#hello i am a mess

[moonchild-in-blue]

rainbow for you beloved 🤲🌈

if you look closely at the right side you can see it's actually a (faint!) double rainbow 🥹 what if we were two froggies watching a rainbow together while singing a little ribbit song in the drizzling rain 🥺👉👈

🥺 Dani my love, I'm legit tearing up 🥺 A double rainbow (yes i can see it) for me?? 🌈 💖 This is incredibly sweet and oh worm, my liddol heart is growing to the size of Texas 🥺

(again tumblr deleted my original post but i am smart and screenshoted this^ just in case. let me post cute kaomojis!! 😤)

The rainbow ribbit song ever:

Let's sing along together 🥹🐸🪕🌈🌧️

[mariaalenkoshepard]

Started crying because I thought too hard about good omens again

[s0fter-sin]

ghost who was chemically castrated by roba and soap who wants to help him to regain his sexual autonomy

nsfw, angst, roba, unnegotiated unsafe but consensual gun play, hopeful ending

💀🧼

ghost walks like it hangs low.

there’s a tilt to his hips and a spread in his thighs and johnny’s never been able to stop staring.

and ghost’s never asked him to.

he knows he’s seen him; he’s not exactly discreet. he swears he’s even seen him cock his hips out before to give him a better view. but he always pulls back just as they toe the line; verbal cold water on the tentative heat they almost can’t help but spark when they’re together.

it’s never a no; johnny’s not so selfish of a cunt that he’d push when he knows he isn’t welcome. it’s always a reluctance; an ���i wish i could,” never in so many words. an open ended “but…” as ghost circles the reason without ever actually saying it. johnny knows it’s something personal, something more than a difference in rank could ever excuse.

so he backs off when ghost does, jokes instead of flirts and holds his breath through the agonising wait until ghost lets him in close again. waits to know if he’ll let him close again.

it’s almost anticlimactic, the end of their dance; his delicate steps and looping logic to work out why bulldozed as ghost comes out and says one random night, “i can’t fuck.”

it’s not bitter. it doesn’t grate coming out of his throat; he doesn’t spit it like it’s something to be ashamed, not twisted with insecurity as if it’s an accusation by an ex.

it’s a statement of fact.

“you can’t fuck,” johnny echoes anyway because even if it is the reason, the big why… it still doesn’t really answer anything.

“i can’t get it up,” he elaborates, this horrid blankness in his eyes like he’s reading from a script. “whatever you’re looking for, whatever you want- i can’t give it to you.”

johnny just looks at him, the chill air prickling his skin. “right,” he nods calmly. “because my interest in you starts and ends with your dick.”

that blank calm shatters. “johnny…” he warns.

“do you really think i’m that shallow?” he cuts in, curing himself for the way his voice breaks but he never thought ghost would think so low of him; that this whole time, ghost’s thought that’s the only thing he wants from him. “like i’d take you for a ride ‘n just drop you?”

“there’s a difference between not gettin’ it for one night and never gettin’ it at all,” ghost growls, turning his back on him to lean against the edge of the roof. his shoulders heave and the anger seeps from him in one long breath. “it’s not a hitch, johnny. not a performance issue or ptsd or whatever the fuck you’re thinkin’. it’s permanent. irreversible.”

irreversible.

johnny stops, cold creeping up his limbs and dousing his defensive anger. ghost is many things and when it comes to his words, chief amongst them all is deliberate. he didn’t say it’s unfixable. incurable.

irreversible.

johnny buries his selfish hurt and scuffs his boots, an unobtrusive warning of movement, and comes up beside him; just enough distance between them to catch their breaths. he leans back against the ledge and looks over the opposite side of the roof at the dark sky.

“mexico,” he murmurs. not an accusation. not even really a question but ghost collapses in on himself anyway; sinking into his crossed arms digging into the ledge.

“mexico,” he agrees just as quietly. “‘pparently, roba found it more entertaining to let me keep it but- cut the cords. more demeaning that way; cock’s gone, at least you don’t feel the urge. don’t have to look at the fuckin’ thing hang there when nothin’ fuckin’ works.

