He walked out further into the street calling out her name, and sure enough, he received no response. He blood began to boil when he came to the conclusion that she wasn’t here anymore, and most likely not coming back.
🌠🚀✨ STAR ATLAS ANNOUNCEMENT: ARTIST EMAILS SENT ✨🚀🌠
Hello, space explorers!
We are happy to announce that all emails to artist applicants have been sent out. Please check the email you used to apply, and let us know if you were able to receive anything. If the email is not in your inbox, do check your spam folder before sending us a message! We will resend as soon as possible.
Thank you so much to everyone for your patience, and please accept our sincerest apologies for the delay.
We are incredibly grateful for all the support we have received over the past months! The moderating team deeply appreciates the emotional and artistic effort that went in to every application. We had no idea we would receive this kind of response.
Writers, we’ll see you in a few days!
From the bottom of our hearts: Thank you, explorers! 🌠
this is actually a small sub branch of botany thats been growing and gaining some recognition in the past 5 years or so called plant cognition! we’ve been thinking about if plants can possibly be intelligent to any degree for centuries, but the main paper that started up this huge discussion in the modern era was one called Experience Teaches Plants to Learn Faster and Forget Slower in Environments Where It Matters by Monica Gagliano, a plant researcher in Australia who specializes in it. because the results indicated that plants were possible of learning and retaining information in a kind of memory in response to environmental changes, it received a lot of backlash and denial- generally in science, that kind of intelligent reaction to an organism’s environment is a good indicator of cognitive behavior in the organism. it got rejected by 10 different journals before being published in 2014.
the experiment worked like this. i’ve talked before about mimosa pudica, a tropical plant that curls its leaves back when touched (they go back to normal in a few minutes):
this is to help deter predators among other things. but in this experiment, Gagliano used it as an indicator of stimulus and to test cognitive function. It’s well known that pudica has a rudimentary nervous system that can even be temporarily inhibited using anesthetics (just like ours can!). she hooked up a ton of these plants in pots to identical rail systems that allowed them to be lightly dropped in an identical way, juuuuust heavy enough to trigger the stimulus so all the leaves drop down when they hit the bottom (a piece of foam so they wouldn’t actually hurt the plants). every time the plants would be dropped, they would close up.
but after the plants were dropped about 60 times each, they stopped responding to the drop.
they remembered that no harm was coming from this actionand decided that it was against their best interests to keep expending energy closing their leaves. they 200% learned to stop.
she decided to test it further. she put some of the plants in a shaker and let them receive a more jarring response; the plants closed up as usual. then, she put them back in the droppers and dropped them again. they didn’t close up. they had remembered that response. this dispels the obvious rebuttal to this experiment of the plants just being tired; they still closed up when stimulated differently.
they just chose not to close up when they hit a stimulus they remembered.
it turns out that not only could they remember to keep their leaves open when dropped on the apparatus, but they remembered after28 days when she kept testing it!! apparently by the end of the experiment, all the plants had decided to keep their leaves open when dropped!!!!
how do they do this?? we literally dont know. they have no central brain, only a basic nervous system. can other plants do this???
well, adding onto that, venus fly traps can count! like. they have three hairs inside their traps, and all three must be touched within 20 seconds for the trap to close. once closed, those three trigger hairs must continue to be stimulated by thrashing prey, or the trap will reopen.
so yeah like. basically ‘are they sentient’: apparently to an extent???? we dont know exactly why or how but they are??? maybe???? sort of????? at least some of them are?? but they dont have a brain so everyones like????????????????????? maybe its through a signaling network????????????????? but like how would that even work?????????
plant consciousness is still new enough to be dismissed as crazy by a lot of biologists but like. the evidence is there. we don’t know a whole lot and its clearly a radically different kind of intelligence than we know in animals, but it’s there and we 200% dont know how it works yet or even the full extent of how plants use this intelligence (for example: does a redwood have the same intelligence as a venus fly trap?? how does it learn things and use that knowledge???)
national geographic wrote an awesome article visualizing the experiment here if you want to read more!
