#lobsterine

[marlinspirkhall]

[01] [02]

My drawing for @livelongandpinup

@kaffkanya's fic based on it [E]

And my drawing based on the fic

[kaffkanya]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock Characters: Spock (Star Trek), James T. Kirk Additional Tags: Slow Burn, POV James T. Kirk, Mild Smut, Vulcan Mind Melds (Star Trek), Mind Meld, Miscommunication, because they just dont talk, My First Work in This Fandom, Everyone is tired of their bs, Not Beta Read Summary:

But there was clearly attraction between the both parties. By attraction, Jim meant he was very much in love with Spock. Nothing new. They also had almost-sex, like, three times. But then, why did Spock always run away from him? Why not just talk ?

A tiny voice shouted inside Kirk’s head: “It’s not like you tried to talk things out, either!” Jim shushed it. This wasn’t about him.

Or, Spock and Jim dance around each other. Until they don't.

[rain-goodreads]

“Some Hellish” by Nicholas Herring — Rain’s Book Review & Fan Cover (+ Speedpaint!)

Hey happy readers!

Rain here. Welcome to my first blog post. Today, I will be compiling my book review, fan cover artwork and explanation for said artwork for the rock-lobsterin’ book “Some Hellish” by Nicholas Herring! 🦞

(You can get the book from Goose Lane Editions using the link here! : https://gooselane.com/products/some-hellish)

I have already put the speedpaint of the fan cover above as an introduction, with the song “Bad Apple!!” by ZUN (Cover by RichaadEB and Christina Vee) playing in the background. Read my explanation below for more details.

Without further ado, here we go! 📚 🗣️

The Book Review (also available on DigitallyLit here: https://www.digitallylit.ca/product-page/some-hellish)

Some Hellish by Nicholas Herring is a charming blend of contemporary, philosophical, and slice-of-life fiction. It follows the expedition of a PEI lobster fisherman and his complicated relationship with himself, his life, and those around him. It is a reflective and empathic journey toward forgiveness, transformation, and love that also manages to balance the harsh realities of substance abuse, self-hatred, and regret.

The story follows a middle-aged lobster fisher named Herring, who leads a semi-impoverished life on the ocean harbours of Prince Edward Island. His life is falling apart at the seams: he buries the family dog on Christmas Eve, his wife and children leave him, he is in a constant losing battle against alcohol and financial struggle, his reputation is quickly dwindling, and his living room is now left with an enormous hole in the floor after a fit of blind anger. After being saved from a drunken truck crash by a group of passing monks, Herring and his similarly troubled friend, Gerry, go lobster fishing on the M&M (Herring's boat), high on acid, to cope with the misery of their lives. After a careless accident, Herring falls overboard and is lost at sea for days, presumed dead. But just when the world begins to mourn his loss, he miraculously survives, coming back to his broken life a new man: determined, bald, and willing to do better.

I found Some Hellish to be a beautifully written, thought-provoking work of literature in which I was thoroughly immersed until the very end, which gave me an equally undeniable impression that lasted even days after reading. It did an honest job of crawling inside the human psyche and exposing man's darkest, most vile contemplations and his most passionate aspirations and perseverance toward fulfillment and purpose. It did not hesitate to call out the thoughts that we hate to-- or would never—admit thinking (ex., secretly wanting a friend to suffer after they've wronged you or admitting to admiring the virtues we lack in someone we hate).

Additionally, it could paint a vivid, realistic picture of the Maritime lobster fisherman lifestyle, describing the realities of its intense physical toils, the general uneducated, drunken, anti-technological societal outlook, the turbulent weather, poverty and often quite disgusting normalcies of animal guts and lack of personal hygiene. (Needless to say, it isn't sunshine, lollipops and rainbows…).

I found the book's honest portrayal of both psychological and environmental aspects admirable, and I caught myself guiltily relating to Herring but happily comparing his unfortunate circumstances to my own many a time.

