#we are voyeuristic by nature

[elijasz]

Hey guys, this is absolutely doom posting so if you don't want to ruin your mood don't read this. Instead read this:

You are loved and worth more than you could imagine. Help others when they need help, look at nature, pet a cat or dog or something, have a healthy snack and drink some water. Also go outside into nature without your phone turned on or headphones. Just be for a few minutes. I promise everything else will feel much more distant and less important on the grand scale. And then go back and do what you can to protect others and build a community. But don't forget nature. This is where we come from.

Okay. Doom and despair under this line.

The bible describes God punishing the world with a flood and other plagues for their general shittiness. People have generally accepted that the bible is pretty much fiction and the christian god likely isn't real in the way he has been described.

Instead, we are knowingly working towards natural disasters, floods, pandemics etc without doing something against them and there are people actively speeding up this process that will kill millions if not billions. Manmade divine punishment at our fingertips. We have become our own vengeful gods and the nonbelievers who try to fight against the force that pushes humanity towards catastrophy, will be the ones punished. Bow to the god of whatever the fuck humanity has been cooking up for the past thousand years. Taxes probably. I think those outline human nature pretty well. The current events, past events and future events are biblical in a way that I wish they weren't.

I'm not religious. Not anymore. I'd not consider myself to not believe in a higher power, I just think the higher power isn't one that looks at humans only. But I've had to read the bible over and over as a child and listened to christian religious leaders more than I liked so I know a bit about religion.

Any way I wish I was immortal so I could watch humanity drown at it's own hands. In a weird voyeuristic way, as someone who has tried to fight climate change and watched almost everyone else not give a shit, I want to see humanity go extinct. We deserve this. Humanity deserves this. It just sucks that I have to witness it in first person and only get to watch a fragment of it. I'd like to see where it all started. I hope there is a god. Just so I can ask him to allow me to watch the entirety of existence. (What visual format do you think a god would prefer? I mean we don't know, maybe plants can actually see in a different way than us and that's the way data is stored or something?)

Oh to sit upon a metadimensional couch and watch "the downfall of humanity" on bluray or metaphysical VR or some shit. What a spectacle that would be.

Anyway, I have about 40 more good years and I'm absolutely going to make the best of it. But if anyone has access to immortality and agelessness (both, not one without the other unless the immortality removes my need for a body. in that case that's chill) I'm up for that. I'd totally be chill being alive for eternity if it meant watching humanity fail to sustain the tower they've build, because it was constructed carelessly and despite warnings that it would crumble before they could set down the last stone.

Anyway, hope that by some weird coincidence, white people disappear first. Because we're truely at fault for most of this. It'll likely be the opposite though. "Let's invent stuff that'll doom everyone and then let's not care that everyone else suffers from it and instead make them suffer more. That's probably a good idea." Man fuck Europeans. You really had to ruin it for everyone else, huh?

[sourkitsch]

Sorry for falling in love with people in old medical textbooks. As if it’s my fault.

[redeyye]

(with a wholly negative view of this movie) im not going to post about the whale im not going to post about the whale im not g

[anniebeemine]

all apologies -s.r. x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut. oral sex (fem rec., masc rec.), unprotected sex (pls don't follow the example set by these knuckleheads), semi-voyeuristic (Spencer tells her to let everyone hear), penetrative sex

The atmosphere was tense as everyone gathered in the local police station, reviewing the details of the case. You and Spencer had been at odds since the beginning, his tone sharp when he talked to you on the jet four days ago. You tried not to let it bother you, but he was making it difficult. 

"Alright, everyone," Hotch began, spreading out the crime scene photos on the table. "We need to refine the profile. Our unsub has set four fires in the past two weeks, each one escalating in severity. We need to determine the pattern and his next move."

Spencer, standing near the whiteboard, started to speak. "Based on the escalation, it seems likely our unsub is becoming more confident. The fires are not only larger but also set in more populated areas. This suggests—"

"Or it suggests he's becoming more desperate," You interrupted, yourr tone sharper than intended. "He could be feeling the pressure from the increased police presence and is acting out of a need to make a statement before he gets caught."

Spencer shot you a glance, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Desperation could lead to sloppiness. These fires are meticulously planned. The unsub knows exactly what he's doing, which indicates confidence, not desperation."

You crossed your arms, stepping closer to the table. "Confidence or not, the fact remains that he's escalating. We can't ignore the possibility that he's reacting to our presence here. He might be trying to outsmart us."

Hotch raised a hand, his voice calm but firm. "Let's not lose focus. We need to consider both angles. Reid, Y/L/N, you both have valid points. We need to integrate them into the profile."

The rest of the team exchanged uneasy glances. The tension between you and Spencer was palpable, and it wasn't just about the case. Emily shot Morgan a knowing look, and he shook his head slightly, signaling her to let it be for now.

Throughout the case, you and Spencer found yourselves increasingly entwined in a battle of egos, each determined to prove a point. Your once harmonious dynamic had devolved into a series of sharp exchanges and one-upmanship, with neither of you willing to back down. Your insistence on considering the unsub's potential desperation clashed vehemently with Spencer's confidence in the meticulous nature of the arsonist's plans. The tension escalated with every meeting, the professional rivalry overshadowing the collaborative spirit of the team. It wasn't just about the profile anymore; it was a personal struggle for validation and dominance, leaving your colleagues caught in the crossfire of their escalating conflict.

The time before the next fire was running out and you were feeling it. Hotch had all but been breathing down your neck for a finished profile. 

"I still think you're underestimating the unsub's desperation," you argued, your tone edged with frustration. "He's reacting to the increased pressure. The pattern is clear."

Spencer shook his head, his voice equally sharp. "And I think you're missing the point. The precision and escalation indicate confidence. Desperation would lead to mistakes, and this unsub isn't making any."

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "You're so focused on your theories that you're not seeing the bigger picture. This isn't just about the fires; it's about his need to outsmart us."

Spencer stepped closer, his eyes narrowed. "And you're so intent on proving me wrong that you're ignoring the evidence right in front of us. This isn't a game, Y/N."

