yes you can river

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The moment Alex Kingston learns who 13th Doctor is going to be (Raleigh SuperCon - July 16, 2017)

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June 22nd -23rd: An overview of Leo’s career → La Selección through the years.

∟ ‘‘Soy Argentino, es un sentimiento, no puedo parar’‘

From our friend boyneriver

July 2, 2017

Riddle me this, People of Earth,

Q.: What do you do first thing in the morning when you don’t have a Tumblr account?

A.: For the first time in 19 months I had to think about it…

Yes, when the Canada Day fireworks ended last night, I quietly paddled away from Social Media Island into the great blue abyss. I didn’t want to be talked out of it. Again. (I’m looking directly at you Knife Wumman 🔪 @just-a-wretched-wumman, and subtly side-eyeing you @jemscorner.)

Why did I delete my Tumblr account? I was unable to discipline myself, time-management wise, despite having tried many tricks that work for Tumblr friends. It’s similar to the consumption-discipline relationship I have with chocolate, with all emphasis on the chocolate. 🍫

How do I feel about it? Very relieved, while very sad. I’m looking forward to returning to reading and to breathing fresh air and to swimming and to speaking face-to-face with people, all on a regular basis, yet I’m already missing you (and knowing “what’s going on). 😬

Will I lurk? No. (I’m looking at you Eternal Jackass 👠 @fromheretoeternity1121.) That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear from People of Earth or about Outlander and Balfe-Heughan adventures. That’s why God invented email! 📧

Where do I stand on SC? Where I’ve always stood - at the controls of the Marriage Train. You may not see me, but rest assured, I’m driving that locomotive. 🚂

What do I think about MM and other periphery players? Who? 🙄

Am I looking forward to Season 3? For the love of Fergus, I’ve been counting sleeps since the Season 2 finale episode. 😱

Does it bug me that I might never know the Tumblr identity of Anonymous Rider of Rocinante, AKA Anonymous #46? Sigh. Heavy sigh. 😞

Do I miss you? Yes, I already said that. Pay attention. (You can take the river out of Tumblr-sass, but you can’t take Tumblr-sass out of the river…) 😎

On that note, please ken I’ll always be boyneriver and Mrs. River-Fraser. If some loser opens an account and uses either name, please do right by me and command them to right their wicked wrong. Thank ye kindly. 👍🏻

Take care. Enjoy your summer/winter. Eat your veggies. And never take a saw into the pool. 🏊

Love, ❤️

Mrs. Boyne River-Fraser AKA Marjorie AKA Marsali (which is Marjorie in the Gàidhlig – TRULY!) 🛶

P.S. Murtz sends his best regards. ⚔️

P.P.S. These are some of the People of Earth who ken my email address and could give it to you privately by DM if you ask nicely and/or bribe them: @chrismosstree, @heartthesouth, @jackietex, @jemscorner, @just-a-wretched-wumman, @mama-tumblz, @mariaae, @outlanderedandoverhere, @rainmanjdog, @saint-hildegard-of-bingen, @sassylover-stuff, @scatterations, @supertam87 😘

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Long before you were born, you were always to be a dagger floating straight to their heart (x)

me: being emotional in the big brother house is ridiculous. all it does is put a target on your back. suck it up and play to win, these people arent your friends

mark: cries and has an emotional breakthrough

me: MY POOR BABY YES KINGGG YOU CAN DO IT HUNTY CRY ME A RIVER AND DROWN ME IN IT

@disney-dctv-week


The right kind of bad with the wrong kind of good

        Barry didn’t know where he was. All he knew was that, one minute, he was running after his boyfriend, trying to give him the engagement ring he’d snuck in Barry’s pocket back, and the next, Barry was chasing after a group of men who threw a bag over Len’s head and dragged him away.

           After that, it was like an acid trip. Barry chased the man through an alley, only to see him jump through a mirror. Barry hadn’t been able to slow down in time before he skidded into the mirror and fell through the glass.

