#fishbelly

[itsmyfriendisaac]

The Mudge Boy: after the loss of his mother, a socially awkward teenager develops a crush for an overly macho farm boy from around the way. Duncan Mudge’s sudden affection for Perry doesn’t fare well, but he remains sincere in spite of his close-minded rural surroundings!

[originalangster]

So I decided to try fireball because it's, like, the one stupid decision I never made and let me tell you

RIP. OFF.

First they trick you into thinking it's a bargain by charging $1.29 per Itty bitty bottle. Which SEEMS pretty good for a shot of whiskey, until you realize

IT'S NOT WHISKEY

This MALT BEVERAGE- which tastes like the most vile discount fall candle smells- is not only NOT WHISKEY...

16.5% ??! Wine is 12% and potent IPA's can go as high as 14%. Actual whiskey- and all liquor really- is at least 40% alcohol at 80+ proof.

So I guess that's why you can get it at 7/11. Fuck 'em.

[petrodragonicapocalypse]

bitches (me) when they get into a less well-known band and the genius lyrics pages are totally blank so they actually have to think for themselves what the songs might be about

[mielnah]

this girl who has been in a couple of my classes who seems really sweet and smart is ok but in the times we've talked (barely) she's been so fucking rude and idk kind of Phony too

[likeineedanotherholeinmyhead]

Fishbelly 86 Onions

[shadowmaat]

"I'm not racist!"

Articles are coming out about Erika Lee, the original woman behind the "Haitians eating cats" bullshit that has skyrocketed. She's shocked and appalled that her post could make it to the national stage! She never had any evidence for it, she was just repeating a rumor she heard! She's mixed race, herself! She can't possibly be racist! "That was not my intent!"

What I'd like to know is, what was her intent? This wasn't just some flippant post made to her personal page, it was posted to the Springfield Ohio Crime & Information group. She called it a warning. She shared a story she had in no way verified. Hell, it sounds like she didn't even know the neighbor who allegedly lost her cat. AND THEN she expanded on it, including other cats and dogs, and then added that the ducks and geese in the local park were also being butchered and eaten. This particular tidbit, she claimed, was told to her by "Rangers and police." She clearly wanted people to believe her. She clearly wanted them to think that Haitians were an immediate threat to the safety of animals around them. How, in the absolute fuck, is that not racist?

I'm a fishbelly white person, but if I heard a story about Haitians in my neighborhood butchering pets, I wouldn't be running to Facebook to scream how the sky was falling, I'd be calling bullshit and demanding proof. Like, it isn't even a believable lie. It's so incredibly racist and such a bog standard fearmonger of "foreigners" that it boggles the mind. And Erika never questioned it.

Oh, she can wring her hands and cry about how she didn't mean for this to happen, but even if it hadn't gone global, what did she expect? That people would just shake their heads and move on? That no one would call the police or confront any Haitians they saw? Or, y'know, any Black people at all because if they're Black they have to be from Haiti?

"I'm not racist!" Yes. You are. Being biracial isn't a "get out of racism, free!" card. And if my guess is correct and her so-called intent was "just trying to warn" people of what was happening, then fuck her all the way back to the womb that ejected her. That isn't help, it's hate.

Ugh. It's so gross. Can we go back to the couch fucking jokes instead? At least those weren't putting anyone's lives in danger.

[unsoundedcomic]

picturing lemon saying polish swears now (mostly the one) and suddenly he's become a slightly different character to me forever.

My grampa died when I was pretty young. He was diabetic, and my clearest memory of him was when his toes were essentially falling off and he'd sit around half naked in his hot Florida sunroom, all sweaty fishbelly Pollock Squishable, wanting kisses and cuddles from kawaii tiny me. I was terrified of his "monster toes" though, so when I wouldn't get near him he'd wave his mangled black feet at me and bark, like, gówniarz! or something, which my mom says meant little shithead.

He wasn't a bad guy though. My grandma was deathly afraid of cars and never drove a day in her life - quite a feat in Florida! My grampa shuttled her around like a queen. My mom said he also was involved with the local Russian mafia (It's not a coincidence my hometown is named St Petersburg) and did all kinds of shady, ultimately victimless work for them.

He and grandma had two giant tangerine trees in their backyard though, and he sent me out to pick a bunch for breakfast when I was like six or something, and I fell off the ladder and broke my collar bone, so there's that. He got in so much trouble :D

I am flooded with banal memories, and the smell of kinda burnt kolaczki~~

[swifty-fox]

What's the most challenging thing for you to write (genre / type of scene / topic) and what comes the easiest? What about in your art?

