#lit-mags

[i-am-theseeker]

TWT — Alexa

Alexa. Turn on the living room light.No, not the radio.Not the TV either.Just the goddam light, Alexa. Written for Bulbul’s Twenty Words Tuesday prompt, where this week’s word is “light.”TWT — Alexa

[xxplastic-cubexx]

charles doddles

below the cut is notes for myself on how i draw him cause im SICK of being inconsistent !!!!!!!

[cripplepunksoliloquies]

Call for Submissions!

Cripplepunk Soliloquies will be a literature magazine for celebrating the lives and experiences of the disabled community. In the spirit of the cripplepunk movement, it will put a spotlight on the whole spectrum of our specific experiences with physical disability; whether it’s joyful, angry or melancholy, it’s welcome here.

We’re looking for fellow disabled artists and writers with works in any medium. Everything goes, as long as it relates to the disabled experience. Our hope is for this magazine to be an opportunity for our community to be able to unmask through their art.

Follow this link to submit writing

Or this link to submit art

Deadline: August 31st 2025

This is our first edition! We are planning on getting the funding for production from kickstarter. While we cannot offer financial reimbursement to contributors for our first edition, we will be putting proceeds towards being able to offer that for subsequent issues.

[cryptiidcrowe]

made my first ever collage the other day, and inevitably gravitated towards malevolent-core pieces. so here’s john doe <3

[oficmag]

BREAKING NEWS

We have extended our deadlines for Issues 11 and 12!

Send us your short stories and novellas!! We're looking forward to digging in.

Happy New Year!

site | subscribe | submit | faq

[ferigrievous]

✦ tambay tambay lang. | ft. fil! iwaizumi

m.list / wc ; 1.4k

-> synopsis: before you knew what love was, you knew this: the best things in life were only twenty five pesos each, and the best things in life had to be bought in pairs.

a.n. ; 90% of iwaizumi's dialogue is in tagalog. translations provided at the bottom because i couldnt figure out how to do hover text on ao3 so im not even gonna try coding on tumblr.. . ... . ... .

there’s a kind of softness to the air after a storm in your barangay. not quite silence, not quite stillness. the sun came out around four o’clock today, and the clouds started to pull apart like cotton candy in the sky. once the dogs started barking again and someone’s radio turned on, you knew the world was waking up.

you were eight, maybe nine. old enough to wander barefoot, careful of sharp gravel and frogs in the ditch. young enough to still believe the sun chased your car when you drove. and on days like this, the only thing you cared about was whether iwaizumi hajime from two houses down would come with you.

if you weren’t already side by side, it was easy; one whistle, or a small rock thrown against his gate. iwaizumi never admitted it, but he liked when you dragged him around. especially when you made him laugh hard enough to cover his mouth with both hands, like joy was something he had to hold in. 

you had a few pesos jangling in your fist that you had stolen from under the couch cushions, and you had every intention on spending every last centavo on a sweet treat. the sari-sari store was only a few streets over, its wooden counter still damp from the rain. candy sachets dangled like flags in the window, and the freezer hummed faintly from the back. 

it was run by an old couple who’d been around since before your were born. you and iwaizumi always went to them after school, so they knew you well, and they were never surprised to see you in the store, side by side.

you asked for two ice cream cups, standing up on your tip toes to see over the counter.  isang cheese, isang ube. twenty-five pesos each. and some for the road. you both sat on the curb beneath the flickering street lamp, the pavement slightly warm from the afternoon sun. your shoulders almost touched, his knee brushing yours. 

you finiyoud your ice cream quickly, turning your paper cup upside down and licking the last traces off the sides. your tongue was yellow, his purple. when you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, a streak of it was left on your forearm. iwaizumi snorted, then tried not to laugh at the mess you’d made.   

he always ate ice cream as if he had all the time in the world.  small bites first, then in little scoops from the middle to the edges of the walls; a spiral motion. counterclockwise, then back again.

