#((also: happy turkey day!))

[ekingston]

It’s something, Lena thinks, taking on what feels like the entirety of National City’s late-night, mild-to-highly intoxicated population with a fondness for violent gunplay, as well as her own near-insurmountable desire to drop out of the game and onto her knees before the world’s goofiest Greek goddess.

It’s something, she thinks, and that something is agony.

You & Me & Holiday Wine chapter 12 is now up on ao3!

It’s a long one, just under twelve thousand words, so, you know. Settle in. Maybe grab some coffee. Maybe make it Irish; I’m not changing the rating to E, but this chapter made me seriously consider it. Because of all the blasphemy. And the— other thing.

[icantalk710]

Tried out this jogging thing a bit (8/10 would [and will] do again, since the views definitely help) 🏃🏽‍♂️

(Goal was actually 25 mins [with light starts/stops bc vieeeews] but I felt up to 5-7 mins extra and then just forgot to stop my timer app lmao)

[dewvorce-flowers]

.

[prosebushpatch]

Alright, so, yesterday, I recorded every single POV in each chapter in The Lunar Chronicles like a normal person and that's what this blog post is about. So if you want to want the overview of me going pepe silvia over the fact that one of the love interests has less POV chapters than two side characters, boy have I got a post for you!

[hasthereigenmangabeenanimatedyet]

November 23, 2023 | Day 227

No

[schnaf]

.

[i-rate-horse-games]

howrse is a web browser and app horse game. and it is complicated!. I played it as a kid but I only really fed my horse and couldn't figure out how to do anything else. it's a bit grindy, but it's complex. there's breeding. there's genetics! but a lot of things require items that you have to either be very patient for or spend money (highly don't recommend on principle). however a lot of things are gifted to you for completing the tutorial! it has events like jumping and dressage, but they're things that you sign your horse up for and then await the results, not a flash game. you board your horse in equestrian centers run by other players! I remember when I ran a tiny one, and my favorite part was repurposing horse droppings for farming. if you get a golden apple, you can put art by a player as your horse art, and there are some incredible ones out there!

the tutorial took me 20 minutes and gave me 3 horses and several other things.

you feed and train your horses daily, then put them to bed once their own day is out of time and they're tired. if you have aging points, you can skip ahead to their next day.

there's breeding and complex genetics that the tutorial barely touched on! there's stats! there's races and bunches of events! there's western and classical! there's stable management! there's field management, where you can leave some fallow for a season and use others for other things! there's forums! you have a mailbox! there's horse trading and selling! there's a black market!

there's good art!

i feel like people who like neopets but wish it were harder would like howrse.

largely the gameplay is clicking on things and thinking and probably doing math if you're good at it, but there are just so many details! there's a whole community in this website!

i rate howrse 5 stars out of 5!

edit: they deleted my account after 6 months of inactivity with no restoration possible. demoting to 4 stars

★★★★☆

there is no music and it has a lot of reading, but it's just a different type of horse game entirely!

[lokis-laugh]

Hello lovely people! Sorry I’ve been dead for the last couple weeks. I’ve been in a mental health spiral and haven’t been doing too good. But I promise I’m going to try to be active and post more! And don’t forget my dms are always open if you need and/or want to talk <3

[stillknowntobequitevexxing]

My kitchen is destroyed and I'm exhausted, but dinner is done and dessert is in the oven. Happy turkey day everyone.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"I don't think it's silly at all."

It was completely understandable to him, for her to be a touch nervous-even with how confident he felt in their ability to get away with it, there was no denying that it was an incredibly brazen plan. How many people would be so bold as to spend the evening in the company of their secret lovers, right under the nose of so many people, people who would absolutely lose their minds if they knew the truth...

"They do say that sometimes, the best place to hide is in plain sight," Dorian continued, rubbing his chin as he gave it some thought. "And I think that turn of phrase will prove to be very true tonight: As I said, I believe that everyone will mostly be so busy schmoozing and making nice that their eyes will hardly be on us. I'm sure we'll have to come over and shake hands with Mr. and Mrs. So-and-so who will be at the wedding tomorrow, accept the congrats of Mr. and Mrs. What's-the-name, kiss up to the Something-or-others, but I think we can manage that."

As he listened off these imaginary guests, Dorian flashed her a little smile, in the hopes that his playful names would make her laugh, help her relax a little-humor was oftentimes his way of alleviating stress, taking the edge off, and he hoped it would be the same for Emily as he finished confidently, "We'll go around, roll out the proverbial welcome wagon, perhaps answer a few questions here and there, but overall, I'm sure we'll be able to slip away and spend the evening with those we'd most enjoy it with."