Before Niall played Flicker for the first time, he talked a little about how much the song meant to him, about how much the producers and session band loved it when he first performed it to them. He talked about how the song meant the most to him lyrically, how it was his favourite song on the album, and how natural it was for him to call these gigs the Flicker Sessions. Then he played the song, and the room fell completely silent. For a song that is relatively calm and quiet, and a perfect opportunity to proclaim your love for Niall, there was hardly a scream at all. Once it was over, the room erupted into the loudest cheers of the whole night so far and you could see on Niall’s face just how proud he was to have played this song and to have received such a response. His face lit up, he turned to his band mates, and everyone in the room shared that moment. Knowing that he was appreciated as an artist, and that his favourite song would soon become a favourite for many others. That was the best part of the entire night.
I’m sure you’ve heard a million times over how important it is to comment on fanfiction - maybe even from this blog. I’ve been a frequent advocate of supporting stories with feedback, often reblogging posts about its importance (and even making one or two of my own). For me, every time a post about comment culture crosses my dash I find a fresh determination to be a commenter and vow to leave feedback on every fic that crosses my dash from there on out.
But here’s my secret: sometimes, I don’t feel like leaving a comment.
It’s not that a fic is undeserving or that I have nothing positive to say, in fact it’s usually quite the opposite.
Sometimes, I look at the large number of comments a fic has already received and I think “What difference will it make if I just add to the masses?” But then I remember how excited I get every. single. time. someone leaves me feedback, how much my heart soars whenever I receive a comment notification.
Sometimes, I see that a fic has zero to little comments and I think “Oh, it would be awkward if I was the only commenter, I don’t want to stand out.” But then I remember the stories I’ve published that never received any responses, merely gathering a few reblogs and a handful of likes and leaving me disappointed and discouraged.
Sometimes, I read a fic long after it’s been posted and I think “Why bother commenting now? It’s way too late for that.” But then I remember that one time someone found a fic of mine months after it had been posted and still left a comment, making me feel as though my story had a permanence and a lasting impact.
Sometimes, I read a fic that is already multiple chapters in, and I think “I can’t possibly comment on any chapter but the last, otherwise it’s going to seem strange.” But then I remember all the effort that goes in to a single chapter, all the courage it can take to publish those words and how reassuring it can be to hear that a particular piece of a story had an impact.
Sometimes, I read a fic and I can’t think of anything insightful to comment, and I think “If I don’t have anything profound to say, I may as well say nothing at all.” But then I remember how it feels to stare at a blank comment section, wondering where exactly my story went wrong and wishing for even the smallest of reassurances.
And sometimes, I read a fic and I’m just tired, and I think “What’s it going to hurt if I just skip the comment this time? Who will even notice?” But then I remember how much time and energy a writer put into their story, how exhausting writing can sometimes be.
I read a fic, I remember these things, and I decide to leave a comment.
Comments, from the smallest of keyboard smashes and heart eye emojis to the largest of analyses, mean the world to a writer. A comment can be the difference between an abandonment and another update, the divide between a story of requirement and a story of passion. Comments truly are everything to a writer, and they require so little from each one of us.
So please, I beg of you: swallow your excuses, realize that leaving feedback has an impact that extends beyond you, and LEAVE THAT COMMENT.
Jungkook had barely gone to sleep when his cell came to life, ringing relentlessly to wake him up. He thought about ignoring it. Sleep didn’t come to him easy these days because a perpetual movie was playing in his mind since the day he found out about his sin. It started with the first time he had met you.
He remembered being star struck as he ran his eyes all over you unconsciously in the fated get together of mutuals where he had first met you, trying to register all your features because god you were beautiful. An ethereal creature amongst meager men. He remembered the way your lips curved slightly as you savored the taste of bourbon. He remembered the way you swallowed the bitter whiskey quietly, paying no heed to the sexist jokes of the host, although he could tell they were getting on your bad side by the way your hand tightened around the crystal of poison. Oh, yes he remembered. He remembered the way you lashed out on the host, not being able to take the male chauvinism and the general approach of men sitting in the room objectifying women and how you had openly criticized the host and his ideologies, not shying away from calling him names that some people would definitely be talking about later. You dragged his ass right through his own party because that’s how you kept your environment neat. You weeded out the negativity.
He remembered when he had followed you right out, not caring a dime about how that would look to people, and run after you to find you waiting for a taxi with your arms crossed across your chest in anger. He had somehow mustered up the courage to ask you to stay a little longer and you had agreed upon the condition that it would not be that party. So together you had gone to the café that was right across the street, the words BEER CAFÉ splintered across the front. It started with an acceptable beer and respectable introductions, your conversation but soon it turned into tequilas and guffaws and before he could blink, the night grew into day. At that moment, he had decided. He knew that he just had to get to know you more.