“c’mon,” he said, already standing up. “daan tayo sa base.”

you didn’t have to say anything. your feet already knew the way. the ‘base’ wasn’t really a base—not in the way kids on cartoons had them, anyway—but it was yours. the half-built house near the bend, framed in rusted scaffolding and peeling cement. no windows, no doors, just the wide-open skeleton of someone else’s unfinished dream.

he picked up the trash, holding the sticky wrappers in one hand, and you followed behind barefoot, slapping puddles as you walked. the street shimmered gold in the dying light. your shadows stretched long behind you.

it wasn’t a secret. it wasn’t really a base either. just an abandoned squatter house with a caved-in roof and a family of stray calicos. vines crept along the ground, and even the chain-link fences were rusted and pulled into the ground.

there was something sort of magical about that place; the trees towered over your head, blocking out the hot sun. there weren't any proper parks around, or anywhere in the philippines for that matter, but this was close enough.

you and iwaizumi had discovered it when he was trying to find his ball, daring each otyour to go inside in hushed tones and giggles but since then, your secret base had become your special spot, even if you did little else than go inside to lay around. despite the time that had passed, the house still smells like mold and the earthy kind of wet. you’d cleaned out most of the debris, leaving a clear space on the middle of the floor. 

the inside was dim, the kind of light that filtered through cracks and slats in the roof, scattering into ribbons across the concrete. the walls were bare and grey, patched with moss and peeling paint, and the floor was still slick in places, puddles pooling where the rain had snuck through

a few months ago, you’d convinced iwaizumi to go dumpster diving and bring back some stuff to make the base feel more like a hideout and less like some abandoned wreck. you had a beaten up couch that smelled like smoke and damp, some throw pillows with questionable stains, and a coffee table propped up by a cinder block.

you dropped to your knees and started poking at a puddle in the far corner of the room. the water shimmered with the oil-slick colors of old rain, and little insects skated across the surface, their legs barely touching the water. iwaizumi joined your, pulling a stick from the floor and using it to swirl the water, careful not to splash.

they knelt side by side, dragging sticks through the puddles, watching ripples spread out like slow explosions. you dug a rock through the middle to make waves, then tried to catch a beetle that had crawled out from under a plank of wood. it curled into itself when you touched it.

they kept digging through the damp earth—finding worms, bottle caps, a zesto packet... each thing was a discovery. every flick of a finger unearthed a new secret. digging your hands deep into the soil, you pulled out a button, half-rusted, shaped like a star. you showed it to the girl next to your with wide eyes.

“this is magical,” you whispered, like they were both in on some ancient secret. “baka galing diwata.”

“ha?” iwaizumi raised an eyebrow, but tyoure was a smile tugging at the edge of your lips. “sure ka hindi galing lang sa t-shirt mo?”

you shoved your with a huff. “shut up. it’s special.” you clutched it a little tighter before placing it on the coffee table like an offering. then you lay back on the mattress with your arms stretched wide, listening to the sound of the world breathing outside.

“ikaw yung special,” iwaizumi muttered under your breath. it was the kind of jab you made all the time, meant to be sarcastic, just to tease, but this time it was so soft that you almost thought you’d imagined it.

you lay back on the mattress with a sigh. you scooted closer, arms barely touching, heads tilted to the sky peeking through the slats. the light had gone gold. dust swirled like magic in the air.

in the hazy, half-light, iwaizumi’s face had lost all its sharp edges. your hair, soft-dark and curling over your forehead. you could see the purple and yellow from their ice cream had rubbed off on iwaizumi’s chin and lips, a streak of color against your dark skin.

neither of them were talking much. just laughing sometimes, leaning close, chasing after something invisible and gone before they could grab it. time didn’t move the same way inside the base. it slowed down. stretched, softened.

the street outside glowed amber, lit by old lamps and the last breath of sun. puddles caught pieces of sky. you walked slower now, feet bare again, slippers in hand, the concrete warm and soft beneath their soles. you walked side by side, iwaizumi on the side closest to the cars, even though they were both walking in the road.

they were walking the long way home for no reason except that neither of them were ready to say goodbye yet.

a beetle flailed near the edge of the sidewalk, flipped on its back. you paused, but iwaizumi was already crouched beside it, flipping it over with an unusual gentleness.

“kawawa,” you said, brushing your hands on your shorts. “probably got frightened in the rain.”

you looked at your—mud on your knees, hair curling from the humidity, lips stained a little purple—and something flickered in your chest, soft and golden.

“ano?”

“wala lang.”

iwaizumi started walking again, and you followed.

barangay ; neighbourhood

sari sari store ; local convenience store

isang cheese, isang ube ; one cheese, one ube [sweet purple yam]

daan taayo sa base ; let’s pass by the base.

zesto ; popular brand of orange juice

baka galing sa diwata ; it might be from a diwata [mythical creature, usually a nature spirit]

ha? sure ka hindi galing lang sa t-shirt mo? ; what? are you sure its not just from your t-shirt

ikaw yung special ; you’re the special one.

kawawa; poor/pitiful thing

ano ; what?

wala lang ; nothing.

