I Like Talking To Small Children Because They Are Comfortable Ending A Conversation. Adults Hate “awkward

Some of the biggest fantasy worldbuilding fails that I see, in no particular order

Gods without religion. The Gods are real and a known historical fact, but virtually nobody is religious.

Cultural racism/discrimination without structural racism/discrimination. Discrimination that exists only in microagressions or mean comments, without existing in any sort of structural way.

Secret history with no clear reason for it to be secret and no clear method for maintaining that secrecy. Major parts of the world's history are kept entirely secret, even though there's not an obvious reason to do so and even when history has shown this is virtually impossible to enforce (especially in a world with any movement or communication across borders).

Large, homogeneous countries. Even without immigration, virtually no country larger than the Vatican will be fully homogeneous in terms of culture, dialect, beliefs, traditions, etc., much less a large one with limited communication technology as is often seen in fantasy. The Planet of Hats problem.

4 Years of Hope

Hi there! We're 4 Years of Hope, aiming to bring you a mission of creativity, community and a little light in the darkness throughout whatever the next 4 years brings you. We know things are looking to be hard for a lot of folks right now, and we want to help a little in our own small, creative ways.

What will we be doing?

Each year, we'll be publishing an eZine featuring writing and art from around the globe in this wonderful writing community we've forged, aiming to help folks out there appreciate the joy of creativity. Each project will have a different theme specifically relating to hope. There will also be voluntary donations towards a charity supporting causes close to our heart in these difficult times.

Who are we?

We're run by a small team of community artists, just hoping to make a little bit of a difference.

Via is an author, theatre maker and workshop leader who supports folks to be the most creative version of themselves. They aim to inspire, empower and enfranchise through their work, and love to explore challenging and educational themes. They love cats, and if they could be any kitchen implement they would be a spatula.

Alex is a Canadian artist, musician, and YA author. When they’re not at the keyboard, you can find them hosting tabletop game night, working on illustrations, or at their other keyboard composing music. Their life’s work is to connect with queer youth who feel as lost and hopeless as they once did and provide a little bit of hope for the future, be that through writing, music, or comedy.

Em is a poet, parent, and artist specializing in sculptures. She loves to see what beauty comes from creativity and community and has a non-trivial obsession with turtles.

What's next?

We're still getting things set up on our end, but please keep an eye out over the next few weeks for announcements about our first Zine theme, and our first charity!

male entitlement in academic spaces is so boring. can’t tell you how many times i’ve been in a class and a girl gives a short, insightful analysis, and then a dude raises his hand and says “jumping off of that…” then says literally the same thing she said but longer and worse.

The Moon Singing on Homely Nights

The moon sings softly on the nights Esther climbs in through her brother’s window. These nights turn sparser as Amador stays in his new apartment across the country. During these nights, her heart beats in a lulled pace while she sits on his empty bed. 

There’s a soft click as she unlatches the window and when she crawls in, she makes sure to land on her toes. She finds more than just her older brother. She doesn’t know what she’ll see or what she hopes to see. When she’d last seen him, he’d slammed the door, tears streaking down his face and voice hoarse from screaming. She still doesn’t have the full pieces from the fight that led to her father’s roaring voice startling their home into silence and the unusual pitch of Amador’s voice as he walked out the door. 

She opens his bedroom door to see if he is in the living room or spending his time in a library. She hopes he’s found a library he likes here despite all that has transpired. 

Amador’s head is lolled on the couch, his mouth parted and dead to the world. His body is slightly tilted with one arm around his childhood friend, Maya’s sleeping form who was hugging her brother’s waist. The ugly green blanket Esther had gifted him as a joke is bunch around their feet as if kicked. There’s Snakes n Ladders, playing cards, and Candyland strewn across the table. 

Maya had always filled Amador’s head with ideas—little fantasies that didn’t include Esther most likely that he could escape into. Frowning, she steps forward, fully planning to yank the woman out but the floor creaks loudly under her feet. They both jolt open, Amador’s shaking his head and Maya drags her hands across her face to remove her hair from her mouth, scrunching her face. 

When Amador turns around to face the source of the sound, he finds her face and gives a dopey smile. ‘Hey, you’re home. When d’you come here?’ 

This is the first time she heard him call this place home, and a little piece of Esther’s heart cracks as if he’s renouncing the family home. Something vicious crawls onto Esther’s tongue as she bites out, ‘Thought you’d know that you’ve not succeeded in getting rid of me yet.’ 

Milas flinches as hurt flashes across his face, and in an instant, Maya grips his arm. Esther can never guess how Maya knows that while still keeping her piercing gaze fixed on her.

‘I don’t want to get rid of you,’ Amador says in confusion before letting out a shaky laugh, ‘no matter how annoying you are, you little rugrat.’ 

Esther should ideally know that. She doesn’t have the full pieces of the fight he had with mom and dad, or the unfamiliar way he’s glancing at Esther, still wary but now distant. Even in the moonlight, she can see the color back on his face, the surety of his movements as he tidies up the table and the blanket to give Esther a place to sit. 