I find anything sciencey really challenging to write. its why I'm excited and scared for my sci-fi au because I have to pretend to be smarter than I am haha. I want to go into Gale being smart as fuck but I'm not smart as fuck so idk how to do it.

I find changing scenes really hard too, like how to do it without it seeming rushed or too abrupt.

Easiest for me is internal monologues tbh. I started out my writing doing character studies. I also really love writing gore.

He lashes out, his sword catching the old man's upraised arms. Blood and two fingers streak the floor and the Priest howls in agony. He rolls, pushing himself to his feet, and stumbles down the hallway. Nicky raises his sword again tears across the old man's hip, baring fishbelly-white flesh and raw red meat beneath. His sleep pants fall, leaving his lower half exposed and bloodstained. Father Marcus cries out again, taking another desperate step to hopeless freedom.

Once Nicky would have called the anger righteous fury. The Wrath of God filling his chest and guiding him in holy purpose. Ridding the world of evil men and evil things. Now, Nicky was not so naive. He was not a holy creature. He was, at his core, a violent hateful thing. He was wrath and anger and retribution and there was no salvation for him at the end of this long life. He would damn himself over and over for the good of others but he no longer worshiped for his own salvation. 

That had vanished sure as his mortal life. 

“Never again.” he hisses. The sword lashes out, opening Father Marcus from shoulder to hip.

The priest falls, howling in pain and anger, chest heaving as he sobs. His clothes were dark with blood now, the skin peeling apart from his flayed back like the pages of a book. White bone of his spine peeks through the angry meat and Nicky can feel the spots of blood coating the inside of his nostrils. 

“On your knees Father,” he says. 

^Old Guard fanfic i wrote a few years ago

For art the hardest thing for me is architectural stuff. The straight lines drive me nuts I usually trace or photobash it in. Easiest is nature

[workingforitallthetime]

I know it‘s been a few years but I still occasionally think of ‚ain't like anywhere else‘. You‘ve probably moved on completely… But what did you have in mind for chapter 2? 👀🥺

this ask prompted me to open the google doc for the first time in years, so what the hell, let's exhume some remains and do some self-reflection about why part 2 was never going to work.

(all of the bits that follow are unedited material straight from the draft. i hope i've become a better writer than this over the past three years.)

Here's the opening paragraph:

Trevor was meant to be here. Not like he was born in the wrong place, since he’d never give up his birthright of New York obnoxiousness, but like it was all building to this. It’s never too hot. His body can’t soak up enough sunshine, hair sun-kissed, skin turning a permanent California brown. He’s trying to turn Jamie into a Californian but he’s stubbornly Canadian. Fishbelly white no matter how much time they spend in the sun.

the main reason part 2 didn't work is that there was really no reason for me to write my own take on the jamie/trevor origin story. it's been done, and by better writers than me. i just didn't feel the compulsion to write it, unlike the trevor/cole story, which was all mine.

anyway, the plan was to set up some tzjd undefined hooking up during their first season, and then have them stick around in california for the start of the offseason, and have cole come visit after the habs lost in the stanley cup finals (wow, remember when that happened?)

A week and a half later, there he is, waving at Trevor under the overhang at arrivals. Cole’s the most solid body Trevor knows. Dense, like he’s vacuum-packed down to size. Hugging him is like colliding with a mailbox. He presses his face into Trevor’s neck, quick, and Trevor’s not going to read anything into that. That’s just as high as Cole’s face goes.

cole's expecting trevor to get right back to hooking up with him, and trevor's not going to resist. meanwhile jamie still expects trevor to be hooking up with him. trevor sneaks in and out of bedrooms for an awkward few days. there was going to be a golf scene with cam york rounding out the foursome. i did not write any of this. here is an excerpt from my notes:

Need multiple instances of cole and jamie kind of flirting, or cole flirting with jamie and trevor able to tell that jamie likes it, and trevor’s kind of furious but he can’t say anything about it because he’s hooking up with both of them

eventually cole sees trevor sneaking out of jamie's bedroom and cole and jamie have a little talk and cole is unfazed and jamie's mind is blown. then here is the only bit i actually wrote:

