A Fishing Guide for Beginners
Are you new to fishing? Unaware of where to purchase your fishing gear, with no experience or resources to get started with the activity? Well, worry no more as it is simpler than it looks.
Fishing in an entirely exciting experience. First, you need to identify the fish types available and the regulations for catching, keeping and releasing fish in your preferred area.
How to Get Started
To simplify the activity, here are the basics for your first time fishing adventure.
Some of the gear you will need include:
A fishing pole (preferably a suitable style for the fishing type you will be doing),
Spinning rods and reels,
A fishing line, hooks (however, remember that the larger the fish, the longer the hook needed),
Fishing lures (it is recommended to have some of these even if you will be using live baits),
Bobbers or sinkers and a tackle box with some ice for storage.
You also need to grasp a few of the fishing terms like:
Saltwater fishing grounds: these are areas with high salinity content such as oceans.
Freshwaters: these include all freshwater sources such as rivers, lakes, streams, and ponds.
Pound Test: the strength of your fishing line. However, for the first time experience, it is recommended to hire a professional to guide you in the actual encounter as well as to show you some of the best local fishing spots.
Learn to Fish
1. How to fish with a bait
Tackle: Lead weights are the best for plunking the baits. Despite, you should change them depending on the current of the environment. Anglers can be used together with a swivel to prevent the sinkers from drowning. Besides, you can use plastic beads between the swivel and the weight from sliding or use two appropriate casters and rig the sliding sinkers.
Bait: Worms and chicken liver are the most commonly used fishing baits. Nonetheless, it is essential to purchase fresh baits and keep them cold to prevent them from softening and slipping off the hooks. Some other commonly used baits include; a fried chicken skin, grasshoppers, fish entrails, shrimps, salmon eggs, and crayfish tails.
2. Fishing methods
Plunking: It is the most common method; however, you are required to hold your bait in a position contrary to the direction of the current. A suitable amount of weight is ideal for this approach. Or rather, allow a minimum weight for the bait to move along with the flow.
Back bouncing: This is done by freeing the reel or spool to move with the current. Back bouncing is efficient in deeper water fishing.
Drift-fishing: For this method, you should estimate the appropriate depth, then start reeling. It is relatively easier than the other ways depending on the current's strength.
3. Fishing from a boat
For this method, you need denser jig heads in deep water fishing as compared to the coastal fisheries.
Conclusion
Finally, do not speculate on problems; instead, use the above simple tips for your first time fishing adventure, and it will be memorable. Remember, fishing is easy so long as you’re enjoying the activity; therefore, ensure to bring a friend with you or a family member to keep you company while you learn.
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Dorian and Bull truly Just Make Sense bc Bull has his whole thing about being what other people need (making himself what other people need) and he's adaptable, but the flip side of that is he is SO adaptable and like ready to mold his very sense of self down to a core level to what he perceives of as "needed" from him. He's very good, to a fault I'd even dare say, at perceiving and then, like... reflecting that back. It's what makes him moldable, it's what makes him personable, it's what makes him a good spy, it's what makes re-education work on him.
Which isn't to say he ISN'T without a sense of self - when one puts oneself in a single shape for very long, even the most "reshapeable" thing will find that it's started taking on and internalizing that familiar shape. But it's something that he, necessarily, tells himself he's not susceptible to, that he still remains moldable and biding as the Qun demands.
But anyway, on the flip side, Dorian left Tevinter because he so very much could not help but be himself, be true to himself, on such a deep and therefore outwardly-projected level, that he couldn't tolerate the concept of compromising his sense of self. He's obviously still flexible and open to learning and changing, as well as to insecurities and doubts, but he has a rock-solid foundation of self to both stand on and fall back on.
Like Bull as a love interest could possibly fall into his same patterns, of where he's trying to be what he thinks the other person needs, which I think also often ends up being not just a complement of the person, but also in some ways a mirror of the person. Depending on the person, this might even be to Bull's detriment as he could let the person's needs subsume his own. Which isn't to say it would all be fake/wouldn't be "real"; just that... maybe like oobleck, without an application of some sort of external force, The Iron Bull might too easily let the strands of his internal sense of self melt away like the tides through one's fingers.
But for Dorian, he has no need of someone who will just tell him what he wants to hear, or is primarily interested in someone who will be/become what they think he wants; he probably could have gotten plenty of that back home, and it probably would have been a main strategy of getting close to him, even.
I feel like a love interest to Dorian almost demands a strong sense of self in return, who will challenge him and complement him in a more active way than a particularly flattering mirror would. This after all is the man who refused to do what was expected of him because it wouldn't be true to his Self. I feel like it's almost a sort of gotcha moment for Bull, because what Dorian both wants and needs, is something and someone absolutely indisputably *real* and solid, and it's like, in perhaps subconsciously or habitually adapting himself to what he thinks the other person needs, he would actually have to solidify his own sense of self to meet Dorian's needs.
