#concepts ✧･ﾟ

[lovesickhughes]

a/n: since i can’t sleep and this really is what’s on my mind

—

➳ all i can think about is how quinn would be such a physical touch type of boyfriend, but more so in the way that he craves your touch rather than displaying it.

➳ always having his hands on you any moment he can of course, but when you’re out in the city, exploring, when your arms would be interlinked, he’d make sure to have your hand be wrapped securely around his bicep.

➳ in a crowded venue he’d reach for your hand, fingers brushing against one another before he’d wrap his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers and him pulling you closer to his frame.

➳ he’d also take every opportunity to have his hand spread on the small of your back— the curve of your spine fitting like a key and lock with his touch. and when he’s talking to whoever he’d come across, the feeling of his arm wrapped around your waist and hand holding your hip, would elicit a warm feeling throughout your entire body.

➳ the way he held you against his frame was similar to the way he had you pressed against his side while on the boat in the summer, the scorching sun burning down on your skin, but the feeling of quinn, further sent energy through your body. he’d toy with the tied bows of your bathing suit bottoms, mindlessly, as he conversed with his family and friends, or even when he just took in his surroundings.

➳ or when you’d be spending the weekend with his family and you were in need of some alone time with your beloved boy, he’d melt at the feeling of your hands tugging at his hoodie and when he turned to you, the feeling of your hands caressing his muscular forearms up to his shoulders and back down.

➳ and what you both craved the most, was the temptation of touch when spent alone in your shared space. he’d come home and the first thing he’d do would be to get his hands on you, feel the weight of a busy day dissipate at the contact of your waist in his hands. he’d nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, breathing in your signature scent, and would pull your body closer to his— if that was even possible.

➳ he would be sure to grab your face, his large hand cupping the side of your jaw and nape of your neck and rush to kiss your lips. sharp breaths being sucked in at the contact. you’d let out a soft moan in response to the abrupt contact, but easily melt into his embrace as your own hands found their way to his brown curls.

➳ his favourite though? your touch when it’d be the two of you in bed, bodies pressed close together and the feeling of your fingers digging into his shoulders and desperately tugging at his hair, left a fire lighting through his body

➳ when you’d be baking or cooking, he’d walk up behind, sliding both hands on either side of you and pulling you back against his broad chest to take you in. he’d rest his head on your shoulder, simply at peace with your presence, and you jokingly swat away his hands when he slipped them under your shirt and farther up your torso.

➳ he simply loved touching you or having your touch to put all his stress and worries to ease

—

a/n: didn’t know i had that in me! i guess it’s just been lingering in the back of my head this last while! anyway, would totally be open to discussing more 🫶🏻

[taddymason]

Crystals study

i'm so tired

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[prokopetz]

One of those goofy maid animes, except the viewpoint character isn't the hapless master or mistress of the house, but a regular-ass janitor who ended up on this crew due to a paperwork mixup at the temp agency and can't figure out what the fuck is wrong with her co-workers.

[rejoiceinsilverlight]

i think mabel somehow finds a picture of stan and ford's prom outfits and goes ham recreating the suits for her and dipper's prom

[boxmakesart]

Eldritch Miku omgggg

[8pxl]

pixel art stamp concepts!~

[artsymeeshee]

Felt a need to draw hugs (thinking about sea grunks has made me extra emotional :’))

[ethanmaldridge]

I need to draw my fancy Rat King again. This sketch is almost six years old.

[thecollectibles]

Entergalactic pt3 by Michal Lisowski

[lovesickhughes]

thinking about jack and him being utterly obsessed with you. when you’re out there would never be a moment missed with his hands on you. gripping your hips and pulling you into him and him inhaling your scent. him hugging you no matter where you were or who you were with. always having his hands touching you somewhere, holding your hands, rubbing the back of one with his thumb, bringing it to his mouth and planting soft kisses on your skin. playing with your hair. mumbling how much he loves you into your ear, kissing your ear and cheek. just so obsessed

[magnetothemagnificent]

Randomly remembered how as a kid my mom would always fast forward through the beginning of 'Finding Nemo' because she thought Coral's death was too violent, so for years I never knew why Nemo was raised by a single father and assumed Nemo's parents had gotten fish divorced and Marlin had won custody of Nemo. My dad's biological parents divorced when my dad was young, so I always knew what divorce was and I knew my Grandma had gotten primary custody of my dad, so I just assumed that's what happened with Nemo. It wasn't until years later when I watched Finding Nemo with my grandparents without my mom and they didn't know to fast forward through the beginning that I finally knew what happened to Coral and I was *devastated*.

[prokopetz]

Lore-unfriendly companion who forcibly exits the menu screen to complain that they're bored if you spend more than five seconds reading an item description.

[starrytrees]

[from right to left]

very real dungeon meshi manga redraw !!