#grassbank

[dinedorhill]

[theechudar]

Inside a fan zone for migrant workers: ‘Our World Cup too, our stadium too’

Inside a fan zone for migrant workers: ‘Our World Cup too, our stadium too’

ON THE giant screen erected on a platform at the practice nets of the Qatar Cricket Stadium, Senegal’s Kalidou Koulibaly scores off a free-kick to take his team to the last-16 of the football World Cup. Below the screen, Samuel and his friends burst into an impromptu dance. They are soon joined by the other Senegalese among the 1,000-odd spectators, most of them on the grassless grassbank or…

[todaynewsguru]

Inside a fan zone for migrant workers: ‘Our World Cup too, our stadium too’

Inside a fan zone for migrant workers: ‘Our World Cup too, our stadium too’

ON THE giant screen erected on a platform at the practice nets of the Qatar Cricket Stadium, Senegal’s Kalidou Koulibaly scores off a free-kick to take his team to the last-16 of the football World Cup. Below the screen, Samuel and his friends burst into an impromptu dance. They are soon joined by the other Senegalese among the 1,000-odd spectators, most of them on the grassless grassbank or…

[somesunnyda-y]

That's

AMORE

[anastpaul]

Thought for the Day - 17 January - "The Vicissitudes of Life"

Thought for the Day – 17 January – “The Vicissitudes of Life”

Thought for the Day – 17 January – Meditations with Antonio Cardinal Bacci (1881-1971) – Friday of the First week in Ordinary Time, Year A

“The Vicissitudes of Life”

“There are times, when life is like a stream which flows peacefully between two flower-strewn grassbanks. The sun shines brightly overhead and the whole world seems to smile. The days pass pleasantly and the future is full of fair…

[jarcat]

#canal #boat #canalboat #grass #walk #stroll #winter #cold #dog #canaldog #water #grassbank #mile #trainers #love #calm #windy

[harrison-abbott]

BLACKMAGIC HUE

He woke up and it was Guy Fawkes and he was a bit drunk and his laptop was on playing the song Echoes by Pink Floyd on tiny volume and he felt ill and obscene and the fireworks hadn’t started just yet because it was twilight (in that brooding Blackmagic hue that only November has for twilight) and he got up and went through to the kitchen and he was on his own in the flat and he thought about Guido Fawkes for a little second and wondered what he must’ve been like and he read about him once on Wikipedia and discovered that he’d actually killed himself, after he was captured, to avoid the pain of being hung drawn and quartered, and this, in turn, got him thinking about medieval torture and how horrific all of it was, and he sussed that the torturers must have known themselves that things like witches and devilry and whatnot weren’t real, all garble, and that they simply took pleasure in doing astonishingly cruel acts … just as we like gore and violence in films, it’s all in the same spectrum … and yet this young man finds it a bit sick to think about all of that, and there was this one time actually when he went to Prague and he went to this museum which was about (archiving) medieval torture and he browsed through the rooms wherein they showed you the ‘tools’ that they used to torture folks who’d been lifted for witchcraft, and there was this one spike thing, which they used to basically impale the person on and then they would leave them there, still alive, on public display, until they died … and there was another bit which was basically a massive saw, whereby they turned the person upside down and then sawed them from the groin downwards, and they had a method of keeping them alive long enough, in order to maximise the pain … He hoped that this museum (which he’d been dragged along to by his cunt girlfriend) was kinda fictionalising these examples a bit and that they weren’t so obscene. But he had doubts. All of these things actually happened throughout history. … He still liked fireworks. Just as anybody did. He had some beers and then he messaged his mate to see if he wanted to go to the local park which had a big hill, whereatop they could look out across the city and witness the colourful gunpowder. Mate said yes. And he showered and got dressed and then it was dark and he went outside and there was that wonderful smell of gunpowder which anybody must as bit smells good despite all the negative connotations. Then overhead he began to hear brilliant bangs and pops albeit he didn’t see any colours just yet and he walked all the way down the street and there were lil pools of kids with their parents trittering about all gleed up and he remembered being that age when things like fantasy and imagination were still constant and lively and he wasn’t bitter about that, his mind was just observing – it’s just that adults didn’t see things like fireworks in the exact same marvellous way, they only knew them. Not that they couldn’t still enjoy them. He got to the park. And went through the gates and walked along the pathway and the grassbanks were thronged with dead leaves and the chill of the wind and clarity of the sky were thrilling and intense.

