This is my piece for Interwoven, a zine depicting WHA characters in various traditional, cultural and historical clothing around the world. It’s free, so check it out! 🏮✨
Additionally, there are cultural and art notes by everyone, and each person person’s work is so wonderful. Image ID under the cut.
Interwoven: A Witch Hat Atelier Fashion Zine
[Image ID: A fan illustration of Richeh and Riliphin from Witch Hat Atelier, wearing the Vietnamese cultural dress áo dài. The scene depicts the two are looking at each other smiling brightly and swirling around in the centre, while holding paper toys made for the Mid Autumn Festival. Riliphin holds a dragon in his left hand, and a star in his right. As for Richech, she holds a chicken in both hands. Around them on the tiled floor are lotus shaped lanterns glowing softly in the night, and above them hanging on tree branches are chicken, fish, butterfly, boat, moon, star and pointed cap lanterns. End ID.]
trying to explain to dumbass tumblr users that saying they benefit from systemic oppression on a certain axis is not the same as invalidating every struggle theyve ever had in their entire life
it's literally the evilest thing in the world to finally have time to write but then be tired. like wow you're telling me these two hours before going to bed are completely free but my brain is just Not Feeling It? fuck off
The thing about the Witch Hat Atelier world is that the magic system sounds great until you realize it's essentially programming and that sobers you up immediately. Sure, maybe you reach the level of skill needed to draw perfect curves, straight lines, and circles without looking down, but after that you still need to be able to logic out which combination of sigils will actually give you the desired effect, and if you misplace a single line it all goes to shit. Add to that the inclusion of effect-altering inks and you start to understand why Olruggio is Like That.
My name is Hussam. I am a father, a husband… and I am trying to keep my family alive. 💔
Before the war, we lived a simple, peaceful life in Gaza. My wife and I were raising our six children—four boys, one girl, and our baby daughter who had not yet turned one. Our home was small, but it was full of laughter, warmth, and love. 🏡❤️
Then, in a single moment, everything was gone.
Airstrikes destroyed our home. The walls that once protected my children turned into rubble. I still remember the sound… the fear in their eyes… the way they held onto me as we ran for our lives. I couldn’t take anything with me—only my family. 😢💥
Now, we live in a fragile tent in a refugee camp. ⛺
The cold does not wait. The wind enters from every side. At night, my children cannot sleep—not because of noise, but because of hunger. My baby daughter cries in my arms, and I have nothing to give her. No milk. No warmth. Only empty hands and a broken heart. 🥶👶💔
As a father, this is the deepest pain—to see your children suffer and feel helpless.
Every day is a battle. I search for food. I try to keep our tent standing. I try to protect my children from sickness, fear, and despair. I am doing everything I can… but it is not enough. 😔
I need your help.
I want to be honest with you: during my last fundraising campaign, I was scammed. At a time when we had nothing, we lost even more. It broke me—but I refused to give up on my children. ⚠️💔
Now, I have created a new campaign with the help of a trusted friend, so your support can safely reach my family. I am asking you from my heart—please give us another chance. 🤝
Your help can save my children. 🙏
Even a small donation can mean: 🍞 Food for my hungry children
🍼 Milk for my baby daughter
💊 Medicine when we are sick
🧣 Blankets to survive the cold nights
Please, my friends… do not turn away.
If you cannot donate, please share my story. Your share could reach someone who can help save my family. 📢
Hussam is a father, a husband and a survivor.
From a father who is trying not to lose everything
New biz cards hot off the presses and I'm ready to take on more contract/freelance work in publishing, comics, and animation! If you're interested in working with me—check out my portfolio site: saracal.myportfolio.com
For book inquiries, please reach out to my agent, Paloma, at Ayesha Pande Literary.
the more i talk w/ leftist friends the more i start to realize that they think culture is only defined by food or "traditional" (i.e. "ethnic") garb and nothing else
mentioned how white americans do in fact have a common culture and they genuinely thought i was joking. culture isnt something only granted to the Cool People of Color. just feels like among progressive groups there's this dichotomy created in which only the virtuous oppressed minorities have culture and anyone who is privileged some sort of void cultureless being
When I visited Chicago, the very first thing to weird me out from the airport was… how almost everywhere had revolving doors.
I’m Australian. Sure, we do have those doors, but the vast majority of places in Sydney are automatic sliding doors or old-fashioned manual push/pulls because we don’t need to block out the cold and wind the same way here.
So every day I experienced a culture clash with something as basic as what doors were normal for me.
Americans who say they don’t have a culture are plagued with defaultism beyond belief. Culture isn’t just made up of costumes and language and the largest stuff, it’s constructed of a billion small things you do every day that you never even consider could be different because that’s just “normal” to your daily life. No one has no culture just because they’re not adhering to the biggest markers they can consciously recognise.
The iceberg concept of culture: only 10% of what most people immediately think of as their culture is above the surface, and the deeper you go, the more emotional depth it gets.
No, you see, I wish to be an author. Not in marketing. Or an influencer. I wish to tell my stories, be told I did a fantastic job, and then go back to my hovel to scribble some more. I am delicate of constitution and awkward in crowds.
Today we were talking about how words can mean different things to different communities, and that people outside the community wouldn't understand. Like how a non-poker player wouldn't understand poker jargon the way other poker players would. Anyway, then my professor said he was gonna show us his "favourite example" and wrote a single word on the board that gave me instant psychic damage: beta.
Apparently sport climbers use this word with a meaning of "technique, method." But for a horrifying, horrifying second there was the possibility in my mind that we were gonna talk about omegaverse in my fucking linguistics class