Before you could respond, Emily stepped into the room, her expression stern. "Enough, both of you. Everyone can hear you out there.” You both turned to look at her, surprised by the intensity in her voice. Emily continued, her tone firm. "This case is too important for your personal issues to get in the way. We need to work together, not against each other. Knock it off and focus."

You and Spencer exchanged a tense glance before looking away, both feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration. Emily sighed, her voice softening slightly. "We all want the same thing here: to catch this guy before he hurts anyone else. Let's remember that and get back on track."

Nodding reluctantly, Spencer took a step back. You excused yourself from the room, going to find Morgan. Instead you found Hotch. 

“Y/L/N, find Morgan and Reid.” 

Hotch assigned tasks, his focus razor-sharp. "Reid, Y/N, Morgan—you're going to check out the unsub's house. See if you can find anything that ties him to the fires."

You nodded, exchanging a brief glance with Spencer, both of you silently agreeing to put your differences aside for now. The drive to the unsub's house was quiet, the air thick with unspoken words and the weight of the case. Morgan tried to lighten the mood with some casual conversation, but neither you nor Spencer seemed in the mood to engage.

When you arrived at the house, it appeared unassuming, blending in with the rest of the neighborhood. The front door was left open, a track of mud leading in. You, Spencer, and Morgan approached cautiously, keeping an eye out for any signs of activity. Morgan took the lead, his hand hovering near his holstered weapon. Spencer and you followed closely behind, both of you scanning the surroundings with keen eyes. The three of you moved inside, careful not to disturb any potential evidence. The house was eerily silent, the air thick with the smell of gasoline.

Morgan motioned to the door to your left. You nodded, moving through the living room with Spencer by your side. The two of you carefully searched for any clues, your flashlights cutting through the darkness. As you entered the kitchen, you heard a faint noise coming from the garage.

You and Spencer exchanged a glance. "Let's check it out," you said softly.

Pushing open the door to the garage, you saw the unsub, James Turner, gathering materials—gasoline cans, rags, and matches. He hadn't noticed you yet, his focus entirely on his task. You signaled to Spencer, and the two of you moved in quietly, your guns drawn.

"FBI!" you shouted, your voice echoing in the confined space.

Turner spun around, surprise and panic flashing in his eyes. He hesitated for a split second before lunging toward the door. You reacted quickly, moving to intercept him, but Turner was faster. He elbowed you hard in the face, pain exploding in your lip as you stumbled backward.

"Y/N!" Spencer shouted, his voice filled with concern.

Morgan burst into the garage just in time to tackle Turner to the ground, pinning him with practiced ease. Spencer immediately rushed to your side, his eyes wide with worry.

"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to check your lip, which was already starting to swell.

You winced but nodded, brushing off his concern. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just a little sore." You allowed him to help you up, his hand warm and steady against yours. "Thanks for helping me up."

Spencer's touch lingered for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded. "Of course."

Morgan secured Turner with handcuffs, glaring down at him. "You’re not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Nice try, though."

As you, Spencer, and Morgan escorted Turner out of the house, the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a sense of accomplishment. You glanced at Spencer, his earlier frustration now replaced with genuine concern.

The case wrap up was always quick. Files had to be put together and left with the locals. You kept an ice pack to your lip as you finished your reports. You kept an ice pack to your lip as you finished your reports, the coolness providing some relief to the swelling. The station's fluorescent lights buzzed softly, casting a harsh glow on the paperwork scattered across the desks.

Hotch glanced at the clock and then at the team, fatigue etched into all their faces. "It's already midnight," he said, his tone pragmatic. "We won't be leaving until the morning. Let's head back to the hotel and get some rest."

Everyone nodded, grateful for the chance to unwind, if only for a few hours. You packed up your things, still holding the ice pack to your lip, and followed the team out to the cars. The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the exhaustion of the day's events settling over everyone like a heavy blanket.

Once back at the hotel, you made your way to the room you were sharing with Emily and JJ. As JJ stepped into the shower, Emily turned to you, her expression concerned. "Is everything okay between you and Spencer?" she asked gently.

You sighed, placing the ice pack on the bedside table. "Not really. I think it's probably time to apologize."

Emily nodded, offering a supportive smile. "That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes it just takes one step to start making things right."

Taking a deep breath, you made your way next door to where Reid and Morgan were sharing a room. You knocked softly, and Morgan opened the door, giving you a knowing look. "Hey, Y/N. Come on in."

You stepped inside, and Morgan gestured toward Spencer, who was sitting at the small table, looking up from his notes. "Want me to stay as a mediator?" Morgan offered, his tone light but serious.

Spencer shook his head. "It's fine, Morgan. We need to talk."

Morgan nodded, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you and Spencer alone. You took a seat across from him, feeling the tension from earlier beginning to thaw.

"Spencer," you began, your voice soft but steady. "I'm sorry. I let my ego get in the way, and it affected the team. It wasn't fair to you or anyone else."

Spencer looked at you, his eyes sincere. "I'm sorry too, Y/N. I was too focused on being right and not enough on working together. When you got hit today, I instantly felt guilty. I realized that if I hadn't been so stubborn, maybe things would have gone differently."

You nodded, appreciating his honesty. "We both let our egos get in the way. But we're a team, and we need to trust each other. I value your input, Spencer. I always have."

Spencer's gaze softened, a hint of something more in his eyes. "I value yours too. More than you know."

As you stood up to leave, the air between you and Spencer felt charged with unspoken words and lingering tension. You moved toward the door, feeling a mix of relief and something else you couldn't quite place. Just as you reached for the handle, Spencer stood up and crossed the room quickly, his hand gently catching your arm.

"Y/N, wait," he said softly.

You turned to face him, your heart racing slightly. Spencer's eyes were intense, a swirl of emotions reflected in their depths. Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours in a sudden, unexpected kiss. The softness of his lips contrasted with the jolt of surprise that shot through you, making you wince slightly as the pressure hit your bruised lip.

Spencer immediately pulled back, his eyes wide with concern. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to hurt you."

