#[[threads]]

[magg0t-mess1ah]

Ummmm I think I need a haircut yall 😓😓😓 it’s starting to make me look like girl—

What do you think, @thirteen-hundred-secrets @richiethegreat any other tags! (I’m scared to tag some of my moots bc OBVIOUSLY what if they hate me 😔)

picrew chain time!! make yourself a cheeky little icon using this picrew, reblog & tag ur pals!! to start us off: @lightyaoigami @lightyakami @deelavis @dreamfilleddonuts @catboymettaton @vorareromantic @queer-omens-in-the-archives

[teathattast]

[edsrosetattoo]

This is the best idea in the history of film.

[its-funnytwittertweets]

[ashortstoryaboutlove]

And the best reply:

[Source 1] [Source 2]

Edited to add:

[Source]

[teathattast]

[dragonmasterhiccup]

Hiccup gave a strained grunt as the Viking pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. When he was finally released, Hiccup pressed a hand to his ribs, catching his breath, "Right, thanks," he managed, subtly making sure nothing was broken. "I, I appreciate that, Gobber." And he truly did.

As the man eyed him, Hiccup quickly shook his head. "N-no! No, why--why would you need to worry?" Running a hand through his hair, he was glad when Astrid spoke up.

Nodding, he understood the implications of bringing Toothless to the village, and he was going to make sure he'd keep his best friend, and himself by association, safe.

"Really, thanks, Gobber. I very much prefer being alive than...well, skewered."

🐟

Hiccup followed her instructions, a quizzical look on his face. "Potentially embarrass myself? What, what are you--AGH!"

He quickly got over his shock, and his look of surprise became one of joy as he started laughing along with Astrid. Without realizing it, she was doing the surface version of the way merfolk danced. Granted, it was a bit less graceful, a bit rough, but the motions were remarkably similar.

The only difference was, Hiccup was the only one moving, as Astrid's feet stayed planted on the ground.

"Yeah! I think so..." He was grinning ear to ear as she spun, only showing slight panic as he felt himself begin to fall. "Uh...m-maybe not?"

Astrid caught him, and he relaxed, steadying himself on his foot again. "Thanks!" Their faces were inches apart, his hands moving to her waist as he smiled back at her, "You're pretty incredible, you know. Fins down, best dance partner I've ever had!"

Looking into her blue eyes, he completely forgot they were surrounded by other vikings. It was just him and Astrid. Leaning in, he kissed her, a hand moving from her waist to cup her cheek. Pulling away, his eyes opened to gaze at her softly, "The only dance partner I'll ever want," he said quietly. "Someday, I'll have to show you how merfolk dance. Given the moves you just displayed, I think you'd fit right in with us below the surface!"

After a long training session, all Astrid wanted to do was cool off on the beach. Maybe a tiny swim, even though the ocean was so cold at this time of year. She pushed through the brush and staggered down to the shore.

Only to find a boy lounging in the shallows.

“Oh!” She dropped her axe in the sand. From his bare torso, she assumed he was naked. “Sorry! I didn’t know someone else would be…here…” as the apologies flowed, she realized from the waist down, he had green scales and a pair of fins.

No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.

“No way…” she inched closer. “A real mermaid! In the flesh! Are the stories true?” She stamped down her overwhelming curiosity for a moment to give him a stern point. “Don’t try anything fishy, mermaid. I’m very capable of protecting myself, got it?”

((I saw the prompt and went feral, hope you don’t mind))

[X]

Hiccup started, the water around him splashing as he sat up straight in surprise, before he moved a little further back, his cheeks flushed.

"No, sorry, I, I shouldn't--" Ducking his head, the merman awkwardly held up a hand, "Usually no one comes here..."

But his movements only caused his tail to briefly break the surface, emerald scales glittering in the sun for a moment before dipping below the water again.

Firmly, he responded, "Merman. I am a merman. And no, don't worry, I, I wasn't going to try anything...I know you'd probably kill me if I did..."

Clearing his throat, he ran a hand through his hair, which had partially dried in his time sitting in the shallow water. "What, what stories are you referring to?"

He knew, or at least had a gut feeling about what she was asking, but he wanted to hear it from her. She appeared wary, but not fearful. Maybe these humans didn't have the same fears of his kind like the others?

[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.

