#neverbeen

[cosmolog]

America RAHHHH🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🦅🦅🦅🦅

[supersources]

im actually on 999 followers but i was too happy with the brazilian elections and wanted to celebrate so i released it earlier

[machinatings]

A you are very cat codeds

Thankyou anonymous. My friend

[misfortunegirl]

anyone who is inlove with me 👉👈

[rvtravelswithmike]

Camping Unprepared: Huge LIES about RV Boondocking that are Taboo

[daddyn3xus]

FUCK DID I MISS BOYPUSSY APPRECIATION HOURS. -🪦🐾(forgot mh tag) (but ive neverbeen answredso.)

Every hour is boypussy appreciation hours

[bloodlustfantasia]

i have to drink water to calm down im so happy hehheheehhe ive neverbeen this happy i love it ilove her

[silvers-random-art-blog]

neverbeen sure what exactly to call it on her lmao

[tinogiehd]

Reading all these anons makes me feel really lucky that i only got really involved in the fandom like a week before the meet up it sounds like it was a miserable time😭 i was just a casual watcher before then i didnt know about all this chaos lol

IT WAS REALLY BAD the drolos were mean and doomy the golos were miserable but at least they got amsterdam and the sam and colby video the dnfers were withering and dying everybody was a little suicidal at best like i've neverbeen in a fandom that i'd wanted to leave so bad but i was like babytrapped by the meetup

[animutate]

ever since i bought koopa troopa plush from walgreens like 2 months ago my life. has neverbeen the same

[linusjf]

Gary Paulsen: Why do I read?

“Why do I read?I just can’t help myself.I read to learn and to grow, to laughand to be motivated.I read to understand things I’ve neverbeen exposed to.I read when I’m crabby, when I’ve justsaid monumentally dumb things to thepeople I love.I read for strength to help me when Ifeel broken, discouraged, and afraid.I read when I’m angry at the wholeworld.I read when everything is going right.I read…

[dreamcrow]

The man—Irrul, he remembers, distantly, dimly—stares. He stares back. He recognizes him; both of them the other. The realization hits like an avalanche, like the elk that snapped his leg like a green twig. Like the wrath of a god.

For a moment the night hangs between them. Vast, endless, charged and heavy as the air before a storm.

Then—

"You," Skrael breathes.

His voice rasps, into the soft, snowy silence of the wood. Like the keening of a lonely wind, like a body dragged over a stony, frozen lakeshore: wet and heavy, clawing against the sudden, overwhelming weight of memory. The color drains from the man's face, sending his features just as pale and drawn as the engravings on that horn.

He recognizes that, too. The echo of it, ringing like thunder through the night—through his ribs, through his heart, as he ran for his life.

And like seeing a lamp uncovered in darkness, Skrael realizes: he was wrong, earlier. Of course he can feel. The flush of sudden, white-hot wrath pours forth like a torrent, near and close as a lover; how could he ever have forgotten what feeling was, when he was capable of feeling like this?

He jumps Irrul before he can think. He isn't exactly sure how; Skrael knows he's not fast, he's neverbeen fast, but he's too incandescently incoherent to care, now, closing the distance—three or four paces—in all the space of a blink. They fall to the ground as a single weight, the sudden, wrenching crack of ivory ringing around the glade, but this, somehow, doesn't feel like a victory. Even when the other man turns tail and runs—Daza, Datzar, one of Uške's other sons—he can't quite savor the thought of it, not entirely, not with the full, furious blizzard howling through his veins. Skrael isn't entirely sure what he's doing, unsteady and wrathful and new, and Irrul's hands are corded stone around his wrists, but if he's never been strong Skrael has always fought dirty and now he is furious, the sound of that broken horn still ringing in his ears like the pounding of his heart.