“it’s not ‘bout how i see you, johnny,” ghost promises and it’s almost apologetic. “but you like sex. eventually, you’ll want it. and i can’t give it to you. easier to just… not let it get to that point.”

johnny’s jaw flexes. everything in him wants to reject it, wants to protest that something as trivial as an orgasm is more important to him than ghost.

but he also knows words are useless here.

they stand there looking out into the gathering dark, tense silence hanging between them, and the only thing johnny knows is if he isn’t careful, he could lose the one person he cares about most.

💀🧼

ghost’s been uneasy since his abrupt confession.

he knows it was sudden, borderline cruel to dump his shit on johnny with no warning but he just couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take the back and forth when he knew it would never go anywhere, couldn’t take johnny’s hope when he knew he’d have to watch it twist into disgust and pity.

into disappointment.

he figures that’s the end of it; there’ll be no more flirting now, no more staring or heated looks, no more teasing him by spreading his knees out just to see the flash of hunger in his eyes. the control he felt playing with johnny knowing it was welcome, just because he could- he’ll never feel that again. not now that johnny knows the truth.

then he steps into his room to find johnny laying naked on his bed.

he’s not spread out like an offering, not throwing him some cheap sultry glance as he plays with himself. he’s not even hard; his cock limp over the cradle of his balls, his legs bent loosely together, arms under his head as if he’s settling down for the night.

ghost sighs and shuts the door behind him. “johnny…”

“i know,” johnny says and it’s gentle; not cutting him off, just getting his attention. “just… hear me out?”

there’s nothing else to say. there’s nothing johnny can say or do to fix his violated body. but ghost still crosses his arms and leans back against the door like he can anyway.

johnny pushes himself up and off the bed, closing the distance between them but still giving him enough space to breathe; to open the door behind him, to escape.

“i can never know what was taken from you,” he starts and ghost’s fingers dig into his arms. “i can never know what it means to you. and i can never get it back.”

he doesn’t break eye contact and slowly lowers himself to his knees. “but i can give you something else.”

“you?” ghost guesses flatly and as much as it warms his blood, as much as he’s imagined having johnny look up at him just like this… it’s still not enough to offset the sickening swoop in his gut when his cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

“i’m a nice bonus,” johnny purrs but his smile remains gentle. “but i’m not the main event.”

he lifts a hand and ghost readies to smack it away when he reaches for his thigh holster instead of his belt. he flicks the closing strap open and pulls his handgun, his favourite, free.

“you told me you can’t fuck,” he murmurs, popping out the clip. he taps it against the side and loads it back in with a practiced hit with the butt of his palm. “but fucking isn’t all there is.”

“johnny, what…” ghost starts just to cut himself off as johnny thumbs off the safety and loads a round into the chamber.

“you trust me?” johnny asks and it’s as loaded as the gun in his hand.

good then, that ghost knows the answer. “always have.”

johnny’s smile blooms with warmth, with pride, and it chases away any reluctance he could possibly feel. he lets him take his hands in his, wrapping them around the gun with his finger on the trigger guard. he brings the barrel up beside his temple, holding it steady before his hands fall away.

until it’s only ghost between him and a bullet.

johnny’s hands go to his belt, his movements slow enough for ghost to stop him long before he reaches his cock, forever hanging limp in his pants. but he just rubs the muzzle along his temple, almost nuzzling him with the gun as he pulls down his jeans and boxers.

he waits for johnny to take him in hand, maybe try and pantomime a handy, and his hips almost recoil at the thought.

but he doesn’t try to touch him.

instead, he takes his wrist and guides the gun to sit in front of his cock; angling it to follow the same slight curve he has then holds his hands behind his back like he’s standing at attention. he splays his knees wide, sinking deeper and ghost sucks in a harsh breath as johnny ducks under the gun; his eyes locked on his as he curls his tongue under the barrel and brings it into his mouth.

