#lost township

[creacherkeeper]

is this old religion, are we calling it love?

{sweet movie, alisha dietzman / @gaphic / tiktok / @iamalivenow / on earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong / @manywinged / these violent delights, micah nemerever / the reader, bernhard schlink (trans. carol brown janeway) / hestitations outside the door, margaret atwood / a self-portrait in letters, anne sexton}

[ID: ten images of text together in a litstack

1: Confession: I will think of you forever

2: a post by gaphic: It’s only tragedy if you convince yourself, for even just a moment, that everything could be ok, despite knowing it won’t be. Tragedy lies in ‘so close, yet so far.’ It’s avoidable because it would only take a tiny alteration to prevent disaster, but human nature is in the way- not maliciously, not knowingly, despite trying so hard.

3: a tiktok comment and answer: Are they lovers? / Worse

4: a post by iamalivenow: gay sex won't fix this. it'll probably make this worse. that being said don't you want to see how much worse it can get?

5: Sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof that you've been ruined.

6: tags from manywinged: #technically they know and understand each other better than anyone else alive #but they communicate that in the most fucked up insane unnecessarily complicated way and think thats normal

7: I don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you. / We've found each other, out of everyone else in the world. Does that hurt, too?

8: "I'm not used to being loved. I wouldn't know what to do."

9: Should we go into it together / If I go into it with you I will never come out

10: of course the love is there. / still, / still, / still.

end ID]

[cactusnymph]

Morel & Cat

[ID: a litstack comprised of different quotes and pictures:

1. He had the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise. Isabel Allende, The House of The Spirits

2. have you eaten? (i love you). did you get enough sleep last night? (i love you). how do you feel today? (i love you). did you have a nice day? (i love you). will you come on a walk with me? (i love you). here’s some fruit I cut up for you. (i love you) (i love you) (i love you). @greysfields

3. You don’t need solutions. You don’t need to move on from your grief. You need someone to see your grief, to acknowledge it. You need someone to hold your hands while you stand there in blinking horror, staring at the hole that was your life. Some things cannot be fixed. They can only be carried. - Megan Devine

4. The painting “Madame Monet and Child” by Claude Monet, showing a woman and a child sitting in front of red rose bushes. The woman is sewing and the child is drawing.

5. When you’re high, I’ll take the lows You can ebb and I can flow And we’ll take it slow And grow as we go Grow as we go - Cécile Berrubé

6. Still, there is this terrible desire to be loved. / Still, there is this horror at being left behind. - Michael Cunningham, The Hours

7. when i’m six feet underground the bugs in my body will dream of u. @cutevirgin​

8. The painting “Apple Trees in Bloom” by Claude Monet, showing apple trees covered with white blossoms under a blue sky.

9. You're my number one, you're the one I want And I've turned down every hand That has beckoned me to come You're my number one, you're the one I want And I've turned down every hand That has beckoned me to come

- Geyser by Mitski

End ID]

[paladinbaby]

a patch of white anemones

the iliad, tr. emily wilson / electra: a tragedy, tr. anne carson / the lathe of heaven, ursula k. le guin / @insomniac-arrest / the first bad man, miranda july / what resembles the grave but isn’t, anne boyer / rabbit heart (raise it up), florence + the machine / burrows end, @dimension20official / the burglar of babylon, elizabeth bishop

[Image Description: Ten images of text. The first image is a photograph of a book page but the rest are black text on a pure white background.

1: “You already know this story. You will die. Everyone you love will also die. You will lose them forever. You will be sad and angry. You will weep. You will bargain. You will make demands. You will beg. You will pray. It will make no difference. Nothing you can do will bring them back. You know this. Your knowing changes nothing. This poem will make you understand the unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time.”

2: “Electra / And I know there is something all wrong about me - believe me. Sometimes I shock myself”

3: “The end justifies the means. But what if there never is an end? All we have is means.”

4: “The first rule of tragedy is to be yourself. The second rule of tragedy is to be literally anyone else. The third rule is that however much you try there is no escaping being yourself forever.”

5: “Then I realised that we all think we might be terrible people. But we only reveal this before asking someone to love us. It is a kind of undressing.”

6: “Always falling into a hole, then saying “okay, this is not your grave, get out of this hole,””

7: “I must become a lion hearted girl / Ready for a fight / Before I make the final sacrifice / We raise it up, this offering”

8: “i think for myself, when I go back to that time, the number one emotion associated with it is tremendous shame and embarrassment which is the emotion it would take to never mention that to anybody”

9: “You were good to me, and I love you, / But I’m doomed” End ID.]

