This is a letter I wrote to the Canadian government asking them to try their best to prevent Azerbaijan from invading Armenia.

This is my letter I wrote to the Canadian government asking them to send troops to Ukraine in order to help the Ukrainian people as they fight for freedom.

So this is not a work of fiction. It's the true life story of a person I met and the experience I had with her. I'm sharing this so that you can keep this lady in your prayers, as she is struggling. She is a beautiful, amazing soul. But she needs the protection of whatever divinity is out there.

This is my letter I wrote to the Canadian government about the importance of Mandatory Human Rights and Environment Due Diligence Laws, which would improve the wellbeing of workers, communities, and ecosystems around the world.  Please send them a letter as well, either in your own words or using this letter as a template.

This is my letter I wrote to the Canadian government asking them to increase support to Ukraine so that the people can fight off colonization. Please send a letter as well, in your own words or using this letter as a template.

This is the letter I wrote to the Canadian government asking them to help the people of Sudan. Please write your own letter, either in your own words or using this letter as a template.

This is the letter I wrote to the Canadian government to ask them to help the common people of Myanmar, who have come together to fight for their rights against the military dictatorship. Please write your own letter, either in your own words or using my letter as a template.

This is a letter I wrote to the government of Canada asking them to stand with the people of Gaza against Israel’s genocide. Please write your own letter, either in your own words or by using this letter as a template.

This is a letter I wrote to the Canadian Government for Have a Heart Day 2024. I am asking the government to stop discriminating against First Nations children, to stop giving them inadequate services, education, and support, to stop treating them unequally compared to non-Indigenous children, and to stop taking them away from their loving families. I really hope that you read my letter and that you either copy paste it or write your own, and email the Canadian government yourself.

This is just a collection of some of the poems I’ve written over the years, about the many emotions, dreams, desires, and destinies inherent to existing in this world. I write about the many ways the world around us affects us and how we in turn affect it.

This is just a place where I keep some of the poetry I’ve written over the years. Some of it is about me, some of it is about my friends, family, and loved ones. Some of it is about people I’ve never met. Some of it is about stories I’ve heard over the course of my life. There are many themes throughout, but the tying theme is universal equality and true liberation.

This is a poem about my friend who is a lesbian stuck in an abusive, homophobic, misogynistic home. Please give her some love.

This is a collection of poems I’ve written, that document the horrors and magnificence of this world and the people in it, and that document my journey through this world that we live in.

This is the letter I wrote to the government of Canada, asking them to stop discriminating against First Nations children and families on reserves, and asking them to stop taking First Nations children from their loving families. All the research is from the First Nations Child and Family Caring Society, whose website is here: https://fncaringsociety.com

You can read the following letter and please, please, even if you don’t live in Canada send a letter of your own, either using this letter as a template or in your own words:

This is a collection of songs I’ve written, on topics such as love, rebellion, hope, pain, oppression, solidarity, desire, and more.

This is not a fictional story. It is a collection of real life facts about what will happen if humanity fails to avert the climate catastrophe.

The world was murdered. The world will live again, will rise out from under its fetters. So will the people. In the meanwhile, the Yemars have magic. The Yemars have magic, and they have each other, and they have hope.

I have attempted to translate the beautiful works of the genius, mystical poet of Bangladesh, Nazrul Islam.

Herm and Rami are two slaves in the blazing planet. Herm and Rami are getting married. And, as all marriage ceremonies among the Amavikkan must be, theirs is a secret, closely-guarded.

---This work takes place in the Tatooine Slave Culture Fialleril created. Fialleril can be found on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

Depur wants to destroy the Desert. But there it stands, as a hope to the slaves and a symbol of all that Depur cannot conquer.

---This work takes place in the Tatooine Slave Culture and religion that Fialleril created. Fialleril can be found on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

Depur wanted Siyya to carry messages between the Depuran. Siyya spoke the truth.

---This story takes place in the Tatooine Slave Culture and religion that Fialleril created. Fialleril can be found on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

Depur wants to take the very bedrock of a young child. But Ekkreth will not let him.

---This story takes places in the Tatooine Soave Culture and religion that Fialleril created. Fialleril's can be found on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

The story of how Depur endeavoured to build a Great Wall, and the slaves followed each other away into the darkness. Darkness like the ground that surrounds a seed.

