after blocking that number. not scream, not laugh, not dramatically throw my phone into traffic—just move. sitting still felt like suffocating. and when i felt like that, chores were my go-to. repetitive, mindless. today, it was laundry day. warm machines. detergent that smelled like fake lavender and something mundane.

i tossed my laundry basket in the backseat and drove with the windows down. the air was sharp and cold in that familiar indiana way—like it was daring me to roll them back up. it smelled like smoke, dry leaves, and someone’s horrible idea of pumpkin spice.

bloomington in the fall sometimes made me feel like a background character in someone else’s coming-of-age film. the trees were loud in color. people wore scarves and uggs unironically. there was laughter somewhere in the distance and it wasn’t mine.

i passed my work, lou’s diner on kirkwood—ben’s car was there. i could spot that rusted-out chevy anywhere. i remember he briefly told me it was his uncle's way back when, and it definitely shows. might as well stop in and say hi, right? not like i have much better to do on a sunday besides mope in the laundromat all by myself.

the bell above the door jingled as i stepped inside, dragging a gust of cold air with me. the smell of coffee and grease hit me instantly—familiar and comforting, like old flannel. the place was half-full, locals mostly, all hunched over pancakes and toast like it was a sacred ritual.

i spotted ben almost immediately—i mean, it's impossible not to with that firey head of his. he sat at a booth by the window, hunched over a plate of fries he probably didn’t even order, wearing that same faded brown flannel he always wore when he didn’t know what else to wear. he was halfway through doodling something in the margins of a notepad—little stars, planets, and constellations. he truly was a dork at heart. i casually slid into the booth across from him.

"y'know, it should be illegal to park something that ugly so close to a food establishment. think it'll start making the regulars vomit uncontrollably." i said sarcastically with a smug grin as i looked over at him.

his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. he was still looking down at his notebook with tired brown eyes, his wild ginger curls a mess. "y'know, if you insult her again, she'll get pissed off at you. maybe your airbag won't go off."

“excuse me?” i blinked. “her? oh my god. you named the van.”

"she's earned it," he finally looked at me, with that usual boyish smile he had on his face. "and for the record, i didn’t name her. the previous owner did."

i tilted my head slightly. “let me guess. your weird uncle.”

“yep, that's doug. toured with a pink floyd cover band in the eighties.”

i stared at him for a long beat. “that explains so much.”

he grinned and popped a couple of lukewarm fries into his mouth. "so, what brings you here anyway? you're not on shift." he says, his voice slightly muffled on account of the soggy mash of potato in his mouth.

"well, looks like you aren't either." i quipped, a trace of a chuckle in my voice as i spoke. "i saw your shaggin' wagon out front and decided to stop in. was on the way to the old laundromat."

"meg," ben groaned. "don't call it that ever again, i beg of you. besides, her name is betty."

i snorted. "betty?"

"betty," he confirmed with a nod, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "as in white walls, brown vinyl, smells vaguely like cigarettes and broken dreams betty."

"oh, so she’s a classy woman?" i chuckled, as i pictured the ugly-as-sin van i've come to know and love as some deeply troubled, esoteric woman chainsmoking and sadly sipping on some prestigious martini.

he shrugged, smirking. "of course she is. she’s got character. spunk."

i leaned back in the booth, arms crossed. "you’re one flat tire away from becoming a cautionary tale, you know that?"

"oh meg, you wound me," he said, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. "i’ll have you know she passed inspection last spring."

"right. and i’m the queen of england."

ben just laughed, low and easy, and went back to doodling in the corner of his notepad. he’d already drawn a little spaceship abducting what looked suspiciously like a cow grazing in the grass.

“so, laundry. you heading to that creepy laundromat on walnut?” he asked without looking up.

i nodded, pulling my sleeves over my hands. “yeah. figured i’d be productive. maybe stare into the industrial dryers and reflect on my many life choices.”

he glanced up again, that smile softening. “sounds cozy.”

“it’s something.”

we lingered in that weird, comfortable quiet for a few seconds—the kind that only ever came with ben. no pressure to fill the silence. no awkwardness. just the hum of the old diner lights, the jukebox, and the soft clink of silverware in the background.

i glanced out the window. the sky was starting to go gray, that muted indiana kind of gray where you couldn’t tell if it was 4pm or 9 in the morning. leaves scraped along the pavement like they were trying to get out of town before winter hit.