Though I found the book to be a bit slow in terms of plot progression, as most of it centred around character development and the slow harbour life rather than an action-filled overarching narrative like most stories, I ironically found that its sluggishness and focus on the people and personality rather than plot added to the charm, portraying itself as true-to-life and ultimately a story I enjoyed reading through. (After all, real life isn't a 24/7 MARVEL comic-book story with bad guys to defeat and cities to save… in truth, we're all living Herrings in one way or another.)

My favourite line from this book is:

"Well, at the end of it all," he said, "I guess you could say that I was willing to die so that people could eat. No matter all the stupid shit I've done, I'll always have this. Be able to say this about myself. And that's not nothing, huh." (paragraph 1, page 311)

In all, while Some Hellish may not be everyone's cup of tea (and if you can't stand the thought of reading the obscure existential crises of a middle-aged drunkard for 325 pages, this may truly be some hellish for you…), it is undoubtedly a book that merits its prestigious Atwood Gibson Writers' Trust Fiction Prize and one that deserves the recognition and praise it has now. With its poetic disquisition, memorable characters and environment, thoughtful philosophical overtones and humane message of hope, it is a truly unforgettable experience that I strongly urge any stoic, deep-thinker and enjoyer of moving storylines to dive into.

Overall, I give the book a solid 4.7 out of 5 rating.

I recommend this book!

The Artwork + Explanation

Before we begin, I’d like to first warn you of…

MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!! 🚨 ‼️

So take caution before reading ahead…

Anyhow, here is the completed fan cover artwork and the explanations for its symbolism! Enjoy.

Thank you very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this post and hopefully found your new fave! 😉

Thank you as well to DigitallyLit and Goose Lane Editions for the awesome read. 😎

And with that,

Rain out. ✌️

[nemomia]

🌾.

so! this one is a gift for my homie @lobsterine (no homo ofc.), just zosan being pretty :D i love them very much.

[clervalsteins]

SINCE APPARENTLY TUMBLR WANTS TO EAT MY FUCKING POSTS AFTER I WORKED SO HARD ON THEM. ILL MAKE IT SEPARATE POST. anyway adding on to my henry talk i read @lobsterine’s add on and it got me thinking abt so much and the fact we don’t ever see how henry goes through his hardships.

basically what i was saying in response, was that i never even noticed that til it was pointed out, so on top of this we never see henry ever go against victor (in terms of putting him down, hurting him, etc. not stopping dumb petty behavior) either which makes us inclined to either feel he didn’t (my belief) or victor didn’t like to talk about it. and you start to realize that because of this, and other situations the way victor talks about henry is because henry embodies everything victor wants to be. the good is magnified in victors eyes because he is every single thing he wishes he was. that’s why his traits are mainly brought up in comparison to victors own.

within that itself, if we saw victor from henry’s pov i feel like it would be nearly the same feeling as victor has about him. i feel like there’s so much of victor that henry wishes he was. i feel like it was a mutual thing. these two were close and very important to one another and most importantly narrative opposites. so you start to realize that when we take henry’s personality from ONLY victors eyes and don’t add anything you are getting a man made from perfection because that is what victor Wishes he was.

it’s honestly why i like the musical more than the book with henry because they make him GO AGAINST victor, they make him try and stop him from his foolish actions, and they make him worry and feel just.. not just someone victor wishes he was.

i feel like if we saw victor from henry’s perspective, and we based our view of him just off that, we would ignore his flaws and misdoings as well. because they did that for eachother. they were best friends, and like… Very clearly mary shelley wrote it as something more whether incidental or accidental.

and Please don’t take this as a jab to anyones henrys, i love love love so many of the characterizations, this is just my thoughts on the book and how it can give us a ‘perfect’ view of him rather than a realistic one due to victor.