it takes every ounce of will he has to not let his hand shake around the gun as johnny gives it the slowest, messiest blowjob he’s ever seen; slowly rising higher on his knees, guiding the gun up with him as if it’s his cock hardening. his cheeks hollow as he sucks, tongue laving up the barrel and flicking out to play with the muzzle like a cockhead, moaning with every bob of his head until saliva drips off the metal and makes a mess of his chin.

ghost’s never felt so powerful as he does watching johnny hang off the end of his gun; watching his cock harden and drool between his legs without a single touch, knowing he could pull the trigger at any time and johnny would not only let him but he’d thank him.

the thought breaks him from his paralysis, drawing the gun from his lips and johnny immediately stills; rolling his wide eyes up like he’s trying to check on him. ghost pushes every ounce of heat into his gaze and cocks the gun to the side, slowly pushing it back in until johnny’s lips meet the trigger guard.

johnny whines as he fucks his mouth, thrusting his hips along with each long drag like the gun is an extension of his body; almost too rough as tears prick his eyes and his lips redden and bruise but he never asks him to stop; his cock leaking a puddle on the floor beneath him.

“you gonna cum for me, johnny?” ghost croons, holding back a groan when just his voice is enough to make him shiver. “gonna cum with my fucking gun down your throat?”

he gives a broken whimper, as close to an agreement as he can make, and ghost crowds in close. he grips the base of his mohawk, wrenching his head back until his throat is flush to the front of his thigh. johnny lets out a choked cry, eyes rolling back and he doesn’t hold back as he brutally fucks his face; feeling the bulge of his gun in his throat against his leg.

“come on, johnny; you wanna be my good little holster?” he growls and makes sure he’s watching as his finger moves from the guard to the trigger. “then take my fucking load.”

he forces the gun as deep as he can and johnny gags, his shaking body locking up as he cums untouched; painting the floor and ghost’s boot, cock twitching and pulsing hard enough to bump against his belly and leave a string of cum threading from it to his cock.

ghost watches him spasm and moan, his throat convulsing around the gun and a heated knot of satisfaction tightens in his gut; so close to the memory of an orgasm, he’s almost dizzy with it.

johnny slumps forward, his hands slipping from behind his back, and ghost quickly flicks the safety back on and drops to his knees. he slides the gun away and pulls johnny forward to collapse into his chest, taking his weight off his knees; his whole body trembling with aftershocks.

“you’re crazy, johnny,” ghost whispers, awed, and feels him smile against his chest.

“aye,” he agrees, voice raspy from his gun scraping up his throat. “how else am i supposed to prove that i mean it?”

ghost tries not to tense up; tries not to let hope sink its cruel roots into his chest. “mean it?”

johnny pulls back, his cheeks still flushed and sticky with spilled tears. “i’m yours, ghost; in any and every way you’ll have me,” he promises. “sex or no sex. this can never happen again and i’ll still never stop wanting you. it doesn’t matter to me as much as you do. you’re everythin’ to me, ghost. not your body; not what you can give me. just you.”

a knot crowds in his throat. “and you needed to deep throat my pistol to prove that?” he deflects.

and just like always, johnny lets him. “worked, didn’t it?” he winks. “you fucked my brains out.”

ghost rolls his eyes to hide the softness he knows is flooding them and helps johnny up and gets him into his shower; cleaning him of the sweat and cum and spit covering his body.

that ghost covered his body in.

his chest hitches at the reminder as he strips himself down to a single layer and all but falls into bed, tugging johnny in after him when he hesitates just slightly at the edge of the bed; splaying his still naked body over him, sated and loose.

“i really do mean it,” johnny whispers into the crook of his neck sometime later; when their breaths have settled and synced.

ghost sweeps his fingers up and down the length of his spine, skin he’s never seen. skin he now knows every inch of. “i know you do,” he whispers back.

and for once, he thinks it might be enough.

