#Angling Tips
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fishpro4u · 1 year ago
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Fly Fishing Equipment Innovations for 2024
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ricardoreview · 2 years ago
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Can Fishing Line Go Bad? A Comprehensive Guide to Maintain and Save Money Buying Fishing Line
As an avid angler, you may have wondered, “Can fishing line go bad?” In this comprehensive guide, we will explore the factors that can lead to the deterioration of fishing lines and provide essential tips for maintaining them in optimal condition. Whether you use monofilament, fluorocarbon, braided, or copolymer lines, this article will equip you with valuable insights to enhance your fishing…
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ihatebrainstorm · 2 years ago
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[Luggage]
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(By roller suitcase, I mean one of these luggage cases that you can ride on!)
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Sure Brainstorm could just theoretically fly around the ship in his altmode, but where's the fun in that???
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whoredersupreme · 3 months ago
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art is an explosion
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parisoonic · 2 years ago
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boring floating head
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razzafrazzle · 2 years ago
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a woman is an animal
[image description: a page of drawings of fionna campbell from adventure time on a lime green background. in this, fionna is drawn fat with jean shorts, ankle socks and boots, and visible body hair on her legs and arms. on the left is a fully rendered drawing of fionna cheering and running with a determined look on her face. to the left are various simple doodles of fionna, including her sitting on the ground with her arms wrapped around her knees and the caption "the Beast", her looking shocked, and various incredibly simplified blob-like fionnas. the drawing is also littered with small drawings of stars. end id]
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Roy!!
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astonishing-pryde · 5 months ago
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Love all locked tomb fanart but when people make Palamedes too hot?! No. That man needs to look like a starved rat. Some real Paul Dano or Dane Deehan shit.
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tutorialdrawix · 7 months ago
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Character Design Reviews with notes of improvement
Daniel Fernández Casas aka @hebrocharacterdesign (GHP) -Give his permission-
Portfolio || Instagram
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fishpro4u · 1 year ago
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Unveiling the Allure of Bahamas Charter Fishing: Your Ultimate Guide to Angling Bliss
Photo by Mikhail Nilov on Pexels.com The turquoise waters of the Bahamas beckon, promising not just a fishing trip but an adventure of a lifetime. \In this guide, we’ll navigate the ins and outs of Bahamas charter fishing, uncovering the treasures that await anglers in this tropical paradise. Benefits of Bahamas Charter Fishing Embarking on a Bahamas charter fishing trip opens doors to a host…
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oneheadtoanother · 27 days ago
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They call it the Switch 2 because when you see it you turn 2 degrees and walk away
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leclercskiesahead · 6 months ago
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Podium celebrations alt angle
from gqmexico
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milkweedman · 10 months ago
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One thing I've learnt since bringing my fragile wooden spindles to work (really it's only the tip that is fragile) is that you can whittle with just about anything.
Such as office scissors.
Another thing I've learnt is that most people are not very thrilled to see someone whittling a stick with scissors in a hospital.
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cornflowersandspoons · 1 year ago
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A kunisig hug, becouse they are my precious, fluffy comfort babies, and they deserve happiness. ☺️
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+ sketch
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Should I be drawing costume designs for my diploma? Absolutely. But I'm kinda fed up with the whole thing, I've been literally working on that thing day and night for the past months, and I'm very sleep deprived and the work just doesn't wanna end, and I missed drawing fanart so bad!!! So I did. And it was worth it, couse now I feel better. 😊
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canisalbus · 2 years ago
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I love the shape language for Machete and Vasco, how angular and pointy the former is VS how round and soft the other... It's so GOOD I adore that
Thank you! I like the contrast as well, it makes them very fun to draw together. I try to keep them visually distinct while still making sure that they look harmonious and complementary next to each other.
#some more design musings that I've noticed that don't really matter but I tend to think about when drawing them:#Machete's shapes have an upward direction the ears the neck fluff and even the tip of his snout has that upturned angle#while Vasco's vibe is more loose and relaxed his huge floppy ears almost make him look like he's melting#neither of them have strong markings but the positioning of the gradients they have is very similar it's just different colors#Vasco has dark almond eyes (with what I can only describe as disney eyelashes)#his irises appear nearly black but if you shone a strong light directly on them they'd reveal a honey/amber hue#Machete's eyes are big and prominent with disproportionally small pupils#lately I've been drawing him with just the faintest salmon colored irises#but if the color scheme of the piece calls for it they can be depicted more vividly red#Machete has longer untameable fur here and there while Vasco is uniformly smooth and velvety#Machete is supposed to be the serious and inhibited half of the two but his face has a lot more expressive potential than Vasco's#it's actually kind of a struggle that I can't make Vasco emote with his ears at all those are typically a huge advantage in furry art#Vasco's body language is open and casual he takes up space confidently#Machete is usually very closed and defensive he has a habit of crossing his arms and legs and keeping his hands together and close to body#in general Vasco shouldn't be wearing anything black or red and Machete can't be seen wearing blue or gold#white is neutral territory it's usually the color of sleepwear and undershirts and as a result has a more intimate tone to it#answered#ardate
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still-breathing-au-p3r · 10 months ago
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At first Minato thinks the sound he hears is his eardrums popping, but a moment later he realizes that it came from a distance– a distance they’re closing as they sprint onward, in fact.