[inalandofmerthur]

WHEN STYDIA HAPPENS @brayvenlarke

[xclusivecollectables]

2014 Wacky Packages Lobsterine Salt Water Laundry Sticker Trading Card MCSC1

2014 Wacky Packages Lobsterine Salt Water Laundry Sticker Trading Card MCSC1

Find & Sell 250th Anniversary Wacky Packages for less This 2017 Wacky Packages 50th Anniversary Lobsterine Salt Water Laundry Sticker Trading Card and many others are from several collections. Search our growing selection of Wacky Packages, Garbage Pail Kids, sport, and non-sport trading cards and collectibles! Create an account today to join the Beta launch of your site to sell your collectibles…

[prettycoolpattern]

Lobsterin' it uppp Requestables: 💯 🔸 Album Art 🔸 Logoz 🔸 Writing 🔸 Apparel Design 🔸 Web Application Design 🔥 Visit PrettyCoolPattern.com for apparel, music, wallpapers, prints, posters, services, and more! 🤓 #artist #daily #graphics #fractal #psyart #music #lyrics #artshow #artoftheday #designer #artistoninstagram #painting #fineart #painting #instagramart #blender #creative #ambition #digitalartist #dailyart #opensource #inspiration #celestial #art #abstractart #webdesign #albumart #sketch (at West Maui) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5urdOIhifO/?igshid=ezlbxc1omsit

[kaffkanya]

what? anya making an intro post? more likely than you think

im going to post Mostly about star trek since its my current fixation, but i could reblog some disco e., hannibal, iwtv or dunmeshi sometimes. ill also be rb important palestine info, if that makes you uncomfortable, go f off somewhere else.

my favorite ships are spirk (obv), the tos ot3, farcille, chillsenshi, harrykim from de, hannigram, and whatever iwtv has going on. ✨

im 20 yro! and use they/she pronouns. im a lesbian and gender fluid. english is not my mother language so sometimes youll see some weirdly structured phrases. but. eh. idrc abt that :D 🪩

i usually save it for my fics and dont post anything too extreme, but i can post nsfw jokes every now and then, if youre a minor id suggest you be mindful of where youre stepping. i dont fb if youre under 17 yro btw.

feel welcome to come and chat to me, i love talking abt anything !!!

oh, and before you go, heres my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobsterine

p.s.: post could be updated in the future

[norfloxacin1]

To Tom and little Joey mackerel catching was a novelty, and neither was able to aid very much in the work until after having satisfied his curiosity regarding this odd method of fishing.

Tom was lost in wonder because the hungry fish snapped at the bit of white cloth, or even the bare hook, before it was well down to the surface of the water, and not the least of his surprise was regarding the ease with which the mackerel could be shaken off after having been brought inboard.

“It’s the greatest fishin’ I ever heard tell of!” he exclaimed in delight as Uncle Ben detached a rainbow-colored fish from the hook by a sharp jerk on the line. “My, my, but don’t they take hold lively!”

“That’s more’n can be said for you,” the old lobster catcher replied with a laugh as he pulled in another fish. “When you strike a school of mackerel it don’t pay to spend much time with your mouth open, for they’re odd creeters, an’ jest as apt to knock off bitin’ in another minute as they are to keep on for the next hour. Fishermen have to get ’em when they’re in the humor, an’ it’s a case of jumpin’ to it the best you know how. Why don’t you swing your line over?”

“I declare for it I’d forgotten all about doin’ my share,” Tom said, in what was much like a tone of apology as he acted upon the old man’s suggestion. “It’s so funny that I couldn’t do anythin’ but watch.”

Even while speaking he swung a fat fish over the rail, and from that moment the most enthusiastic fisherman aboard was Tom Falonna.

The eager fish even allowed themselves to be caught by the “baby,” and little Joey screamed with delight as he brought over the rail a tiny “tinker” gorgeous in hues of blue, green, pink and white.