And the crazy thing about it to me is like, it's not even something Dorian would ask of Bull, I don't think. It may not even be something they would be actively aware of or point out of each other or to each other. It's like, a function of who they are as people, which so happens to complement each other in such a profound way that both works for each others' core character on such a fundamental level and also like speaks to their character journeys so perfectly. Wild.
Anyway, lol, this shit's crazy lmao, and drives me crazy and lovesick.
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April Prompts Combo! #2 Rainstorm and #8 Window
Ok so I am rocking up late late late with this April Prompt so I combined #2 Rainstorm and #8 Window into a double ficlet! (and yes I’m STILL late, I know I know!)
Billy's been living in Hopper's old trailer for just over a month now.
And he knows he should be grateful for it. And he is, he is.
Pathetically grateful, really, for the place and the way the kids all banded together and sorted the place out. For him. Got it all patched back up, cleaned and tidied and mostly ship-shape.
Cosy, even, especially after Mrs Byers came by to pick them up and handed Billy a whole damn laundry hamper filled with crocheted blankets and a stack of plump cushions and a pair of slightly frayed yellow curtains that, when he hung them at the kitchen window, gave the whole place a soft, sunshiney air.
And, at the time, Billy had really appreciated just how far away from town he is now. He likes the fact that he's kind of hidden away, out of sight out of mind. He really likes the view of the lake and the noise it makes, the wind on the water sounding almost like the waves on the beaches back home.
But sometimes, like tonight, he really fucking wishes he wasn't so alone.
Because there's been a storm threatening to rage since the mid afternoon, and Billy's been on edge the whole time just waiting. Been sitting tensed on the couch, hands balled into fists, feeling the crackle of static in the air, damn near smelling the electricity, and he's known it was coming, he knew it, but knowing did nothing to help prepare him for the first flash of lightning or the crack of thunder, and all of a sudden he's thrown right back to that night in the mall, the one with lights flickering and fireworks exploding and fear and pain and I don't know what's happening but I know I'm going to die and I'm so scared and I’m so sorry.
So Billy had hurled himself away from the windows on that first flash, shoved himself into a little gap between the fridge and the wall and he's still there now hours later, huddled with his head between his knees and his hands screwed up against his ears but he can still hear it.
Them.
The screams.
The cries.
The begging.
The voice in his head.
Max's voice over and over again. Her sobs.
The way she called for him.
Over and over.
"Billy! Billy!"
"Billy!"
Billy's head jolts up at that,
It's a voice. A real one. Not a scream of panic in his head, or his own cry of fear or desperation. Just a voice. Familiar. Comforting. A little frantic but without a single trace of anger, "C'mon, dude, lemme in!"
There's more banging. And it doesn't fit the pattern, doesn't fit the roll of thunder or the thumping of his heart or the bang of those fireworks that sound so so real.
Someone's outside knocking on his door.
Steve. Steve is outside knocking on his door.
Billy can't. Can't move. Can't talk. Can't believe it. Just…can't. It's in his head. All in his head. Has to be.
"Billy!" The handle of the door rattles, the chain of the bolt clanking against the wood, and something about the need in Steve's tone is enough to shake Billy out of his panic.
Because Steve's here. And it's not entirely unprecedented, Steve being here. Steve was there from the start, coming in at the tail end of the kids' DIY attempts and fumbling his way through fixing up some of the bigger jobs they'd attempted, and he's been there afterwards too, dropping round occasionally with items that he claimed his Mom was throwing out, but which just so happened to be the very things that Billy needed, a set of gleaming pots and pans after Billy found a whole mouse family nesting in his; a bedside lamp with a chintzy floral shade after Billy accidentally sent his old one flying across the room in the throes of a particularly violent nightmare; and, most recently, a chunky boombox with a whole box full of tapes, some so new that they still had the cellophane on but a couple that were clearly older. Well-played and well-loved, and the ones that Billy found himself coming back to them over and over.
He wishes he'd thought to stick one on before. Maybe he could've drowned out the storm with ELO or Queen or something.
The lightning flashes again, illuminating the room through the thin, yellow gingham and Billy wants to hide again, wants to press himself against the wall and hide from it all.
But Steve's here. Steve's out there, in the worst of it. Steve came and he's here and all Billy needs to do is open the door, just open that fucking door that he locked tight and shut with a set of extra deadbolts. He just needs to open it up and let Steve in.
He can do that. For Steve, he can do that.
So he does.
He forces himself to uncurl, standing on trembling legs and he holds it together long enough to walk the few steps to the door and wrench it open.
And Steve's there. Not a figment. Not an illusion. The real Steve Harrington, his crest of hair falling wetly in his face, his brightly coloured windbreaker absolutely soaked through, his shoes squeaking on the slippery steps.
But he's smiling. And it's a full bright sunshine kind, big enough that Billy forgets about the storm outside and the fear churning in his gut and he even manages to smile back, a little watery, as he opens the door and asks,
"What the hell you even doing out here, Harrington?"