So he did.
One date turned into many, and many dates turned into a relationship. It was a quick decision, thoughtless and one he didn’t doubt, moving close to each other.
The beer café became a sacred place; one you would visit every weekend. He would come over at your place and stay the nights more often than not. On some days you would make love, on other days it would just be an old school but an extremely satisfying movie night in that ended in sweet promises and cuddles. He loved you, he cherished you and you did so much more for him.
Suddenly, the movie skips time.
It comes right to the moment when Seulgi suddenly visited his house with a picture of you sprawled across the bed, a man hovering over you and both parties quite obviously naked. The world slipped from right under his legs. This…this wasn’t true. You would never do that. Ever. But Seulgi stopped him, there were more. She emptied out her bag on his bed, with more pictures than he could count on his fingers of you in various situations, in various positions, with various men, and each time your face was twisted in pleasure. He knew those expressions. You would make them for him when he pressed sweet kisses on your neck making you moan breathlessly, when his hands explored every inch of your body, finding a new weak spot every time which he exploited shamelessly making you bite down on him. When his mouth trailed your neck down to your sweet core and he devoured you, setting your body on fire.
When he fucked you.
That’s how you looked and he knew that look. But it was not for him.
His vision went white as a tear and then two fell down his cheeks. Suddenly, everything felt pointless. Him running after you, that decision to move closer, those kisses, those dates. Everything had suddenly lost meaning because you didn’t love him like he loved you.
Time skips again.
You message him, leave voicemails, and try to contact him after he broke up with you but he won’t answer. He can’t. He sits and listens to your voicemails, and his heart feels like it’s playing tug of war and ripping itself apart when you cry and cry, asking for just one chance. One meeting to make him believe you. But how could he? Those pictures, those motherfucking pictures, were driving him insane. He felt mad all the time, he felt contempt towards you- who had failed to love him, so the next when he met Seulgi and she confessed her love, he didn’’t think twice before kissing her hard their teeth clashing together. He knew he was fucking up. He didn’t like Seulgi. He didn’t feel like his entire existence was for this kiss, like he felt with you. It was passionless, emotionless and pointless. But he would do it.
He would hurt you like you hurt him.
Two weeks of trying and your voicemails stopped coming. You stopped ringing him. You stopped texting him. You stopped trying to convince him. He fell into a new routine. A lifeless, senseless routine that he doesn’t care about. He made a girlfriend that he didn’t love. But at least he was doing the right thing. He couldn’t give in to his feelings for you.
Once again, time kicks him hard and throws him into a new cut.
The café. You sitting with Yoongi. That was all and he saw red. You had forgotten about him. You couldn’t care less that he was still breaking apart everyday, you couldn’t care that he would wipe his tears all night thinking of you. You simply didn’t care. So he walked up to you and vented out. He called you names, humiliated you and broke you apart just like you had done to him. Surely, this would help him sleep better? It would help him accept the reality of the situation, it would make him accept himself.
But your eyes. Your eyes were unflinching as you took a hit from his words. Somewhere in his ball of fury, your gaze became fiercer, breaking through his powerful image and hitting him right in the heart. You weren’t lying. He knew it. But how could he believe. So even as you fainted, he let Yoongi take you. He wouldn’t take a step, not until he had confirmed the truth.
Another leap in time.
You were true. Your words were true. Your intentions were true. Your love was true. And he took too long to realize that. He made too many mistakes before realizing that. After reading the exchange between you and Seulgi, a hazy blanket of hate had been lifted from his eyes in the harshest way possible. And dare he say he deserved it. Why should you ever come back to him? What reason did he give you? He knew he had destroyed an intimate connection between the two of you by repeatedly mistrusting you and to top it all, he even dated the person who had cooked up this recipe of destruction. He knew it all too well. However, he couldn’t stop himself from trying to reconcile with you. Like a shameless brat, he still wanted everything to be okay. He wanted the dread and guilt in his heart to be replaced by the love he felt for you. He wanted the harsh blankets covering him in the night to be replaced by your soothing touch. He wanted to call you. He wanted to take you in his arms and beg for your forgiveness on his knees again and again.
And he tried.