“Talk about luck on the first cruise!” Mr. Rowe cried when it seemed as if the “Sally’s” deck was completely covered with the beautiful fish. “To strike a school so near inshore at this time of year is enough to make a man sit up an’ look at himself; but to have ’em keep up the fun so long is somethin’ I never run across! What about losin’ a few lobsters for the sake of gatherin’ in sich a fare as this? I’m tellin’ you, Uncle Ben, if we could get this lot inter Boston fresh, the ’Sally’ would come somewhere near payin’ half her cost. If we only had a lot of ice aboard!”

“I’m allowin’ Portland would be as good a market as Boston, an’ if this wind holds we could run in there with the mackerel sweet an’ fresh, even though we didn’t have any ice,” Uncle Ben replied thoughtfully, but without ceasing his work for a single instant.

“I believe it would pay, even though we didn’t get back to the island for a week, for there’s a good bit of money in this fare,” Reuben said in a tone of satisfaction; but his face clouded when the old man added decidedly:

“We can’t afford to take the chances of havin’ things go wrong at home, an’ that’s the fact.”

“S’pose you can’t get ’em in port fresh, what is to be done with such a slat?” Tom asked, and Mr. Rowe replied mournfully:

“We’ll have to salt ’em down, which not only means a big lot of work, but cuts down the price a lot. It’s a pity we hadn’t left you lads ashore, an’ then it would be a case of our gettin’ inter market with what would fetch a couple of hundred dollars.”

“How far do you allow we are from Apple Island now?” Sam asked suddenly, as if a happy thought had come to him.

“Somewhere ’bout five miles, I reckon. What do you say, Uncle Ben?”

“We can’t be much further off than that; but if we was countin’ on makin’ Portland, it would add ten miles to the run if we put in home, an’ that’s far enough to cut short our chances of gettin’ the fish on the market while the weather is so warm.”

“What’s to hinder Tom an’ me from pullin’ over home when this school gets through bitin’?” Sam asked. “You could get under way in a jiffy, an’ have no need to worry ’bout things on the island. The only trouble would be that you’d have to go without a small boat.”

“You’ve hit the nail square on the head, lad!” Mr. Rowe cried excitedly. “It’s the very thing to be done! I allow we can get along without the dory when it’s a case of scoopin’ in two hundred dollars or more!”

“What about it, Uncle Ben?” Sam asked anxiously, and the old man replied, speaking slowly and thoughtfully:

“It’ll be a long pull for you, Sammy; but if it wasn’t for that I’d say Reuben had the right idee. We’ve got a lot of fish here, an’ they’re worth seven or eight cents apiece as they run, for fresh mackerel at this time of the year are somethin’ of a rarity, an’ there are rich folks enough in this world to pay extra money for the sake of havin’ things out of season.”

“Then the whole business is settled,” Tom cried, still continuing his work of adding to the cargo. “It wouldn’t make any difference if we were ten miles from home, ’cause we’d be bound to pull back for the sake of helpin’ bring in two hundred dollars to the family. How is that for two or three hours’ fishin’?”

To this outburst Uncle Ben made no reply and his crew took it for granted that the matter was settled without need of further discussion. Mr. Rowe suggested that the “baby,” who was not making any great headway at taking fish, set about gathering up the catch into baskets that it might be sent into the hold where the sun could not shine upon it and the remainder of the “family” worked even more rapidly than before, if indeed that could be possible, in order to add to the take before the mackerel were done biting.

It seemed to the eager fishermen as if a full hour had been spent at the work before the fish, with no apparent reason, suddenly sank out of sight, and Uncle Ben announced as he swung his lines inboard:

“That finishes this job, an’ if you’re countin’ on makin’ Portland while the fare is sweet an’ fresh, Reuben, I’m allowin’ we’d better get the ’Sally’ on her course. It’s been a rare piece of good fortune for the first cruise,” Uncle Ben said placidly, and Mr. Rowe shouted in a tone of command:

“Now, then, if you boys are reckonin’ on pullin’ back home, it’s time you got over the rail, for we can’t waste a minute jest now!”

