#Angler T-Shirt

[noisycowboyglitter]

Fishing with Bobbers: Show Me Your Bobbers for a Day of Fun on the Water

"Show Me Your Bobbers" is a unique phrase that has gained popularity in the fishing community. It typically refers to the small floating devices, known as bobbers or floats, that are used in various angling techniques to indicate when a fish has taken the bait.

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The phrase suggests an invitation to share or display one's fishing setup, particularly the bobbers or floats being used. This can be a lighthearted way for anglers to connect, compare techniques, and learn from one another's experiences.

The appeal of "Show Me Your Bobbers" lies in the shared passion for the sport of fishing. Anglers take pride in their equipment, tactics, and the ability to effectively present their bait to the fish. By sharing their bobber setups, they can showcase their skills, troubleshoot any issues, and potentially discover new approaches that may improve their fishing success.

Beyond the literal meaning, the phrase can also be seen as a metaphor for the broader fishing experience. It encourages anglers to be open and transparent, to share their knowledge and techniques, and to learn from one another. This collaborative spirit helps foster a

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sense of community within the fishing world, where anglers can support and inspire each other.

Overall, "Show Me Your Bobbers" is a fun and engaging way for anglers to connect, share their passion, and potentially pick up new tips and tricks to enhance their time on the water.

"Fish Catching Fishermen" is a term that encapsulates the skilled and experienced anglers who have a knack for consistently catching fish. These individuals have honed their techniques, developed a deep understanding of fish behavior and habitat, and possess an uncanny ability to outsmart their aquatic targets.

The "Fish Catching Fishermen" are often revered within the angling community for their expertise and impressive catch rates. They may employ a variety of methods, from traditional bait fishing to more advanced techniques like fly fishing or lure presentations, all while demonstrating a keen eye for spotting subtle signs and patterns that lead them to productive fishing spots.

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These anglers serve as sources of inspiration and mentorship for fellow fishermen, sharing their knowledge and helping others to improve their own skills and success on the water. Their ability to consistently land fish is a testament to their dedication, patience, and deep connection with the natural world.

Gifts for saltwater fishermen can encompass a wide range of products and accessories tailored to their unique needs and passions. From specialized fishing tackle and gear to apparel and equipment designed for the marine environment, these gifts cater to the saltwater angler's specific requirements.

Popular options include high-quality rods, reels, and lures optimized for offshore or coastal fishing, as well as tools like pliers, knives, and tackle organizers. Weatherproof clothing, polarized sunglasses, and marine-grade electronics can also make thoughtful gifts that enhance the saltwater fishing experience. By understanding the

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unique challenges and preferences of the saltwater fisherman, these gifts can be both practical and meaningful.

[shirtcreekink]

'FISH DADDY' (BASS FISHING)

[doppodtop]

This amazing fish with its protruding teeth, frightened me when I was very young. It is a kind of monster fish and in some parts of the world people eat it. This is a funny picture, not only a picture of a fish but also a picture of a monster that is angler fish on a t-shirt. Funny Angler Fish Monster Essential T-Shirt by doppod

[the-modern-typewriter]

have I told you guys I'm trying my hand at writing a horror novel? Fey and aceness!

Wolverton House loomed out of the darkness more suddenly than such a large building should have been able to. It made Diana think of ghosts. It made her think of titanic icebergs. It made her think of an angler fish, mouth gaping bright and welcoming in the roiling blackness of the water.

Inevitably, of course, it made her think of Lucille.

The taxi jerked to a stop by the imposing front gates. Motion sensor lights flooded to life, illuminating the slender stone driveway snaking up to the manor proper. Diana squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes.

“…you getting out here?” the driver asked. “Or do you want me to take you all of the way up.”

He sounded hopeful. It was difficult to tell if it was to get closer to the manor or to get the hell away from it. She swallowed, but it did nothing to stop the sudden dryness of her mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure which one she wanted either. But then, home was often like that, wasn’t it?

The gates slid open. An invitation.

The driver’s fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll walk. Bit of fresh air and all that. Stretch my legs.”