He tried to call you. He tried to text you. He visited your apartment. He even called Yoongi in hopes of finding any information, but he had received a cold response. He went to your workplace and waited there for hours on end to catch a glimpse of you but you never came out.
You never came out because you didn’t work there anymore.
You had all but vanished. Your number was not in service anymore. You had shifted out of your apartment. You didn’t visit the Beer café anymore. You had disappeared. He didn’t give up though. He thought of contacting your colleagues but realized he didn’t know anyone’s cell number. The revelation hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water. How could he not know anything about your colleagues? What if something happened to you at work and he couldn’t get in touch with you? Who would he call? Was he even in the position to blame Seulgi for anything when he didn’t even know something as simple as this?
Each time he came to this conclusion, it connected to the beginning and the movie began all over again. Sleep was a luxury that he could not afford. His conscience wouldn’t let him get away with what he had put you through.
That’s why when the phone rang incessantly, he was double minded about answering it. However, he turned around and brought it to his ear without paying attention to the called ID.
“Hello?” He answered, unintentionally letting his tiredness seep into his voice.
“We need to talk.”
A jolt of electricity passed down his spine and his tiredness completely abandoned him. He immediately sat up straight, his senses on edge. He clutched his phone tighter in his hands and brought it closer to his ear to the point that he was sure there were going to be imprints on his skin.
“___? ___, I’m so sorry-“ He began but your voice cut him sternly.
“Jungkook. Look, I just need to talk to you, okay? Just tell me this, can I meet you right now?”
Jungkook replied faster than a hurricane’s wind. “Yes. Yes, of course. Where do you want to meet me?”
“At your house, if you’re okay with that of course.”
He knew that he should have expected it but he couldn’t stop the dull pain growing his chest at the unfamiliarity you were expressing. You were cold and distant, like you were a stranger to his house. Like you hadn’t come there as much as he’d come to your old apartment.
“Yes…” His voice slightly cracked and he cringed at the sound. He took a deep breath and steadied his voice. “Of course, you are welcome here anytime. You know it.” He said. He knew he was pushing his luck, pretending like nothing so bad had happened that it would stop you from coming over but it was all he could do. He couldn’t fathom you feeling like a stranger in house.
There were a few seconds of silence on your part before you curtly replied. “Alright. I’ll see you in 30 minutes.” You hung up.
Jungkook removed the phone from his ears to look at it and despite your cold response, he couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up on his face. He kept the phone on his bed and hurried to clean his house before you arrived because it looked like a mess and he was sure it smelled worse. Oh god, he had to take a bath too.
As he hurriedly moved around his house, cleaning up the mess all he could of was your call. You had called him. That meant something right? This had to be a chance.
What else could it be?
Jungkook was ready. Thirty minutes had already passed since you had hung up and his house was as neat as it could be. The bed sheets were neatly plastered on the bed with minimal creases. The glass door facing the city was spotless and glistening with the orbs of lights emitting from the skyscrapers. The wine was ready in cabinet but he daren’t take it out yet. He didn’t want to seem too at ease with the situation, which he really wasn’t, but if it came to that, he was ready to please you with some of your favorite wine. Double-checking everything for the 20th time, he nervously looked at the clock. 9:30 pm. You should be here anytime.
As if it was a rehearsed play, his doorbell came to life. His heart almost leapt right out of his chest but he steadied himself speed walked to his front door, opening it with more haste than he intended, to find you standing in a black dress and a thin overcoat clearly not meant for the kind of chilly winds gracing the city from past few nights. You were paler than he remembered and slightly thinner. You were frowning, and your lips were in pursed in a tight line. You cleared your throat, clearly unnerved by his shameless ogling but he couldn’t help himself, you looked as beautiful as the first day he had seen you. Just as ethereal.
“May I come in?” You finally spoke up.
The formality in your words cut through his heart like a knife. He swallowed, forced a smile on his face and that the feeling in his heart, the feeling that everything was going to go wrong was untrue.
He took a deep breath and brightened the smile on his face.
Collating the responses received yesterday in regards to disability accommodation at zoos, it sounds like the biggest problem is that accessibility design aspects aren’t actually useful to the people who need to use them.