[precognitiveignition]

i feel like roast turkey legs are actually capable of restoring hp

i have never had a good turkey leg that did not make me feel better for having it

[lucybellwood]

Lemme tell you a gay little story about an eagle.

Our town (~9,000 people) has a couple garages, but there's a big one on the main drag. My family has been going there for decades. I drive past it every day.

There used to be a huge pine tree on the corner of their lot, but last year it became a hazard and had to be taken down.

Shortly thereafter I drive by and see they've hired a guy to chainsaw sculpt the stump into a bald eagle.

Birds own my heart, but nationalism makes me twitchy. I withhold outright condemnation of the eagle, but I'm skeptical. (The original owner—an objectively Good Dude—sold the business to a younger couple a few years ago, and I don't have any knowledge of their whole deal.)

Then it turns out someone on staff is really into making costumes for the eagle. Every holiday. Every month. Stuffed turkey, witch costume, menorah headpiece, bunny ears. These people love to dress their bird.

The changing of the eagle suit becomes a source of joy every time I drive through town.

Until June, when the eagle is bare.

Now look, maybe I'm expecting too much asking my garage to celebrate Pride. But this is a small town. Every time I drive by that stupid eagle—this thing that has previously brought me so much joy—I feel hurt. I feel reminded that there are plenty of people in my liberal bubble who don't consider my community worthy of celebration. I drive to work, I feel bad. I drive home, I feel bad. The eagle is mocking me.

Then my A/C quits working.

So I book an appointent to bring my car in—and realize what I have to do.

I pick all this up at a thrift store for under ten bucks. I print the shirt with some weird heat-transfer fabric crayons I find in a cupboard. I loop gold elastic around the sunglasses and pray they'll fit on the eagle's head. (It is also important to draw your attention to the price of the feather boa.)

(Nice.)

My reasoning is thus: if I show up with a complete costume ready to go, someone will have to look me in the eye and say "We don't believe in that," at which point I'll be finding a new garage. But if they let me dress the eagle, then people in town get to have the joy I've been missing since the start of the month.

I listen to a lot of hype-up jams on my way over. I hate confrontation. I also don't wanna have to find another garage. I want to believe that this decision isn't actively antagonistic, but I'm not particularly hopeful.

I talk through the A/C issue with the guy at the desk, hand over my keys, then take a deep breath.

"Who's in charge of the eagle?"

"Oh, that's all Dylan. Second bay from the end."

I walk down the row of hydraulic lifts and find a disarmingly smiley middle-aged man pouring fluid through a funnel. I introduce myself and explain that, since the Pride parade is this Sunday and the eagle seems to be missing a costume, I have taken the liberty of making one myself, and can I get his blessing to go put it on?

Dylan grins this absolutely giant grin and goes

"Oh hell yeah."

So that's what's up now.

Happy Pride.

[gigifluidcat]

Happy Thanksgiving Eve! 🍂🍽️🍁

I’m curious about other people's Thanksgiving viewing traditions. Reblog for more responses, please!

[lovelornnobodyknows]

its so funny when people at my job tell me happy thanksgiving bc that doesn't exist here but i can't tell them anything so i just have to say thank you, have a nice one too :) and hang up

[mulderfx]

i have put in the WORK today gaydies

[peachdues]

SANEMI V. NO-NUT NOVEMBER

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆ ･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳

In honor of it being Thanksgiving in the US, I thought I would feed you all. Happy Turkey Day, skanks.

CW: MDNI. Explicit sexual content.

Let’s count the ways you’ve tortured him over the last thirty days

You would purposefully wait until he arrived back home at his estate before getting yourself off — in his bed, or in his private bath, so that Sanemi had to watch or feel you working yourself, whimpering his name as you imagined your fingers were his.

You’ve never seen a man wound tighter than Sanemi, coming home after a long night of fighting demons and having to put up with incompetent younger Corps members, who is greeted with the sight of his lover, in his bed, legs spread wide open as she plunges her fingers in and out of her wet and ready core, moaning his name. 

You also were fond of trouncing around his estate wearing little clothing — if any. In fact, you were far more fond of wearing nothing but his haori as you cooked for him. Sanemi thought you wouldn’t be able to resist him sidling up behind you and sliding his hands between its open folds to rest on your bare waist. He thought. 