His shoulders sagged in relief even as disappointment flickered across his face. He got out at the same time as she did, busying himself with hoisting her battered suitcase out onto the side of the road. He opened his mouth as if to say something, before he closed it again. His attention was inevitably drawn back to the house. Its stark white walls. Its invitingly lit windows. Its gardens, all pale roses picked out in the lush night. It hadn’t changed a bit.

“You know them?” Diana kept her voice light. “The Wolvertons?”

“Sure. I mean, everyone does round here.”

“You’ve met the fiancé?”

“Handsome fella.” He shook his head, as if to clear it, glancing at her again. Curiosity and terror. “You look after yourself up there.”

“And her?” Diana’s heart flipped. “Does she still come down to the town?”

His lips thinned. “That’s £112.”

She considered pressing him further, maybe telling him that actually she did want that lift up all the way to the front door, but then she simply paid. The fare receipt pinged on her phone before he’d even fully disappeared down the path.

Lucille would have made him drive all the way. She would have made him wait while she rang the doorbell, “just in case no one’s in!” She would have watched him squirm.

Still, Diana’s legs were cramped from the long hours of travel, so maybe it couldbe a relief to clack her way up the driveway. At the very least, it gave her a little more time before she had to ring the doorbell. Meet him. See her. Diana took a few steadying breaths, wrangled her luggage and began her ascent. She’d only a taken a few steps up the driveway path when the gates shut behind her again with a muffled clang.

Handsome fella. She’d seen pictures of Tristan De Silva, Lucille’s soon-to-be-husband, online. He was definitely handsome, it was true, but not in the way that Lucille usually liked. He was too sharp. Too much like her, in some way, so that surely if they were ever in a room together they’d spend the whole time in danger of bashing up against each other’s edges. They did look smitten in the photos though, and the wedding invitation certainly suggested something, but…

Surely she wouldn’t invite Diana, of all people, to be her maid of honour if she was in love with someone else?

Of course she bloody would. And of course Diana bloody came. She was an idiot.

All too soon, she rang the doorbell. As she waited, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then untucked it again a moment later to let it curl loose and coppery over her forehead. Then she realised that her hands were shaking and shoved them in the pockets of her leather jacket.

The door swung open. The man behind it was the pictures made incarnate, dressed in the sort of casually-expensive trousers and t-shirt that Diana would never find in her own closet. Was that why Lucille had picked him?

“Ah, Diana.” He offered a perfect smile. “It is Diana, right? Lucille’s Diana?”

The words were like a beloved coat that no longer fit properly. Too tight around the shoulders. A squeeze of buttons clamping airless down upon her chest. Lucille’s Diana. She hadn’t been that in years. She hadn’t ever stopped being that for a moment.

“Just Diana,” she said. “You must be Tristan.”

Tristan tipped his head a fraction, a mocking sort of bow, and stepped aside to let her in.

“Where’s Lucille?” she asked.

“Upstairs.” He held out a hand for her jacket. “She’ll come down when she’s ready. You know she likes to make an entrance.”

Her jacket felt like the only pitiful armour she had, but Diana politely handed it over all the same. He hung it up and shut the door.

“Just leave your bag in the hallway,” he said, already turning towards the familiar kitchen as if he owned the place. “I’ll take it up to your room later. Champagne?”

“I – no, thank you. I don’t drink.”

He scoffed. “Yes you do. Since when?”

She stared at him.

“Well,” he said. “I’m having champagne.” As she followed him into the kitchen, he fished a bottle out of the fridge, popped it and poured it golden and frothing into three different flutes. He took one and held the other out to her.

Her jaw tightened a fraction.

“I’m engaged,” he said. “So we’re going to toast and you’re going to say congratulations.”

His hazel eyes bore into her, almost seeming to match the drink.

She took the glass, cold against her clammy palm, and held it up.

“Congratulations,” she said.

No, he was nothing like Lucille’s usual type, which begged the question, then – how much did he really know his fiancée at all?

The first thing that she remembered ever really noticing about Lucille Wolverton was that everybody loved her. It was an effect she had on people. When they were really young it hadn’t occurred to Diana to question it. Lucille was her friend and, of course, Lucille’s parents loved her. That was what good parents were supposed to do.

