divinghoe

[r0tt3n-corpse]

Your writing is absolutely stellar! Can you maybe try a Dib x Reader / Y/N (female or gender neutral, whichever you want to choose) where the Reader has been living in the house across from Dibs house for a few months, but he never noticed them/her because Reader is homeschooled. and one day, Dib meets them/her while the Reader is outside drawing (maybe drawing Mothman or something), and It turns out that the Reader is obsessed with the unexplained, just like Dib.

(Sorry if it's not that good of an idea it's just something I thought of at like 2 am. a couple of days ago) 💙🛸👽

Sorry I disappeared for like a day. Writing is easy for me, it’s just convincing myself to actually sit down and start writing that’s the hard part lol (Also thank you for the request, it’s nice to see people enjoying my writing!)

Fandom: Invader Zim

Warnings: None!

Gender neutral reader x Dib Membrane

You had never liked actual school. The buildings were confusing, the teachers were strict, and the kids were… well, weird. When your parents informed you two months ago that you were not only moving but that you’d be homeschooled as well, you were overjoyed to put it lightly. It was great! Well, maybe not the move, but the homeschooling was.

It was hard to think that you hadn’t seen your friends in more than two months. Sure, you got to talk to them online, but it just wasn’t the same. Homeschooling was great, but being a loner wasn’t.

You didn’t explore much in town, something about your parents not wanting you to get lost. You never particularly listened to their reasons.

Currently, you are outside drawing, like you were almost every day after your homework. You loved drawing, and your parents encouraged the creative outlet.

The sky was a wonderful color, still bright and high in the sky. The wind whistled through the grass as you sat on the steps of your front door, hunched over as you drew. It was truly a beautiful day. Everyday was. Just being alive and in the light of day was amazing to you.

You weren’t focused on the picture as you drew it, more on the colors and the shapes. Everything was beautiful already. It was made by you, after all. “Things made with love will never be dull”, or whatever that poem you read once said.

You lifted your head as a school bus momentarily stopped at the house across from you, dropping kids off. You must’ve lost track of time if the school kids were already getting out. You listened as the bus door closed and watched as the bus continued down your street. A tall-ish black-haired boy was standing on the sidewalk next to a shorter purple-haired girl. His sister, most likely.

The children of that scientist who lived across from you, you assumed. What was his name again? You couldn’t recall, but remembered your parents talking about him a few times. You never knew he had kids.

You put your drawing to the side, making sure it wouldn’t get blown away by the wind, and stood up. You hesitated, not quite sure what you were doing. Making friends would be nice, but how? You watched the boy turn his head and say something to his sister, both backs still to you. You walked down your driveway and to the sidewalk. No cars were coming, but you didn’t cross. The boy seemed to see you and turned, while his sister walked inside their house. You waved, not wanting to look like a weirdo. He waved back slowly from across the street.

“Do I know you..?” He asked, hand back at his side. He adjusted his glasses with his other hand. You shook your head no. He nodded, seeming to have thought so. You caught sight of a keychain on his backpack. It looked familiar. Was that Mothman? He seemed to catch you looking.

“Do you like paranormal stuff?” He asked before pausing for a car to pass between the both of you. You nodded. The paranormal was cool, you’d admit. You liked listening to those weird conspiracy theory videos sometimes as background noise.

“Yeah, I think that stuff is pretty cool.” You said, realizing you hadn’t talked yet. He smiled wide at your response and promptly jogged across the street to your side. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders, both of you now in your yard.

“I’m Dib Membrane. What’s your name? I didn’t realize any kids lived here.” He looked over your house briefly before turning back to you. The last name Membrane sounded familiar, so you guessed he was telling the truth.

“I’m Y/n. I’m homeschooled, that’s probably why you haven’t seen me. Plus, I usually hang out in my backyard, and not the front.” You explained with a shrug, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You hadn’t talked to someone in person that was your age in a while and hoped you didn’t seem too awkward. If you were being awkward, Dib seemed too focused on meeting someone with the same interests to care. The boy was practically beaming.

“Oh, that’s cool. I wish I was homeschooled. My dad is real smart, so I’d probably be learning more than I do now anyways.” Dib said, his words quick because of his excitement. You nodded along to his words, a small gesture of the fact you were actually listening. Dib adjusted his glasses and peered down at his watch.

