#i'm not calling it x

[forbeswho]

Legends on Twitter

[gothicprep]

i'm so close to muting everyone on twitter who won't can it about israel and palestine when they have nothing useful to add to the conversation. i have not seen a single tweet on there that made me think, "that's insightful! i hadn't considered that before!"

there's something so gross about war being treated as another topic in the discourse cycle.

[bluemilkandcookies]

Wanted to try something different 😂

[definitelyunhingedagentphoenix]

*Agent Phoenix if twitter existed in their time*

Agent Phoenix's first tweet: I'm finally on twitter. Please don't talk to me.

Agent Phoenix's latest tweet: if I die on this mission, don't unfollow me. I WILL be back!

[jadeazora]

It's official, the new mascot of Twitter X is Xerneas:

Also, major L on Elon's part not going with the superior X, XD:

[ghostincorrectinternetedition]

Some bitch on Twitter: Where can a Christian woman go to get her nails done without being surrounded by statues of Buddah? I’m done paying women who have nothing in common with me spiritually big bucks to do my nails. I want a person who knows the Lord to do my nails. Seems logical.

Terzo on his secret troll account: I think Jesus got his nails done by some Roman guys. Hope that helps.

[capitalist-kasaneteto]

I would like to go on Twitter and see some Teto art on there but I am still banned.

Bluesky is my only hope...

[wolfofcelestia]

Does anyone know why tumblr doesn't display twitter previews anymore?

When you paste a twitter link into a post here, all it does is put the link in a grey box with the url on it

@staff

[mommy-mortis]

[fruitcakebro]

Only good thing to come out of Twitter's name change.

[ohfuckiamsohardrn]

follow me maybe idk

[metropolitankei]

Let's talk about Twitter

I figured I should talk about this here, since this whole t.o.s. update is pushing me more and more towards Tumblr for posting.

With an update to the terms of service [aka the t.o.s.], any original content posted on Twitter [I refuse to call it X] uploaded starting on September 29th of this year [2023] can, and will, be used for AI to steal and modify. TLDR will be found under the attached image.

TLDR: By the start of October 2023, AI on Twitter will use your original content for uses that you don't even know about just yet, and you won't be able to do anything about it. Man, what a scummy move.

Attached image here words it a bit better than my TLDR.

Elon is just finding ways to make more and more people leave the site, and that's on him. This will greatly affect the artist communities over there, since I see a LOT of artists over there. Especially when the AI is trained to be able to modify your content and sell it. Man, oh man, does this hurt artists who rely on commissions for a living/emergency funding.

Overall, Elon can kiss my ass.

[sutille]

it seems not everything in twitter is bad.

[infineoinfinite]

My Twitter account got hacked

So, here's the link for the new one

[pippynsworld]

Happy New Years friends!

[whateveriwant]

Actually I'm not done talking about Mr. Simon Fucks-Himself-Stupid Riley just yet :(

I'm picturing a scenario where you, a civilian, are visiting your boyfriend at his base. Maybe you're there to deliver something, like a file he forgot at home or the lunch he said he didn't need. Either way, whatever your cover story for being there is, the end result is the same: you, on your back, knees up by your ears, sprawled across Simon's desk as he fucks you like his life depends on it.

Being a Lieutenant grants him the luxury of having a private office where he can engage in such extracurriculars, but that doesn't mean it's without some major risks – namely, prying ears that might be lurking in the hallway outside.

But being discreet shouldn't be an issue, should it? I mean, a man known infamously as “Ghost” should have no problem staying quiet, right?

Wrong.

Turns out, not only does that tight hole of yours reduce your boyfriend to a dumb, drooling mess, it makes him a dumb, drooling mess who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.

So while you have the wherewithal to clamp a hand over your lips to try muffling your lewd noises, Simon is out here moaning and groaning unabashedly like something sent forward in time from the Paleolithic. You could try asking him to cover his mouth, but it seems an impossible task; his hands are a little preoccupied with making sure he doesn't fuck you right over the edge of his desk.

While you don't want to stop, you also don't want to get caught, so you settle for urging him to keep it down. It's after a third softly gasped ‘N-Need to be qu-quiet, Si’ that your warning finally worms its way into his brain, and he acts in a way to appease you, just… not how you expect.

Swiftly, Simon removes his hold of your waist and brings one of his arms forward. He grabs for the center of his t-shirt, tugs the material up, and quickly stuffs the fabric into his mouth.

It only takes a split second for the action to happen, but immediately, you see how effective it is. The moment that standard, army-issued tee is captured between Simon's teeth, there's a drastic reduction of noise in the room.

Now, he can fuck into you with reckless abandon, and he snaps his hips forward with enough force to make your whole body ripple. Even as you pulse and constrict around him (sometimes inadvertently, sometimes not), the sounds that climb their way up Simon's throat are heavily dampened by his cotton gag.

It's as Simon begins the ascent to his peak that the cloth in his mouth really comes into play. As he pumps into you, he starts grunting lowly, gutturally, exhaling through his nostrils in quick, harsh bursts. It's a deep sound, animalistic in nature, like a bull huffing before it digs its heels into the dirt and charges.

His thrusts turn sloppier and sloppier the closer he nears his high, his hips propelled forward only by some basic hindbrain instinct. His lashes start to flutter, his eyes roll towards the back of their sockets, and when he cums, he throws his head back in a full-blown snarl.

Simon's a bit shaky on his feet after he climaxes in you, but he manages to pull out before he stumbles backwards, plopping down heavily into his chair. As you start cleaning yourself up, you see how he makes no attempt to move. He just sits there, completely brainless, pants around his ankles and t-shirt still tucked between his teeth. You have to walk over to him and purposefully tug on the shirt to get him to release it, and once it's freed, you see the damage that's been done.

In the center of Simon's shirt rests a big, blotchy wet spot, like he's tried to do his own slobbery take on the classic Rorschach test. The fabric's been wrinkled to all hell and there's a few imprints left behind from where his teeth had bitten down, and if you were to inspect the hem closely, you'd see where he popped a stitch or two in his ecstasy.

The sight of his mangled shirt has you tutting in disapproval. He can't walk out of his office looking like this, and he certainly can't forgo wearing a shirt altogether. What would the people around base say if they saw their normally put together Lieutenant looking so unkempt? You don't think he'd ever hear the end of it, nor would you for that matter.

In the meantime, as you wait for Simon's brains to un-liquify themselves, maybe you can scrounge up something else for him to wear. There's got to be something lying around here to help make him presentable once again. It's too bad as part of your cover you didn't think to bring an extra set of clothes to change into.

You'll have to remember for next time.