[the-banks-of-lethe]

Hello Dreamers ｡⋆.°‧

Friendly reminder that there are exactly three (3) weeks left to submit something to the Somnolent Journal!

We take anything! Art, poetry, prayers, info-dumps, short stories, collages, and more - given that it is devoted to or inspired by Lord Hypnos. And for this issue, we're keeping it solely focused on Him, His family is amazing and will be featured in other issues, but we're making the first one just for Him.

Can't wait to see what you've got!

Have a lil' sneek peak of what it looks like so far . . .

Just some small cut out teasers for now - we're currently at 15 pages. Hope you're all doing well!

Want to submit?

[reedandstorm]

The first issue of Woven Webs "City of Churches" is out now! Get your copy here!

In this 103 page collection of stories, poems and art you'll meet a vengeful mermaid, an exhausted vampire, the personification of a sex shop, an artist in love with a skeleton, a haunted painting, many women who love women and much more!

This issue boasts the work of 25 South Australian creatives, 75% also being 26 and under, highlighting emerging local talent alongside established creators.

Woven Webs is a brand new (un)literary magazine which publishes speculative and experimental stories, and works that blur the lines between fiction, poetry and visual art. Inspired by "web weaving", an online practice made here on Tumblr which combines snippets of art traditionally seen as both high and low brow, Woven Webs seeks to break down the barrier between genre and literary creative writing and between "lowly entertainment" and "respected art".

Make a web weaving out of Woven Webs and post it here on Tumblr with the tag #wovenwebsmag The best one will win a copy of the second and third issue when they release!

[croaklit]

It's out! The first issue of Croak has been published, and it's amazing! Read frog literature and admire frog art for free at croaklit.com

Thank you to AR Quinlan for the perfect cover piece!

If you're interested in being published in our next issue, submissions are always open!

[i-am-theseeker]

TWT — Sleep, Beautiful, Sleep

Eyes wide openLooking at the clockMinutes tick byEver so slowlySleep eludes meFor yet another night Written for Bookish Bubble’s Twenty Words Tuesday prompt, where this week’s word is “clock.”TWT — Sleep, Beautiful, Sleep

[xxplastic-cubexx]

my ideal rogue & magneto dynamic is rogue and her weird slutty gay uncle that she constantly has to bail out of jail. like their relationship would have been so interesting to me if it had never been romantic

society if magneto got to be the anarchist uncle to all the x-men that they're mostly chill with until the annual dinner argument during the holidays

[cripplepunksoliloquies]

Hello and happy disability pride month! I’m Aiden and this magazine is my brainchild! Cripplepunk is near and dear to my heart, and for me this project is a love letter to both cripplepunk and to my late love who introduced me to the movement in the first place. As with many disabled creators, my art and writing have been heavily imbued with my experiences with disability and chronic illness. It helps me to cope, to process, and to connect to others. Aiden (they/he)

[oficmag]

Issue #13 submissions are OPEN!

We are accepting submissions for Issue #13 until 11:59pm EST on August 17, 2025. Issue #13 will be published on October 1, 2025.

Send us your dead doves, your blorbos, your plinkos, your wretched meow meows yearning to be free; that thing you wrote that made you think, ��I don’t know where this belongs”; the stuff you’d never show anyone you know IRL. Give us your shameless, self-indulgent smut; the manuscript to the video essay you dictated to your YouTube subscribers in your head; your thoughtful explorations of trauma and identity; your Pepe Silvia wall; your sci-fi, your fantasy, your romance, your realism. We want anything and everything. As long as you identify as a fan, we want to read your work.

We are currently looking for:

Short fiction (only 1 piece at a time, max 12k words; if flash [under 1k], you may submit up to 5 pieces in one document)

Nonfiction (personal essays, articles, or meta, max 12k words)

Check out our MSWL!

Special Announcement: Issue #13 will be the last issue going to print. Starting in 2026, all issues will be published digitally. We have been so fortunate to print physical issues for the last ~4 years, and we thank all of your for the unwavering support that made it happen. <3

SUBMIT TO ISSUE #13 HERE! (fee waived)

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[queenlua]

"is this anything" has gotta be one of the most humiliating questions you can ask a beta reader. unfortunately it's also probably one of the most useful ones, so...,,,

[thematicparallel]

Polyphemus' Plea by Sherrel McLafferty

[oatleaf]

Things to know about Oatleaf:

We are:

~An online poetry magazine

~A not-for-profit publication

~Anti-AI

~Queer-owned

~Nominating for the Pushcart Prize

...

Submissions are always open and free!

Monthly competitions are free to enter!

...

oatleafpoetry.com