You shook your head, a small smile forming despite the tenderness in your lip. "It's fine, Spencer. Really."

Determined not to let the moment slip away, you closed the distance between you again, cupping his face with your hands as you leaned in for another kiss. This time, you were more careful, the kiss gentle and lingering, a silent acknowledgment of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface.

Spencer's hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. It was a kiss filled with unspoken apologies, newfound understanding, and the promise of something more. His fingers began to nudge your shirt out of the way. 

“Can I?” He broke away to ask permission, but you couldn’t stop your lips from descending upon his neck as he had to yours just a few minutes earlier.

You nodded, much too preoccupied with the taste of him for words and drew back for one moment when the fabric obscured your face, but caught his lips right after. It was a failing attempt to satisfy your growing hunger for him, and you became almost frenzied, teeth clicking against each other and sloppy enough that were you to go back and watch the moment, you’d have to look away in humiliation – it was not the most graceful kiss.

He slid his shirt off and pulled his own top over his head, dropping everything in the same pile on the floor, and matched your energy – his fingers searching for the clasp on your bra and undoing it without disconnecting the sloppy kiss, roughly pushing your pants and underwear down so that you could step out and kick them away. 

Spencer’s grip on your hips tightened as he led you over to the bed. You sat on the edge, leaning back. He took a moment just to admire you. You pull him forward by the waistband of his pajama pants. “Can I?” You asked. 

He nodded. You pulled his boxers and pants down. “Oh, wow.” 

Spencer smirked, ruffling a hand over your hair. “Impressed?” 

“Every time, lover boy,” you teased. 

You ran your tongue down the underside of his shaft, using your hand to compensate for what you missed. He kept eye contact, fingers burying themselves in your hair. You began to suck and bob your head up and down. The room filled with his moans and whimpers. Spencer grabbed your hair and thrust himself into you, making a pornographic sound as his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Sorry,” he breathed. 

You pulled away. “Do you want me to keep going?” 

Spencer took a moment to think about it. “Lay back.” 

You leaned back. Spencer pulled you closer to the edge of the bed by your knees. You giggled at the action. “Eager?” 

“Very.” 

He made a point to slick his fingers with your wetness before he circled your clit with his middle finger, easy and slowly, his lips parted as he looked down. You let out a whispered moan of his name as you tugged at his brown locks, his tongue swirling against your nerves enough to make your knees shake. He pulled one of your thighs over his shoulder as his tongue pressed into you, making you yelp at the contact. 

“That’s it, Y/N. Louder,” he mocked, a warm breath clouding over your heat.

Hearing his wet mouth against your wet pussy was such a nice sound. The sound alone could get you hot and heavy. He sucked at your clit gently, then harshly, then broke away from it fully just to lick back up again. Your legs got harder and harder to keep open, so he put his hands back on them again helping you out. You were moaning out his name along with curses. His mouth really does drive you insane. 

Your stomach tightened, your legs shook more violently. You were close to your climax, and of course Spencer noticed this. He momentarily detached from you to tease you one last time before your orgasm.

“Gonna make a mess?” You hear from between your legs. You can’t help but nod.

“Yes- yes fuck!” His mouth is back on you, causing you to moan loudly. You keep saying his name, and you would be wiggling around if it weren’t for his amazing grip. Your body does a full on tremble as you orgasm all on his mouth and chin. Your body relaxes, legs fall open naturally, arms stilled after releasing all that pent up energy from holding them back. You feel the bed dip as his arms come up to rest against the side of your body.

His hair falls around you both before your lips meet for a kiss. He nips at your lower lip as you open your mouth, tongues lay against each other and swirl, causing you to taste yourself. His left hand slides down to your waist, giving it a squeeze. His mouth moves down to your left side, kissing your throat. Your legs hook onto and around his back, bringing him closer.

“Is this the part where you fuck me?” You ask impatiently.

“Getting there” he says in your ear. He gets up off of you, helping your hips shimmy back further up the bed so half your body isn’t on the edge anymore. Your head is now back on the pillows and his full body can hover over you now. 

Spencer settles himself between your open legs. “You’re the cutest thing” he blurts, followed by that golden smile of his. He starts kissing at the swell of your breast, still smiling. He then pops your left nipple into his mouth, his hand on the opposite breast finds your other nipple. He pinches and squeezes it while his hot mouth is on the other. His sucking sounds and the pleasure he’s giving you makes your head go further into the pillows with a sigh. You want his dick in you already but instead his mouth finds his way to the other breast.

“I just want you to fuck me.” You whimper, sounding so desperate that you surprise your own ears.

“Really? How bad?” His head began to lift from off your chest. He eyed your face, reading the expression. “As you wish.” 

He pushes gently into you, watching as your eyes shut at the pressure of him entering. You nodded, biting your lip, trying to adjust to him. He felt amazing, too–entirely flush inside you, full and hard, already hitting your g-spot without even moving and ever so gently pressing against your clit. 

Spencer started to move back and forth gently, not even close to a full thrust, easing in and out of you just slightly. You were already clenched around him so tight that you figured he couldn’t do much anyway, but after a minute you were more acclimated and he was slicker, and he started to work up a momentum that made you start to gasp and moan quietly in front of him.

His hands were gripping your hips far harder than he was thrusting, but not long after you reached one hand down to rub your clit, Spencer reached up, bracing himself on the headboard. His free hand held your hips and suddenly his pace changed– from hasty and rushed to slow but hard, slamming into you and knocking you forward with a loud groan. He did it again, and again, and you cried out louder with each thrust right into the deepest parts of you.

“Oh,” he cooed condescendingly, “are you having trouble keeping quiet?” 

You could feel yourself already on the verge of another orgasm. Spencer whimpered, groaning loudly. 

“Spencer!” You cried, clamping a hand over your mouth. 

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Let them hear,” he grunted. 

You felt your blood rushing through your body and your heart beating rapidly again. You gripped his forearm. You let out nothing but expletives and his name, practically chanting. Spencer obviously found this amusing, his pace fast and hard. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, back arching as your legs trembled. The wave of pleasure crashed, evident by the way you clenched around him.