The scuffle doesn't last long. They're so close, now, tangled like serpents as they grapple in the dark—Irrul should have every advantage, height and strength and his hand almost closed round Skrael's throat. But he isn't thinking about it. He isn't thinking about the cold. He isn't thinking about his black, burnt hands. The only thing he can think of is the curve of Irrul's cheek under his scrabbling fingers; of how he'll never let himself be caught again; of how warm he feels, now, how suddenly, viciously alive—

When Irrul's eye makes a sick, awful pop under his thumb: part of him is surprised, at how startled he is. It's only a soft sound, only brief, but a thing he'd had no experience of, one he hadn't known to expect. The howl that follows is a different matter: the sound is close, so raw and piercing he actually flinches, even for all his bright, silver wrath.

not exactly 500 words but... 👉👈

[if you're just tuning in to this story cw for EYE TRAUMA!!! i can't cut the ask text but don't go up if you're unprepared, there's awful things happening just above this warning hahaha]

ooo, okay! this was one of my favorite pieces of skrael's piece of minor arcana, i'm so pleased to see you picked it. it's got two of my favorite lines in the chapter (breathing out "you" + "how could he ever have forgotten what feeling was, when he was capable of feeling like this?")

the point of this scene was twofold. first: it brings us out of weirdbadwrong shadow realm memory hallucinations into an equally upsetting, waking present. trapping visitors in memory loops (?) always felt like an under-utilized aspect of toa's shadow realm to me, and i knew i wanted to play with it here; i have always hc'd skrael with a particular connection to the shadow realm, but this of course is his first time encountering it, after a hugely traumatic event. of course it's disorienting to return after that, especially from a place no one else knows exists (let alone a place no one has ever returned from).

the second is. how to say. skrael's canon appearances have…not a weird emotional valence. but wizards pushes the audience to think he's only got one emotion (glee, comma, evil). this is unsatisfying to me for a number of reasons. writing bellroc for so long has given me a lot of practice thinking about anger, as an expression of grief, as an obstacle or a destructive feeling sure but also as something productive, something cathartic. if the first 3/4 of skrael's chapter are "what if the sadistic laughing ice trickster once had just a normal life," the last part, once he's awoken from the dream, back in the real world, is: "what happens when that normal life ends? and what if he was pissed as hell about it?"

we never really see skrael get to be mad, at least not for him to be taken seriously,[1] so this is a character point i really enjoyed getting to play with. especially after thinking about what that normal life might have looked like. my order are so old most of what i can imagine of their society is a guess, but stability is always attractive. of course irrul would have been friendly, before! it's not hard to see why someone might come to believe in that prospect, to put comfort and safety of many people over the autonomy of one.

but if i think skrael should get to be more complex than we see him onscreen, i also don't think he ever claims to be nice. evil unto evil, bay bee!! 😈 the grappling in the moonlight, the broken mammoth-ivory horn, even irrul losing an eye—this whole sequence is one of the earliest pieces of skrael's backstory i pinned down, and one of the pieces i'm still very fond of.

tldr: what if the ancient awful traumatized magic user got to go a little ape shit!! as a treat.

[1] the miscellaneous hurgling in rott doesn't count, not just bc (imo) he's not meant to be taken seriously there, either. there's… like. moments in wizards when he's held up as really threatening ("surrender, merlin"; when he makes eye contact with claire/the viewer in the shadow realm; when he threatens steve with the ice claws), but these never lead anywhere. otherwise he's mainly played for humor, in a way bellroc and even nari really aren't: puppeting steve on the ice is supposed to make the audience laugh, even if it's "evil," and even in rott (douxie beaning him on the train, even "why isn't it working?!") he mostly seems to be…not quite comic relief. but not anything like bellroc. for a character so emphatically designed to evoke "frozen corpse," skrael should be creepier, and more of a threat, is what i'm saying.

[olli-online]

neverbeen so so sleept u guyd

[interxstitial]

@idleds:

( source! )

"— oh."

seunggi, in all of his years of working at a flower shop, cannot remember the last time he's been gifted flowers. — that... is mostly because he has never been gifted flowers, so there's not really all that much to remember. he's just never been close enough to anyone for flowers to factor into the equation— platonic or romantic. it's just the way things have played out for him—— and it's proven beneficial so far! he's adamant about that, for sure. (for suuuure.) his self-reliance has given him more time to focus on his flowers' wellbeing, expanding the shop, contributing to his community... all good things! all good, fulfilling things!