"I…I was just passing by," Steve tries, but there's a sheepish look on his face like he knows it's not gonna fly. No one's ever 'just passing by' this place, that's the whole point. So Billy fixes him with as stern a look as he can muster with his snotty face and red-rimmed eyes, and Steve's expression turns serious as he says, "El."
It's enough of an explanation. Since whatever the hell happened between him and Max's psychic little best friend, the two of them have had some kind of connection. He's not surprised that she sensed his freakout from wherever she was. Part of him is relieved that someone was looking out for him. That's he's not as isolated out here as he thought.
Most of him, though? Most of him is burning with shame.
He can picture it now, El seeing him at his most broken and relaying it all to Steve, then Steve grumbling and grousing as he peels himself out of his bed and trudges into the torrential rain to come play babysitter while Billy cries like a pussy in the corner over a little bit of thunder.
It's enough to have him damn near slamming the door right in Steve's face.
"I'm fine-" Billy starts, but then there's another flash and, within a split second of it, a crack of thunder so loud that it seems to rattle the walls of the trailer. and whatever embarrassment Billy was feeling, that nauseating swirl of humiliation and the desire to stay strong in front of Steve, it all fades in the face of his fear as his stomach drops, and his knees give way and he falls to the floor, arms wrapping around his head, trying desperately to muffle the pathetic keening noise he knows he's letting out.
There's a moment where there's nothing but his whimpers in the quiet of the trailer, and then Billy hears the sound of footsteps moving away.
And he doesn't blame Steve for leaving, he'll he's glad that he did.
He is.
OK, so it hurts and he wishes like hell he could've been better, could've been less fucked up so maybe Steve would've stuck around a little longer.
But he's glad. Because this is the best way. Out of sight, out of mind. He doesn't need Steve fussing over him.
So Billy squeezes his eyes shut. Swallows down past the ache in his throat and the gnawing emptiness in his heart.
Because this is better.
But then there's a sound. A click and a whirr and then the trailer fills with a familiar song, already part way through playing,
I get a strange magic,
Oh, what a strange magic
Just as Billy tunes in enough to recognise it, there's a warm, reassuring weight all around him, something soft being draped over his shoulders and Billy reaches out for it instinctively, grabbing at the thick, crocheted blanket and wrapping it around his shoulders.
When he looks up, Steve is still there, kneeling in front of him with one hand raised, palm up, in an invitation.
"You wanna watch?"
"Huh?" Billy's tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and his brain is still lost in the sheer fact that Steve is here. Still here. He stayed.
"The storm," Steve clarifies, "I know…you, you, you don't…it's not…it's a lot like-" Steve waves a hand in the air, grasping for gestures when the words fail him and then waving over towards the window, "But it actually looks kinda cool, especially out over the lake."
Billy shakes his head, a tiny movement, but Steve keeps his hand out anyway.
"It might help," he suggests, "Might make you see, I dunno, see what it is. That's it's not…not what you're thinking. What you're seeing in there." He taps on Billy's forehead with a gentle finger, then puts his hand back out, patiently waiting. "Promise you, man, it's gnarly."
He grins after the last word, all dorky and pleased with himself, and Billy can't help but snort out a laugh at the awful surfer boy impression Steve had been attempting.
He's trying. Billy realises suddenly, He's trying to help.
So he keeps one hand firmly on the blanket around his shoulders, fingers clutching through the open knit, but he places the other in Steve's, not missing the way Steve's smile turns soft the moment their fingers make contact.
"OK." It's all Billy can manage.
It's enough. It's all Steve needs to haul him up and tug him over to the window, flinging open the yellow gingham and getting them both next to the glass just in time to catch the next flash.
And it's still a lot. Still has Billy's heart in his throat and his stomach twisting, but he doesn't move away. Doesn't want to.
Because Steve's right. It is cool, the way the whole landscape is illuminated, just for that second and how the light dances in jagged flashes across the sky, reflected in the glassy waters below. How it's so big. So powerful. So immense.
Kinda beautiful.
He says as much to Steve. And Steve nods. Smiles again, that soft smile. Warm and fond and all directed at Billy.
And Billy's heart flips even further into his throat. Because his hand is still clasped in Steve's and when the thunder rumbles loudly, just moments later, Steve's thumb starts stroking gentle, soothing circles around Billy's knuckles, over and over until the sound fades, and even when it all stops, when it's silent again, Steve keeps hold of Billy's hand, their fingers entwined all tight like he really doesn't want to let go.
So Billy doesn't let go either.
There's another flash. But this time all that Billy sees of it is the light flitting over Steve's face, making his eyes shine and his skin seem to glow, just for a moment. Because Steve's not watching the storm either. He's staring right at Billy.
And Billy feels it again, that thrum of electricity in the air. But it's not so scary now. Not when he thinks Steve is feeling it too.
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