He echoed the word back into your ear. “I’m gonna-” 

“Do it,” you whined. You reached your hand up to lace your fingers through his hair, still trying to recover yourself, and he bucked into you a few more times before you felt him cum inside you, a rush of warm wet intermingling with yours.

His hips stilled apart from the occasional shudder that still rippled through him and vibrated against yours. He sat back, a satisfied look in his eyes as he admired the state he’d left you in. You propped yourself up on your elbows, catching your breath. Your eyes locked, and you both burst into laughter, the sound filling the room.

"We are so fired," you smiled, reaching forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "So much for keeping us a secret," he mumbled, lying down beside you. He looked up at the ceiling, his fingers brushing against yours.

You turned to face him, the intimacy of the moment lingering between you. "Does this mean our fight is over?" you asked softly, a hint of vulnerability in your voice.

Spencer turned his head to meet your gaze, his expression serious. "I think our fight was over the moment we realized how much we care about each other," he said softly, his fingers intertwined with yours.

"Thank God," you sighed, a smile tugging at your lips. "Otherwise, facing everyone in the morning would be even more awkward."

Spencer's eyes widened slightly as the realization dawned on him. "Oh no," he muttered, lying back down beside you. "We do have to face them in the morning, don't we?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his sudden awareness. "Yes, we do. And trust me, they'll have a field day with this."

Spencer groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I didn't even think about that. They're never going to let us live this down."

You propped yourself up on your elbow, looking down at him with a playful grin. "Well, I guess we'll just have to face the music together. Besides, it's not like we can keep it a secret now."

He peeked at you through his fingers, a small smile forming despite his initial horror. "You're right. And honestly, I don't care what they say."

You leaned over and kissed him softly, feeling a sense of calm and happiness. Spencer's lips responded to yours, the kiss deepening as his hand found its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours sent a shiver of desire down your spine, and you couldn't help but let out a soft sigh of contentment. His hand slid up your back, his fingers tangling in your hair as he captured your lips in a more fervent kiss. The intensity of the kiss grew, your bodies pressing together as the need for each other became undeniable. You could feel the heat between you building, the tension from earlier melting away as you lost yourselves in each other.

His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and contour, while your fingers traced the muscles of his back, eliciting a low groan from him. The sound sent a thrill through you, spurring you on as you deepened the kiss, your tongues dancing together in a passionate embrace.

 He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath ragged as he looked down at you, his eyes dark with desire. "I want you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with longing.

You gazed up at him, your own desire mirrored in your eyes. "Then take me," you whispered back, your hands gripping his shoulders as you pulled him down for another searing kiss.

Bonus: 

Morgan was the first to notice, his eyebrows shooting up as he caught the faint sounds. He tilted his head, trying to discern what he was hearing. "Hey, do you guys hear that?" He had only heard the thumping. It wasn’t until they silenced that they heard it loud and clear. Emily held her hand over her mouth as JJ stood in the middle of the room, toothbrush in hand and a mouth full of toothpaste. Morgan sat on the couch, staring at the floor. They had been in the middle of a rundown of their weekend plans. 

“Spencer!”

Another groan muffled through the wall. 

JJ, who had been making notes in her journal, paused and listened carefully. A moment later, her eyes widened, and she stifled a laugh. "Oh my God. Are they...?"

Emily shook her head. “They have been going at it all week.” 

JJ chuckled. “And I guess they’ll be going at it all night, too.” 

Morgan sighed, shaking his head. He pulled out the sleeper sofa, revealing a worn but comfortable looking mattress. Emily dialed the front desk for an extra pillow and blanket. The clerk arrived soon after with the bedding, offering with a knowing smile to inform the noisy neighbors of their volume. Morgan waved it off with a chuckle. The three friends continued talking softly amongst themselves as they settled in, periodically interrupted by muffled sounds from the room next door.

"I mean, good for them, but did they have to pick the room right next to ours?"

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. "Reid's full of surprises. I never would've pegged him for being so bold."

Emily smirked, her eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "Think we should knock on the wall and let them know we can hear them?"

JJ snorted, covering her mouth to stifle her laughter. "That would be so mean, but part of me really wants to."

Morgan leaned back in his chair, enjoying the moment. "Nah, let them have their fun. It's about time Reid loosened up a bit.” 

The trio settled back into their previous activities, the noise from next door gradually subsiding into quiet murmurs and the occasional muffled laugh. The room fell into a comfortable silence, each of them starting to feel the exhaustion of the day catching up. Just as they were beginning to drift off, the sounds from next door started up again. This time, it was unmistakable – soft gasps and the rhythmic creak of the bed.

Morgan groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. "You have got to be kidding me."

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant + Recording: (prompt list here)

(Part Two Here!!)

- When Steven Grant bought a little camcorder and stand a few years ago, he had very innocent reasons in mind. Yes, the stand was set up so the camera pointed straight at his bed, but it was to capture exactly why we woke up so exhausted from a night of tossing and turning alone, not for anything more fun than that.

- Naturally anytime you were coming over, he'd carefully stash the device away, not wanting to creep you out or do anything to risk making the most important person in his life uncomfortable. He knows just how lucky he is to be the man that gets to worship your body, and even though he'd die for the chance to relive every one of your intimate encounters, he thinks it's way too weird of a question to ask.

- That is until one night you surprise him at home, on your way back from a girl's night and missing your sweet, nerdy boyfriend. He's over the moon when he opens the door to your bright, smiling face, quickly surrendering to your hypnotic kiss as you lead him to the bed he was all but ready to settle into for the night alone.

- Your hands are pushing his shirt off his shoulders, while his hands slide up your dress, clawing at your thighs until they spread enough for him to fit between them, when you first notice the blinking red light.

