rip flow


Beware that rip

Since it’s still summer where I live and I just got back from a beach where this phenomenon is an ever present danger (depending on Oceanos’s mood of the day) a quick line on rips seemed appropriate. They can sweep you out to sea unawares, and if one panics and tries to swim against it rather than parallel to the beach to get out of it, one could end up in serious, even fatal trouble. These narrow currents flow out from the surf zone of sandy beaches, scouring the sea bed to make deeper calm looking hollows where they occur.

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I went to the pub today to watch the rugby

Pearl Jam was playing the whole time. Suddenly Hunger Strike by Temple of the Dog came on, everyone went quiet, the barman maxed out the volume, Chris Cornell and Eddie Vedder’s voices filled the room, the distorted guitars shook the glasses on the bar. It was amazing!

waitingforasaturday  asked:

For the ways to say I love you prompt - #80 & Check Please, any pairing.

80. “Is your seatbelt on?” - I took some liberties with the definition of pairing here (sort of), and give you some Shitty & Jack brotp, with Jack acting as a bit of a proxy for Lardo.

“Jack?” Shitty said. He had a crick in his neck and his cheek felt like it was stuck to the table where he’d fallen asleep over a textbook. He pushed himself upright and blinked a few times. “Are you actually here or am I finally hallucinating?” He ran his hands through his hair, still momentarily thrown when they stopped short of his magnificent flow, RIP, and then scrubbed his hands over his face. “If I’m hallucinating and I didn’t even do anything fun to get there, I am gonna be so fuckin’ pissed, brah, let me tell you.”

Jack shook his head and got his hands under Shitty’s arms to haul him out of his chair. “No, you’re not hallucinating. I’m really here, you told me where your extra key was months ago.”

Shitty frowned, brows drawing in. “I… think I remember that. I mean, I totally would have done that, for sure.”

Jack propped Shitty against the wall next to his front door and tossed his jacket at him. Shitty mostly caught it before it hit his face. When he pulled it down out of his eyes, he saw Jack disappear into his bedroom and then emerge with a leather bag his pretentious cousin Gloria had given him last Christmas and insisted on calling a “weekender.” Trust Jack to have 1) found it, and 2) use it for its intended purpose.

“You are so your mother’s son,” he mumbled.


“Nothing,” Shitty said, finally putting the jacket on. “Are you kidnapping me?”

“Yes.” Jack tugged his arm to get him moving again.


“Because last night you called Lardo and rambled to her incoherently for thirty minutes straight about how law school was sucking out your soul before you apparently passed out, and she still has to get her exhibition piece finished, so she called me.”

“So Lardo is kidnapping me by proxy?” He stopped short when they got to Jack’s… vehicle. “You know this truck makes you look like a total tool, right?”

Jack just shrugged and leaned over to pointedly push the passenger door open from the inside. “I like it. Now shut up and get in. You can lecture me about how my car is compensating for my fragile masculinity on the way.”

Shitty climbed in. “On the way where?”

“Samwell.” Jack’s tone indicated he thought Shitty still wasn’t firing on all cylinders if he thought there was any question. He glanced over as he turned the key. “Is your seatbelt on?”

Shitty buckled it with a firm click. “Yeah, man, my seatbelt’s on.”

That Don’t Impress Me Much

@letojokerownsme you…just make it all better!  



She’d been distant since their last date and Shannon couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  He did everything right, he thought.  He was early, brought flowers.  He opened every door for her, pulled her chair out.  He was attentive and a gentlemen.  He held her hand, he told her she was beautiful. He didn’t order for her at dinner.  He never left her side at the party, always keeping his hand on the small of her back, rubbing his thumb across the bare space where her dress met her skin.  They shared a passionate kiss at the end of the night and she thanked him for a wonderful evening.  

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anonymous asked:

But can you imagine new dad harry out and about with his gf whike wearing a baby wrap

ACTUAL TEXT from @inkedferns when I told her about this ask: “ARE PEOPLE HACKING YOUR IMESSAGE!?” Because yes, I have imagined it MANY TIMES, in many ways, and so has she. This won’t be the last of him with it. x. 

He’s a pop star, he’s a rock star, he’s an actor, and he’s a would-have-been-baker, could-have-been-lawyer. There’s a lot of things Harry is, was, and could still be, but there is one that will wind its presence into all hypotheticals and realities: Dad

He’s proudest of this title most of all.

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In the world of superpowers, I totally drew the short straw. Barry got super speed. Ronnie could fly and shoot fireballs. Me? I get headaches and nightmare visions of people being killed. That’s not a superpower – it’s cause for therapy! But, my mom always said that the glass is half-full, so maybe it’s time to quit wallowing and see what this Vibe dude is capable of. Step one: Get in shape! 

Joe hooked me up with a guest pass to the CCPD gym. Thanks to a donation from the Thawne family, it’s stocked with the latest exercise equipment (though I swear some of the machines are straight-up instruments of torture). I thought I’d beat the rush and get there early, but by nine o’clock the place was already hopping. My electric blue tracksuit stood out like a neon thumb amidst the sea of gray CCPD-issued sweats. 

Where to begin? I’ve never much of a runner (minus chasing down the ice cream truck or sprinting from my neighbor’s bloodthirsty Papillon) so I nixed the treadmills. The punching bags were all taken by the beat cops and the stationary bikes had been co-opted by forensics. I headed over to a rack of weights – those seemed pretty safe. I’d finally snagged Kendra’s digits so maybe I’ll surprise her one our first date with two tickets to the gun show! Pow pow! I grabbed a set of 10lb dumbbells and started pumping away to the beat of “Eye of the Tiger.” I was really gettin’ into the zone when P. Spivs, Barry’s new girl, popped up beside me. She grabbed the twenty-pounders and started doing some squats and lunges while lifting the weights over her head. That girl is ripped. 

The endorphins were flowing, so I asked Patty if she’d be game for some light sparring. Two seconds later, she had me pinned down, spread-eagle, with a knee on my chest and a triumphant gleam in her eye. Looks like Barry’s not the only lightning fast one in that relationship! She offered to teach me some hand-to-hand combat maneuvers, like the deadly elbow strike and crushing ax stomp. I was really getting into the superhero swing (Zoom better watch his back!) when things went south – Patty was a little over-enthusiastic demonstrating the nutcracker choke and I may or may not have passed out… 

I came to five minutes later, but by that point I was so sore and dizzy that I decided to call it quits for the day. As I refueled with a well-earned Big Belly burger, I got to thinking: my power is mental, so why should I worry about getting buff? If my experience at the gym is any indication, in a confrontation with Zoom, I’d be dead meat. For real, Barry’s the only who stands a chance. But with him out there fighting, he’ll need some serious brainpower helping him out! Maybe I should focus on exercising my brain. How about some Sudoku, crossword puzzles, or a stimulating game of chess? Yeah… that seems much less painful.

Masterpiece Part Four | Jimin, You

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Song: Six Degrees of Separation | The Script 

You’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece

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