[the-incredible-auraa]

I love how they put the entire budget in this singular shot where ryusei walks in

[wyrmtrain]

he's so :3

[phoenixmetaphor]

rookie!Leon as Mr. August, inspired by @thebrandywine ‘s fic [just like heaven]

[gunlicker13]

don't leave your friends alone

[xskyll]

Prev / Next

First

[gnc-objection]

Merry Christmas Eve!!! 🎄❄️☃️⛄️🎁

[vanityangel]

"Jacob Fatu is what WWE always wanted Solo Sikoa to be." The same 5 songs. The same 5 songs. Wrestling fans, they play the same 5 fucking songs. Anyway, this is my incredibly long-winded rant about wrestling fans and Solo Sikoa's character.

To me, I think if Solo Sikoa was presented just like Jacob Fatu is now it would make zero fucking sense to his character. Even, or especially, to the parts they haven't really touched on much yet. Jacob is immediately presented to us as cold, emotionless (except like. anger.), a monster incapable of morals. He tears apart whatever stands before him without thought, just destruction in its purest form. As though this is just who he is and how he always has been. Solo wasn't always completely cold and merciless, not in NXT and not when he first joined The Bloodline. He was very closed off, but he was still human. There was still warmth to him. He still gave respect to his peers who he felt earned it, laughed and joked, he made friends or at least allies he was willing to trust enough to team up with. Solo wasn't a lost soul. He slowly became more "emotionless" in time after joining The Bloodline. The more he was left alone around Roman. And big notable moment of shift in his demeanor is when Sami left. Even when Jey at the time HATED Sami and Roman was still demanding him to prove his trust, Solo took to this weird little guy anyway. They became an odd couple pair. If Solo was always presented like Jacob, his progression into becoming so frustrated at Roman that he started to raise his voice and yell at him would have been nothing worth noting. Solo was quiet, Solo was calm. Solo operated like a machine; he took orders with seeming no regard to his own feelings on the matter and thus no expected pushback. Jacob is so like a ticking timebomb with everyone always on edge when he will explode. So chaotic and dangerous that even when he displays undying loyalty people expect him to pushback at any order at any given moment. Unhinged and unable to be leashed. Jacob is reactive. Solo was not. As Roman's enforcer, if Solo ever did seem to have his own opinion on something, he would look thoughtful and considering but kept it to himself. He has started off more vocal in the beginning, carrying into when he joined The Bloodline, but over time he retreated into a shell. He said nothing more than what was needed to be said. Despite being a family outcast Solo was brought to the main roster by the Elders orders, then acknowledged Roman without hesitation. Even when he propped himself as Tribal Chief he stated he would acknowledge Roman as the rightful Chief if he were to take the Ula Fala back, as if Roman had to earn it. Though where Solo's loyalty lies is always unclear, a loyalty no one can return in kind to him, he still seems to have his own idea of being loyal and earned respect. A system he believes. And Solo still has a vulnerability to him, one he even weaponizes. For Jacob's very debut Solo fell to the ground, pleading, eyes wide and doe-like enough to create pause before breaking into a maniacal laughter. Even talking about how the streets hardened him in his early NXT promos he had a vulnerability. A "hurt people hurt people" type who still seemed stung at being left behind and going forward is trying to prove his worth, that he does have value, to the very people who discarded him. He can bring gold to the family, he can keep them at the top no matter the sacrifice. What's best for the family above self. Jacob is unpredictable because no one knows what will set him off. Solo is unpredictable because no one knows which face is sincere. Solo and Jacob are not interchangeable.

[inlovewithgreta]

Come to me. Come to me. A guardian angel. A spirit of comfort. Spirit of any celestial sphere. Anything. Hear my call:

Return to Joan

you have summoned me ✨

[itskaist]

Vibrating over that crossed out handler. Does Ortega remind him of his Farm handler or was his handler another person that was deeply important to him?

Cross-out? What cross-out? ;)

Haha, good spot! Referencing some easter eggs over here. And thank you for asking! <33

Again, got long. I simply cannot shut up about My Favourite Fucked Up Guy.