"Steven, gorgeous, how long have you had a camera in your bedroom?" Instantly he's mortified, apologising and tripping over his own feet as he launches off the bed, practically crawling across his bedroom floor to turn off the device,

"I'm so sorry love, I didn't realise you were coming, and it's to help with my sleep walking, and I swear I always put it away whenever you're here, I'd never violate your privacy like that." He's struggling to take in breaths as each sentence catches in his throat, tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he watches you pull down your skirt and hop off the edge of his bed, picking him up off the floor and bringing your hands to softly cup his face.

"It's okay, I believe you. I trust you Steven, I was just surprised is all." Your gentle words slow his heart back to a steady pace, the tender press of your lips to his enough to reassure him that this isn't the breaking point he always assumes is right around the corner. Each kiss is quickly followed by another, Steven completely entranced by you, enough so that he doesn't notice as you press the record button again, throwing the camera a showy wink as you lead him back to bed again.

- It's not until a few days later, texting Steven from a hotel during a weekend away that you let him know about your little tape. He's desperately fighting the urge to plead over text for you to come home early, settling for telling you just how terribly he misses you, three little words hanging on the tip of his tongue, not quite bold enough to let them loose yet. You echo his longing sentiment, telling him just how much you miss the feel of his hands on your skin, his touch on every part of you, and tell him maybe he should check his camera before he takes himself to bed.

- He's sceptical as he takes his camcorder off his stand, flipping the little screen to face him and scrolling through the hours of footage until he recognises the night he last had you over. He has to cover his eyes with embarrassment as he watches himself tumble out of bed to stop the recording, but his eyes dart wide open when he watches you turn it straight back on, the playful look in your eye immediately flushing all his blood down his body.

- He realises he's holding his breath in his attempt to hear every single sound you make as the two of you step across the screen and climb back on to the bed he's now propped up in alone. He knows it was your decision, but he still feels voyeuristic and dirty as he watches your dress slide down your body on the screen, his free hand slipping into his pyjama bottoms as his on screen counterpart slides his hands over your chest, earning a happy moan that has him hardening at the first touch.

- His mouth hangs open and he watches intently as he settles between your legs, turning up the volume as high as he can as you start to pant and moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your centre. His hand has picked up its pace now, chest heaving as he watches your back arch off the bed, nipples hard in the cold night air.

- He almost loses it the first time he notices you smile right into the camera as you moan out his name, a private performance just for him that makes his heart throb almost as hard as the manhood he's now furiously rubbing. He can feel him cross the point of no return as he watched himself plunge deep inside you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips leaving no room between your two bodies, his lips desperately chasing yours. His screen self lasts longer than lonely Steven does, spilling across the empty bed as you let out the needy high pitched whine you do every time he pulls out of you to change positions. He sits there, dick pulsing in his hand as he watches your ass bounce as he slams his hips against yours, finally both spent and collapsing alongside you.

- Feeling utterly beat he almost puts the camera away, until he notices you creep out of the bed towards the bathroom, stopping in front of the focused lens to mouth three little words to him before stopping the video. If the sensitive soul hadn't already been in bed, he would have immediately collapsed to the floor. Frantically he picks his phone back up, impatiently waiting through the rings until he can finally tell you that he loves you too.

[familyabolisher]

you said that you don’t take lines of questioning / thought about “romanticizing” dark topics (SA, incest, etc.) seriously. would you mind elaborating on that? what does it mean, if anything, to romanticize? i think i get why it’s a fundamentally reactionary (or just silly?) thing to be concerned about, but would you mind elaborating on why?

thanks! your posts have been very illuminating on this sort of thing.

okay so let's talk about "romanticise" as a literary discourse for a second because there are a handful of things happening with its usage:

is the assumption that there exists a state of non-'romantic' discursive matter from which something 'romantic' is being created, and the content of the text in question is the process by which that creation is happening;

is the use of 'romantic' to describe something that appears to the viewer as desirable and attractive, thus obscuring the ways in which it is harmful/abusive/violent/&c.;

is the idea that this 'romantic' state represents something morally odious due to the ideas it might impress upon the audience about the nature of the discursive matter made 'romantic' in question.

i think it's worth breaking each of these assumptions down because i don't believe that any of them actually hold water, and i find that they in fact telegraph some pretty reactionary paradigms around literary criticism.

first is the idea that there exists discursive matter that is not "romantic," here to mean suffused with cultural narratives that render it desirable, and that the matter in question only takes on these desirable qualities after undergoing this process of "romanticisation." by this logic, the matter is in fact prediscursive; the onus of constructing a “romantic” discourse lies solely with the cultural response. when in practice, normative cultural assumptions and the media that interacts with them exist in a feedback loop relative to one another, and it surely makes more productive sense to engage with the apparently objectionable material not as an object that creates or even necessarily reifies a normative cultural standard, but that interfaces with that standard in what could potentially be any number of variant forms. this widens the scope of our response as an audience—we might well say that a depiction of XYZ was tasteless, clichéd, voyeuristic, lacked interest in the interiority of its subjects, &c. &c., just as easily as we might say that it engaged with extant cultural narratives in compelling, thoughtful, meaningful ways. we're not taking the cultural object as the didactic “creation” of a social norm—we're situating it within the norms from which it already emerged.

the second is the idea that this ‘romantic,’ aesthetically desirable construction must necessarily obscure the ways in which the subject matter is harmful (however we define ‘harmful’). i find this position v condescending, towards creator and audience alike—one way of crafting horror that can be really exceptional when done right is the total sealing-off of the narrative from any didactic intervention, any suggestion that what's being depicted is morally “wrong.” the dissonance between subject matter and audience—and/or between subject matter and creator—can be brilliant when you can have faith that that dissonance exists. audiences aren't little babies who learn our morals from our media; we're prepared to critically engage with and respond to a discourse presented to us. as i said above, doing away with this whole “romantic” sheen as an obfuscator of violence opens us up to new, more precise, more compelling readings.