---This is set in the amazing Amavikka religion and Tatooine Slave Culture Fialleril created. It is also a prequel to Mighty One by Triscribe. Fialleril's works and Triscribe's works can be found on Archive Of Our Own.

The story of how Reyn the slave bested Depur and kept their family together.

---This takes place in the Tatooine Slave Culture and religion that Fialleril created. Fialleril can be found on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

One of the many stories of how Ekkreth the trickster learned their shape-changing and one of the many stories of how they freed the slaves. Featuring children, found family, defiance, and sandstorms.

---This takes place in the Tatooine Slave Culture and religion that Fialleril created. Fialleril can be found on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

One of the many stories of how Ekkreth the trickster learned their shape-changing and one of the many stories of how they freed the slaves. Featuring children, found family, defiance, and sandstorms.---This story takes place in the Tatooine Slave Culture and religion Fialleril created. Fialleril can be found on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

Depur thought Ekkreth the perfect, obedient slave. It was using their obedience as a cover that Ekkreth took out their slave chip and escaped into the wilderness of the desert. But they knew that Depur would not let them go so easily.---This story takes place in the Tatooine Slave Religion that Fialleril created. You can find Fialleril on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

The slaves know that the Depuran are greedy and vain. And Depur is the vainest, most greedy of them all. But as always, Ekkreth has some tricks up their sleeves.---This story takes place in the Tatooine Slave Religion that Fialleril created. You can find Fialleril on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

Depur wants all the slaves to know that only death awaits those who defy him. The slaves know that they have the trickery of Ekkreth. Kara is a slave woman who knows that she will be defiant.---This story takes place in the Tatooine Slave Religion that Fialleril created. You can find Fialleril on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

The story of how Depur stole the memory of the slaves, and how the people helped Ekkreth and each other to take it back.

---This story takes place in the Tatooine Slave Religion that Fialleril created. You can find Fialleril on Archive Of Our Own and Tumblr.

A collection of the lyrics I wrote. Lyrics about everything that matters to me. About everything that I yearn for desperately.

A young man and an old man are talking. But the truth lies in all that is left unsaid.

This is the way it has been for my people, for as long as anyone could remember. Each new life brought with it the threat that the creature posed. Each new life could be snatched away from us too early, too harshly, and far too cruelly.

I watch over her. I feel her pain with her. I feel all the many injustices done to her. And I wish I could intervene. I wish I could intervene but ever since my powers became depleted, this is all I can do.

The child is away from her true family. And she is in a family that treats her like a thing. Treats her like a tool to be used and a service to be exploited. She keeps all the hurt and the suffering and the hopelessness she feels inside. She’s far, far too young to be this hopeless. No-one deserves to be this hopeless.

What she doesn’t know though is that she is the embodiment of hope itself.

The city is beautiful and glittering under the shine of the sun. But everyone knows of the people living underneath the city, in their subterranean world. The girl from the comfort and luxury of the world above ground doesn’t know much about the world underneath. But she is falling. She’s falling. And she does not know what awaits her.

Mother Nature’s body mutilated. She lies there, her power, her glory, her immortal libertyRendered helpless by our slashing roads and our piercing pipelinesOur factories spewing pollution into the air, the lands, the waterOur mines digging down like stabbing knives into her Our mother’s body mutilatedAnd with her humanity is mutilatedWithout her we cannot be

Two worlds, placed in stark opposition with each other, placed intimately nestled close to each other. The world of hunger, thirst, sickness, and need. The world of the beggars. The world of luxury, comfort, pleasure, and contentment. The world of the shoppers. Two people look into each other’s faces. And they share a moment together. A small moment, mundane and abominable, in the flow of lives that take into account no justice, no mercy. Two people see each other. And nothing happens. And everything happens.

Nobody knows where the stories of Sheelo the prophet originated from. But everyone knows that they believe them. The stories are amazing, fantastical, inspiring, and so very empowering. And everyone knows that with Sheelo on their side, they are strong enough to stand up to those who have wealth and power.