Yeahhhh, so. Josiah is very emotionally un-self-aware. Emotions, patterns of behaviour, cycles of abuse, he wasn't ever taught any of this. Even after he escaped, his priority was survival, his priority was not getting caught again; learning how to hide; learning how to function like a human being on a very 'make money, buy stuff, eat, make decisions, talk to people' level. And he's still very much stuck in this survival mode. This intense of a trauma will do that to you. Especially if he never talked about it to anybody, there never was anybody who would take him by the hand and say 'hey, what happened to you? that's not normal. that was fucked up and no one should have ever behaved towards you like that.' So to him, the Farm is the baseline Normal, and anything new he learns gets added on top of that. Even with his time as Sidestep, and then returning as a villain, foundations might have been shaken but not yet cracked.

With all this in mind, the patterns of life at the Farm are very much burned deeply into him. They are the earliest foundations of his reality, what he studied and replicated as he came into his own personhood. That includes patterns of relationships. Since he was a cuckoo, I don't think he was able to socialize much with other Regenes; especially adding the still-kind-of-uncertain Sidestep's special status there. Doubly so because of the cuckoo's education in blending in with human culture, I imagine that extra efforts would be extended that they do not internalize those lessons and try to replicate them in the Farm's social context. Isolating them more than others. Being trained by handlers and having to rely solely on them. Remember your place as only Tool, not Person.

And so that, that is Josiah's most formative relationship. In the psychodynamic branch of psychology, there is what's fancily called 'object relations theory' or more precisely, the theory of relationship to the Object. 'Object' specifically being the Mother, and how the relationship to one's mother (or any other primary caretaker) in the earliest days and years of life, and the type of attachment style developed towards her, will determine or at least heavily influence any future attachment styles to all other people in one's life. Whoof! That's a lot of fancy words to simply say that you replicate in your life what you've learned the earliest, and the earlier you learned something the harder it is to change later; because everything that you built atop it would have to be disrupted as well - and that, you know, is what builds up your entire identity as a person.

So. Josiah's earliest relationships, really the only relationships that he had, were with handlers. And that duology is what is very much burned into his brain. There is Person, and there is Tool. Master and slave. The one being provided for, and the one providing. Even after he escaped, all of his later relationships would follow this pattern to some extent, almost always with him falling back into the role of the Tool. Be useful, be needed, prove your worth, provide. If you're needed, you can't be rejected. If you provide, you will be rewarded (with affection, resources, safety). Not anything that would be in any way conscious, mind you. That was simply the only thing he knew. He latched onto the Rangers because that was the easiest group that he could offer something of himself to. He latched onto Ortega because he was the leader, and he dealt out assignments, and judged worth. So it was a priority to be judged by him, accepted by him. Even as they got closer as friends and then question-mark-something-more, Josiah was still very much stuck in the mode of providing, and unfortunately, that was also what held him back from commiting, from trying. Because he didn't believe that in that sort of a relationship, he would be able to provide much of anything at all. And Ortega would be disappointed, and grow bored with him, and their friendship would suffer from it too, and as such his position among the Rangers, and--

…Yeahhh. In his role as the villain, this time, Josiah positions himself as the Person. As the Master. He's the one giving out orders and making decisions now. And it is so empowering, and so thrilling, and-- if he ever realized that he is becoming a handler himself, he would shut down. Just like he does when he realizes that he's hurt the Puppet same as Shroud had hurt her, that he hadn't left his learned Regene patterns at all.

Whoof. Yeah. A lot, a lot of learning still ahead of him. A lot of terrifying realizations, a lot of having to question the reality you took for granted and a restructuring of identity. I'm curious who he will be on the other side of that.

[jacks347]

Guys I did a thing

This line came up in conversation

"Oh my dear frog, when will you finally notice the water is warming?"

I WAS TALKING ABOUT INFLUENCING MY BEST FRIEND'S TIKTOK FYP WITH GODDAMN STRAY KIDS THIRST TRAPS

Is this what spending too much time on Tumblr does to a person??

[solar-halos]

i’m gonna see you alligators later

[lunar-years]

Like what’s the point in even doing anything if my mom isn’t there to see it you know. My MOM.

[sketchy-tour]

Every time someone cool follows me, I stare at the notif wondering if they're aware how silly stupid I am