"i should get going," i said finally, sliding out of the booth. "before someone tries to use the good washers."

ben nodded. "tell betty i said hi."

i raised an eyebrow. "you want me to talk to your van?"

"i want you to respect her."

"not happening, ben."

he grinned. "drive safe, meg."

"you too, cowboy."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the laundromat was quiet when i got there. not dead, just sleepy. a kid was sliding around on the tile floors in socks while his mom tried to feed quarters into a jammed machine. some guy in the corner was reading the book of psalms like he’d read it a thousand times already—softly mouthing along, underlining a verse with a yellow highlighter that looked like it was running out of ink.

i shook off the memory of kokomo. my bible-belt hometown, all fire and brimstone and well-rehearsed smiles. sunday school stained glass and whispering women in floral skirts.

nope. not today.

i made my way toward a machine in the far back corner, the one with the dent in the side that nobody ever seemed to want. it was cheap and barely functional—perfect.

i dropped my laundry basket down beside it and started sorting through the pile. hoodies, socks, jeans.

i wonder how mom’s doing.

the thought came and went before i could stop it. i tried to stuff it down like the rest of the dirty laundry.

meg, you should really call her more. my hand hovered over the detergent for a second too long.

i hadn’t called her since the beginning of this school year. it wasn’t that i didn’t want to—it was just that hearing her voice always brought everything back, and i wasn’t sure i could face that again. i guess i just hadn’t wanted to hear that soft, tired voice laced with all the things she didn’t say. she always sounded like she was waiting for me to come home. not in a clingy way—just… like she still held space for me, waiting for me with open arms. sorry, mom.

the washer beeped. i snapped back into the room.

coins in. start button. spin cycle. move on.

the hum of the dryers filled the air like static. i sat on the little wooden bench by the window and watched the red leaves outside twist in the wind like they were trying to dance their way off the branches.

it was always like this.

bloomington in october. beautiful. lonely. loud in the ways that didn’t matter.

i stared into the washer drum as it spun, letting it hypnotize me. socks and hoodies and pillowcases tumbled like they didn’t have a care in the world.

must be nice, i thought. somewhere between the suds and spin cycles, i let myself breathe once again.

after reloading my clothes into a different machine, the dryer hummed behind me, its rumble rattling gently through the old laundromat floor. i sat on the cold bench by the wall, thumb absently tracing the edge of my phone, mind somewhere else entirely.

across the room, the kid in socks had finally tired himself out. he now sat curled up beside his mom, watching the dryers spin with the kind of wide-eyed wonder you only get before the world fucks you up.

i kept glancing at my phone, not because i was expecting anything, but because hope’s a stupid little habit you can’t quite quit.

i thought back to earlier today, being hunched over my coffee table, feeling the dollars in my bank account withering away with each number i punched into that damn calculator.

the hours at the diner weren’t cutting it, and neither were the uncomfortable couch sleeps at liza’s. i needed a roommate, and soon.

preferably one who didn’t sext me immediately or try to convert me to pyramid schemes.

a heavy sigh left my chest before i could stop it.

this wasn’t what i pictured when i thought about college. i thought i’d be in some dorm room with a cork board full of polaroids and twinkly lights, having the time of my life. not... whatever this is.

i reached for my laundry basket just as the dryer clicked off with a soft thunk.

the kid smiled at me as he left.

i smiled back.

i looked at my phone once again, skimming through the notifications i've recieved from the puddle of unsaved numbers of strangers i didn't even know the names of.

maybe this was all just a big mistake on my end.

okay, fuck it. a week. i’d give it one more week.

and if no one normal showed up by then, i’d delete the damn ad, burn my phone, and move into a cave somewhere. become the next small town urban legend or something.

and at that point, maybe i’d even start enjoying being the joke.

and if the universe had a sense of humor? it was about to make me its favourite punchline.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

next chapter coming soon! thank you for reading, xoxo <3

[multiplicity-positivity]

Here’s some positivity for systems who don’t use -genic or other origins labels!

ALL systems are beautiful, valid, and integral members of the plural community. Not every system will use or benefit from -genic or other origin labels, and that’s okay! There is nothing wrong with accepting your system as it is, and choosing not to label how your system formed. So here’s to all the systems who don’t identify with origin labels!

🌙 Shoutout to systems who genuinely don’t know and don’t care to learn about their system’s origins!