the third – and imo, the most damnatory – is the suggestion that the narrative itself represents a potential site of harm due to the underlying ideology that it imposes on those who engage with it. like, we're still adopting this approach whereby we construct and engage with narratives for instructive purposes; if we see a depiction of sexual abuse that renders the abuse pleasurable, aesthetically pleasing, desirable, then we absorb this idea that sexual abuse is pleasurable and aesthetically pleasing and desirable and thus covet the position of the subject in question. i don't think this is necessarily true! i'm obviously not suggesting that we don't absorb and reproduce our cultural narratives in media – as i said in the first point, there exists a feedback loop between the two – but i think we as audiences and critics ought to think more highly of ourselves than to imagine that we are incapable of seeing some fucked up shit given an aesthetic gloss without asking why the aesthetic gloss is being used, how the creator is making use of perspective, how we might respond to it, etc. and i just don't think narratives ought to be instructive or didactic; nor do i think creators bear responsibility for how their work is received to the extent that they are obliged to orient their discourse towards a presumed impressionable individual for whom every action or aesthetic contrivance is a categorical imperative. this is the oldest and honestly the most boring debate in the book; the question of "moralism" in fiction has been done half to death by now, and i don't see any use in rehashing it to any significant extent. suffice it to say that the “moralist” approach is stultified and limited and intellectually dull.

note that nowhere in this did i say that there are never narratives that ought to be called into question for their depiction of X, Y, or Z; just that i think we need better, more precise language to defer to do when we do so. simply put, i think it's possible to make a piece of art that holds these “romantic” qualities, and doesn't have a guy walk in midway through and go “by the way, abuse is Bad/age gaps are Problematic/mental illness is Unsexy,” &c., and still greatly compel me wrt its subject matter. & that is a statement which exists in straightforward contradiction to the idea that the term “romanticise” communicates anything necessarily and inherently condemnatory about a text, so, i don't use it.

[chosetherose]

The Fortnight video foreshadows the convergence of Taylor Swift and her brand

In her videos, Taylor has continually played with the idea of herself as a person versus as a brand. These portrayals have almost been adversarial in nature. Think about the relationship between the two life sized Anti-Hero Taylors. The hooded robot Taylor who got to exist in the world while her bare counterpart was trapped in glass. Etc.

The Fortnight video introduces similar characters but flips the script because there isn’t a me versus her dynamic anymore. Instead, there is a story about coming together.

A scene by scene breakdown:

Taylor Swift™️ is chained to a bed in a white gown with a spicy slit and garter. A faceless nurse enters walking upside down on the ceiling (a continued theme suggestive of PR games). The nurse presents “Forget Him” pills, arguably reminiscent of a dark time where the world thought they could “cure” homosexuality. After Taylor Swift™️ begrudgingly takes her dose, the nurse unchains her.

We then see Taylor Swift™️ approach a two way mirror and wipe the mask off her face, revealing face tattoos we know to be Post Malone’s in real life. This reveal is setting the scene that within this video Post Malone represents Taylor’s inner self, her true soul behind the veil of celebrity. I’ll call him True Taylor.

Next, the mask is back and we see Taylor Swift™️ walk out of the observation room and into the workspace. She goes from wearing a leggy white gown with garter to a fully covered black poet-esque dress. She isn’t dressed for voyeuristic eyes anymore, she’s dressed to work on her art. I love this light to dark transition because black can be seen as the absence of light. Fitting for a tortured poet who can’t live her truth in public with her sunny muse by her side.

Note that we don’t get to see black dress Taylor Swift™️ through the two way mirror. She exists behind the bright lights of fame, making art in a room hidden from our view. Maybe the pills numb her enough to twist the art for an audience who likes to her to be chained to a bed while they watch her suffer.

But wait Taylor Swift™️ and True Taylor are collaborating. They start work separately but their art eventually drifts out of their typewriters, combining into a white light that bursts into a rainbow. Remember how I said black light is the absence of light? Well white light is comprised of all hues on the visible light spectrum.

We know there are layers to Taylor’s music: the surface layers chock full with to red herrings for the grocery line Swifties and the deeper layers of Taylor’s truth. They both exist in the art, swirled together.

But here is where things start to feel different. We cut to True Taylor and Taylor Swift™️ away from all those faceless people - they are alone in the middle of a road. That in itself is ridiculously symbolic of being on the way to somewhere (maybe brighter days). But there’s more because they are dressed identically, laying inside Taylor’s head that is made up of their art. This scene is like bonking us on the head that these two people are one and the same.

Note: The silhouette here is from the Style video which also portrays Taylor’s inner self as a man.

Taylor Swift™️ runs to True Taylor and they embrace in the middle of the road as pages of their art float around them. In the chaos, Taylor Swift™️ reaches out to True Taylor.

Maybe this scene is suggesting the public version of Taylor is ready to embrace her real self.

Then we see Taylor Swift™️ strapped to a table, wild hair from dropping the hairpins we saw in the opening scene. The drugs aren’t working, it must be time to escalate to shock therapy. The men around her gather and there is literally a sign in the background that says “Master Control”.

But one of the men in the room making decisions for the brand is actually True Taylor, who has been there all this time.

Enough is enough when True Taylor can’t take the pain and pulls the plug on the procedure, freeing public persona Taylor from torture.

Next we see True Taylor, familiarly encased behind glass, on a phone call. Perhaps making plans while safe from the rain. Taylor Swift™️ is elevated on a pedestal, out in the storm, in her best dress FEARLESS! Credit to @rep-princess-witch who put the fearless connection together in another post.

I’ll say it again, that is the huge difference in this video compared to others. Here, Taylor Swift™️ is not an antagonist, she is ready to brave the storm.

So what does she do? She’s back in the workspace burning all the files. It’s not without emotion but it’s necessary. We then see a stoic Taylor Swift™️ with no regrets.

After burning the files she’s back in the observation room. It’s time to fight back against the voyeurs and she does so by smashing the glass between her and them. She regains her agency by squashing their ability to hide. Shes deserting her past life.

Note: We don’t see True Taylor back inside. This fight is specifically for Taylor’s public persona.

In the closing seen, we see True Taylor leave shelter, step outside into the storm, and reach for Taylor Swift™️. The person and the public persona are weathering the storm hand in hand.