The biggest issues across facilities seemed to be:
Ramps / hills being too steep
Doors directly at the top of ramps / no push-bars on doors with accessible access
Ramps constructed out of hard materials to traverse in a wheelchair, like boardwalks
High prices for wheelchairs / lack of wheelchair reservations
Not enough benches, ever
No areas for service dog relief
Indoor exhibit spaces being too narrow for wheelchairs to navigate
Single steps up or down into exhibit areas precluding viewing from a wheelchair
Touch tank walls too high / wide for sitting patrons to reach across
Special attractions (especially giraffe feeding) only having stair access
I started looking into this because traversing a number of zoos this summer with a temporary mobility issue opened my eyes to some of the problem, but this is actually impressively worse - and much more widespread - than I thought.
I’ve decided to start curating a spreadsheet about accessibility information at zoos and aquariums in the United States so that folk can have as much information as possible when planning their trips to a facility. You can find the beginning of it here!
It currently has three pages: accessibility issues people will want to keep in mind, good accessibility design aspects, and facility information re: their guidelines, wheelchair rental costs, service animal policies, and any other accessibility options offered. I am absolutely looking for input from people about issues or good design they noticed during their visits to a facility - you can message the blog or email your thoughts to whyanimalsdothething at gmail. Please be as specific as you can with your contributions, because that’s to the benefit of anyone using the spreadsheet to plan their day.
Your head was pounding as consciousness returned. All you could see was pure blackness. The first thing you did was take a deep breath. You knew to stay calm. S.H.I.E.L.D had trained you for hostage situations. It never occurred to you that this particular training would come into play on your first mission, but as inexperienced as you were, there was no way you would flip out. They had chosen you to be an Agent because of your natural talents, letting them down was not an option.
A few deep exhales calmed you enough to assess your situation. The room itself was not black, there was a bag over your head. You were seated in a chair, your ankles cuffed to each leg with about an inch and a half of chain, your hands to the arms with even less leeway. The chair was metal and bolted to the ground. The only chance of escape meant the picking the cuffs. You could feel the spot for the key, but without eyesight chances of setting your hands free was slim to none. While it was unfavorable, you knew you had to wait until your captor arrived.
This was not supposed to happen. You were on a surveillance mission, looking into a possible terrorist threat in England. Nobody should have noticed you, since your cover was the date of a diplomat. You sipped champagne and wore a beautiful black dress, the satin still rested against your bare chest, and you wished you had opted for a more conservative look. The target hadn’t even arrived yet. You walked away to freshen up when there was a sharp pain in your neck. It didn’t feel like a shot though. The blackout was instantaneous. What sort of drug had they used on you?
Before you could dwell on the thought the sound of the door opening filled the room. You rolled your shoulders back and tried to show no fear. If they planned on torturing you for information they had no idea who they were up against. You would choose death long before betrayal.
Having homophobic and/or transphobic parents can actually destroy someone on the inside. It is a soul destroying feeling when those closest to you, the people you grew up with or still are growing up with, won’t accept who you are, or even disown you for simply being who you are.
When I came out as a lesbian my mum didn’t even look at me for a month, let alone talk to me. She told me that lesbians disgust her and she didn’t want a gay daughter. My dad kept telling me repeatedly that I was confused, telling me it was a choice and calling me “dyke” in the process. My grandmother told me I was going to hell, I was damaged, unnatural, dirty, sinful, and still calls it an “unsettling phase”.
Every individual experience is different, but because of the clear message I got off my dad when I was 9 years old and he told me “never come home and tell me you’re gay” I buried my sexuality for years, dated boys, kissed boys, would have gone a lot further with them if I had ever been in a position to do so, sometimes even hoped to end up in that position because I was so desperate to be “normal” even though the thought of doing anything with a boy disgusted me, which in turn filled me with even more self hatred, didn’t tell anyone when I was harassed online by a man twice my age when I was only 13 because I thought it was the least I deserved after having such “unnatural” thoughts. I grew to have so much internalised homophobia due to the fear I had of being gay because my dad had said that to me when I was only 9 years of age. I faked crush after crush on boys, staring at their Facebook profiles willing myself to feel something, anything, yet looking at a random girl in the street and feeling a fire burn inside me, yet still not accepting it, burying it and blocking it out.
I blocked it out as best as possible, talking about boys and acting as straight as possible, especially around my friends, until I was almost 16, when I saw a lesbian couple kiss on BBC television on at 8pm programme, and in that moment, I knew that was what I wanted, I knew that I couldn’t spend my life being something I’m just not, pretending every day of my life. I knew in that moment that I was gay, I knew that I wanted a girlfriend, I knew that I wanted a wife, and for the first time the idea of marriage seemed appealing, and I felt at peace and like I truly knew myself.