[somesunnyda-y]

He is beauty, he is grace,

I'm literally crying over his adorable face.

If you couldn't already tell, I'm still very happy about Jhye's performance with the ball yesterday (8-47, how good!!!). We can ignore what happened with the bat today (@ the rest of the team as well) 🙃

+bonus Ash Agar (and Will Bosisto) with his permanently untucked shirt (@albiegeorge)

Boy was being so soft with Jhye after all those wickets! He was hugging him so much and giving him more high fives and hair ruffles than are ever strictly necessary, and look at how proud he looks in all those pictures!!! All this just reinforces my HC that Jhye is the actual baby of the team and everyone loves him.

[somesunnyda-y]

Okay but he's happy and I'm happy and life is good :D

[somesunnyda-y]

Prompt #21, Mitch Marsh/Pat Cummins 💛

21. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

“Hurry up, Mitch! We’re gonna miss the bus!” Pat yelled in frustration, holding his jacket above his head in a last-ditch attempt to fend off the sudden downpour they’d been caught in.

“Calm down, Pat, the bus will have already left by the time we get there,” Mitch said casually, seemingly not bothered by the rain which had completely soaked his clothes and plastered his hair against his forehead in that annoying way which made Pat want to walk over and brush it out of his eyes. A loud bang of thunder overhead made Mitch look up with a smile. “Just chill a little. Enjoy the rain.”

“Mitchell Ross Marsh,” Pat said coolly. “If you hadn’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a thunderstorm with no shelter, yet you’re telling me you want to stop and feel the rain?”

“Careful now, Patrick.” Mitch turned his smile at the clouds towards Pat, making his face heat. He hoped the falling rain hid his blush, though Mitch’s widening grin told him the rain had done nothing. “Get any sharper and you might just cut yourself.”

“You’re going to catch a cold,” he snapped. “And when you do, I’m not gonna come within a one kilometre radius of you.”

“In that case,” Mitch murmured, stepping closer to Pat with that cheeky glint in his hazel eyes. “We’ll just both have to catch colds together.”

Pat yelped in surprise as Mitch tackled him, the both of them somehow not tripping on the wet footpath. His jacket slipped from his hands, leaving him defenceless, just as a passing car drove by, splashing him and Mitch as one of its wheels dipped into a questionably-coloured puddle.

“MITCH!” Pat screamed in indignation, looking in horror at his now-ruined shirt and jeans, and back at his boyfriend who was doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. His shocked expression quickly morphed into a ferocious scowl and Mitch’s laughter abruptly died in his throat as Pat stalked towards him, pulling up his muddied, long sleeves. “Right, that’s it.”

“Ah fuck-” Mitch choked out as he turned and ran screaming down the path, Pat hot on his heels. “Pat, I’m sorry! It was an accident! I didn’t mean for that to happen!! I won’t do it again, I swear-!”

“Sorry doesn’t bring my shirt back!” Pat roared, throwing himself at Mitch and sending them tumbling to the grassbank by the sidewalk.

Somehow in their scuffling, Mitch ended up on his back, damp grass cool through his thin jumper and shirt. Pat’s chest and abdomen were effectively flush against his, his legs on either side of Mitch’s. Pat’s forearms were on either side of Mitch’s head, and his face so close that he could feel his breath ghosting over his lips. Mitch’s hands were at Pat’s shoulders, as if he’d been prepared to shove him off, though as their eyes met, he froze.

“Hey,” Mitch said, cracking a wary grin. Pat’s glare faded into a fond smile, and he rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You’re an actual idiot,” he huffed and leaned down, kissing Mitch firmly. He felt Mitch’s lips curve into a smile against his as a pair of hands trailed lower from where they’d been on Pat’s shoulders, running down his upper arms, down his sides, finally coming to rest low on his hips.

Deftly, Mitch reversed their positions, flipping Pat over so he was on his back while Mitch sat over him, straddling his hips. He leaned down to cup the curve of Pat’s jaw with one hand, bracing the other beside his head as they kissed again, drawing a quiet moan from Pat.

So caught up in each other, they didn’t notice the sound of approaching footsteps, and only broke apart in confusion when they could no longer feel the rain on their faces. Slowly, they looked up and were greeted with the underside of a large umbrella being held by none other than Shaun Marsh, who arched an eyebrow at his brother and his boyfriend he’d just caught making out on his front lawn.

“Am I interrupting something?”