When she got older, she’d thought maybe it was because Lucille was pretty and people seemed to care an awful lot about that sort of thing. Some people simply had a star quality that drew people to them and, even as a child, it had been clear that Lucille did. When she smiled and laughed and relished in the attention of everyone who adored her, she possessed a warm sort of beauty. She was honey and gold, she was the fairy lights that turned an ordinary space into a super-secret lair, she was the candlelight flickering across a dinner table as two lovers leaned in for their first kiss. When she was angry, she was a colder thing. The moon in winter, glittering across an endless plane of unforgiving snow. A glass girl, seemingly fragile, poised to cut.

When she got older still, Diana was no longer sure if it could be just looks, just charm. She’d never quite figured it out though. All things considered she hadn’t been sure she wanted to.

She took a tiny sip of her drink, feeling Tristan’s eyes on her as he matched her movements. She had the strangest surety that if she drained the glass then he would simply do the same. Weirdly triumphant.

She set the flute firmly down on the counter and cleared her throat.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Music drifted down the stairs, too quiet to be entirely picked out. She could imagine Lucille flitting about her bedroom. It was impossible to hear her so far away, and yet Diana half felt that she could trace Lucille’s every step across the manor’s floors.

“At a party,” Tristan said. “She got the host to kiss her in front of his girlfriend. Wrecked their relationship. It was awful.” He smiled a strange smile. “I asked her out the same night.”

“Oh, naturally.”

His smile turned a touch edged. “I note you didn’t bring a plus one.”

Diana didn’t say anything.

“The invite did say you could bring someone.”

“I’m not seeing anybody at the moment.” Diana moved to circle the space, putting the kitchen island between her and the champagne as she scanned over the glossy cookbooks and paintings. The cookbooks were new. The paintings were the same visions of women stuffing their faces with dripping fruit, raw meat or chocolate cake as she’d seen since she was as a girl. They’d thrilled her then. Felt somehow taboo. “Does she do that sort of thing often, then? Wreck people’s relationships?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

Diana shrugged, betrayed by her hammering heart.

“Mm. You’ll be staying in your old room, I believe.” He leaned himself almost lazily against the island and took another long sip of his drink, body angled towards her.

“Lucille’s told you a lot about me?”

“I’m nosy.” He flashed that perfect smile again. “She said the two of you grew up here, that you were like sisters. She said there was no one else she’d want at our wedding as much as you.”

Diana’s throat thickened.

“I suspect she left out all of the juicy bits,” he said.

She glanced over at him.

“Singular woman, Lucille Wolverton.” He raised his eyebrows. “But I’m sure if you told me, she’d have to kill you.”

“Or you.”

“Alas, they always suspect the spouse. She’s not that obvious.”

Despite herself, Diana laughed. It was something like a laugh anyway.

“It’s nothing juicy,” she said. “My parents worked here. We lived in the old servant’s cottage on the edge of the property when I was a kid, and this place is way out in the middle of nowhere. We had a lot of sleepovers.”

“So many that you had your own room. Do girls often have their own room during sleepovers?”

“It’s just one of the guest bedrooms. There’s enough of them, isn’t there?”

Her bedroom was the bedroom next to Lucille’s room, mirrored and sharing a wall.

Tristan hummed, seeming unconvinced as he studied her. She watched him in her periphery in turn, taking out one of the cookbooks and flicking through the pages. How to eat a peach.  

“So what is it you do?” she asked.

“Finance. You’re a caterer. What was she like when you knew her?”

The cookbook was thoroughly abandoned. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Diana said, “but I believe in small talk you’re supposed to at least pretend that you don’t know things about me when we first meet.”

“Stickler for politeness, are we?”

“You have to ask?” She pretended to gasp. “And there was me thinking you knew everything about me already.”

“Not everything. But I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Not especially. But I guess I was raised to be more polite to my guests than you.”

He laughed like that was funny, shaking his head, and raised his glass again in another private toast of some sort.

No, he was not Lucille’s type at all. Lucille’s type were soft and starry-eyed, utterly enamoured and easily bruised. He was…not that. She had no idea what the hell he was. A jerk, perhaps?

They eyed each other.

“So you met a party.” Diana tried again, with the friendly smile she reserved for only the most trying of customers. “That was…what? A little over a year ago? I can’t imagine she’s changed that much since I last saw her. I mean. You’re the one marrying her. Shouldn’t you know?”

