#thinking about boundaries

[cannibalisticskittles]

okay this line in particular hurts bc. actually, as of her last campaign, she fucking does. she's got temporary possession of a wish coin. but it wasn't really hers, and it's very likely that she no longer has it, for one reason or another.

but. her mother is a pit fiend. and there is something interesting about pit fiends, specifically this --

amity does not want to make a deal with her mother. not now. not ever ever ever.

however. she's... the closest she's ever been to truly considering it.

[kens-ramblings]

so ik it’s not cannon accurate but,,,

i need a fic of tim just crashing out.

like he gets so sick of like damian and jason talking about how weak he is and shit like that that he’s like “yall realize lady shiva was my one of my FIRST teachers, and i was the first robin she trained. i had to train under b AFTER he already lost a robin. you DONT think he was 10x harder on me than any of you guys???? there’s a reason my training videos are mainly redacted without bruce’s or my permission. i got ra’s al ghul BEGGING ME to join his league or have my children. i get gifts from him WEEKLY. do you KNOW how many of his little ninja i fight per DAY??? nahh im sick of this shit let’s take it to the mats” and just demolishing both of them at the same time.

i just think it’d be very funny. i just like fics of people who pretend to be weaker than they are(or they just never really have a reason to go full tilt so they just don’t) get sick of holding back and just losing it :D

[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.

[futuristichedge]

If you are a fan of anybody's work, whether it be art, writing, music, translating, editing, videos, etc- it is incredibly important that you share that you enjoy their work.

It could be a comment, a tag, an anonymous ask saying thank you or something about their most recent piece you enjoy, anything. Creation is more often than not a social thing, and a little note or comment really goes a long way. People are sharing a little piece of themself every day, here on the internet!

So if you don't mind a little challenge, on the next piece of art* you see that you find personally impactful, leave a little tag or comment saying something about how much it means to you.

*this includes writing, music, edits, jokes, anything that has undergone the act of being created by a person

[wildfey]

Actually I do find the contrast between Phoenix Larry and Edgeworth very funny when it comes to the class trial.

Phoenix considers it the defining moment of his childhood, and takes from it the feeling of being alone and needing support and to be defended (it also is massively influential when it comes to his relationship with Edgeworth).

Larry does remember and feels a bit guilty about it (enough to eventually confess) but also... he's done worse. And hey, in his mind at least he made up for it

Edgeworth... barely remembers. He needs reminding. It's not important to him. You could say that with everything else that's happened in his life that this is a footnote. You could also point out that this kid wore a bow tie to school and spent his whole life talking about how much he loves his lawyer dad. This is not the only time he got his money stolen I think.

[antiadvil]

Everyone needs to stop saying that shipping hurt Dan and Phil's friendship, you're more parasocial than me if you think you know how shipping affected their very personal relationship with each other in real life that they have given us almost no personal information on

[blank-house]

Jamie seems like such an unbothered king for the most part. Is he anyone on the team's favorite?

Oh for sure. He’s Lilly’s favorite. So much so that I’m tucking this to the drafts so that Lilly can add their two cents to this lmao

HE'S MY SPECIAL LITTLE BOY

what can i say i love men that don't care about my feelings ....... 🫰

[abyssalzones]

can I say something is this a safe space. it's kind of fascinating that ford is meant to read as a deeply repressed character and a capital s Scientist no less but he leads this other half of his life entirely dedicated to the occult. in the 70's-80's. like the historical connotations of the occult and what they represented in the united states at least seems kind of interesting in this context. for no reason in particular I find the dual aspects of "extremely dedicated to presenting as a logical, steadfast researcher trying to earn respect and social acceptance to the point of hinging all of his self worth on this vision for the future working out" and "deeply tied to the paranormal and "unsavory black magic" and everything Weird/freakish but feels like he needs to hide this aspect of himself from even the people closest to him" Very interesting. hiding six-fingered hands compulsively behind his back even if it's the emblem he puts on his journals. "what are you attracted to?" and "maybe you're simply attracted to things that hurt you" from two different points in the book. sweet dreams (are made of this) on the record player. hey does anyone know what that tarot card with a snake on it is meant to represent

[theravenkin]

the best thing maggie stiefvater ever did was NOT having ronan dream a magical device that would "fix" adam's hearing. the best thing maggie ever did was adam knowing that he did not need or want to be "fixed". the best thing maggie ever did was ronan knowing that adam did not want or need to be fixed and accepting it without a second thought.

[akindplace]

being nice it’s important but establishing boundaries doesn’t make you unkind. it doesn’t mean any conflict that ever comes up will become a fight that will destroy a relationship. and no one should pressure you to stop upholding those boundaries. being kind is important, but it’s also important to respect your own limitations, and to know that keeping silent about things that bother you won’t help a relationship get better. there are times when no matter how much you try to communicate, you aren’t listened to, and things build up to “enough is enough” and learning to say fuck this shit is also important when things come to this point.

it is important that you are kind and respectful to others but not to the point of always people pleasing, and it’s important that while trying to be a good person that you remain kind and respectful towards yourself too.