[victusinveritas]

[troythecatfish]

[cherryblossms]

"i'm your good boy," garam repeated after angel, his tone much more needy than before. his thighs began to shake under the water as he tried to fight and hold off as long as he could. they'd only just begun, he didn't want things to end so quickly. but how was he supposed to push aside the physical pleasure when angel was saying exactly what drove him crazy? and now three fingers were inside of him, stretching him beyond what he thought his limits were. "don't stop," he whined, moving his free hand slowly up the length of his body. his let his fingers wrapping around his own throat, applying the smallest amount of pressure before raising his arm up higher until he found angel behind him. his fingers were quick to tangle in the hair at the back of his head. "i want you ," he begun, a little weary at first, "to use me as your own personal fuck toy, make a complete mess of me... don't stop fucking me even after i've finished, just keep going as long as you need to... i don't want to be able to move once you've exhausted me." almost every word meshed together as he spoke, already feeling like a babbling mess. he wasn't used to being so verbal about his own wants, at least not with the confidence alcohol provided him. oh, how he wished he'd had something to drink prior. maybe then he wouldn't feel so foolish trying to put his own desires into words. it all felt so contradictory because his wants were exactly how axel treated him when they were together but there were still differences. garam knew angel would treat him better, his wellbeing and needs would be taken into consideration, every choice he made would be dripping with love with angel. the main focus wasn't going to be angel's own satisfaction, he'd be concerned and aware of what garam wanted whereas axel only cared about reaching his own finish line. he didn't care what garam wanted, whether what he was doing felt good, if he was hitting him or biting him too hard. maybe that was his fault because he never expressed himself but how could he when, whenever he tried, axel would tear into him? "i can't—" he shook his head before dropping it back to rest on angel's chest again, then let it fall to the side, "you're going to make me cum." his grip on the edge of the tub released to let his hand sink back into the water. he quickly found angel's arm and took a hold of it but he didn't make any effort to stop the man from working his length nor his hole. instead, he held on to the man's forearm as if his life depended on it, as if this were some sort of glorious dream he'd wake up from if he didn't keep a hold of it tight enough.

Angel’s breath caught—just for a second. Not from lust, not from the heat curling in the water around them or the way Garam’s body reacted so beautifully to his touch, but from the words. From that voice. That whisper. I want you. Angel heard the tremble in it. The hesitation. But beneath it, certainty. Not loud, not bold but real. Honest. It was the kind of wanting that carried shame in its pockets because someone else had made it feel like a crime. Angel felt that ache stretch wide in his chest, pulling at the edges of his restraint. Not because Garam said yes. But because of why it sounded like an apology. His touch softened instinctively. His fingers didn’t stop, but they grew slower, more deliberate. Aiming for that sweet spot he hit that morning. Angel listening but those sweet moaned wouldn’t let his movement stop. Watching Garam fall apart and trying to hold himself together with words. Words that Angel didn’t let go unnoticed. Angel leaned forward again, lips brushing along his ear as he whispered, “You’re not.” He felt the tremor that rolled through Garam’s body, the way his breath hitched and his arm clutched the edge of the tub like it was the only thing anchoring him to the moment. But Angel didn’t stop, not his touch, not the steady presence of his body, pressed tightly against Garam’s back. The smaller was driving him crazy. Watching every flicker of pleasure cross Garam’s face made his own excitement twitch against his back. And then—Axel’s name wasn’t spoken, but Angel felt it in every broken confession. That asshole’s ghost was still lodged in Garam’s body like splinters. Angel could hear it in the way Garam’s words stumbled, trying to explain, to defend himself, even now. As if Angel might turn cruel too. As if love had to come with punishment. As if desire could only be a dirty thing. Angel’s jaw clenched. The hand working Garam’s length slowed down to watch the fingers. “You never have to prove yourself to me,” Angel said, voice thick with emotion. “I’m not him Garam. If you want me tell me.”He brushed his nose against Garam’s temple. Not kissing this time. Just breathing him in. Letting the closeness speak for what words couldn’t. “Tell me exactly how you want me to touch you, ” he murmured. “How long you want me to fuck you…” A pause as his fingers sped up and Angel nipped at his ear. “How deep” He kissed just below Garam’s ear slow and soft, as if trying to speak into the cracks. “You’re not dirty,” he whispered. “You’re not too much. You’re not some secret that should’ve been hidden away.” And then, gentler: “You are good. You’re my good boy.” I want more. Angel didn’t tease. Didn’t smirk. Angel slipped another finger into Garam as his hand sped back up. His finger worked his entrance, arching and spreading his digits. “You are doing so well baby. Just a little more and you will be ready for me.”