Tristan shrugged in turn; a lighter, more effortless parry. “You’ve known her longer. You last saw her…what?” He mimicked her tone. “A little over three years ago?”

“Yeah.”

He seemed to consider her for a moment.

“I could probably still call your taxi back,” he said. “It’s not too late.”

Diana narrowed her eyes, spine stiffening.

“Too late for what exactly?”

Footsteps sounded on the hallway, light and graceful, shattering the moment. Tristan went quiet.

They both turned inexorably towards the kitchen door and then – there she was. Lucille Wolverton. Barefoot. Leaned against the door as if she had been there all along. In her wedding dress. “Hey stranger,” Lucille said. “Long time no see.”

[cowboycunt]

committing to my bit

gonna make my new niche drawing fish with dta quotes. just because i can.

[damien-thedoctor]

First meet.

Oleander and Damien

(This mini-fic was made as a thanks to my good friend @xxweirdtripxx. Thank you for your funny rambles about a certain someone’s Sebastian and your amazing art of our characters that you have drawn again and again. You are an awesome friend and I wanted to write you something as a thanks. I don’t think I say my thanks enough so allow me to say them but in writing form.

Your good artist and bird pall,

-Birb <3

——————————————————————

“First meet.”

[Running was easy, running while wounded isn’t. Every breath felt a wound was being opened in his chest as he ran. He just wanted to get away- no he NEEDED to get away. Away from that monster of a man. His boss. He was so stupid letting his guard down, allowing him to make him a drink. He should have known the bastard would have spiked it. Damn it Scot! He mentally screamed at himself, the halls of the blacksite becoming blurry. They seemed to go on forever, endlessly stretching out in front of him.]

“SHIT-“

[even in his drugged haze, he could see the lights flicker. An entity was approaching, he looked around for the only place he could hide- there were no lockers in the room he was in. He saw a medbay and took it. He couldn’t deal with being shredded apart by an angler today. He just couldn’t. He didn’t want anymore fangs against his flesh. Not for a long time.]

[SCHREEEEEEEEECH]

[The sound of the angler passing made Damien’s blood run cold. He could barely see where he was going, let alone hear. Even his sense of smell had deteriorated. What was in the drug that bitch had given him? He slumped against the ground, his breathing was unstable and erratic. He could feel blood beneath his hands. Did he cut himself? He couldn’t tell.]

“Fuck..” [His voice was rapidly slurring.] “Hu-…rts…”

[He didn’t know who he was saying it to in particular, but he did notice a vague shape moving towards him. A long shape. Were those pouches along its body? Fuck was it Z-13?]

“N-..no.. shit.. n-o..”

[He struggled trying to move away as it came closer. No, it wasn’t Z-13. It was a pinkish-white colour, axolotl frills on his head? Brown hair..? Milky eyes..? Damien was struggling to stay conscious, this creature was looming over him now. Was it going to hurt him too? Of course it wa-]

[He went rigid when he was placed upon its back, on a makeshift stretcher. It was saying something to him. Something along the lines of ‘stay with me sir’ or whatever. He just wanted to close his eyes and go to sleep. To let go of feeling anything.]

[He didn’t know how he stayed awake, long enough for him to be lifted from the stretcher and onto something soft. Was he in its den? He could see medical supplies along multiple desks and other equipment. Must have been one of the abandoned healing stations. He was loosing so much blood, it stained his laboratory jacket a dark red and his shirt too. That would be a pain to clean and explain later. So what was this thing going to do with him. He could see it taking off his jacket, no. He didn’t want anything to touch him. He began thrashing slightly, shaking his head rapidly. His tongue felt too heavy to talk. It was saying something to him, trying to calm him down. His pupils dilated more. Signs of distress.]

“Le..t… me… go..hnghnn…”

[He managed out, demonic impish tail lashing out of his control as if whacked against the entity wildly. He saw it turn away, grab something from one of the desk and turn back. It had a soaked cloth. Was it going to gag him? Suffocate him? What was it going to do. Surprisingly, it simply lifted the cloth and put it against his forehead, it felt nice. He didn’t even know he was running a temperature, fuck you Silver and your stupid drug. He stopped thrashing as much, slowly in his drug hazed mind he knew that this creature was… trying to help him.]