*Please check out @heyitsmoog on TikTok - he shared thoughts there that inspired me to make this post.*

[burst-of-iridescent]

i’m never getting over how absolutely brilliant lucy gray’s ending is.

by the end of the book, it’s clear that snow thinks he’s won. he’s taken her name, her face, her victory. he’s erased all record of her, and he’s sure that time will remove what little remains. but what he doesn’t realize is that he can’t take what truly matters. he can’t take her songs or her freedom or her impact; her legacy lives on in district 12 through her music, eventually becoming the melody of the rebellion itself. like she said in the very first song he heard her sing, nothing he could take from her was ever worth keeping. you can’t claim a victory that’s freely given away, and so it’s lucy gray who emerges triumphant, not snow.

but beyond that, it’s also the perfect ending for a girl who’s never been allowed to have a finale. the hunger games books have always been a bit of a meta-commentary on the voyeuristic nature of the games and how we, the readers, turn suffering into entertainment just as the capitol does — and no one embodies entertainment more than lucy gray. from the very first page we’re introduced to her, she’s forced to turn herself into a spectacle over and over again in order to survive. we don’t even get to follow her through the games as we did katniss, instead seeing her only through snow’s eyes, the watchers within the watcher. lucy gray is never able to stop performing, not if she wants to live… until she does.

while it would’ve been easy to include an epilogue from her perspective, and where weaker writers may well have done so, collins doesn’t. when lucy gray takes her bow and the curtain falls and she leaves the stage forever, it’s not just for snow or the capitol, but the readers too — all of us culpable in putting her on display, all of us part of the gawking spectators in the stands, an audience she never asked for or desired.

in the end, her greatest wish is granted. she will never again be forced to make a spectacle of herself, never again have to sing when she doesn’t have something to say. in becoming a mystery, lucy gray belongs entirely and solely to herself, released at last from her eternal performance.

through her narrative silence, she’s finally free to reclaim what mattered most to her all along: her voice.

[the-goya-jerker]

What are your thoughts on Can’t Help Myself by Sun Yuan and Peng Yu? AKA the robotic arm sweeping up something bloodlike leaking out of it.

[Also requested by @archvillain]

First, I would like to highly recommend watching a video of this robot, it's cool as hell, and the movements really sell it, honestly.

So, I want to start with acknowledging the actual meaning of this piece. It's about the violence and Sisyphean nature of guarding and enforcing borders. "Every border implies the violence of its maintenance" and all of that. This is a very important political message. However, I think allowing yourself to only see an art for the intended meaning is counterproductive to the very nature of art.

The robot moves in a jerky fashion, tries desperately to keep this blood-like substance close to it. In doing so, it slowly destroys itself. It gunks up it's own mechanisms, it works itself to death.

And yet, this is all it can do. It was made to do this eternally. It lacks free will, it cannot do anything else and it cannot desire to do anything else. It quite literally, cannot help itself.

I find the jerky movements alluring, the inhuman nature of it, the constant reminder that it is far from human. I find the lack of control it has erotic. As I've said before, both extreme control and extreme loss of control are erotic, in my opinion.

The blood-like substance it seeks to contain and the voyeuristic nature of the viewer just elevate this. We are watching something, and should we be watching it? The desperation of the robot, the way it almost seems to be cleaning up its own blood, these feel intimate, like something not intended for us.

Overall, I give this one a 10/10. It elicits a strong "i think i hauve covid" from me.

[bloodsoakedbuckley]

i think of bucks loft as really a sort of sex den for buck and eddie. people are like "i hate the loft i hope it burns down" and im just like. the open floor plan, the incredible natural light, the huge voyeuristic windows. no christopher. once we get eddie Out. that space has so much wild gay bdsm sex potential

[morose-marble]

Finally having 'real' Lestat on my screen was such a pleasure in this episode, not only because his introduction to the story as his self unfiltered through recollections of others is him at his lowest, but because we get another monumental show of acting prowess from Sam Reid.

He is so magnetic as Lestat, and it is incredibly impressive that he can embody such a flamboyant, showy character with such conviction, sensitivity and depth. It would be so easy to 'overdo' Lestat, because of how 'much' he is, but Sam somehow makes every mannerism, every pout, flourish of the hand and tilt of the head feel natural and real.

And when this performance is combined with the warmth and equally precise and assured emotional bearing of Jacob's Louis? Magic. I know we've been saying this since s1, but I keep being flabbergasted by the way they manage to match each other's energy.

The reunion scene is so beautifully executed by them that watching it feels almost voyeuristic, like I'm not supposed to be seeing these two people so openly in pain together. I love tv.

[magpod-confessions]

i don’t understand the insistence that jon treated martin awfully for most of the show. in season one, martin was incompetent and unable to do his job. everyone in the archives was fully aware of it. jon was not the only one making snide comments on it. after season one is over and they’ve sorted it out and gotten on better terms, literally the only thing that jon does wrong in terms of his relationships with others is the fact that he stalks tim during his breakdown. he snaps at martin once. one time. one solitary time he yells at him out of stress and then they deal with it and it never happens again. genuinely where are you guys getting this idea that jon was somehow awful to martin beyond some shitty comments behind his back in season one? the sort of comments that if not for the voyeuristic nature of the tapes, would never be heard by anyone? the sort of comments that are common in workplaces and we know are also common in the archives? how many times have we heard other characters make snide comments about jon or discuss his sexuality or complain about each other behind their backs? getting a bit dickish and insensitive in some office gossip is not the same thing as extended bad treatment and violent hostility.

.

[hyunsvngs]

i am a very big perv mc enthusiast.. so instead of skz taking pictures of you, why dont you take a picture of them!! channie in particular because we all know he has a horse cock LMFAOO

like having a whole gallery dedicated to him, some being a littleeee... inappropriate!! and uhshjd getting caught sneaking a photo and trying to act innoceng UGHSHHD CAN WE HAVE MORE BRAT TAMER CHANNIE 😞 okay sorry i was just blabbering HEHHSHZ

brat tamer channie with this concept.......................... funk

this isnt really structured well its just all my thoughts on a PAGE LMFAO buttt under the cut for pervy mc 8

he practically coos when he accidentally stumbles across the pictures too. you're absentmindedly playing a game on his laptop while chan's searching for your anniversary album - he stumbled across something else.

pictures of him. pictures of him in compromising positions, or at compromising angles - a few of his naked ass after sex, some of his bulge when he's working, unknowing, and even some pictures of him when he's just come out of the shower. they're sly. sneaky.