🪐 Shoutout to systems who used to have a label for their origins, but have since abandoned or stopped using it!

⭐️ Shoutout to systems who want to just exist and be accepted as they are, without any origin labels tied to their identity!

☀️ Shoutout to systems who reject origin labels as a reclamation of power and agency in their own lives!

🌙 Shoutout to systems who are confused or troubled by -genic and/or origin labels!

🪐 Shoutout to systems who are satisfied with using the labels “system” and “plural” to describe themselves!

⭐️ Shoutout to systems who want to keep their system origins private!

☀️ Shoutout to systems with dissociative disorders who choose to define their plurality through a lense of DID, OSDD, or P-DID rather than -genic or other labels!

🌙 Shoutout to systems who hate feeling like they have to use an origin label in order to be accepted in the plural community!

🪐 Shoutout to systems who don’t use origin labels due to others using their origins as an excuse to invalidate, fakeclaim, or otherwise harm them in the past!

⭐️ Shoutout to individual headmates who don’t use origin labels, even if the rest of their system does!

☀️ Shoutout to systems who find -genic labels to be unhelpful, counterproductive, or divisive for their own system or the plural community!

There is absolutely nothing wrong with choosing to reject or forego any labels that do not help or benefit you or your system. You deserve the right to define your own system and experiences with terminology that works best for you - and if -genic and origin labels don’t work, it’s okay to simply not use them! Choosing to not us these labels does not make you any less plural, or any less of a cherished and integral part of our community and spaces. In fact, your unique perspectives are a benefit to the plural community, and we are so happy to have you here!

Please do your best to treat yourself and your system with kindness, and try not to worry about what other people think of you due to your system’s choices regarding origin labels. Rest assured you will always have a special place in the plural community just the way you are, regardless of what terms you use to describe your origins! Thanks so much for reading, and have an amazing day!

[softmeetscreatureplz]

" My name is Charlie / Enea [and more-]; "

--------------

HAVE I HIT POST LIMIT: NO

------------------------------------

I'm not the best at socializing so please let me know if I accidentally mess up or make a mistake !

Posts made by me/where i talk about lot are tagged #eneas rambles <3 so feel free to go into that tag to see my stuff

[My strawpage!(that i never use....)]

-☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}☆-

> Some stuff about me... (please read at some point lol-)

Demiromantic Quoiromantic/wtfromantic & Demisexual alterous attraction ♡ (I always feel like i have too many labels (´－ω－),, this stuff is confusing for me)

He/Xe/It/They/She !~♡ (

(Transmasc leaning, genderqueer flavour (≖v≖ ))

All my names! Charlie, or Enea, are the two most common and mine, though other headmat3s/alters of mine use different ones so feel free to ask if you want those!! This oinned is just about me though.

[Relationships !] ->

Platonically married to @not-so-myconid-witch ; my amazing dearest talented and beloved wife

@echoreadsbsdfics the incredibly talented and awesome Dazai to my Chuuya (/p) :3

[Step] Mom to @thatoneguyfromtheantivoid amazing awesome adorable child ♡♡

[(More) Info about me !] ->

Here is my pronouns page!

Nerodivergent in some type of way; definitely social anxiety/anxiety at the least, plus almost definitely BPD, and autism/other things are also likely. I really don't know what for sure though cause getting any diagnosises is currently impossible 〜(꒪꒳꒪)〜. Also probably have RSD (as moot has pointed out) so unm keep that in mind ig?? (๑-﹏-๑). Does make it harder to read social cues tho, so feel free to correct me if i makr mistakes with things in social settings !!

Bear therian, though its sorta in flux for how steong it is on the day to day (theres a term for that; i do Not rememberit right now however. TvT), Poe fictionkin (from bsd), & carrion monster fictionkin ! ✨️✨️✨️

Proshipper! Sorry if you don't like it. Feel free to block or send hate, idc either way lol ¯\_(ᵕ—ᴗ—)_/¯

Some things I like! ...

Anime, Youtube, & Ao3. The best trio for a sleepless night ;3

Stuffed animals !!! Adore mine so so so much- don't post about rm as much as I should but always happy to ramble about em if you ask !

Writing! I love writing, but I also end up procrastinating a lot, so feel free to send me things to write and pester me about it! ☆

Drawing/painting! I have a lot of fun doing both of these, especially for my fav character(s) (Currently Chuuya Nakahara from BSD) or other things !