[He remembered a long, long time ago when his mother would do the same thing. She always took care of him whenever he was ill. This creature almost had the same hair as she did, the same glasses too. It was also murmuring something, it reminded him of her. He blinked hazily again, pupils still wide and dilated. It was both a great pain and comfort that he received when he remembered his mother, he never even got to say sorry to her.]

“M….m-mo..m..?”

[He slurred out, barely stopping himself from passing out. He had to say it, then maybe he could let this longing within him rest. To apologise for his mistake.]

“..I..I’m..so.. .. I’m… s…orr…y…” [He choked out, tears running down his face as his ears drooped, looking up at the entity. He could see it had stopped talking.] “..fu..ck..  it’s.. all.. m-..my fa…lt… it.. happened..”

[He babbled out, before he could barely say words and now they wouldn’t stop. One of his clawed hands grasped onto her blouse.]

“..I..I..”

[He couldn’t speak anymore, in this state he was reduced to full blown sobbing. The entity reached out her arms, and without disturbing any of his injuries, pulled him against her for a hug. She could tell, though she could not see it, how much pain he was in. Both mentally and physically as he kept sobbing about his mother. She knew that blood-loss could lead to hallucinations, she had never had any of the expendable’s think of her as their mother. His sobs were horrible as she patted his back trying to calm him down. She wouldn’t be able to treat him when he was in such a state, in face she was surprised that he was even still awake. That much blood-loss should have killed a normal human, the amount of blood she could smell made her realise that he had lost triple the amount of blood that should have killed a person. Yet somehow he had remained conscious?]

“*hic..*…do..n’…t…. Le…a-av..e me… agai…n.. pl…ea…sh..e…”

[her eyes softened, hand moving in slow rhythmic movements against his spine. He seemed to relax, allowing the wounds that he had received some relief from the strain of sobbing.]

“I won’t leave you.”

[She replied, these words seemed to calm Damien down, pupils constricting slightly as his eyes closed. Oleander checked his pulse, he was still breathing. He seemed to be asleep, this was good. Now she could finally work on cleaning up his wounds.]

——————————————————————

[Oleander woke the next day to find him gone. She must have fallen asleep after fixing that man up. There was a note beside her, when Oleander squinted her eyes through enough strain, it read]

“I have cleaned up the mess I have made. Whoever you are, thank you.”

[It was a true genuine thank you.]

[lily-alphonse]

"Sailor Song" (Willy x Farmer)

Fic Preview - Read on AO3 - Rated M for Mild Suggestive Content - 7k words

It had been a long day when I first met him. It dragged with the sun. Everything was orange. The sand, the waves, the side of his face. 

His voice boomed an “ahoy!” at me and I felt like laughing. I shook his rough hand. His other hand covered mine warmly when he welcomed me, and it felt like coming home.

“Willy,” he introduced himself.

Willy. He could’ve been William, but he didn’t take himself so seriously. It was silly, and whimsy, and the smoke from his pipe, drifting up in the rafters of his old cabin. I told him my name and he assessed it seriously, his clear brown eyes thoughtful. 

“Good name, that,” he said eventually and my heart sang with the praise. I’d never been especially proud of my name until I heard it on his lips, in his thick and playful voice. 

It had been a long time since I fished. Since I was a child. And I suppose I felt a little like a child again, when he stood behind me and adjusted my grip. He smelled like spiced tobacco and fish, but I liked it. It felt lived-in. Like the smell of an old frayed t-shirt. Maybe it wasn’t for everyone, but it was for me and I leaned into it. When he gave me directions I could almost feel the deep voice in his chest. 

I got a bite and panicked, dropping the line. 

He cursed in surprise and immediately apologized. He was blushing behind his beard. Said his mother taught him better than to curse in front of a lady and I laughed. His shoulders loosened and he laughed too. It was a lovely sound. 

He looked cute when he was embarrassed, big burly guy like him.  

“Hardly much of a lady,” I joked.

“Nonsense,” he muttered shyly, resetting the pole for me. 

I had the awfully devious thought that I wanted to show him just how uncivilized I could be, but bit my lip in restraint. It was our first time meeting. I wasn’t normally like this but there was something about him. I knew I could be whatever I wanted with him. 

