#i just feel so caged in

[pop-punklouis]

-

[alpacacare-archive]

he dont bite

[s0fter-sin]

kneeling is a broad term for what ghost does with price

surrendering is slightly more accurate but even that doesn’t hope to touch the sheer desperation in the way he clutches at him; his body bowed low at his feet, his legs latched around one of his, hugging it so tightly to his chest his arms shake as he digs his face into his thigh

it’s only here that he can finally give in to the screaming; to the distant voice he strangles into silence every day of his life. the one who begs him to make himself as small as possible; do everything he can to hide from the ever encroaching demons growling and salivating at his heels

it’s only here, in the dark of price’s barracks, hidden by a bed at his back and a wall to his front, that he finally lets himself stop running; only between solid combat boots and worn fatigues does he let himself tremble and admit to the choking fear

he’d break open price’s chest if he could; crawl past his gushing viscera and curl up under his ribs, hidden in the warm dark

ghost clawed his way out of the grave with broken nails and gritted teeth but he wouldn’t mind being buried again if it meant being cradled in the safety of price’s insides. his warm blood and soft lungs would blanket him, mask the stench of his rotten flesh until he could even convince himself that, maybe, he too was still alive

he shifts, unnerved by his own longing, and price runs his hand over the crown of his mask the same way he’d card it through his hair until he settles once more

he grounds him over the long hours it takes for his white-knuckled grip to relax into a loose hold; for his face to stop grinding into the meat of his thigh and simply rest in his lap, his bracketing legs the only thing holding his lax body up as he floats, untethered by fear

[nellasbookplanet]

The thing is, I can get behind most of the desicions bells hells have taken regarding predathos, it’s more that the road to getting there didn’t really work or was sometimes skipped over entirely in favor of circular discussions.

'Keeping predathos sealed will never work in the long run now that the truth is out, and we'd rather see us as the ones controlling it/keeping it from harming people than risk ludinus/someone else using it as a weapon in the future' and 'the exandrian accord will never agree to anything that would risk predathos being freed/endanger the gods and therefore we must make this desicion without their input' and 'as long as the betrayers exist as gods there will be a risk of a second calamity and it’s wise to seek a way to minimize that power differential' and 'if the gods remain gods and predathos can't be killed they will eventually clash and mortals will suffer in the struggle' and 'the primes will never seek to kill the betrayers or assist mortals in doing so because that is their family' and 'the gods themselves have been hurting and unable to heal since leaving tengar, and perhaps the change of permanently becoming mortals not as strictly tied to their domains will allow them change previously withheld from them by their natures' are all valid arguments.

But the hells rarely if ever touch on these arguments, rather focusing in on individual slights and imagined ideas of the gods being tyrants needing to be humbled. They never slow down to discuss the practical implications of the changes they want to implement (the gods will be back on their side of the divine gate now!), or to consider the good the gods and their followers do (have we already forgotten the changebringer helping fcg find self-worth or the everlight helping resurrect Laudna?), or the nuance behind their harsher decisions and actions (aeor was going to murder them! the primordials were in the process of exterminating all mortals!!), or the sacrifices the primes have made to protect mortals (they went to war against their own family!), or the importance of faith to much of the exandrian populace. No matter how many sensible arguments there are for the end decision, if the characters won’t engage with said arguments leading up to it while dismissing anything opposing it the decision will still feel largely empty and self-centered in the end.

[sunlit-mess]

consumed by the inevitable

[failyaoi]

big big BIG fan of jealous Kenshi

[crystalbeastsquidney]

Had a friend recently tell me a funny idea for a couples’ shirt combo

[hoarderheart]

Okay, I know that “it’s actually originally meant to show the passage of time instead of being bi colors” and all that…disregarding how that’s such a vibrant pink and a harsh, rigid, and very linear gradient for a supposed sunset, and that it’s already night (not sunset or twilight) at the crypt, whatever.

But regardless, I think putting a suspiciously bi-colored gradient behind cross-shaped bars, in the climax scene of the arc where Angel of the Lord Castiel’s heavenly biological family—who considers his deep connection with a man named Dean Winchester to be “corrupt,” as it is something that pulls him away from Heaven and is therefore forbidden and punishable under their rules—brainwashes him into detaching himself away from and almost killing said man, after they have chosen to introduce a new, very clinical set design for Heaven in this season for the sole purpose of having it go along with the lobotomies that they repeatedly have Cas go through for the said brainwashing, and all of this being done with the intention of having it be Dean’s CONFESSION and Cas’ LOVE for him that breaks the brainwashing and saves both of them, is—to be quite frankly—crazy, crazy work. Certainly a choice A Series of Fascinating Choices if you will.

[blatantprinterpropaganda]

!! meet cute: i stop you from jumping into the school pond, you ask me what headphones are, and i instantly recognize you are the penguin who was staring at me at the zoo a few days earlier

[homehauntsyou]

sam with chronic pain after the cage and chronic fatigue after the trials <3

[mephoj]

late night chat

[sic-vita]

those dreary vows that everyone takes / everyone breaks / everyone makes divine mistakes

// "Lance, I've made a mistake"

[sammygender]

i’ve never been as angry on behalf of a character as i am for sam winchester

[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.

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[sunlit-mess]

I can only take so much, but lately, they have replaced my reflection. And realize I'm just as bad as them.