Living our queer, twisted truth. Stories, art, love, and cantankerous cats.
This week in Underland: emotions ran high, the zine went live, and the cats were… unimpressed.
Poe staged a silent protest over font choices, Akela launched a full investigation into the suspicious movement of the red chair, and Mowgli may or may not have forgiven Rodgit (the jury is still napping).
Also, we might be moving. Probably. Eventually.
Family Values is a quiet reckoning in free verse — a poem about the people who watch from the sidelines, silent in their surveillance, absent in their care. It turns the old saying on its head, tracing the cold metrics of modern connection through graphs, likes, and creeping. This piece confronts the gap between visibility and support, and what it means when the people who should know you best… choose not to.
go on make yourself a victim
you will be soon enough.
You can tell your own
children
Why.
Forgiveness is a process — especially if you’re a cat. This week, we navigate birthday dread, garden triumphs, and the slow but surreal shift toward our future in Thailand. There’s wine, weed wackers, and a temporary job at (possibly fictional) Amazon. Honourable mentions were won. Sausages were offered. Love, as ever, persists.
A haunting reflection on time, memory, and the ache of never growing up. “Once I looked into your eyes and whispered I cannot grow up…”—this piece explores the enduring pull of childhood, the weight of nostalgia, and the quiet grief of being seen. For all the lost boys, boxcar hearts, and sunset liars.
A haunting reflection on time, memory, and the ache of never growing up. “Once I looked into your eyes and whispered I cannot grow up…”—this piece explores the enduring pull of childhood, the weight of nostalgia, and the quiet grief of being seen. For all the lost boys, boxcar hearts, and sunset liars.
Back from Turkey and quietly reflecting on the uneasy mix of beauty and loss. A rich culture overshadowed by British tourism leaves behind more questions than comfort. As we return to our quiet life with the cats, our sights turn to Thailand—and the ongoing pursuit of something real, rooted, and ours.
A strange kind of paradise — this week we reflect on the tension between beauty and performance in Marmaris. Between sun-drenched mornings and staged culture, we’re caught in a tourist dreamscape that leaves us missing home, our cats, and a quieter kind of magic.
Underland Dispatch: New Shop, Old Chickens, and Imminent Escape
We opened a cursed little shop. We’re packing for Turkey. The chicken keeps coming in the kitchen. The cats are suspicious. There’s a Discord now. Also: zine launch, stray diplomacy, mild existentialism, and biscuits. Come for the queer chaos, stay for the literary crumbs.
It’s very strange being abroad while your country is in turmoil. There’s a sense of survivor’s guilt, mixed with a helpless “how do I get my family and friends out?”—and of course, the realization that none of that is simple. Immigration is difficult no matter where you go.