His arms came around me again. I was already used to the feeling. His rolled up flannel, the tickle of his beard when he leaned over my shoulder. 

“Like this, right?” I asked, repositioning my hands to prepare to reel. 

“Just like that, lass.” He was good with his praise and I chased it. It made my skin light up. 

But he wasn’t focused on me. His eyes were trained out at the surf below us, the sunset lighting his eyes like amber halos. In a way, it felt better than him looking at me. His focus was something admirable. He was clearly a master of his craft and it was a beautiful thing to watch. 

I saw love in his eyes when he looked at the ocean. 

I got another bite and held on. His hand squeezed my shoulder as he guided me through it. “That’s it, reel ‘er in! There ye go!” 

Getting the anchovy out of the water was such a sudden release of tension that I nearly dropped it back in again. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple and I held my breath until the fish was finally on the pier with us. 

I laughed again in nervous relief. It was such a small thing, but Willy was proud. He smacked my back jovially like it was something to celebrate.

“You could be a strong angler, if ye set yer mind to it.”

I thanked him for everything. He’d even given me a rod, and taking it felt like a promise. Yes, I will join you in your love.  

How could I not? 

I kissed his cheek. Because I wanted to fluster him. Because maybe I liked that he thought I was a lady. Because ‘thank you’ didn’t feel like it was enough. 

He looked at me for a long moment and I wondered if his thoughts were going where mine were. Then he nodded and turned away. “Good luck with yer fishin’, I’ll be here if ye need me.” 

“Goodnight, Willy.” 

“Night, lass.” 

I practiced in the pond on the farm, usually in the dead of night when I was too tired to chop wood anymore. My days were full of farming. Running about town. I didn’t see much of Willy. But at night I would look into the little ripples of the pond and relive the orange of sunset and how it lit his eyes. 

It was a meditative thing. But more than that it felt somehow like the realest part of the new future I was building for myself. It gave me hope. I had left the city to find meaning and purpose, and I think I found it on that pier. I had not felt so alive in a long time.

I got the farm established and decided that on Sunday mornings I would wake up early and get to the pier before sunrise. That would be my time, our time, carved out of everything else that life was. I didn’t tell Willy that, of course. 

The first Sunday morning after making my decision, I ran . I couldn’t help it.

>>Continue on AO3<<

[molar-bear-sims]

and after a rather convincing pitch (featuring an itemised list of all the possible matching t-shirt slogans they could get printed)... fred begrudgingly agreed.

welcome to the ✨ brindleton bay anglers association ✨

[binarywaltz]

i realize i have not posted here much, so here's one to try and compensate for that! these characters are all from ANOMIE, a personal project of mine i've been working on for the past half year or so.

third image is heavily based off a photograph by gie knaeps (for getty images) of brian molko

image description(s) under cut

image 1: digital illustration of a group photo of anomie, a fictional band, consiting of marco, rice, eulalie, and Q. they are all wearing colors of their respective pride flags. marco, a half human half frog man, has eyeshadow in the colors of the aromantic and bi flag, with a boa with the colors of the trans flag. he wears interlocked male symbol necklace and double crescent earring. rice, a werewolf, has streaks of trans flag colors in hir hair and a non-binary bracelet, with generally subtle allusions to their identity. eulalie, a mantis, is in full rivethead fashion, with an aegosexual flag stiched into her top, parts of her beanie, and a lesbian flag coat tied around her waist. she also has an asexual symbol on a choker and a belt with interlocked female symbols. Q is a rusted one eyed robot with a curled antennae on their head with a light bulb at the end, like that of a female angler fish. it wears a shirt with the aroace flag colors on one side, ties around the cords on their arm in the colors of the gay flag, and a skirt with colors of the non-binary flag. they all strike poses and smile. [end id]

image 2: digital illustration of Q from anomie. they stand on a pier at the beach, wearing a sun hat with flowers, a bathing suit with a pattern of lemons, and a multicolored shoulder bag. on one hand, they wear a falcon glove, with a barn owl perched upon their gloved hand. [end id]

image 3: digital illustration of marco from anomie. he is younger than he appears in the first image, with a differently shaved beard and hair partially dyed blue and in braids that gradiate to red. a microphone obscures a small part of his face as he smiles, looking out at presumably a crowd. he hugs his guitar, a fender player stratocaster. [end id]