“Well, actually, speaking of my dad, I have to go.” He lifted his head back to you, looking slightly less happy. “Here, you can have this. I saw you looking at it.” He added before slipping the Mothman keychain into your hand. You pocketed it.

“I can met you here again tomorrow, when you get off the bus.” You called out to Dib as he once again crossed the street to his house. He smiled back at you.

“I’d like that.”

(I’m pretty sure this is shorter than my normal writing but it’s okay lol)

[shoel4ced]

i would make a great boyfriend if not for the horrors

[thatdudenamedchunk]

OKAY SOOOO

I'm PROBABLY Finishing The Kwazii Drawing Later, But I Decided To Take A Break On That On Do Something A Little Different.

I DON'T Animate Like.. Ever, But I'm Working On A Personal Animation Project That Involves One Of My Oc's

The Easiest Way For Me To Explain The Premise Of The Animation Is Just To Say 'Gay Ass Fox In Space' BUT SHEHRERRREHRRRERRRERRRR

(Also Idk If Anyone Wants To Know, But The Foxes Name Is Fuzz.)

[ducktracy]

there are a lot of evil people in the world and a lot of darkness in the world and so it’s very important for me to stress that now more than ever is the time to spread kindness and compassion. combat the evil by not only not partaking in it, but actively refuting it. destroy the notion that being compassionate or generous or kind to someone is uncool or embarrassing or even scary. be the change you want to see. start a chain reaction. positivity only breeds more positivity. do an act of kindness for someone so that that person who is too afraid to do it themselves can see you, realize that they’re not alone, and perhaps sheepishly follow your example. and then the next person who is too afraid but sees that person can do the same. when bad news comes out about bad people or horrible atrocities in the world it’s such an easy impulse to despair, and obviously it’s important to feel what you need to feel. grieve. be angry. be sorrowful. be empathetic. but dust off your pants and get up and be a part of a chain reaction that, no matter how small the scale, and spread compassion and love and care. all the reasons why you might not—“it’s hard! it’s scary! people will make fun of me! it’s useless because there’s too much evil!” are all grade A arguments as to why you should. you have no idea how many people you could inspire to do the same. even if it doesn’t get you anyway far, you can at least say you have the nobility of trying. please choose love and please choose life. you are worth loving and you are worth inspiring others to love

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 3: Enveloping Feelings.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

[maxipad33]

catboy max verstappen because uhhhhhhhhh yeah!! anyways enjoy

[baylee-doodle]

Nii-san!

[hinamie]

you're lovely in ways that i just can't explain

testing out new brushes w some lmhs itfs nape kisses :> jjk atla!au with @philosophiums

[madbard]

I just realized another reason I love Hozier’s music. It’s not just that the lyrics are complex, or the music itself is beautiful - it’s that Hozier is a musical liar.

Take Cherry Wine. This is a song about an abusive relationship, told from the perspective of someone very much in love with their abuser. Throughout the song, the narrator describes their lover’s cruelty. Lyrics like “I walk my days on a wire” and “open hand or closed fist would be fine” make the darker aspects of their relationship all too evident. At points, the song suggests that they are defending this relationship to someone else who cares about them (“it looks ugly but it’s clean. Oh mama, don’t fuss over me”) and even the more beautiful and seemingly romantic lines later in the song (“oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing”) have dark undertones (what else is sleep to the freezing but death?) Still, I often come across the song being used in a wholesome, romantic context. A lot of factors contribute to this, but I would argue that this song mainly gets mistaken for a romantic song because of how soft and gentle the music is - it presents as a sweet love song in every way except the lyrics. Even those lyrics are told through the lens of someone defending their broken and abusive relationship, deepening the lie. Our narrator wants to portray this relationship as something dark, yet also immensely beautiful and encompassing. The result is a song about the agony and pleasure of a broken relationship, disguised so well as a love song in every possible way that it gets mistaken for something romantic. (Even if you are aware of the meaning, there is still that deep urge to experience the song as something romantic. Just like the narrator, the listener is drawn in by beauty and the powerful idea of love, so much so that it can blind them to reality.)