[punkbarbarian]

a family reunion, from fistfight to cigarette

up the wolves, the mountain goats // the elektra complex, joan tierney // all about love, bell hooks // on earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong // the wee free men, terry pratchett // you're gonna go far, noah kahan // brother of mine, jun miresa // wild geese, mary oliver // lost in my mind, the head and the heart

[image id: 9 screenshots of text on white backgrounds. 1: "[chorus] our mother has been absent ever since we founded rome / but there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home" 2: "ORESTES: how could you recognize me after all these years? / ELEKTRA: what a stupid question. i was born knowing you." 3: "we can never go back. i know that now. we can go forward. we can find the love our hearts long for, but not until we go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart's longing." 4: "you realize, at last, that you can change without disappearing, that all you had to do was wait until the storm passes over you and you find that--yes--your name is still attached to a living thing." 5: "he said it was better to belong where you don't belong than not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there." 6: "we ain't angry at you, love / you're the greatest thing we've lost / the birds will still sing / your folks will still fight / the boards will still creak / the leaves will still die" 7: "oh brother of mine, we're no longer alike / though you're still the same dear brother of mine" 8: "you do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles in the desert repenting. / you only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine. / meanwhile the world goes on." 9: "won't you tell me, my brother? / 'cause there are stars up above / we can start moving forward." /end ID]

[masculinepeacock]

goddess given righteous anger

Touching Spirit Bear, Ben Mikaelson // Deluge: 'Questions directed toward the idea of Mary', Leila Chatti // @braveburattino // How to Cure a Ghost; 'after the loss, take two', Fariha Róisín // Show Your Fangs, The Crane Wives // @dateamonster // Medea, Euripides // Ziegfield Follies // The Myth of Devotion, Louise Glück // In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado

[Image Description: A series of quotes and images combined. 1: "People change two ways - with slow persistent pressure, or with a single and sudden traumatic experience." 2: "And how long before you realized (did you realize?) shame was a blade / you turned against yourself?" 3: Art of a deer with a skull for it's head, with smoke billowing out of it, the horse's mouth is open. The deer is rearing back on it's hooves and there are hills and trees all around it, the deer and smoke are white and everything else is red. The left antler is partially red. 4: "how do i ask to be saved in a world like this? a mysterious bruise, all splotchy, wanting so badly to heal". 5: "With malice, beasts will show their fangs They're in for a surprise Bravely I will wield my weapon I made from fangs of those that died". 6: A tumblr post that reads, "girl transformed by monstrous adolescence x girl killed off by the narrative for having too much sex". 7: "CHORUS LEADER: You would become the wretchedest of women. MEDEA: Then let it be." 8: A photo of Hedy Lamarr in Ziegfield Follies. 9: "because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness" 10: " 'I had a room to myself as a kid, but my mother was always quick to point out that it wasn't my room, it was her room and I was merely permitted to occupy it. Her point, of course, was that my parents had earned everything and I was merely borrowing the space, and while this is technically true I cannot help but marvel at the singular damage of this dark idea: That was my existence as a child was a kind of debt and nothing, no matter how small, was mine. That no space was truly private; anything of mine could be forfeited at someone else's whim.' " /end ID]

[strangetorpedos]

19 month long multi class finally revealed. feeling insane

[ofdraiocht]

Not me going out to our second location via bus rn to pick stuff up cause my boss aka the only one with a car is out of town for the weekend and I get my delivery tomorrow--

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"PAPER BOOTS CLAIM ORDERED PROBED," Toronto Globe. April 19, 1933. Page 9. ---- York Township Council Resolves to Prohibit "Tent Colony" ---- Immediate investigation was ordered by York Township Council yesterday into allegations made at a meeting of the Mount Dennis Property Owners, to the effect that paper boots" were being supplied by the Welfare Department to relief recipients, who, it is claimed, in some cases were also denied a supply of bed covering.

When a motion was introduced delegating Reeve A. J. B. Gray to at- lend a conference between the Emergency Municipalities Committee and Premier Bennett to discuss the continuing of municipal relief, Councillor W. M. Graham suggested that an- other delegate accompany the Reeve. This brought Councillor W. J. Noble, whose political affiliations do not coincide with those of Councillor Graham, to his fect. "If you are trying to play politics, I am opposed to your suggestion," he told his colleague.

"My friend is so evil-minded that he accuses me of playing politics. He is all wrong," retorted Councillor Graham. This remark aroused Councillor Noble's ire, and he demanded its withdrawal. Under persuasion both Councillors retracted, and the incident closed.