image 4: digital illustration of marco and rice from anomie. they both look significantly younger than the first image: marco has long, teal hair that fades downwards into red, and no beard or tail. rice has shorter , silver ombre hair, and fur around their muzzle that looks like a beard. their backs are turned to the viewer, faces visible as they face eachother, standing in front of a huge, theatrical curtain. marco looks at rice with a surprised and curious expression, raising his eyebrows far above his glasses. rice glares angrily at him, putting their ears back and frowning. marco grips his pants with his frog hands, seemingly about to take them off, with his boxers low enough to see his lower back. a slightly smeared lipstick kiss is partially visible above his boxers. [end id]

image 5: digital illustration of marco and eulalie from ANOMIE. marco is talking, raising a frog hand and tilting his head to look at eulalie. he wears a jacket and pink t-shirt, and eulalie wears a black bandana and her usual rivethead fashion. behind them is a very blurry city. [end id]

[urianngern]

Merry Fishmas Funny Christmas Fishing Mens T Shirt

Catch Some Holiday Cheer with the "Merry Fishmas" Funny Christmas Fishing Shirt!

For all the fishing enthusiasts, the "Merry Fishmas" Funny Christmas Fishing Shirt is the perfect blend of holiday spirit and your love for fishing! Featuring a humorous design, this shirt makes a great gift or festive attire for any angler. Whether you’re out on the water or celebrating with friends and family, this shirt will add a splash of fun to your Christmas festivities.

Don’t miss out — grab your "Merry Fishmas" Funny Christmas Fishing Shirt now at Merry Fishmas Funny Christmas Fishing Shirt.

[insertgroupnamehere-booyah]

Band Member Intro: Big Blu!

What is your name and pronouns?

I’m Big Blu! Or just Blu for short. My pronouns are he and him…. I think I did that part right-

How would you describe your appearance?

I am a hefty fella. A big angler fish with messy hair and a “spooky” face… My teeth are a little sharper than I’d like… I wear comfy clothes (a flannel, t-shirt, cargo shorts- Y’know, comfy by stylish!) I wear glow stick bracelets that Jubi gives me. And a necklace I was given by good ol’ dad! It's a fish hook!

What do you do for work?

I have my own diving company. I’m somethin’ of a treasure hunter! I like to go divin’ to find all kinds of treasure! 

What do you do for fun?

First off- Battles. Nothin’ gets me more pumped up than facin’ some people in a friendly battle! I use my roller and smoosh the competition! Second, makin’ music (if that wasn’t obvious-). And third, I really like havin’ a nice smoke while watchin’ a movie or two. Really helps me relax after a long day. 

What is your role in (IGNH)?

Bassist and backup vocalist! I also use my talkbox. It makes me sound all funky. 

What is your biggest pet peeve?

Hmm… People who think I’m all muscle and no heart. 

Who is your favorite Band/Idol group/Idol?

EASY- Big Man from Deep Cut! As a Big dude myself, I can appreciate the craftsmanship! I also really like this peppy artist from a lesser known band... I won't mention names!

Anything you’d like to add?

Not that I can think of! WAIT- If you see a crab named Latro, tell him to see me… (he owes me money-) 

[noisycowboyglitter]

F-Ck It! I’m Going Fishing: Essential Gear for Your Spontaneous Trips

"F-ck It! I'm Going Fishing!" is a bold, unapologetic declaration that captures the spirit of escapism and prioritizing personal passion over life's mundane obligations. This phrase resonates with fishing enthusiasts who view their hobby as more than just a pastime—it's a vital release from daily stresses and responsibilities.

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The expression embodies a rebellious attitude, suggesting a moment when an individual decides to break free from routine, expectations, or pressures. It's a verbal throwing up of hands, a resignation from the rat race, even if just temporarily. The crude language emphasizes the raw emotion and frustration that often precedes this decision.

For many anglers, this phrase represents a tipping point—when the desire to be on the water, rod in hand, outweighs all other concerns. It speaks to the therapeutic nature of fishing, its ability to clear the mind, and its role as a form of self-care.