In front of him, Sanada stops short. “What–?” Minato can barely hear him. “Dammit… Both of you, hang on!” He takes off again, not even short of breath. 
Minato is almost jealous. Despite all of his time spent with the track team, he feels dizzy and ready to collapse by the time the alleyway behind Port Island Station comes into view. Every breath might as well be filling his lungs with tar instead of air.
The shadows in the alley sharpen and focus into human shapes– not two, but three of them: one sprawled on the ground; one standing as tall as it can; the third looming over them both, arm extended towards the smallest figure, taking aim–
“Takaya!” Minato’s voice sounds foreign in his own ears. He wouldn’t have guessed he’d be able to speak at all, much less shout.
Everything happens all at once after that.
Takaya’s whole body jerks towards Minato’s voice. 
The shape on the ground lunges up and forward, taking the smaller figure crashing back down with it.
The gun goes off with a sound like–
Like a gunshot.
It isn't a clap of thunder. It's not at all like the crack of a whip. 
There is no metaphor that can soften the truth. 
The noise that tears open the silence of the Dark Hour is a gun being fired: a spark igniting powder propelling a bullet at shattering speeds towards the soft, vulnerable bodies of his friends.
Speckles of something dark and reflective fan through the air, glittering obscenely where they catch the light of the moon. Takaya almost seems to glow under that sickly light; pale skin and hair and eyes and shining silver gun gleaming ghost-bright in the murk of the alley, in stark contrast to the dark shapes huddled on the ground.
He meets Minato's eyes briefly. His expression is openly astonished for less than a moment before it shifts to fury, then is immediately papered over with a mask of calm indifference. He says something, but Minato is still too far away to hear. The Dark Hour swallows him up faster than Minato would have assumed possible.
He isn't terribly preoccupied with Takaya's Houdini act at the moment though, because–
"Shinji–!"
Aragaki lies prone on the pavement with Amada pinned underneath, whose breath is coming in shallow, panicked gasps, his face pale under dark splotches of blood. The bullet intended for Amada has shredded Aragaki’s right shoulder into a confusion of gore and torn wool and glimpses of pinkish-white that Minato tries not to think too hard about.
“Hang in there, Shinji!” Sanada hauls him off of Amada and onto his back, revealing another wound in his gut, a black well of blood. More of it dribbles sluggishly from the corner of his mouth. Aragaki doesn’t cry out in pain as Sanada and Mitsuru rearrange him in their hold, lifting him off of the cold concrete and supporting his head. He hardly makes any noise at all.
Minato feels like his ears have been jammed full of cotton. He can tell people are talking, but he can no longer pick out any voices or words. His vision tunnels, phantom colors chewing at the edges. 
He stands there and watches as Yukari frantically tears out of her jacket and hands it off to Mitsuru, who packs it hard against Aragaki’s ruined shoulder. 
He stands there and watches as Junpei unties his own jacket from around his waist and uses it to dab gingerly at the side of Amada’s face– it’s only now that Minato realizes that not all of the blood that Amada is wearing is Aragaki’s. The shape of Amada’s left ear is all wrong, like some of it is just missing, but Minato only catches a brief glimpse before Junpei presses the jacket over the injury and holds it there, hiding it from sight.
Yukari tries to summon her persona. Io flickers above her like a mirage for less than a second before vanishing. She pulls the trigger again, but the result is the same. She pulls the trigger again and again and again, face contorted and body heaving with sobs that Minato can’t hear. Io stops appearing at all. He stands there and watches.
It’s no use. They’re too far from Tartarus or any powerful shadow that could be harboring a piece of its influence. They’re too close to the end of the Dark Hour. Minato has two personas that can cast Recarm, but they wouldn’t be of any use even if he could draw his evoker, if he could move at all.
He stands there. And he watches.
Aragaki is saying something to Amada, and Amada answers through his sobs. Their mouths are moving, but Minato still can't hear. Why can’t he hear anything? Why does it feel like his mind is clouded over in static? 
Something jabs hard into his side and suddenly Minato’s ears work again, like a loose wire has been jarred back into place.
“--ato! Minato! Hey, are you listening?!” He blinks, dumbfounded, and turns to the source of the voice. Junpei is staring at him. Minato has no idea what he’d call the expression Junpei is making at him, but it’s not one he’s ever seen him wear before. “Give Sanada-san your coat, man! We need to stop the bleeding!” 