Keep reading

Polyamory, with Knives

by Jeanann Verlee

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

Sometimes I think my characters’ names are a little out there and then I remember the elf names in the Shannara books and… I’m good.

anonymous asked:

HI GLOWS👋🏽👋🏽 (can I call you that?) I'm the ambivert with the introverted crush. Update time! Date party went well. Asked them to formal a few hours ago and THEY SAID YES!!! So at least now I know they're interested right???😃😃

OMFG hello! Congratulations! Jfc this just gets cuter omg I hope you guys get married to each other and buy a farm near a river 💖

And yes you can call me that lol

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.
—  Jeanann Verlee, “Polyamory, with Knives”

anonymous asked:

Tell me all your favourite quotes.

all of them? there is not enough time in the day for us, my love. here’s some: 

“Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills. / The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.” – Jeanann Verlee, from “Polyamory, with Knives

“So what I’m trying to say is you should text me back.
Because there’s a precedent. Because there’s an urgency.
Because there’s a bedtime.
Because when the world ends I might not have my phone charged and
If you don’t respond soon,
I won’t know if you’d wanna leave your shadow next to mine.” — Marina Keegan, from “Nuclear Spring”

“Finally, she said: “I’m lonely” — it’s weird but you tell the wolves things, sometimes. You can’t help it, all these old wounds come open and suddenly you’re confessing to a wolf who never says anything back. She said: “I’m lonely,” and they ate her in the street.” — Catherynne M. Valente, from “The Wolves of Brooklyn,” The Bread We Eat in Dreams

“We ruined ourselves—I have never honestly thought that we ruined each other.” —Scott Fitzgerald, in a Letter to Zelda

“Once, I saw a bee drown in honey, and I understood.” – Nikos Kazantzakis, “Report to Greco”

“Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don’t guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it’s total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It’s feral. And it’s relentless.” —Leah Raeder, Black Iris

“I don’t know where I end and the world begins. My best guess? Skin. It’s the only actual boundary between the body and the world, between a body and any other body.” —Richard Siken, in an Interview for BOMB Magazine

“Poetry approached me in that chaos of raw inverted power and leaved over and tapped me on the shoulder, said ‘you need to learn how to listen, you need grace, you need to learn how to speak. You’re coming with me’.” – Joy Harjo, How We Became Human

“We all come into existence as a single cell, smaller than a speck of dust. Much smaller. Divide. Multiply. Add and subtract. Matter changes hands, atoms flow in and out, molecules pivot, proteins stitch together, mitochondria send out their oxidative dictates; we begin as a microscopic electrical swarm. The lungs the brain the heart. Forty weeks later, six trillion cells get crushed in the vise of our mother’s birth canal and we howl. Then the world starts in on us.”  – Anthony Doerr, All The Light We Cannot See

**if you want more, here’s an abandoned list of quotes i used to update frequently

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

—  Polyamory, with Knives by Jeanann Verlee

Just because you fell in love with the river
doesn’t mean you must feed it your bones.

You can take new lovers. Wine, for instance.
And bread. Difficult shoes. Little blue pills.

The first boy’s knife. The bowie, the buck,
the chef’s. Switch, pocket, butcher, butter.

You can submerge in a hotel bath, drainage
ditch, Newton Creek, East River. The sea.

Eat the whole pan of lasagna. The entire box
of Thin Mints. You can go down in mimosas.

You can lose yourself in Clifton, or Sexton,
Walker, Hooks, Rich, Atwood. Or Hughes.

Even the boxer whose poems sewed you shut.
Whose hands pulled you from the red red tub.

The boy who became boxer who became
man who became poet who became husband.

Yes, you can love the river. The knife. The pills.
The wine. You can love a thousand lonelinesses.

You can love the man and each of his hands.
Love the brine and the meat and all the tiny ruins.

—  Polyamory, with Knives by Jeanann Verlee

apoemaday:

“And if there is one last thing I would have you know before we reach these final pages, it’s that sometimes, no matter how hard we try, no matter how hard we want it to be so, sometimes there is no such a thing as happy ending.“ - T.J. Klune, Burn