"We must take some steps to stop the township becoming a tent colony," declared Reeve Gray, in supporting a motion which, in effect, would prohibit citizens living under canvas without approval being secured from the Board of Health. "I understand that there are 200 waiting for better weather so that they can pitch their tenta," the Reeve stated. With Councillor Graham opposing, on the ground that it interfered with citizens' personal rights, the resolution carried.

Former Township Clerk W. A. Clarke informed Council that he was willing to forego his pension of $2,000 as from June 1, conditional on payment to that date and a settlement of $1,000. The offer was agreed to and Mr. Clarke thanked for his generous action.

It was decided to approach the Federal Government, asking for a rebate of all sales tax on relief orders. J. Earl Lawson, M.P., will be asked to take the matter up at, Ottawa.

[sadlazzle]

‘it’s probably not boss fog, i don’t need to go and cash in my souls’ i say, as i enter the boss fog, immediately getting my ass handed to me

[creacherkeeper]

when you didn't even know you needed a second chance

{the good bones, maggie smith / summer doorway with african lilies, phyllis dodd / sputnik sweetheart, haruki murakami / ashe vernon / phoebe wahl / creacherkeeper / braiding sweetgrass, robin wall kimmerer / love poem with apologies for my appearance, ada limón / @korocore / i am offering this poem, jimmy santiago baca}

[ID: ten images, 8 of text and 2 paintings, in a litstack

1: [...] though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.

2: a realistic painting in soft colors of a potted african lily plan sitting outside the open doorway of a home. beyond the door there are more plants in a garden

3: I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.

4: So maybe this time, love doesn't kick down the door-- / doesn't rattle the windows or plant weeds in the flower garden. / Maybe you can't smell the smoke because, / for once, / nothing is burning.

5: There is a little house somewhere, surrounded by green cedar boughs, where we are eating oatcakes with honey, dipping them in our tea three times for good luck. Somewhere I am sitting with you in stillness.

6: Calm, for the most part. Also tired, also worried, also nervous, also scared, also sad, but those things were just … always swimming around inside her somewhere. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were bigger. They’d been quiet the last few days. It seemed another emotion had replaced them, a subtle sort of ache around her chest, a pang of longing that she had long come to recognize. / She really missed Morel.

7: [...] found her barefoot in the garden, planting beans and helping me fill my pail with earthworms that were severed by her shovel. I thought I could nurse them back to health in the worm hospital I constructed beneath the irises. She encouraged me in this, always saying, "There is no hurt that can't be healed by love."

8: I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me than much else. I'm wrong, it is that I love you, but it's more that when you say it back, lights out, a cold wind through the curtains, for maybe the first time in my life, I believe it.

9: a painting of many pastel flowers. the flowers are painted using thick brush strokes to give the petals a raised texture

10: I love you, / I have nothing else to give you, / so it is a pot full of yellow corn / to warm your belly in winter, / it is a scarf for your head, / to wear over your hair, / to tie up around your face. / I love you,

end ID]

[enviedear]

Okay but Billy with an innocent reader>>>>>>>> LIKE HES SO PROTECTIVE OML

billy + innocent!reader

stop i love this. this should be an au hell i may just write more for it

tw— for use of a gun, toothrotting fluff

request

"go ahead, honey. pull the trigger." billy's voice is sweet against your ear.

your face morphs into a coy apprehension, "and you're sure this won't send me flying on my rear?"

he chuckles, straightening your arms a bit, "m'right here, i won't let that happen."

your eyes focus in on the three rusty cans in the distance, set atop a dry rotting log. you know there's no way you're going to hit them all. you'd be lucky to hit one.

but billy is adamant in both that you need to learn how to shoot, and that you’ll be a ‘natural’. his driving objective, however, being that since he can't be with you from sun up to sun down, he'll have to settle with teaching you how to fend for yourself.

it's not unlike him to behave this way. in the months you've known the gunslinger, you've come to find that his urge to protect you is enormous.

his protection isn't reserved just against the infamous wild men of the west, but rather, anything and anyone. if it could possibly do you harm, physically or mentally, he's there to guard and defend.

like a knight out of the princess tales your mother used to tell you.

you let out a harsh breath before your finger begins to press into the trigger. too soft at first, the metal remains in its' spot, you muster up all your courage and pull the trigger. your eyes are screwed shut as the bullet whistles away, and you quickly turn into billy.

his arms ensnare you, wrapping you tight, "what're you hidin' for? you hit it dead center, sweetheart!"

you lift your head, staring unabashedly into his blue eyes, "did i really?"