Poetry!! I can talk for ages about the implications and themes and meanings and possible stories and connections lol-,, so feel free to ask me !

[Extra ! ...] ->

○ (Post of things to do on a bad night/boring night)

○ Feel free to ask me or send me asks about various plural / system things, especially if you wanna get to know some of the alters and such !!!

○ Common tags: #eneas rambles <3 (<- basic my posts) #charlies mushroom corner ( <- vent), #eneas photography :] (<-my photography), #useful tips!! (<- Useful things ot be saved and used later), #enea is arting (<- my art),

-☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}▪︎☆○~{♡}☆-

[plural-affirmations]

Here's to systems who mainly experience passive influence!

Passive influence is defined as "intrusions from headmates that are not currently prominent in the mind or using the body" [via Pluralpedia].

Put simply, passive influence is when a headmate influences the thoughts, feelings, perception, or senses to another headmate (usually one that's fronting), without actually being in front. This can happen frequently with being co-conscious or observing what's going on in the outerworld, despite not controlling the body itself.

Here's to systems who:

Rarely have passive influence

Have passive influence frequently

Consider passive influence one of the defining things about their plurality experiences

Have moderate to severe identity confusion due to passive influence

Have periods of doubting themselves because of it

You're so wonderful! Please know it's going to be ok, and passive influence is a 100% normal plural experience. No matter if you experience it every day, once in a blue moon, or even never, you're accepted here!

Sending lots of hugs and kisses your way! /p

🖤💜💙💚💛

[plural-identity-punk]

congrats on the blog!

could you coin a term for a system who switches infrequently? the way it works for us, we'll have one guy fromt for ~1-2 weeks and then another will front for ~1-2 weeks. its not like when you have a host who fronts for long times. for us, a short amount of time to front is 3 days.

Infrequent switching flag!

Flag for system/collective/plurals who switch infrequently usually not switching for weeks at a time! (Colors meanings are under the cut

This can be because of alters getting front stuck, having p-did, the system only switching because of triggers, or any other reasons

Any system of any origin can use our flags. If you feel uncomfortable with that then don’t use our flags. This account is not a radqueer account.

[herbalprism]

Hello there. I really like your work/templates so I was wondering if I could make a request/nf.

If possible could I get a template based on Xiao from genshin impact? Or possibly just something demon related if you don’t know/don’t like genshin for whatever reasons.

Thank you ahead of time if you do this. If not thank you anyways!

Absolutely! I thank you for liking my work- it's not the best but I like to think I make at least someone's day by feeling recognized.

And I honestly don't know much about genshin, so I tried to do a bit of research, included element-( still don't know if that's super important) but I couldn't find much to use with aesthetic wise so I kind of mixed them both together, hope that's okay!

Genshin Impact/Demon Simply Plural intro


NAME

--

🩸 Age:

💧Gender:

🩸 Pronouns:

💧Birthday:

🩸 Orientation:

💧Relationship Status:

🩸 Mono/Poly:


Role:

🩸Secondary role:

💧 Source?:

🩸Sourcetalk:

💧 Touch:

🩸Petnames:

💧 Flirting:


 🩸Species:

💧 Element:

🩸Likes:

💧 Dislikes:

🩸Triggers /P:

💧 Triggers /N:

🩸Extra:


[mishkakagehishka]

>×> do you have any tips on how to write Mika's accent ? I don't want to write him just considering letting my Danganronpa DnD char have the same accent as treat

I spent 20min in my archive bc i actually remember already talking ab this once (or rather, Mika dialogue as a whole)!

I think my advice remains more or less the same. When listening to his voice lines, you can notice that he tends to slur his words together and his accent is p thick (altho, and idk if i'm just insane, but i could swear it was thicker in !era like i'm so serious). I'd add that these days, I make him speak like a southerner, but I tend to split between southern usamerican and cockney - both fit. He speaks in the "country bumpkin" and "funny, friendly, but stupid" stereotyped accent, so, as a fan of the art of localisation, i always try to translate or depict his speech in whatever manner would bring about the same associations to the reader. To a UK local that'd probably be cockney, to a US local, southern usamerican.

