#(( threads ))

[dragonmasterhiccup]

A smile formed on his face. "It is? Great! That's, that's great!" He was glad his slightly large stitching didn't show, and that she was happy with the final result of their hard work.

As she went to get charged, he began cleaning up the fabric scraps and extra thread, setting everything neatly into her sewing basket.

Seeing her in the dress, he smiled warmly. "I uh, I'm no expert, but...you look amazing." Would it hold up in battle? Absolutely not. But Ella wasn't going to any sort of battle today, and from what he could see, she definitely deserved some time to herself.

How much time had passed while they were sewing? "Oh, hey, you don't want to be late! Is there anything else you need before you get going?"

“It’s no trouble at all. You may stay here as long as you wish. You just have to watch out for my step mother. She’s…well, she doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” Ella told the person before her.

[edsrosetattoo]

This is the best idea in the history of film.

[elledotexe]

READ BELOW -

Edit: With the amount of notes this has received I want to make it clear (since people who have reblogged and added their own opinions to this, one saying to completely shun studies in total that garnered a lot of attention) that while these studies specifically geared toward veterans are meant to help and were possibly requested from the previous administration, extreme caution should still be advised and you should do your research as others have suggested.

Our dearest Trump has allowed ending of employment for whatever reason now regardless of disability, race, gender, sexuality etc., we all know what Meta has turned into and what the current administration probably has to do with that and definitely has to do with the TikTok ban... I'm just saying do not be surprised if somehow these records end up being used for more harm than good if they just decide it'll be a... fun weekend hobby.

I want people to make informed decisions regardless of what they decide! But they have made it very clear on the kind of people they are and what they will do to harm any sort of minority. Please consider that when you call this "unnecessary fear mongering", as well. They are already erasing valid data/searches from social medias and valuable sources. The most important thing is safety.

[the-occasional-mishap]

I was going to embroider a rose or something in the corner of this handkerchief, but then I realized I could do a wizard, so obviously I did a wizard.

[troythecatfish]

[teathattast]

Wake up babe new fish dropped

[willofasherah]

seeing everyone just mindlessly sign up for threads despite all the clear warning signs feels like I’m living in Sailor Moon or a magical girl anime episode where the Monster of the Day just set up shop over night and their product is literally draining your lifeforce for the Dark Kingdom but people keep going there

[ichxgo]

His back lifts again, stretching his middle just to give Shiro’s fingers that much more ground to cover on their way down. He bites out a moan, so full of sensation he practically squirms as Shiro’s hands close on his hips. The gasp he gives as Shiro grinds them together with more purpose is less muted, sharper. 

He shudders. A leg hooks around Shiro’s middle, a hand pushed down his back into his shirt to grip him better. Ichigo swallows that curse then drops his head back, panting, biting his lip, trying to feel everything at once. The hand still in Shiro’s hair loosens. From so close, the lengths of white fall around him like a cage, giving the illusion of privacy as he slips his palm to Shiro’s jaw, thumb ghosting over his lips then lower. He slides his hand down between them to curl around them both, the leg around Shiro’s waist twitching as he strokes.

He knows they’re gearing up to fuck like animals, but he wouldn’t even complain if Shiro shot across his stomach instead. Can’t imagine complaining about anything because this is already so much more than he deserves.

If anyone else tried what Ichigo's doing, he'd cut fingers off, but for Ichigo he moans into the kiss when that grip in his hair tugs harder. Ichigo compared his party guests to cannibals earlier. He wasn't wrong, and Shiro's no better. He wants to devour every inch of Ichigo, map skin with his tongue, carve into muscle with his teeth.

The friction his grinding gives him is almost maddening, like he's teasing himself, because he knows the real thing will be so much better than dry humping like a teenager. It's a relief when Ichigo starts shoving at clothing. He puffs out a heavy breath, reaching between them to help shove his pants out of the way and release his trapped cock.