he hums, using his dominant hand to steer your gaze away from him and toward the target. sure enough, the can on the left side has a small hole right in its middle.

billy chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back, "told you, my girl's a natural."

you can't help but grin, the tension releasing from your shoulders, "or i've got a good teacher." you tease.

he gives you a squeeze before letting go, gesturing toward the cans, "c'mon, let's see if you can do it again."

emboldened by your first success, you square your shoulders and take aim. this time, you focus a bit more, remembering the sensation of the recoil and trying to replicate it. the shot rings out, and you open your eyes to find another can hit.

billy lightly claps you on the back, "see? just like that, sweetheart."

as you reload, you can't help but appreciate the way the afternoon sun plays on his weathered hat, casting thin rays upon his lips, "m’not as hopeless as i thought."

he grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do i e’ver lie to you?”

you ignore his sly remark, focusing back in on your targets. with newfound confidence, you continue to practice, the rhythmic sound of gunshots filling the air. as the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape.

the sounds of gunfire continue, each shot feeling more controlled and confident than the last. with every successful hit, billy's pride in your progress shines through his loving stare. he stands by your side, offering guidance and encouragement, a quiet guardian in the backdrop of your learning.

as the sun dips even lower, casting a dim hue over the landscape, you catch a glimpse of billy watching you with a softness in his eyes. he often got this way, completely lost in you. especially when you're doing things his way— not in the way you'd normally feel inclined. you're rather tame and harmless in comparison to billy, the entire west, really.

growing up away from the fast-growing townships and travelers, when you met billy he completely flipped your world upside down. you gave him all your firsts, shooting his pistol only adds to the expansive list of firsts you've given him.

you go to take aim again, eyes closing as you shoot, still too frightened to keep them open— your bullet flies past your targets, missing entirely. you've grown used to the sound of a hit and when you open your eyes to find the miss, you groan.

billy's safeguarding nature becomes even more apparent as you meet his winsome eyes, his gaze lingers on you, subtle worry etched on his features.

he knows you're inexperienced, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of the world he's accustomed to. he knows it isn't, but if this were a shootout, that big of a miss would have cost you your life.

the mere thought of you in that situation is something he's not willing to entertain.

"you're doing mighty fine, sweetheart," he reassures, a tenderness in his voice that speaks volumes, "but remember, there's more to this than cans and targets. gotta keep those pretty eyes of yours open, alright?"

you nod, appreciating his concern and the earnest care he extends. it dawns on you that learning to shoot isn't just a practical skill— it's a testament to the depth of billy's affection. he's arming you with more than just a handgun— he's giving you a piece of his own resilience and determination.

as the sun sets, casting long shadows across the landscape, you take a moment to stand side by side with billy, appreciating the warmth of his presence. the sky paints hues of orange and pink, a picturesque backdrop to the bond that's been forged between you.

"thanks, billy," you say, sincerity lacing your words. "for teaching me, for being patient."

he smiles, a softness in his expression that contrasts with the rugged exterior, "my pleasure, sweetheart. always want you to be able to take care of yourself."

with the last rays of sunlight fading, you holster the gun, feeling a newfound sense of empowerment. billy wraps an arm around your shoulders, guiding you back towards the homestead. as you walk together, the echoes of gunshots in the ears serve as a reminder that you're not just learning to shoot— you're learning to navigate billy's world, and with his protection, you're sure you'll do just fine.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[paladinbaby]

first rule of holes: keep digging

poem of the end, marina tsvetaeva / have you been long enough at the table, leslie sainz / @inneskeeper / the charismatic church asks me how i have sinned, janelle tan / blud, rachel mckibbens / leslie feinberg / @aforlorngazeintoyesterday / nonbeliever, lucy dacus / the cow, ariana reines / the wee free men, terry pratchett

[Image Description: Ten images of text on white backgrounds.

1: “Either love is / -A shrine? / or else a scar.” Or else a scar is highlighted in a pale yellow colour.

2: “can you stomach it? / Anyway, you eat it. You eat it anyway.”

3: “ Oh sunk cost fallacy, we’re really in it now. We are in fact so really in it that if we quit now then everything we did would have all been for nothing and so we have to keep going in”

4: “let me fail myself. let me call / love an unanswered prayer. let me be / the very tip of the knife / that touches grace.”

5: “Obedience in the wrong house is a kind of plague,

survivor’s guilt a slight of hand. No outrunning / your blood’s calamity, so you gather your teeth

& dig your trenches, tell your stories but never come clean.”