“Shan’t we hold on a bit to help put the fish in the hold?” Sam asked. “It’s so early in the day that no great harm will be done if we make the trip three or four miles longer.”

“We can do that work after we’re on our course, an’ I’m not allowin’ you shall go any further from home,” Uncle Ben said decidedly. “If you’re willin’ to go back, get about the job before the ’Sally’ is under way.”

“Willin’? Of course we are!” Tom cried as he hauled the dory alongside. “It would be funny if we wasn’t, with so much money to be made. I’d go back alone rather than lose the chance to make a pile on the first cruise.”

“Then over the rail with you, an’ be lively!” Mr. Rowe cried.

In a twinkling the two boys were in the dory, the painter was cast off, and little Joey was dancing excitedly about the deck as he screamed shrilly:

“Good-bye, Sam! Good-bye, Tom! I’m sorry you won’t have a chance to see the city, but I’ll tell you all about it when we get back!”

“We don’t want to see any city, when there’s lots of lobsters in the pots!” Sam cried cheerily. “Say, Uncle Ben, the car was mighty nigh full when we dumped the catch in last night; what’s to be done if we have good luck to-day?”

“Better freight a load over to the Port, Sammy, if you feel able to pull that far. Mr. Mansfield will take all you carry; but in case you’re too tired, we’ll run the chances of losin’ some of ’em, seein���s how this ’ere lot of mackerel more’n makes up for them as may eat each other.” (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); #gallery-0-7 { margin: auto; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-item { float: left; margin-top: 10px; text-align: center; width: 25%; } #gallery-0-7 img { border: 2px solid #cfcfcf; } #gallery-0-7 .gallery-caption { margin-left: 0; } /* see gallery_shortcode() in wp-includes/media.php */

“Jest hold your hand on the top of your head till we get tired when there are big dollars to be made, an’ see how long you’ll keep it there!” Tom cried as the “Sally” came around on her heel, every inch of canvas catching the fresh breeze and forcing the little schooner on her way to Portland, as if understanding how necessary it was the fish be delivered to the purchasers by daybreak next morning.

“I thought I’d seen quick work before, but I never struck any thin’ so sudden as mackerel fishin’,” Tom said when the dory, with the boys each pulling a pair of oars, was headed for Apple Island. “There must be big money in sich business, an’ I wonder Uncle Ben don’t knock off lobsterin’ to ’tend to it.”

“We might come out fifty times, an’ not strike luck the same as we had it this mornin’,” Sam replied with a happy laugh. “It’s great for the first cruise, an’ now if we can take as many lobsters as we did last night, it’ll seem as if this family had started in all right.”

So elated were the lads by the success of the morning that the five-mile pull was hardly more than sport, and so busy were they speculating as to how much money the mackerel would bring in that it seemed as if they were hardly more than cast off from the “Sally D.” before Apple Island was close under the dory’s bow.

“I reckon Mr. Rowe was way out of his reckonin’ when he said we were so far away,” Tom cried in astonishment, when Sam called his attention to the fact that they were almost home. “It can’t have been more’n—— Hello! Ain’t that your old heathen jest pullin’ out of the cove?”

Sam ceased rowing in order to gaze in the direction indicated by Tom’s outstretched finger, and an exclamation of dismay burst from his lips as he cried:

“That’s him sure enough! Now, what kind of mischief do you reckon he’s been up to?”

“With all hands of us an’ the ’Sally’ away from home, I don’t allow he could kick up very much of a row,” Tom replied carelessly, and added with a hearty laugh, “I reckon he was chafin’ some under the collar when he found we’d got out of his way.”

“Unless he fooled with the lobster car, I don’t s’pose he could do much mischief,” Sam said half to himself; “but yet it seems as if he must have cut up some kind of a shine, else why is he goin’ off so peaceable like?”