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This sentiment is often displayed on t-shirts, bumper stickers, or signs in fishing cabins, serving as a humorous yet genuine expression of priorities. It's a rallying cry for those who find solace, joy, and purpose in fishing, reminding them to make time for what truly matters to them.

While lighthearted, the phrase also touches on deeper themes of work-life balance, the importance of leisure, and the need to occasionally step back from life's demands. It celebrates fishing not just as a hobby, but as a vital component of a well-lived life—a means of reconnecting with nature, oneself, and what's truly important.

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Saltwater fishing gifts cater to anglers who enjoy the challenges and rewards of ocean fishing. High-quality, corrosion-resistant gear is essential, such as saltwater-specific rods, reels, and tackle. Consider specialized lures designed for popular saltwater species or a sturdy tackle box to organize gear.

For comfort and safety, UV-protective clothing, polarized sunglasses, or waterproof gear bags make practical gifts. Tech-savvy anglers might appreciate marine GPS devices, fish finders, or waterproof action cameras to document their catches.

Personalized items like custom-engraved filet knives or monogrammed coolers add a thoughtful touch. For knowledge enhancement, consider marine fishing charts, tide tables, or books on saltwater fishing techniques.

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Experience gifts such as deep-sea fishing charters or coastal fishing workshops can provide unforgettable memories. Decorative items like mounted fish replicas or coastal-themed artwork can help anglers celebrate their passion at home.

[dmiovine]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Simms Gray Black Red Long Sleeve Crew Neck Pullover Men's Shirt 2XL.

[joycetblogger]

Cast Some Laughs with a Funny Fishing Graphic T-Shirt

Funny fishing graphic T-shirts bring a splash of humor to your wardrobe, combining your love for fishing with lighthearted designs. These tees are perfect for anglers who appreciate a good laugh while out on the water or relaxing at home. Whether it's a clever pun, a quirky illustration, or a tongue-in-cheek saying, these shirts are all about showing off your fishing passion in style.

Why Funny Fishing Tees?

Fishing is all about patience, skill, and sometimes a bit of fun! A funny fishing graphic T-shirt captures the lighter side of the sport, reminding everyone that it’s not just about the catch—it's also about enjoying the experience. With their humorous designs, these shirts make great conversation starters, whether you're at the lake, hanging out with friends, or running errands.

Comfortable and Casual

Made from soft, breathable materials, these tees offer comfort while keeping the style laid-back. Perfect for pairing with jeans or shorts, a funny fishing graphic T-shirt is the ideal choice for casual outings or days when you’re feeling relaxed and playful.

Great Gift for Fishing Enthusiasts

Looking for a fun gift for the fisherman in your life? A funny fishing T-shirt hits the mark. It’s practical, comfortable, and the humor is sure to make them smile every time they wear it.

Conclusion

For anglers who love to fish and laugh, a funny fishing graphic T-shirt is a must-have. These tees combine humor and comfort, making them the perfect way to share your love of fishing with the world.

[silverlaketshirts]

https://silverlaketshirts.com/collections/funny-fishing-t-shirts

Catch a laugh with Silver Lake T-shirts' collection of funny fishing tees! Perfect for anglers and gift-givers alike, these shirts feature clever designs and puns that showcase your fishing skills with humor. Available in various sizes and colors. Order now and reel in the fun!

[designsforcricut]

You Didn't Stop Fishing Because You Got Old Fishing Hook Design - Perfect for Anglers

Celebrate your passion for fishing with our unique "You Didn't Stop Fishing Because You Got Old" fishing hook design. Ideal for anglers of all ages, this design captures the timeless joy of fishing and the spirit of never giving up. Whether you're at the fishing dock or casting your line from a boat, this design adds a touch of personality to your gear.

Featuring a meticulously crafted fishing hook design, our artwork is perfect for creating custom t-shirts, hats, and other accessories. It's not just a fishing design logo; it's a statement of your enduring love for the sport. The versatile design can be used for various DIY projects, making it a must-have for every fishing enthusiast.

Enhance your collection with this fishing dock design, ideal for personal use or as a gift for your fellow anglers. Our high-quality digital files ensure crisp, clean lines, ready for use with Cricut and other cutting machines. Keep the spirit of fishing alive and showcase your dedication with our one-of-a-kind fishing hook design.