The Young Lightning Rehabilitation takes the most problem of youths and turns them into good citizens. It makes the most troubled of rebels into compliant and obedient pieces of society. It restructures the most stubborn of minds into docile and contented brains. No-one gets dragged into the centre and comes out unchanged. Everyone who enters its walls comes out broken down, destructured, destroyed, and rebuilt anew.

Simran is a young girl who chooses not to fit in. She doesn't know what she wants, but she knows she wants something. And she knows she'll find that something no matter the cost.

The little girl with dragon wings who works at the dress shop is silent, obedient, and most of all, loyal. She always does all the work asked of her without complaint or question. Nobody sees what’s truly inside. Not even her.

But one day, she meets a being who does.

Did you know that Indigenous children in Canada are being separated from their families just because they are poor? Did you know that Indigenous children are being denied healthcare, disability support, and more? Do you know that education is underfunded for Indigenous children? That all social services are underfunded? What can you do about this? You can participate in Have a Heart Day, and send the Canadian government a letter and card, and make a snow bear, and educate yourself and spread the word!

I love my dad, the king. And I love my mom, the queen. They are so kind and full of love. They are good people. I know that they're good people. So why are all these people against them? Why are all these people saying such provocative things?

They want us to have poverty. They want us to serve them. To work for them. To be happy with our unbearably meagre lot in life. But we have each other. We have each other and that means that we have power. We can’t let them know that we have power, not ever. Because if they know, then they’ll destroy us.

The census is about to begin. I wonder if I’ll be brave enough to get through it. But I have to be. We all have to be. Because far too much depends on us, in this moment.

These are the experiences that defined me. The experiences that made me who I was. The times of kindness and compassion and care that taught me the lessons that I value most deeply, that can teach you much as well.

Once upon a time, in a land far away filled with magic of all sorts, there was a type of creature called a Farlen. The blood that they bled, when it hit the sunlight, would turn into a grand host of rubies, one ruby for each drop. And there were men, too many men, who would seek to exploit such an abundant source of wealth.

When a Farlen named Gray was captured, he almost gave up on the thought of rescue, the thought of escape. But help can come from the most unlikely of sources.

Eric and I are the perfect couple. The young, strong, will-be soldier and the pretty blonde girlfriend by his side. Homecoming prince and princess. Children of the Empire. With everything stretching out for us to conquer and subdue.

Except we don’t want to conquer. We want to liberate.

And so, by the darkness of the night, we make our way out across the threshold of Eric’s vast house. And we step into our new beginning.

Through the forest. Through the river. Beyond the horizon. To the place of our destiny.

This is just a drabble. I don't know when or why I write it but it was in the drafts so I thought I'd put it out into the world.

An immigrant girl ponders the life she hopes she has yet to live. Ponders the family she shared no blood with. Ponders the people she'd give her blood to. Ponders the universe she's been born into.

These are the lyrics to songs that I've written. Mostly about the struggle for universal liberation.

All I know is toil and work and rice and beans and saying goodbye to loved ones too early. All I have is a family made up of broken people and a community paved with broken streets. All we have is stories and hope and the Lifemaker and each other.  All they want from us is the sweat off our backs.

But on one night I have a dream. On one afternoon a child commits a crime. On one dawn the world starts turning towards a new day and the gods are closer than we ever knew them to be.

The city leaves me scraped raw.

You make me feel a tenderness and a worry that is too much for me, and still not nearly enough.

Poems about life, love, spirituality, wonder, and all the other little things that are important.

The city is filled with everything anyone could ever ask for. With entertainment and fun and beauty and intrigue. So why do I feel so dissatisfied? So why do I feel so empty?

The Wall around the city is high. It’s thick. No-one has ever seen over it. Everyone fears it.

But when I’m kissing Marcus and Elliot on the hard concrete of the school roof, I can’t help but wonder.

What else is there, that the city makes sure to keep us away from?

———This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Once upon a time there was a kingdom. A kingdom full of common people who were scraping by however they could. A kingdom full of nobles who had more than they ever needed. A kingdom full of imbalanced power and inalienable longing.

There was a servant girl who was the mother of the king's son. There were many other women who were the mothers of many saccharine children.

And somewhere in the reality between realities, there were four women creating.

———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

I cannot feel the overwhelming horror that coils deep in the darkness of my soul. I do not know how to move past the way my feet stay frozen in the ground.