[doublel27]

Pond Naravit didn’t spend the better part of four years collecting his dance line friends like Thanos going after Infinity Stones to form Project JASP.ER for people on the internet to pretend like none of the artists at GMMTV have any control over their lives and careers.

[somegrumpynerd]

Cross has trouble getting to sleep alone in his room and goes looking for a distraction, but ends up finding a solution for both of them

[barksbog]

sound on to hear the dangerous attack snorbino!

[so-i-did-this-thing]

I hope you guys know that your thirst posts make me bluescreen every time, lol. Those of you who know me IRL know my ears go red at the drop of a hat.

I still don't quite know what to do with compliments, but I'm hoping trans folks who follow me see them and realize that transness is not an obstacle to being desired (physically, romantically, platonically, or otherwise).

In a weird, sweet way, you folks are proving my mother wrong, who once "advised" me to get used to a life alone when I started T.

So, yeah. Carry on, lol.

[itsajollyjester]

Not too close.

[mylovesstuffs]

Anon.

Are you fucking serious right now?

I saw your message and I had to take a full-ass walk around my block because I was genuinely afraid I’d punch my goddamn wall.

Let me break this down for you very clearly, so even your AI-smooth-brained moral compass can process it:

You are not entitled to shit.

Not my writing. Not the ending. Not a single fucking word I typed out with my own fucking bleeding fingers.

You think you “need” closure?

Cool. I “need” eight hours of sleep, a functioning spine, and respect from strangers online. Guess what?

None of us are getting what we want today.

Fanfiction is a gift.

Not a product, not a service, not a series finale you paid for on HBO Max.

A gift.

You don’t throw a tantrum because the gift didn’t come with a bonus epilogue and a director’s cut.

Your entire ask is a monument to entitlement. You say “if you're not going to write it, I think it's fine to use Al?”

I did NOT write it for AI. I wrote it for human readers. For emotion. For narrative voice. For soul.

AI doesn’t have that. You want a soulless machine to mock my style and feed you a bootleg version of my work?? Which is, not to say but, the equivalent of a a knock-off Louis Vuitton sold from the back of a van?

Then don’t ask me. Just go to your shameful little corner and live with the fact that you’re the kind of person who disrespects art to feed your own dopamine addiction.

You wanted permission, so now you get the wrath.

I see in your other little asks, “AI is there to make things easier.”

At whose fucking expense? The thousands of fanfic writers whose fics are being scraped, harvested, mimicked and tossed into machine-learning hell so you don’t have to wait for an update?

Do you have any idea how many of us have had our fics [both in our caratblr and other fandom spaces] show up on AI mirror sites or been plagiarized by bots? Do you know how many real authors are losing book deals, commissions, or livelihoods because of this exact entitled logic?

Let me give you a basic fucking rundown since you clearly didn’t do the homework:

AI is not ethical – Generative AI is trained off data sets that include unauthorized, uncredited, scraped work from unpaid artists, writers, poets, journalists, bloggers, fanfic writers—fuck, even therapy forums.

Authors are suing OpenAI for ingesting copyrighted novels without permission.

Fanfic is already vulnerable – We exist in a legal gray area protected only by community ethics and mutual respect. You're breaking both.

You say “I won't post it anywhere, it's just for me.”

Oh, wow, thanks. So you only want to steal quietly. Like that makes it better.

You think the damage only happens when it’s public? WRONG.

Every time you plug an artist’s work into a machine, it gets processed, stored, used for training, forever.

You have no control over where it goes or how it’s repurposed later. You are feeding the beast and killing the creators in the process.

Don’t give me “I respect you but—”

If you respected me, this message wouldn’t exist.

You get your AI-stitched ending, it doesn’t scratch the itch, and you feed it another one.

And another.

And another.

Until the entire fucking archive is turned into a graveyard of replicas and you’re the ghoulish little shit dancing on the corpses of every writer you leeched dry.

And you say “I think I’m just entitled to a bit of closure”?

Entitled. You actually used the word.

Thank you for confirming what we already knew:

That you don’t see us as people.

You see us as content machines that owe you something because you liked our work. You don’t want closure, you want control, and you will NOT get it from me.

You’re entitled to a bath, a glass of water, and the air you breathe—not my writing, not my thoughts, and definitely not a fucking auto-generated Frankenstein mockery of my style you can jerk off your emotions to.

So here's your closure:

No, you may not touch my fic.

No, you may not feed it to a bot.

No, you may not engage with my writing, my blog, my friend's blog, or my community ever again.

Block me. Report me. Cry about it.

But know this:

Every time you open an AI generator to finish a story you didn’t write, you are choosing to destroy the very creators you claim to admire.

You should be ashamed, but you won’t be. Because parasites don’t feel guilt, they just suck and suck and suck until there’s nothing left.

I'll never forget this time and date.

I hope it was worth it.

Let this be your final fucking warning.

— Celeste.