But all in all, stick to one of those two, learn vocabulary used in those dialects (for example, "y'all" as a second person plural pronoun or "ain't" for negation, "reckon", "fixin' to", words like that if you're going for southern usamerican). Use apostrophes smartly, though, i'll repeat that the key is to read the lines out loud and decide what sounds right. As a rule, i only drop the -t in "that" when followed by a word beginning with a consonant because it "rolls easier" - and gives that effect of words being slurred together. "That ain't none of my business" is better because otherwise you'd have an awkward flow between the two ah- sounds, but "tha's none of my business" is better because otherwise you'd have a bit of a stop with the "ts" sound.

Or something to that effect. Read your lines out loud, try to speak with as little effort spent on moving your mouth as possible, and then try to express that in writing by dropping letters and blending words where needed. Trust your gut on what sounds natural. If it feels like you have to force it, it should probably be changed.

[seasidewanderers]

intro post time!

updated 04/30/2025

times someone at work called us by another name that's neither our chosen name, nor our birth name today [03/10/2025] : 1

we've had this blog for... around 5 years now, and never made an intro post, so here it is!

we're the Seaside Wanderers, a plural system. please call us alters or headmates! we go by Elia, Ae/Ea, or the current fronter's (pick a name, get one free!)

infamous Maternity Blackwood asker

(other personal information under the cut, as well as alter intros)

no DNI, feel free to interact. if you'd have to break yours to interact with us, however, isn't the DNI kinda pointless anyway?

we are mixed origins. syscourse is wack

the meaning of our system name comes from LOTRO (the Lord Of The Rings Online, a MMORPG based on LOTR); one of the titles you can get for your character is "Seaside Wanderer"

our alter tags are as follow, we'll update if someone else wants to participate in this blog:

#of rage and black tidings

#and no other choices

#tinker's curse

#vulpine era

#waterfront

#moon of the abyss

tag #for [ alter] to read is just our way of saving a post directed to someone in our own system

CDDs are trauma-based

[Complex Dissociative Disorders, a term that encapsulates all trauma-based and dissociative disorders such as DID, OSDD-1, P-DID, and those cases of UDD that cause systemhood]

we support informed and researched self-diagnosis, and community support in the cases when one cannot access formal diagnosis and treatment

I love and support YOU 🫵🏻 and I hope you're safe and having a good day, week, month, year and always! YOU deserve to feel good! yes, you!

personal, non-syscourse info here:

warning: flashing lights for a blinkie under the cut!

gendervoid, non binary transneumasc, queer; started HRT on 04/25/2025; we use they/them, it/its and ae/aer

physically disabled; we are hypermobile, have fibromyalgia, orthostatic intolerance, and more

neurodivergent and mentally ill; we have C-PTSD, schizotypal PD, and psychotic depression

multiple spiritual and religious paths (Druidry, Hellenism, Shintō, Confucianism if you squint)

individual introductions for us alters (divided by layer)

this won't be all of us, just those more likely to participate in this blog. updating this a few at a time so we don't get overwhelmed

Jackdaws

James, 18ish, he/him; fictive of James Kidd (Assassin's Creed Black Flag). I annoy Edward for a living. very opinionated. if you know my source no you don't, I'm James. caretaker 🤎

Edward, late 20s, he/him; fictive of Edward Kenway (Assassin's Creed Black Flag). I like blabbering about my source and sing. pirate enjoyer, happy we now own a sword. looking to buy more swords. role anarchist/I do whatever I feel like 🩶

Waterfront

Oscar, 300+, he/they + ae/aer; OCtive (homebrew Pathfinder 1e campaign), half-elf sylph. I like my source a lot; ask me about it! married to Celain. trauma-related role, protector/persecutor 🩵

Celain (pronounced as Colin), immortal, he/they; OCtive (homebrew Pathfinder 1e campaign, same as Oscar), elf angel. I follow Pathfinder's fictional pantheon, but I'm making it work with our religions and spiritualities. married to Oscar. trauma-related role, protector/caretaker and religious/spiritual alter 🧡

Finnegan, 16, he/they/it; OCtive (homebrew Pathfinder 1e campaign), kitsune. I enjoy talking about Pathfinder 1e and sulking and suffering. I have my own subsystem. trauma-related role 💖

Woljif, 24, he/they/it; fictive of Woljif Jefto (videogame Pathfinder Wrath Of The Righteous), tiefling. I talk A Lot. extrovert-looking introvert. trauma-related role 💜

Triss, 2-4, he/him; very chatty, though he usually proxies through Celain which is his caretaker and dad; stress-related split, role unknown/unsure. just a baby 💝