Ember was screaming. His people were screaming. His land was bleeding.

———

This story is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

A young father holds his baby, and hopes.

———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Listen, children, here is the story of the first winter.

Once upon a time long long ago, before the lines between gods and mortals became clear, there was a little girl. This little girl was cast out by her family, by her community, by all the people of that time.  But the plants and the beasts and the sky and the stars saw her. And they saw that she was a child. And they resolved that they would bring her out of her sorrow.

---This is a story I made up it's not a folktale or something.​​​​​​​———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Malina-Deprassi was a world of extremes. The Big People had more than they ever could need. The Small People struggled to get by. Events occur which cannot be explained. Prophecies are told which gain widespread attention. Children are born into the world.———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Once there was a girl. And she had everything. Everything she didn't want Once here was a child. And they had nothing. But they were about to have the entirety of the future.

———

This story is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

You are the closest thing to a teacher that I have ever had. I hope I can honour your and walk on that hard path.

You are the closest thing to a teacher that I have ever had. I hope I can honour your and walk on that hard path.

Why did they take her from me? Why did they put me in this strange place where everything is so big and shiny and I'm surrounded by all these strange people who took me from my mother?

———

This story is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

A young mother knows that the people who control her land will take her baby from her.

This is what happens to children sometimes. The rich and powerful need a new slave that they can bend and mold to their will sometimes, one they can keep in the intimate confines of their mansions. And it's so easy to break a child if you raise said child.

She knows that her baby will grow up not knowing the stories and songs and anger and laughter of the people in the fields and factories and mines.

Before she has to say goodbye forever though, she can give the child something important.

A piece of her history, a bit of strength.———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Robbie Hode is thirteen years old. He is hungry, he is tired, he is grief-stricken. Sherwood Forest stretches green in front of him, his little impoverished community lights a fire in his heart, and the prince's castle casts long shadows. He is a prodigy at the bow. He is a rebel at the heart. And he will show them all, even if it costs him his life.

———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

We are children and teenagers who have no one. Who have no shelter. Nothing but the streets and the fear and the apathy of the well-fed and sheltered. Nothing but hunger and poverty and pasts we would rather forget.

But despite all that we have each other. We always make sure to have each other. Because in this world full of apathy and hate, kindness grows only when you plant it.

And I will do anything to protect my family. Anything.

——— This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

When I was four I was taken from my family. When Miri was thirteen she was an orphan and a mother. When we were fourteen we had no shoes and too much work but we had each other.

Miri kissed me three days ago. Before I set out onto this journey with the blocker of my light. She told me to be brave. Be confident. Be brutal. And I'm not brave. I'm broken. But when Miri kisses me hope runs down like molten gold over the broken, jagged edges of my heart. Pulls them together. So for her I am brave. For us both.

———This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

This is a story about two girls. One was the past. One was the future. One was oppression. One was liberation. One was prejudice. One was wisdom. One was poison. One was healing. One was the princess of a world that would die. One was the partisan of a world about to live.

Blessed are the oppressed.

For they shall inherit the Earth.

You look up. And there is no sky only blood.

You look down. And there is no ground only bone.

A girl walks through the night holding out a lantern. That girl is not you.

The Empire controls the whole world. It has controlled the whole world for centuries. To some, it has given unimaginable wealth and subtle yet almost complete power. To most it has given work, suffering, grief and pain.

There were hundreds of millions of slaves. And for so longs we had no hope. But then ... then there was hope. And it came to life like how a dry, dead forest sparks into a raging fire.

I have never known slavery. My mother ensured that. The war for freedom has lasted almost my entire life. And I am honoured to be able to fight with my comrades and people.

But in the midst of war, hope is hard to cling to.

Especially when you're just one teenager in standing in front of something as all-consuming as oppression itself.

———This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

The sunlight burns hot around you and you almost don't see it, the heat of July dripping down in a sour-sickly, watery-sticky concoction.

Everything's beautiful. Everything's beautiful. Everything is just fine and beautiful.

Never mind that the world is a swirling mass all around me. Never mind that I can barely walk straight. Never mind that there's a hand around my wrist holding me in a vice-grip. Never mind that something deep inside me is telling me to run.

I am exactly where I'm meant to be. The only place where I can be.