“’Cause there was nobody ashore to pick up a fuss with,” Tom replied in a tone of satisfaction. “I wish Uncle Ben would let Mr. Rowe, an’ you, an’ me serve the old pirate out once! I’ll bet he wouldn’t want to come foolin’ ’round this island ag’in!”

The lads gave no further attention to Captain Doak, after making certain that he was pulling toward the Port at his best pace, and five minutes later their dory had rounded the point, opening to view the shore of the cove.

Then it was that both the boys ceased rowing very suddenly, as they gave vent to a cry of mingled anger and sorrow, for the shanty appeared to be in a blaze, with the flames already bursting out through the roof.

“That’s what the old heathen has been doin’!” Tom cried in a rage, as he dipped his oars deep in the water. “Pull around, Sam, so’s we can overhaul him, an’ no matter how big he is, I’ll give him a dose that won’t be forgotten very soon!”

“Even if we could get the best of him, there’s no use chasin’ his boat; he’s got a good mile the start, an’ we’d never be able to make that up ’twixt here an’ the Port. Pull, Tom, pull the best you know how, an’ perhaps we can save some few of the things!”

“It’s too late now, for the whole place is in a light blaze,” Tom replied sorrowfully, but he obeyed the command to the best of his ability, and the dory was sent over the water at a rate of speed which, it is safe to say, she had never equaled.

The boys did not slow down on nearing the shore, but ran her at full speed high up on the sand, leaping over the rail even as she struck, but before they had taken a single step in the direction of the shanty it was possible to see that any efforts of theirs would be useless.

Uncle Ben’s home, slightly built of inflammable material, was burning fiercely, the flames leaping up from every point, and it could be understood that Captain Doak had waited until making certain his villainous work was thoroughly performed before he left the island.

The boys ran at full speed, however, hardly knowing what they did, and came to a halt only when the heat of the fire prevented any nearer approach. Here they stood watching the devouring flames in silence a full minute, when Tom, turning in the direction of the Port, shook his fist threateningly as he cried angrily:

“It makes no difference what Uncle Ben says, if ever I come within strikin’ distance of that miserable pirate! The idea of burnin’ a shanty when he couldn’t do himself any good, but only to turn an old man outer house an’ home! Come on, Sam, even if we can’t catch him we’ll tell the folks at the Port what he has done, an’ I’ll be way out of my reckonin’ if they don’t make it hot for him before he’s many hours older!”

“We can’t spend the time to go there till after the traps have been hauled, ’cause even if the shanty is burned we’ve got to take care of the lobsters,” Sam replied with a sigh. “If we could only rig up some kind of a place for Uncle Ben to sleep in when he get back!”

“He’ll have the ’Sally,’ won’t he? We can live aboard of her till another house is built; but it’ll take all the money that comes in from the mackerel to pay for new lumber.”

“I forgot that we’d have the schooner for a home, so things ain’t quite so bad as they might have been. See here, Tom, we mustn’t think of runnin’ after Cap’en Doak, for there’s no knowin’ but that we’ll have to carry a load of lobsters to the Port, an’ if that’s so, we oughter get off early, ’cause we must be back before dark.”

“Why? There’s no place here for us to sleep, ’less we camp under the trees an’ if we have to go to the Port I’m thinkin’ we’d best stay there till mornin’, ’cause there’s no show Uncle Ben can get back even as early as to-morrow.”

“You’re right; but even at that we can’t hang ’round here very long, seein’s how there’s nothin’ to be done. Let’s pull the traps, an’ then make up our minds what we’d best do.”

“Say, we’ve got to go to the town, ’cause there ain’t anythin’ here to eat, an’ I’m mighty hungry already.”

“Come on, then; we’ll tackle the traps, for it’s a case of goin’ hungry till that work has been done an’ we’ve pulled a heavy dory six or seven miles!”

GETTING EVEN To Tom and little Joey mackerel catching was a novelty, and neither was able to aid very much in the work until after having satisfied his…