When Maya flicks on the floor lamp in the corner, his eyes crinkle at Esther and he pats the seat next to him. His cheeks are no longer sallow, his face no longer as pale as Esther, and he no longer sways in a way that makes Esther worry that a faint breeze could have knocked the husk of a rock her brother used to be. 

Her brother had been wasting away for months, and Esther had not noticed. 

From the corner of her eyes, Maya walks in with two plates balanced in a tray and slides the biggest portion of what looks like heated leftover lasagna to her brother, glancing warily, as she reminds him, ‘You’d promised you’d eat tomorrow nine hours ago. It’s 12:03. Eat up.’ 

She offers another to Esther as she leisurely nibbles on peanuts to keep her brother company. Her brother makes a little face at the size, and Maya produces a bar of chocolate in her fingers seemingly out of thin air as a bribe and chews obnoxiously loud until he drops it. He slouches to rest his head on Maya’s shoulders in acquiesce like Esther had seen him do a thousand times since she could remember, and the woefully domestic scene sours her heart. 

Her plate remains untouched and she nods her head in gratitude for the food and the company. She makes excuses poorly at best and outlandish at worst, and walks out the door. 

One day, she would know the words of the fight and Amador’s dreams if he’d let her, but for now, she takes the earliest train home. As she looks through the window, she sees her mother’s eyes with dark circles underneath. They both have her eyes, but this new Amador’s eyes gleam bright enough to quiet the moon. 

🍉 Queer Palestinian Books 🍉

🇵🇸 The algorithm is going to keep silencing my posts, but they're not going to silence me. I grew up with little to no books that made me feel seen as a queer/bisexual Palestinian Arab American. Today, it's still not easy enough to find those books online, even though we have thousands of lists, posts, and directories to guide us. To make your search a little easier, here are a few queer Palestinian books to add to your TBR. Please help me spread this by reblogging. Consider adding these to your least for Read Palestine Week (click for resources)! 💜

🍉 The Skin and Its Girl by Sarah Cypher 🇵🇸 A Map of Home by Randa Jarrar 🍉 Hazardous Spirits by Anbara Salam 🇵🇸 To All the Yellow Flowers by Raya Tuffaha 🍉 You Exist Too Much by Zaina Arafat 🇵🇸 The Specimen's Apology by George Abraham 🍉 Birthright by George Abraham 🇵🇸 Nayra and the Djinn by Iasmin Omar Ata 🍉 Where Black Stars Rise by Nadia Shammas and Marie Enger 🇵🇸 The Twenty-Ninth Year by Hala Alyan 🍉 Guapa by Saleem Haddad 🇵🇸 From Whole Cloth: An Asexual Romance by Sonia Sulaiman

🍉 The Philistine by Leila Marshy 🇵🇸 Love Is an Ex-Country by Randa Jarrar 🍉 Shell Houses by Rasha Abdulhadi 🇵🇸 Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique by Sa'ed Atshan 🍉 Belladonna by Anbara Salam 🇵🇸 Confetti Realms by Nadia Shammas, Karnessa, Hackto Oshiro 🍉 Blood Orange by Yaffa As 🇵🇸 The ordeal of being known by Malia Rose 🍉 Decolonial Queering in Palestine by Walaa Alqaisiya 🇵🇸 Are You This? Or Are You This?: A Story of Identity and Worth by Madian Al Jazerah, Ellen Georgiou 🍉 This Arab Is Queer: An Anthology by LGBTQ+ Arab Writers 🇵🇸 My Mama's Magic by Amina Awad

53! Best Tools for Writers

Check out under the read more for lots of tools and websites for writers. All of these prices are up to date as far as I know. I’ll add more as i find them! (count as of July 9, 2021: 53 tools)

Keep reading

How a Character’s Anger Can Show Up Quietly

Anger doesn’t always slam doors. Sometimes it simmers. Sometimes it cuts.

╰ They go still. Not calm... still. Like something is pulling tight inside them.

╰ They smile, but their eyes? Cold. Flat. Done.

╰ Their voice gets quieter, not louder. Controlled. Measured. Weaponized.

╰ They ask questions they already know the answers to, just to watch someone squirm.

╰ Their words are clipped. Polite. But razor-sharp.

╰ They laugh once. Without humor. You know the one.

╰ They leave the room without explanation, and when they come back? Different energy. Ice where fire was.

hello fellow non-Black tumblr users. welcome to my saw trap. if you'd like to leave, please name one (1) Black woman author who is not Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, bell hooks, Octavia Butler, or N.K. Jemisin. bonus points if she's published a book in the last five years.

Cats getting caught doing crimes

switch up your verbs (part one) ~

walked - hiked - moved - shuffled - toddled - sauntered - ambled - tiptoed - meandered - strolled

laughed - chortled - chuckled - giggled - snorted - guffawed - howled - snickered - shrieked

wanted - ached for - wished - craved - coveted - fancied - pined - aspired

ran - sprinted - galloped - scampered - bolted - trotted - dashed - raced - jogged

jumped - bounced - hopped - leapt - hurtled - vaulted - barged - bounded