[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

[political-us]

[ichxgo]

Shiro gives him that glare and Ichigo is dead certain he’d let him scoop his heart straight out of his chest and demolish it in the nearest kitchen appliance. And then he’s thinking about taking Shiro on the nearest kitchen appliance. 

He opens his mouth and then closes it. Caught out, except he wasn’t really trying to hide anything worth hiding. “Then it must’ve been the first thing. And I don’t fucking want to hear whether you’re alive or not from the news.” He slants Shiro a look. “Maybe you’re lucky I like you, since you’re such a hard sleeper.” That’s bullshit really, considering he just said he wants him alive, but he doesn’t like being told he isn’t supposed to be sneaking in and seeing him when he wants, and he realizes it’s because he’s done it so much he feels entitled. He makes a face. “You’re just mad I didn’t wake you up.”

“The point is it’s my fantasy. I get to have them sometimes.” Even if he’s not nearly as oversexed as Shiro. Though that’s not even true. He’s just as oversexed, he’s just pickier about who he’s oversexed with. But he snorts. “You’re the one that had a problem with it, not me. Go ahead.” 

Ichigo scowls, lips pressed. He’s not even that private, but he doesn’t want people going through his things. Especially his business shit. Especially people who already know what qualifies as his ‘important things’. 

He pushes a long, hard breath from his nose and mutters, “I hope they blow themselves up.” 

He picks at the plate, finding all that alcohol has turned his stomach. He forces it anyway. “Yeah, well. They’re mostly dead now.” It won’t stay that way. New people will filter up and it’ll all be thriving again as long as there’s a demand for what they sell. Trimming them continually would be a full time job all on its own. 

He huffs around his bite of food. If he had the guy in front of him, he could make it happen. But. Shiro is right. “A professional. An assassin. Someone who would kill him outright without getting caught.” Someone good, because there’s no way security isn’t tight. “Probably Yoruichi.” Fuck, she’s going to rob him blind.

Ok he kind of walked right into that. Maybe he's starting to feel his alcohol. He shoots Ichigo a withering look. "Business if you're not careful." As if he could threaten Ichigo and actually mean it. What a joke.

Yes he does know how Ichigo uses it. That's exactly what he's thinking about right now, but he keeps stuffing the thought back down. Ichigo would keel over if they tried to bang right now. "Thorough." He snorts, swirling the ice in his glass slowly. "You coulda just picked up the phone if you wanted to know I was still breathing. Hell. If I had died, it'd probably be all over the news." It's a poor excuse as far as he's concerned, so either it's true or it's just true enough to make him think it could be true so Ichigo can hide the real reason. That sounds like a conspiracy theory. Never mind. It's probably true. "Doesn't make it less weird. You're lucky I like you." He's kidding but also not.

He smirks into his glass when Ichigo agrees so readily, then snorts a laugh. "What's the point then? You know I can't keep my hands to myself. If we're having a threesome, I'm gonna be touching." Even if it was hypothetically his brother.

He nods, then reaches over to take his phone back. There's very few names or phone numbers saved into his phone, mostly he has his contacts memorized. He dials a number and the other end is picked up on the second ring. "My guest needs an overnight bag, run to his place and grab his things." He pauses, listening briefly. "Yeah, just the important things for now. And be discrete." Then he hangs up and puts his phone back on the table.

After Ichigo sets down his glass, Shiro knows that look well. He glances toward the bottle, but then rethinks refilling Ichigo's glass for him. He's had too little food and water, too much of god knows what pumped into his system to keep him down. He can make some educated guesses, but Ichigo's one of the very few people who's health he'd prefer not to gamble with.

The slight slur is amusing, kind of endearing even, but the words themselves sound too grave for the smirk to make it to his lips. He ignores the glass being pushed toward him and instead nudges Ichigo's place of leftovers closer to him. Briefly, recognition and an unhappy expression flinches through his expression when Ichigo name drops. The trouble he got himself into is starting to make more sense. He drops his elbow onto the table and leans his chin in his palm. "That specific group is a nasty bunch." There are few large scale, shady organizations that he doesn't know of, at least by word on the street.

He exhales a slow breath. "What a fuckin' mess." So much for suggesting that Ichigo lays low and waits for his shit storm to blow over. He doesn't have time for that with the threat to his old man. "You're in no shape to be goin' after anyone. Who would you be makin' a call to?"

[mysharona1987]

“Make my words.”

Well, I’m convinced.