As it turned out, you were more than happy to swat away his eager hands and resume chopping vegetables. Sanemi managed to hold in his groan of frustration until you bent over to pick up a stray piece of carrot that escaped the pot.

Not to mention it was his BIRTHDAY on the 29th and you wouldn’t so much as let him eat his favorite cake (your pussy) 

“But I’m not the one being pleasured, it’s you,” Sanemi’s voice bordered on a whine as he danced his fingers down the curve of your outer thigh.  You swatted his hand away. “Need I remind you that, on more than one occasion, you’ve had to change your clothes after spending time between my legs?”  Sanemi’s eyes are nearly bulging out of his head as you primly turn away from him, tightening the blanket around your half-nude form. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me —“ “Goodnight, ‘Nemi. Happy Birthday.”

But when the clock hits 12:01 AM December 1?

“If you think you’re walking out of this not pregnant — or that you’re walking out of here at all —,” he said severely, yanking you by the calves until your ass was pressed against his thighs. “Then you’ve got another thing fuckin’ coming.” 

Listen. Sanemi respects the fuck out of women, but you’ve been disrespecting him for the last month. He’s about to get MEAN.

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that Sanemi is going to need to purchase new furniture by the end of it; shit’s getting smashed by you two. The bed, dressers, tables, you name it, you’re getting fucked on it, and it’s getting broken. 

You are being edged to oblivion. If you whine or complain, it only makes the punishment that much worse (so does crying but he actually wants to see those big fat tears). Sanemi breaks up pace consistently to ensure this happens.  Also, he’s gonna cum as much as he wants, but you’re not until he says so.

And when he finally, finally lets you cum, don’t you dare think it’s over — now he’s going to overstimulate you until you’re sobbing (again)

“You think you’re done, sweet girl?” His saccharine coos made your stomach curl because you knew that tone meant he was being anything but sweet. “Like hell you are.” Sanemi flipped the pair of you over, forcing you to lay with your back against his chest, your arms pinned behind you. The hand not restraining you slid to your throat, gripping softly and tilting your head back against him as Sanemi began to thrust sharply up into you.  “I’ve had to watch you cum around everything but me for the last month, darlin’,” his teeth sank down into the soft flesh between your shoulder and neck. The wince you made at the sharp prick of his teeth was quickly chased away with a few soothing licks and caresses from his deceptively soft lips.  “So you’re gonna be my good girl and cum on my cock until I’ve decided you’ve had enough. Understand?” 

It gets to the point where you genuinely cannot tell apart the fluids on your skin — sweat, your cum, his cum, or your tears 

When he’s finally out of stamina (which is like. days later, RIP you), the last few rounds are much slower, and he’s much softer and clingier. Granted, he’s shooting blanks by then because he’s also overstimulated and exhausted, but he thinks he’s made his point clear enough. He’s actually asking you for just one more, and if you’re crying, he’s quick to kiss the tears away and murmur words of encouragement and love

“Fuck, baby,” Sanemi moaned, his feet digging into the plush of his futon as a means of giving himself leverage to push into you, his thighs and hips having long since lost the ability to work with the same vigor they had when he’d first bent you over. “You feel too fucking good to stop.”  You cried out, fists clenching against the painful pleasure your lover continued to bestow upon you. Part of you was desperate for him to stop, to rest, but your body kept betraying you, your legs tightening around his waist to hold him in place.  “S-Sanemi,” you whimpered, fingers digging into the ropey muscles of his shoulders, unable to decide whether to pull him closer or push him away. “No m-more — I c-can’t —“ “One more, sweetheart, just one more.” He cooed, bending his face low to brush kiss after kiss against your lips, swallowing your moans and whimpers. Sanemi braced his weight upon his fists, situated on either side of your hips as he continued to rock into you. His pace now was far at odds with the one he’d maintained over the last day or two, with the scar-speckled Wind Pillar forgoing his vicious, unrelenting speed that had you clinging onto the nearest piece of furniture for dear life in favor of something far softer and more gentle.  “You can do that for me, right?” Sanemi circled his hips. "Just one more, sweet thing, that's all I ask." 

And you give it to him; though there are big, fat tears leaking down your cheeks and though every nerve in your body is screaming for a break, you come apart around him once more. But Sanemi still isn't fully satisfied even though he's a groaning, cursing mess rutting into you, so his thumb works its way between your legs and presses down. Only when a surge of your sticky fluid springs forth and coats his abdomen and groin, does Sanemi finally relax, his own climax rolling into him like a steady wave.