"mm, baby," he sounds normal, voice even. it's questioning, and you hum in response. "why have you got tens of pictures of my bulge?"

your hands freeze on the keyboard. your character falls to it's pixelled death, and you blink. "um."

"yeah, look. it's me," he shoves the phone in your face then, and your eyes widened. he had found it. your secret obsession - pictures of your boyfriend, erotic in nature, when he doesn't know. it's voyeuristic. it's - it's making him hard?

you wiggle your ass against his erection, your back against his chest, and he pinches your thigh.

he massages the flesh in his hands when you yelp before he's speaking again. "you like looking at me?"

you nod, and he hums.

all of a sudden, he's seething, teeth biting at your ear. "you can watch me cum, and maybe i'll let you taste it. i'm not going to fuck you tonight. you can sit there in your dirty panties and watch."

[sankakuto]

I have a lot of thoughts about the first Pyramid Head cutscene (in remake and OG) and I feel like I need to get them out. bare with me.

I'm going to be talking about the first Pyramid Head cutscene and whether or not it is implying SA so heres a TW for discussion of SA

I am a die-hard OG fan, and have been for a decade. I have been in this discussion for so long, and I feel like my take on this might be the less popular take for some reason? but honestly I believe that a player's individual interpretation of the scene is the one that is the most true. in the most simple words - if you see the scene as being s*xual or implying s*xual violence, then that is valid and is just how youve analyzed the scene based on the context you've been given or the life experience you have.

I KNOW Masahiro Ito has said that the scene involves nothing like that, no assault, just Pyramid Head trying to kill some mannequins... but is the creator's canon events of the scene really that important when as a player we see a sexualized monster being brutalized by a bigger, more imposing monster and are made to feel like we're a voyeur to something we shouldn't be watching?

and that feeling has to be entirely intentional as well, considering the scene is actually inspired by a movie called Blue Velvet (directed by David Lynch). the scene in the movie involves the character hiding in a closet while watching someone be SA'd, watching through the gaps in the door. and at the end of the movie, even shoots the perpetrator from the same spot in the closet. the cutscene in the game is a direct reference to this movie, and after watching the movie I can say it has some other influences on the game as well.

but even that is almost completely irrelevant, because as a first time player that doesn't have any context about the inspirations behind the game, and doesn't know about the things that the devs have stated are canon or not, we see something that is raw and uncomfortable and invokes a feeling of disgust. we are not given any other context besides what's directly in front of us. we see a creature that is all legs writhing in pain or agony in front of a thrusting Pyramid Head, who is desperately trying to hold the mannequin in place. and as we view this scene and hide, the Red Pyramid Thing turns his focus to us, and makes James feel like he has intruded upon something he wasn't supposed to see. there is a voyeuristic quality to the scene that adds to the feeling of unease and gives us this idea that something s*xual in nature has happened.

I think that video games are art, especially games like this, and an artist can definitely have a clear or direct implication of the message they are sending (and they can even tell you how it's supposed to be viewed), but ultimately the person consuming the art is going to analyze themes in their own way and find their own interpretation of the idea presented to them. in some way some might consider this type of interpretation to be "headcanon" because the actual canon of the game differs based on Ito's statements, but in my own opinion I do believe this sort of interpretation is just the player coming to a natural conclusion based on the context presented to them.

in other words, I think that it's completely fair to take Masahiro Ito at face value and trust his input that the scene is NOT at all s*xual, but at the same time it is presented in a way that can imply that it is and someone drawing that conclusion instead is also completely valid.

[ninyard]

Don’t listen to that anon trial trial trial trial trial trial trial trial trial trial Yayy trial I’ve been so excited since the sneak peak trial trial trial trial it’s not tasteless at all it’s an interesting portrayal of public perception and reaction . People like pov outsider stuff. For a character as badly understood and publicly villainized as Andrew bc he doesn’t act like the kind of rape victim that people feel bad for or else they ignore all signs of his trauma, of course it’s cathartic to see people acknowledge that and also eat their boots ?? Someone could make an argument for it being voyeuristic but it’s more a portrayal of the voyeuristic nature of media ??? Bc we the audience and you the writer already know the awful details, it’s about watching a fictional audience react to them. If someone is uncomfortable they can simply not read it it’s very easy. Sorry for the rant. Trial trial trial yay. I still check every morning. Trial trial trial

thank you for your thoughts anon!!! i appreciate hearing everyones side on this kind of things bc I want to make sure I'm doing things ~right~ and in such a way that isn't disrespectful, so no hate to that first anon, i don't mind hearing what people have to say about the things i post so long as they're nice about it<3

[simon-fairchilds-lil-umbrella]

My wildest, totally out there wish for TMAGP is that we start to play with perspective.

We’ve seen it already in the way the statements are attained, especially in contrast to TMA, and in the moments where we’re clearly listening in in a security camera or other more hidden method like the end of episode 4, but I’m talking about very literally on a statement specific level.

Like imagine if way down the line we hear someone’s forum post asking if anyone else saw this weird, bloody livestream by someone called Ink5oul, or hear a “dark history” report/post about a horrifying violin concert someone managed to dig up details for.

Because the more voyeuristic nature of these statements mean the odds of finding two about the same event are higher than the odds of two sepetate people reporting the same thing to the Magnus Institute, and I think that could provide some really interesting new tales on the horror of this world.

But my really far fetched dreams start coming in the form of a post, statement, file or whatever have you that we all realize is about an event we have heard about already in TMA, perhaps even with new or slightly contradictory details.

It’s a far fetched idea, but it fascinates me and a girl can dream.