(it'd still be nice to have more, but he tries not to worry about that anymore. he has a good life, there's no need to be selfish.)

therefore, the good thing that came out of left-field — cough, im jiwon — bringing him flowers on an unsuspecting tuesday nearly knocks the wind out of him. he feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, actually, half because flowers (!!!!!) and half because—

“are you cheating on me, jiwon?” he asks first, eyes wide... and trying to distract from the blush rising in his cheeks. “i don't remember selling these to you—” seunggi blinks, falling silent for a moment before shaking his head rapidly. “— no, i'd remember if i did.” (he remembers most of his customer interactions for inventory reasons, but he especially remembers those with jiwon. for friendly reasons.) his lips form a small frown, even if the glint of joy in his eyes as he looks over the petals gives his true feelings away. he loves a good flower, what can he say? “s'a little ballsy giving these to me if you are. buying flowers from someone else? that's enough reason to divorce, i'd say.”

im jiwon does not have many talents. he can do a triple pirouette, recite the entirety of the 2005 film pride and prejudice by memory, and tie a cherry stem with his tongue in less than 30 seconds. they’re sort of impressive tricks, but they don’t mean very much. once upon a time, he could travel anywhere he wanted with just an email. london, paris, new york. he had the world at his fingertips, and that felt like a talent. now, he’s been stuck in the same city for the last seven years, permanently grounded with clipped wings and cracks all over. his life is a mess, even after two hard restarts. sometimes, jiwon feels like a third is just around the corner, but it won’t do him any good either. nothing ever really works out for him anymore.

except this one, little thing.

it had started with an impulse purchase, a rare burst of bravery during a weekend trip to the grocery store. even after reading the instructions on the back of the little satchel of seeds, jiwon hadn’t felt confident enough. so he read articles online, took notes, visited a certain flower shop to peek around and gain a bit of insight. two months passed, but still nothing. he’d been just about ready to declare his little endeavour another failure, until he woke up one morning and found a single sprout in the potted soil. true to all the articles and forums and gardening shows on television, time was the hardest part. waiting. in another handful of months, jiwon spotted the first few buds. then, finally, on the seventh month, they bloomed.

marigolds. bright like the sun; soft as satin. they’re quite tall and sturdy, cosy in their clay pot with room to grow. jiwon grew them all on his own and he’s proud of them and— seunggi doesn’t like them. he’s offended, and he doesn’t like them. jiwon’s body always reacts too quickly for his mind to catch up, so he already has tears in the fringe of his vision by the time he says anything. “s.. sorry,” he ekes out, gaze stuck on the bundles of sunshine yellow. “i didn’t.. i bought the seeds from another store. i’m sorry. i just.. wanted to surprise you. i’m sorry.”

[ilargeicontradictmiself]

I discovered strongberry and have to commemorate it somehow so im making a list of stuff i watched

>Choco Milk Shake (1,2 so far,waiting for the rest)(oh this is light and weird and good)(i thought one of the couples was going to be choco-milk but whatever, that's a failed attempt at ignoring spoilers for you)

>A first love story (oh oh really nice wow)

>Please tell me so (at this point i am going insane this is so good)

>the summer pasta recipe (bittersweet<3)

>Long time no see chapter one (because the rest needs money, different from the previous ones i am intruiged and for what)

>Graduation, present + propose (i was a little distracted but sweet)

>trailer for one night stand, too bad i cant see the whole thing

(update)

>Hold me (my sweet heart, amazing, showstopping, neverbeen done before) (okay nojokes, i dont think i see many couples that looklike them in these stories)( and they were adorable and they were good and i yeah, my sweet sweet heart)

[possuminnit]

hi ghost in retrospect i shouldnt have spent that much time on the opossum zommy drawing but anything 4 the moots 💪💪 /hj

hi tommy, just know I appreciate it a lot and I've neverbeen so excited to see a drawing😁 he will be amazing and I already love him with my entire heart