And then Ichigo's pants are out of the way too and he groans a sound so rough with hungry need that it's practically a growl. He drags harsh fingertips down Ichigo's ribs, one momentarily pausing on the more fresh scar from where Ichigo got shot for him, before moving to grip lithe hips. He uses his grip to guide that grinding they're doing, breathing a low curse against Ichigo's mouth.

[victusinveritas]

[naomiayodele]

“I am down for the ditching.” She smirked. She knew that a limit on drinks for herself should be imposed, but one final drink wasn’t going to be bad especially if they had to sit here and listen to people yap about love. Naomi maneuvered through the tables to the free one she spotted. Resting her coat on the back of the chair, she looked at the drink menu, none were sticking out to her so she settled for a water. A few performers were entertaining with their poems. A few were even a little bit unserious but she couldn’t knock their confidence to get on stage in a room full of people. “Okay, maybe ditching isn’t so bad of an idea after all.” She whispered. Thirty minutes of active listening was all she had to offer up. “ it’ll be more fun to eat desert and be warm back at the inn.” Or maybe she was just getting tired of all the lights and the noise. It was also the thought of just spending quality time with him with no interruptions or other people for that matter. “Are you feeling gelato, ice cream, brownies? Is it a terrible idea to so called break into my own bakery to steal said desert? It’s not that far from here and we do purposely keep ice cream in the freezer.” She shrugged, slipping her coat back on.

She grabbed their tickets from the ticket holder who told her which side the movie would be playing. The theatre wasn’t a far walk from the concession stand which was a bonus. Naomi was also glad it wasn’t too packed and chose to sit all the way at the top in the middle seats. The movie was an hour and thirty six minutes of greatness. “Have you ever seen that before? I know it’s literally both before our time but it never gets old.” It was very relatable in terms of plots, could friends just platonic. “It always made it interesting how some people are meant to stay friends and others … are meant to explore more.” She commented. It had fitted them perfectly to a tee. “Now let’s hope these poems people come up with at the mirage aren’t just nursery rhymes.” She giggled, flagging down another cab. Once they arrived at their last venue, she appreciated the warmth of the club. “Want to get any more drinks while we are here? There is an empty table off to the corner over there.” She pointed out.

[mysharona1987]

“Make my words.”

Well, I’m convinced.

[gauntletqueen]

Hi Zoey. Asking from a place of ignorance, could you please explain why Threads is dogshit?

Threads is the Hot New Garbagedump by Certified Scum Of The Earth and Facebook/Meta owner Zuckerburg. It is like if twitter was even worse.

There is ONLY a For You page, meaning you can never just see the posts from your followed accounts who, yknow, you followed for the purpose of seeing their posts.You can't see those. you have to see the algorithm's posts ONLY. You also require an instagram to get full access to all the features like Posting Images. You need a separate social media account to properly access this new social media. And once you've done so, the only way to delete your Threads account, is to delete you instagram account. The Whole Thing. For Some Fucking Reason. Not to mention, obviously since it's zuckerburg, the thing syphons your personal information like crazy, worse still than twitter.

Like ALL your data. as much as it can get. (Love that it says "Other Data" btw. Nice subtle way of saying "whatever else we want") ALSO wouldn't you know it? It's fucking banned in the EU because it violates a bunch of fucking privacy laws!! So it's DEFINITELY not safe to use!

It is as predatory and exploitative as can be, created by someone that we collectively agreed Sucks Shit and Has No Empathy For Human Life and Individuality, and nobody should be touching it with a ten foot pole let alone sign up for it. Not even to test the waters or because it's where everyone is heading, or to see how bad it is for yourself. It doesn't matter if you're joining to get an account ready in case the platform ends up the new big thing. You're feeding the statistics. Even if you're not using that account, Zuckerburg can show the number of signups to shareholders and investors to prove to them that it's viable. Instead of jumping on the bandwagon in case it succeeds, inform people why they shouldn't join, to reduce its chance of success! It's like strikes and protests; The more of us get the word out, the more effective it'll be!