It’s silent for a moment in the main room. Then Cole’s raspy voice says something, too low for Trevor to catch over the grind of the icemaker. He lifts his cup off the lever in time to hear Jamie bark a laugh in response. “Sure, yeah.” Trevor can see the TV from the refrigerator, but not the far side of the couch, where they’re sitting. He sloshes vodka over his ice, adds a splash of the first juice he sees, some pomegranate bullshit Trace left in the fridge, and rounds the corner just in time to see Cole climbing into Jamie’s lap. Kneeling over Jamie and smiling, always fucking smiling, he takes Jamie’s face in his hands and kisses him. “What the fuck?” Trevor says loudly, managing not to drop his drink on the floor. They ignore him so completely it has to be on purpose. Jamie’s eyes are closed, face tilted upward to Cole’s. Cole smiles against Jamie’s lips and rakes a hand backward through his hair, tipping Jamie’s head back so he can press in closer, kiss him deeper. Trevor knows what this is like from every possible angle. Knows what it’s like to have Cole in his lap, his smiling kisses, knows what’s under Jamie’s hands as they smooth down Cole’s back and settle on his ass. Knows what it’s like to get hard against Jamie’s stomach, feel Jamie hard underneath him. It’s like an out of body experience, seeing it all happen in front of him while he’s on the other side of the room. Jamie slips a hand under the hem of Cole’s tank top, and Trevor knows how the smooth muscles of his obliques feel, knows without even being able to see it that Jamie’s working a thumb under Cole’s waistband, rubbing it over his hipbone. He was first. He’s the tallest. And they’re just ignoring him.

i did also have some notes for the dialogue that eventually followed:

“And you could have told me you were banging your roommate now?”

“We’re not banging.”

“Oh, what are you calling it then?”

[] “Whatever you and I were doing.”

“Did Jamie get his dick sucked?”

“No?” Trevor says uncertainly, wriggling a little in Jamie’s lap. He would have sucked Jamie’s dick if he’d thought of it. That should count for something.

Jamie, patiently: “Nobody’s getting his dick sucked.”

“Trevor got his dick sucked and he owes me.”

Jamie tugs at his hair again. “I think he should pay up.”

“You can suck Jamie’s dick after. He did get silver.”

........i mean, maybe i could have made this dynamic work, if i'd gotten it written in that era. but probably not. i was much better served turning my attention to umich.

[rogha]

its kind of wild but there's this lady who always orders fabric from my spoonflower and I knew she had like, a business, but I've never seen my fabric on her site before now - lots of her designs are instore exclusives, so i figured mine were like that - but today when i checked it there they were!

they're little microwavable guys called fishbellies to use as heat pads and they have my silly little lobster drawing on them. that's crazy. these are just in people's homes probably.

[leiflitter]

Had Felix asked, Oliver would have eaten him. Not even metaphorically. He'd have carefully researched butchery, made sure he wouldn't waste a morsel, prepare freezers and even backup generators so he could be sure he'd do it right. His need for Felix to be with him would be set aside, if that was what Felix wanted. He'd buy expensive knives and sharpen them meticulously by hand. Slit his throat and kiss him goodbye until he was cold and fishbelly white. 

Get the hose, they're fuckin' weird-style again.

[rhobi]

oh you wanna go to an aquarium? you wanna go to an aquarium? monteray bay? oh you'd LOVE to go to monteray bay wouldn't you? well, my fishbelly white midwestern friend you can't go to monteray bay because you need a plane for that so all you get is the mall of america or shedd, and you know the mall of america aquarium is kinda lame so take your pick

[writingcaterpillar]

a silverfish thought 🥰

This is Namor of Earth-616. He's canonically been mistaken for/said to resemble a man of Japanese descent. He's very pretty.

This is Namor of Earth-4400, appearing in Exiles Vol. 1 Issue #44. He's half or wholly Lemurian. He's green!

This is Namor of Earth-6706, appearing in New Exiles Vol. 1 Issue #2. His human father was a Wakandan King, possibly T'Chaka.

This is Namor of Earth-9105, appearing in New Warriors Vol. 1 Issue #11. He's fully Atlantean. He's blue!

This is Namor of Earth-10011, appearing in Thanos Imperative Vol. 1 Issue #1. He's been corrupted by an eldritch abomination into a more fish-like fishman. He's gray!

This is K'uk'lkan of Talokan/Namor of Earth-1999999 (aka the MCU). His people are of Mayan descent.

This is Namor from Sub-Mariner: The Depths. He's a fishbelly-pale deep sea aquatic horrorterror. I love him!

This is Pietro Maximoff of Earth-616. He's a beautiful mess a bisexual disaster a catty little bitch MY FAVORITE.

I just think Pietro should be tied up and forced to taste the rainbow of fishman dicks. 🥰 I think that would be good for him! Therapeutic even.