Even though he can hear again, it still takes him far too long to actually comprehend what’s being said. Junpei starts to repeat himself before it finally clicks and Minato shucks his jacket and hands it over. Junpei passes it off to Sanada, and Sanada presses it against the hole in Aragaki’s stomach. Aragaki doesn’t even flinch, just looks over at Koromaru gently nudging his hand. He pets him weakly. It’s probably the most movement he can manage.
“Just a few minutes–” Fuuka says, nearly hysterical. “The Dark Hour ends in a few minutes. As soon as it does, I-I’ll call an ambulance!” 
“Did you hear that, Shinji?” With the hand that isn’t leaning on the makeshift bandage, Sanada grabs Aragaki’s, gripping tight. Aragaki grips back, much weaker. “Just hold on for a bit longer!” 
“Aki…”  Aragaki’s voice is quiet and thready, but everyone falls silent at the sound of it. “Take care of him…” He slowly inclines his head towards Amada. 
“Don’t talk like you won’t be around!” Sanada says through gritted teeth.
“Pr…promise me, Aki.” 
Sanada’s breath hitches and he bites his lip against it. “…Alright. Alright, I– I will. I promise I will.” 
Aragaki smiles and Minato’s heart lurches. It’s sad. It’s final. 
It’s relieved. 
Aragaki is smiling like a weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders. He looks so content that Minato almost envies him. “This is…how it should be…” he sighs.
He slumps in Mitsuru and Sanada’s arms. Minato’s ears ring. There is a chorus of strangled cries from his teammates. 
Amada chokes like he’s been stabbed. “No–! H-he can’t–!”
“Is he–?” Junpei’s voice shakes.
“He’s alive,” Sanada gasps, still clutching Aragaki’s hand. “He’s still breathing–”
“I can feel his pulse,” Mitsuru affirms, pressing two fingers gently to Aragaki’s neck. “It’s weak, but it’s there. He’s only passed out, but unless he gets medical attention soon…” She can’t even finish her sentence, but she doesn’t need to. The implication is heavy enough. 
“Still breathing,” Sanada murmurs to himself. “He’s still breathing–” He says it again and again, as though he can force the words to remain true through sheer repetition.
Without fanfare, the green glow of the Dark Hour vanishes. The murky clouds that had blotted out the stars disappear and the moon returns to its normal size. 
“Yamagishi!”  Mitsuru exclaims.
“R-right!” Fuuka is already dialing. Her voice is strained and thin but steady as she relays the necessary details, and the person on the other end of the line thankfully seems to understand. It isn’t until she closes her phone that Fuuka allows a choked sob to escape. “Th…they’re on the way,” she says, her voice breaking. 
All they can do now is wait. Nobody speaks. Most of the team crowds around Aragaki, if nothing else to assure themselves that he’s still alive. Only Amada stays off to the side, until Junpei breaks away to crouch next to him and speak quietly. 
And Minato. He’s frozen in place, staring at the battered body of a man he’s come to greatly respect as the life slowly leaves him. His eyes burn, but it doesn’t feel like the sting of tears. They don’t feel wet at all. Has he been blinking? 
A hand rests on his shoulder. “Minato-san,” Aigis says, her vocals strangely gentle. How does she feel about all of this, Minato briefly wonders. “Are you alright?” 
“...No,” he answers, voice barely audible even to himself. Minato hasn’t felt like this since… not since Back Then. Not since the bridge, and the car.
Aigis’ face remains as impassive as always, but somehow she still looks sadder than she ever has. Sadder than Minato thought she was capable of. “I am here if you need me.” The compassion in her voice feels like a brick thrown against his chest.
It’s only a few minutes until they hear sirens, but it’s the most agonizing few minutes of their lives. Even in Tartarus, where a minute can stretch like taffy, time has never seemed to creep by so slowly.
A group of punks has started to gather, trying to gawk at the sprawled figure hidden within the protective ring formed by his teammates. They scatter as soon as the ambulance pulls up, stopping right next to the huddle. Four paramedics pour out and swarm around the injured parties as fast as they can. Two police cars arrive moments later. Officer Kurosawa steps out of one of them.
The alley is filled with disorienting pulses of red and blue light. Minato almost misses the sickly haze of the Dark Hour.
There’s a whirlwind of voices– explanations and questions and medical jargon– but Minato absorbs none of it. He just watches (again– again, he just watches, and does nothing) as three of the first responders transfer Aragaki onto a stretcher and load him into the ambulance. The fourth gently guides Amada inside as well. 
Everyone wants to go with them, but there’s only enough spare room for one more person. Minato isn’t surprised when Sanada insists it be him. Nobody argues, and the ambulance takes off the moment Sanada is inside. 
The last train has already left the station, so the rest of them will have to find another way to the hospital. And they will. They have to.
None of them can bear the idea of doing anything less.
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