[tardigradesonthemoon]

[ichxgo]

Grimmjow is too settled, too quiet, too cooperative. It’s almost unnerving. Ichigo keeps glancing at him every few seconds, which is ridiculous—he can’t see him slung over his shoulder, but he can feel him. That should be enough. The problem is that what he feels doesn’t match what he expects and he can barely reconcile the two. 

A slow, molten warmth seeps through the bond, like sinking into warm bath water or finding a pool of sunlight. It’s wrong. He knows it’s wrong, because he’s dragging an Arrancar into his room, relaxed should be the last thing he’s feeling. And yet, there it is, wrapping around his ribs, easing into the cold, empty spaces inside him.

Ichigo shifts, waiting for an answer. 

Except those arms tighten— tighten too hard, too much—panic flashes and he yelps, figuring Grimmjow’s about to somehow reverse suplex him through the floor. 

“Hey, no. Wait, Grimmjow! Don’t—Ah!“

Ichigo squirms so hard they both go down.

An instant spike of fire forces a hiss from his teeth. Then there’s agony, bright and immediate tearing through his side. Only…  layered beneath it, flaring to life like a second heartbeat is something else. A rush of satisfaction that isn’t his. Except it is his. It’s all he is for a moment— a deep, visceral flood of pleasure. The savage rightness of sinking fangs into powerful, high-reiatsu prey. 

His head smacks against the end of his bed, but it’s nothing compared to everything else. 

His nails curls into claws and his teeth sink into his own tongue. 

He’s floored, feels the satisfaction of it curling into his chest and the empty spaces that never quite fill up.

He chokes in a gasp, breath stilted, pulse hammering, drowning. What the fuck? How can anything feel like that? 

The world comes back slow from a haze of white. There’s a moan in his throat. Heat in his gut. He’s hard. He swallows. “I…you…” No. No. Anger. He should be pissed. Furious. Should shove Grimmjow off and throw him through the nearest wall. But all he does is lie there, trembling, still caught in the aftershocks, trying to make the world fix itself—one part of him recoiling from being fucking eaten, the other shuddering with the phantom satiety of it.

Grimmjow bears the ride with no small amount of physical discomfort.

Ichigo is taller and broader than he was when Grimmjow first met him, but he's not larger, and he's not quite wide enough to effortlessly fit Grimmjow's mass over his shoulder.

He spends the whole ride almost sliding off, if not for Ichigo's hand wrapped around the back of his thighs to hold him in place.

The very edges of his hole rub uncomfortably against the hard strap of armour, but the discomfort is muted by the oozing satisfaction of being curled almost all the way around Kurosaki. Two equally powerful sensations in opposition. Hunger and connection. What it feels like to Kurosaki is anyone's guess, but it distracts Grimmjow enough that he offers little in the way of token resistance once it becomes clear that Kurosaki is having no issues handling his dead weight.

Grimmjow's face doesn't turn when Kurosaki passes his packmate in the hallway. His face is pressed, soft cheeked to the strong muscle in Kurosaki's back, his eyes almost all the way closed. Settled for the time being by the resonant contentment of their shared contact.

But as with all good things in Grmmjow's death, they must come to and end.

He cracks an eye and sets his chin to Kurosaki's back to consider the floor. The bed is clearly the superior option. But he's not asking for it. Instead his laxity ends with a sharp snap of movement. Strong arms wrap around Kurosaki's waist, iron bars to hold himself flush against the shinigami's back, and he bites hard into the fleshly soft piece of Kurosaki's side between his hip bone and ribs.

Blood burst pop - slick and wet mouthfeel through the black fabric of his uniform. Bright pleasure on Grimmjow's tongue. He's a glut today, already too well fed from the overflow of Kurosaki's power running through his veins but he is never satiated and he drinks deeply from the well of power that burst forth.

[ancientsstudies]