[pontevoix]

todo rolls his neck. the ceiling of the cave feels as though it's creeping closer to collapse. sunlight suffocates itself, & mostly? water soaks through the cloth of his shoes.

so far, todo has tread along rocks shallowly coated in water.

so far comes to an end. a rock rolls beneath his step, & his foot sinks into a pool of water. cold grips at the cotton of his pants. it's a personal slight, but it mostly feels like a shared joke or a compromise.

the silver of a dead fishbelly floats to the surface. todo eyes its shine & eyes his sodden leg. todo nods.

to himself, he nods.

todo doesn't shake his leg of water.

he entered the cave alone in pursuit of a broken oar that had eaten a curse. cursed life, cursed energy.

still:

now he feels another life in the cave. the ceiling of the cave feels as though it's creeping closer to collapse. todo thinks of the dead fishbelly. water soaks through the cloth of his shoes.

' i've got one question. ' his voice almost echoes.

start | @devilspring

[follyglass]

Follyglass : Apricot

Beware leaving your orderly village for the wild, though your bed has become dreary and your food gray. Beware open windows that blow sweet breezes into your home from the lands beyond.

But if you must go, pack a satchel. You’ve heard the tales of those who’ve passed beyond the village gates before, and even though the tales were whimsical (Johnny Split-tongue, Anna and the Three Witches being so popular that they are sung at the pub), there is no comfort to be wrung from them. Everyone knows that those who travel into the wild must bring food and water and warm clothing and light with them. In the village you can buy what you lack, but coin serves no purpose out in the wild, and it isn’t wise to owe a debt to someone who lives beyond the village.

Stay with what you know.

If the call is too great, and you’ve managed to pass beyond the village gates without all of the needed things, they will be offered to you from the denizens of the wild. They approach at the trail crossings with bright eyes and eager fingers and kind smiles, pushing honey-pearled apricots towards your palms and soft-spoken assurances at your face. ‘Hello, you look hungry. I give this to you freely. Eat. Eat.’ The apricots are more golden than anything you’ve ever seen and you wonder at how such a bright thing can just be given to a stranger. Temptation might take hold. Be firm, but polite with your refusals of these fine gifts. Horrors will lie on your tongue if you eat the proffered food.

Yes, you’ve heard of the cunning twist ways of those that live in the wild. They will take your soul. Or just parts of your body, though it is often agreed that a fingertip is a better bargain than your soul. The children’s tales were amusing and jangly sing-song and never fully conveyed the danger. What danger could be accompanied by rhyme?

The danger is real.

Though they are exceedingly rare, monsters do traverse the wilderness. They look very much like the villagers.

They’ve heard the stories, and sung the rhymes themselves, and still when the monsters find themselves in possession of an empty stomach and weakening legs, they desperately gobbled their palm full of apricots and thought to themselves ‘how sweet, how lovely, nothing has ever tasted better.’

It’s only an hour later when the fruits lay in their bellies that the apricots begin to curdle acidly; the poison of amusingly spangled childhood rhymes that has accumulated in their mind and drifts towards a warm belly and wraps itself around the honey-pearled apricots, tightening like threads of steel and turning the gifts from the wild people into a madness.

The monster’s heart tightens. His belly sours. He feels that there is something wrong, something is surely now eating at his bones. His previously grateful attitude has turned and he wonders how he was so stupid to have not only taken the fruit… but to have eaten it, too! As he spins away from the wild and makes a desperate dash home, the horrors begin to rise from his belly and strangle at his throat and begin to form on his tongue.

Horrors will lie on your tongue.

It’s only when he is fishbelly-pale and fear-weakened but back in the safety of his orderly village that he declares – he lies – he has been poisoned and the wild people are indeed cruel and mad. The rest of the village nods in agreement with him. It was a truth taught in spangly rhyme, after all. They lock the gates repeating to each other that it is much safer in the village. The songs of Johnny Split-Tongue and Anna and the Three Witches are taught again, as well as the Wolf of Sweets and the Bitter Vine Horror.

Razing parties are sent out to salt the wild. And when salt won’t do, flame will make quick work of the wilderness. There will be nothing beyond the village but rock and shriveled root.

But those in the wild know the truth… it was only ever a pearled-honey apricot given to someone in need. They wonder at the kind of powerful alchemy that the villagers possess to turn a humble kindness into the snake of flame that approaches the wild.

[nohkalikai]

∞ hope u are having a good day/night <3

i have ZERO clue of what this song means honestly, but i enjoy this song by the same band (and this band also in general) very much. very few lyrics in 6 mins, but certified banger sentences packed in there:

'go find you a girl to steal all your money

go find a boy to rob all your health

no onions, happiness, bontemps, or wealth'

---

put a "∞" in my ask box and I'll shuffle my music player and give you my favorite lyric from the song that comes up.