———This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Azania was sixteen. And she couldn’t take it anymore. She had spent her childhood lonely, spent it terrified, spent it desperate, spent it aching. The only adults in her life were the people who saw her as nothing but a tool to exploit and use. She was told over and over and over again that she was nothing and no-one and she didn’t matter. The only people in her life who cared about her were fellow slave-children and she barely ever got to see them at all. She needed freedom. Escape. She was willing to do anything for it.

And she wasn’t the only one. All over the city people were being exploited. People were being forced to work under impossibly degrading conditions and live in abject poverty. People were silenced. Stifled. And they were longing for escape.

The Forest was beyond the edges of the city. It was a place of magic and miracles. It was a place of hope and freedom and rebirth. But getting there was next to impossible.

Within the Forest the wolves howled. Azania emerged from the water. And she wasn’t the only one. And she wouldn’t be the only one. Who she met changed her life forever.

————This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Humanity has unlocked the elixir of eternal life.

The brain can be cleaned and washed back into youthfulness. The body cannot. But by transporting the brain to a younger body, one that can host it, it can continue living.

The synthetically produced humans are not people. Of course they're not. If they were people then the originally occurring humans would be monsters for killing them and transferring originally occurring brains into their bodies. The originally occurring people are not monsters. Of course not. They just want to live.

And to save something you need to kill something. The synths are a necessary sacrifice.

-----Ika has heard what the originals think about the synths. But she also knows her own heart, and her own grief, and her own terror.

———This story is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

You were born dirt poor to a mother and father who loved you. You were orphaned at the age of eight because poverty is inherently precarious. Thankfully you grew up in a community that cared for you as best as they could. A community that raised you into the young woman you are today.

You live in a world that used to spark with life and hope and magic. Now there still might be magic but ... it's different.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place in a fictional fantasy world full of fictional fantasy people. Also my take on the magic elements of the world  is heavily inspired by my religion of Lokeanism. I recognize that the motifs (is that the right word?) I used in this piece are not necessarily universal.

———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

The lands are burning in misery, drowning in tears.

My name is Mihu. I was a peasant farmer, in the years long since passed. In the times long since gone by. I was taken from my home, back when I was alive. I ascended into godhood when I died. But even as a god there was only so much I could do. Most people couldn't even see me. I could however offer bits of protection, support, and strength to the people of my town and my world.

It's clear to see that the world needs it.

And the baby who just entered this world under the light of the moon? The baby who was just born to an impoverished family of factory workers in the slums? I can tell that the road in front of her will be filled with misery.

———

This story is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

The Town was a good Town. The Townspeople were kind to each other. Everything was beautiful. Everything was clean. The women wore pretty cotton dresses. The men wore handsome button-up shirts. Parents adored and doted on their children.

They lived in accordance to the prophecies passed down to them by the Giver, the great being who had created all of this. The final prophecy decreed the coming of the Taker, who would take it all alway.

The Taker was meant to end the world. But the Taker would have to first be raised within the Town.

---The main character uses they/them pronouns. The main character likes using they/them pronouns. The main character is genuinely genderqueer and it's fine. They use they/them pronouns because they like it. Not because of all the cult stuff that happens. The cult stuff is separate from the genderqueer stuff.

———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Milahi loves her family. She loves her community. She loves her people. She works hard at the cafe six days a week. They don't have much. But they have each other. They make sure they have each other no matter what. And that's strength.

She's blessed as much as she's cursed.

As much as the Lords have every piece of her, they don't have her soul.

Monday through Saturday are days for misery.

Sundays are days for joy.  For rebellion. For hope.

———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do anything they want with it.

I had a nightmare. It was one of the most terrifying dreams I've ever had. I wrote it down almost as soon as I woke up. I can't describe it in detail here because of spoilers. But it features monsters and analogies and a city.———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do whatever they want with it.

Synths are designed to be the perfect companions for their owners. They are genetically engineered to be sweet, kind, loyal, agreeable, and submissive. Arden's synth Luca seems to be the perfect playmate and servant. He seems perfectly content with his lot in life. But as the communist rebellion brews in the shadows, there may be more to everything than there appears to be.———

This work is in the public domain and anyone can do anything they want with it.