Variations of this can be seen in Talk. In this song, the narrator makes their intentions very clear - they are sweet-talking someone in order to hide their own thoughts and desires (“I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out how I’m imagining you”). Despite knowing this, the sheer power of the lyrics (“I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus / when her body was found. / I'd be the choiceless hope in grief / that drove him underground. / I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee / that made him turn around, / and I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice”) overwhelms the listener. We know the speaker is putting on a show. We know they have ulterior motives, and likely don’t even believe what they are saying. But their words are so beautiful that we don’t care. The intense, almost mythic music in the background is so lovely and deep, it makes the lyrics seem genuine, because what lie could sound so astounding and true? In this case, the song about smoke and mirrors and empty talk becomes a love song because the narrator is just that skilled at lying.

Even songs like Too Sweet, sung by a narrator who refuses to be with someone unless they allow their standards to slide, become ‘romantic’ and ‘sweet’ to certain listeners - not because the lyrics are impenetrable, but because so many of Hozier’s narrators are unreliable. His songs spin sweet stories, lies so stunning that listeners are willing to deny what they know in order to experience the beauty of that untruth, the complexity of that space between what is real and what we want to believe.

And isn’t that more true to the experience of being a person, and loving other people, than the simple truths we often see in these types of songs?

[starch1ldz]

Spencer Reid and his non bau partner. He always let's you know when he'll be home, especially if he'll be very late, sometimes he gets in at 4 am and he knows you'll be asleep, but the living room light is always on so he doesn't come in and stumble over something in his exhaustion and urgency to get to bed where you're asleep waiting for him.

It started off a few weeks into you living with him, he tripped over one of the many pairs of shoes kept by the front door and made a bit of a ruckus. It gave you a heart attack and you came out of the bedroom with the gun your father had insisted you have thats kept in the safe with Spencer's own gun and his credentials. When you realize it's him you sigh and lower the pistol, flicking the safety on, as you level him with an accusatory look.

He laughs nervously. “Sorry, love.” he mumbles as he slips off his beat up converse, pushing them into place next to yours.

You roll your eyes, but it's all good natured as you pull him into a hug, setting the gun down on the table where your house keys go for the time being. “It's alright, next time tell me when you're coming home and I'll leave a light on.” You say softly, as you press a kiss to his lips.

[sforzesco]

DO NOT BE AFRAID

this is combining Ovid's Heroides and the Excidium Troie because I can't stop thinking of Hermes telling him not to be afraid. what the fuck!! Ares is wearing the crown that Paris gave him.

I have. thoughts. about Paris. he's almost got this Troilos parallel in my mind, that the event that defines him in detail exists in a lost narrative that we don't have (the Cypria), but everyone else knew. the event that defines Troilos is his death (murdered, butchered by Achilles, the violence of which haunts everything after. Achilles, child killer, you can't escape that!), and the event that defines Paris is the Judgement. what's a lost text but a kind of grave!!

idk I don't think that Paris before the Judgement would recognize himself after bc when you become god touched, it rearranges your guts. you become transformed in the worst way possible! how could you recognize yourself! but I also think that all the Parises after the Judgement would recognize each other because that event is so locked into the trauma of war and the scar it leaves on the land, it's like a scar on the narrative too. it exists like this forever, over and over again, so you exist like that forever too. Troy collects grief and despairs.

Troy as trauma: Reflections on intergenerational transmission and the locus of trauma, Andromache Karanika

and Paris is like. a miserable little god/corpse-puppet or something, like a match for the gods to throw onto gasoline.

The Excidium Troie + Ovid's Heroides:

Excidium Troie, trans. Muhammad Syarif Fadhlurrahman

Ovid, Heroides 16 (trans. Harold Isbell)

a collection of things regarding Paris that made me go 😬 but under a cut bc this is getting. very long.

The Divine Twins in Early Greek Poetry, Corolla Torontonensis

Iliad 24 and the Judgement of Paris, C.J. Mackie

Elegy and Epic and the Recognition of Paris: Ovid "Heroides" 16, Elizabeth Forbis Mazurek

Ennian Influence in "Heroides" 16 and 17, Howard Jacobson

Paris/Alexandros in the "Iliad", I. J. F. de Jong

[mattodore]

mattodore screenshot dump 🐺🐇

[skunkes]

[lemongogo]

sry i dont know what 2 draw anymore T_T . elendira portrait #999

[rambunctioustoons]

hold 🌙 ✨

[surreal-duck]

live drama adaptations part 2 (prev)

cast reveal and girls movie night 🔥