6: “Did I survive? I guess I did. But only because I knew I might get home to you.” The whole line is written in italics.

7: “doomed by the narrative but not to death. doomed to survive. doomed to stay alive inside the story. doomed to never escape the narrative, not even through death. you are allowed no exit. there is no way out for you and never was. you couldn’t die if you wanted to. the narrative has a hold on you and it won’t let go. death is too sweet a doom for you. the story has something much worse in mind. there is no way out.”

8: “You deal an unspoken debt / No kindness without wanting something back / What do I owe you? What did I forget? / Are we even after all of that?”

9: “There is no sacrifice. You have got to want to live. You have got to force yourself to want to.”

10: “All witches are selfish, the Queen had said. But Tiffany’s Third Thoughts said: Then turn selfishness into a weapon! Make all things yours! Make other lives and dreams and hopes yours! Protect them! Save them! Bring them into the sheepfold! Walk the gale for them! Keep away the wolf! My dreams! My brother! My family! My land! My world! How dare you try to take these things, because they are mine!

I have a duty!” End ID.]

[punkbarbarian]

returning home somewhere unrecognizable

the view between villages, noah kahan / the memory of a memory, katie maria / matt mccormick / all these things that i've done, the killers / @creacherkeeper / spent gladiator 2, the mountain goats / the graveyard book, neil gaiman

[image id: eight images of text on mostly white backgrounds.

1: "the things that i lost here, the people i knew / they've got me surrounded for a mile or two"

2: "but an echo of a person is not a person at all and the memory of a memory is a light at the end of a never ending tunnel. we can never go back to who we once were."

3: a sketch of a cowboy and horse on a beige background. handwritten text reads "but i can't explain / forgive me one more time"

4: "another head aches, another heart breaks / i'm so much older than i can take / and my affection, well it comes and goes / i need direction to perfection, no, no, no, no"

5: screenshot of a discord message. "it's like. the place you love and know and feel safe is also growing into a place that's hostile for you"

6: a dark image of a burning tree. white painted text reads "there is no moving on. only running away."

7: "like somone who's found a small town to escape to / keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self"

8: "it's like the people who believe they'll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn't work that way. wherever you go, you take yourself with you. if you see what i mean." /end id]

[masculinepeacock]

the arc of regression

My Father’s Son, Blake Rouse // Scott Carroll // Narcissus, Delmore Schwartz // @creacherkeeper // The Waves, Virginia Woolf // Field Dressing, J.L. // @miseria-fortes-viros // Prayer Can Be Anything, Karen Elizabeth Sharpe // Phillip Pilz (crop by me) // My Father’s Son, Blake Rouse

[ID: (1) handwritten cursive that reads, “i’m so fucking scared that i’m just you”. (2) a photo of a white tailed deer in the woods. (3) “THE FEAR AND DREAD OF THE MIND OF OTHERS”. (4) “in this case the toughest battle is talking to divine”. (5) “‘For this moment, this one moment, we are together. I press you to me. Come, pain, feed on me. Bury your fangs in my flesh. Tear me asunder. I sob, I sob.’”. (6) my father takes me hunting to show me that he loves me // as if trying to kill things together will prevent us from killing each other”. (7) “the gods will not save me. i suppose this is a lesson in hubris. i am forever a flightless thing”. (8) “the clean dispatch of a blunt tool some call the priest”. (9) A photo of a wolf snarling. (10) handwritten cursive that reads, “i’m only my father’s son”. /end id]

[strangetorpedos]

cass said two things to annalise (ex girlfriend from twenty years ago) in yesterdays session. one was "quit playing games and tell us what's going on" and the other was "you don't get to be a coward now"

[pixelnrd]

Heather had loved Selvadorada, but eventually she decided it was time to move on. Bidding farewell to the Llamas, she travelled to the other side of the world to the beautiful town of Tartosa on the Mediterranean coast.

The beaches were like nothing she had seen before, and the quant ancient township was full of history. Heather stayed in a tiny villa and rode a bike everywhere along the cobblestone roads. It was a town full of romance, she could feel it in the air - the heat of the sun, the sounds of music, and the smells of delicious food. The pastries were her favourite here, and every morning she would sample something new.

The necataries were also something to behold, and Heather enjoyed many fine wines. To sustain herself in Tartosa, she took up work at one of the nectaries picking and processing the fruit. It was messy work, and relentless at times, but every day she got to drink a new variety of wine and became quite the connoisseur.

The romanticism of Tartosa was not lost on Heather, and when she wasn’t working or exploring she was enjoying the sultry nightlife and meeting new people…