So a couple of months later, I told my friends, which took more courage than I knew I had. After that went well, I felt confident enough to tell my parents, encouraged by the good experience of coming out to my friends.
I was a mess when I told my mum. Although I felt confident enough to do it, I was still terrified and shaking and it was the most nerve racking moment of my life. I didn’t mean for it to happen how it did, and I could have told her in a better way, but in that moment I felt I had to, it was the right time for me. After I told her, I went to my room where I sent her a text, which I’m not going to quote entirely because it’s too personal, but it explained everything, I told her the journey of discovering my sexuality, I told her I loved her, I explained my fears, my feelings, my experiences, everything. In response I received a text saying: “I can’t pretend I’m happy about this. I’m not at all, but I love you regardless.” Although I had wanted a proper conversation, I accepted that she was shocked and took the text as acceptance of me. However, later that day, I went downstairs and saw her for the first time since I told her. She was crying and wouldn’t look at me. When I went downstairs, she went upstairs. I tried not to be upset, understanding her shock and giving her time. After a week of not spending more than a minute in a room with her, and not having her look at me once, I decided to try again, so I said to her “we need to talk about this” but she walked away from me. I tried texting so she wouldn’t have to directly talk, but she ignored everything I sent her.
Throughout the month, nothing changed, I was constantly ignored by her, and when she told my dad without consulting me, he just told me I was confused, and shouted at me for upsetting everyone, telling me I was messing up my GCSEs because of my confusion and immature phase, when the only thing endangering my grades was their prejudice and discrimination against their own daughter. As the month progressed, with still no change in either of them, I felt more and more worthless, my internalised homophobia reared its head once more, more prominent than ever, and I considered all sorts of things that I don’t even want to go into, I even looked at conversion therapy at one point because I felt like such a failure and a disappointment to my family, and my grandmother was the worst, calling me damaged and an unnatural sinner constantly.
The day my mum spoke to me again I was so shocked I could barely reply. She acted as though the last month hadn’t even happened, and went on like that for a week, blocking out what had happened, never once mentioning it, evidently hoping that it had all gone away or that her ignoring me had made me bury it again so it couldn’t tarnish our family and I could just live an unhappy life. At the end of that week, I mentioned it. I said “it’s not a phase” and she still wouldn’t talk, which is when I started to show my anger. This is when she told me that lesbians disgust her, spewing the typical hate about hell and morality and sin. Not being able to take it anymore, I locked myself in the bathroom, sat in the bathtub and properly cried for the first time in months. All my emotions came flooding out, and I would say that day was the saddest and most hopeless I’d ever felt. I felt utterly rejected, outcast, like I could never belong, like a disappointment, and a failure as a daughter, as a person.
During an argument with my dad, he called me a dyke, declaring I was damaged and that something had obviously gone drastically wrong during my development to “turn me”.
Those few months I felt so sad, lonely, isolated, rejected, hopeless and crushed. The two most important people in my life practically disowned me, and it took all the fight and courage I had to keep going, to keep pushing on, and I’m glad I did, because I love myself and have never been prouder of who I am, and things are better now, not completely, but they’re better, even though I can’t talk openly, even though I still feel insecure, even though I still tense up every time I so much as approach the subject around my parents, things are better.
All this occurred before and during my GCSE exams, when I should have been studying. My results are due at the end of this month, and I’ve accepted that I’m not going to have done very well, and I tell myself that it’s through no fault of my own. Through everything that was happening, I still found time to study. I tried my hardest but when the people closest to you seem to hate you for being you, it’s kind of hard to concentrate and focus on anything other than the constant throbbing ache inside when you know your parents, the people who made you, the people who raised you, the people who always told you they loved you, don’t accept you.
So parents of LGBTQA+ children and teenagers, please please accept your child. If you weren’t prepared for the possibility of your child not being straight and/or cis, then you shouldn’t have had a child. Simple as that. Your child’s sexuality and gender are just as natural as they hair colour and eye colour. Please, please, please love your children, accept them, support them. Everything I went through could have been avoided had my parents done so. And the scary thing is I was lucky. Some people are thrown out, completely disowned, attacked, some people are even killed. I count myself lucky, and that’s sad. It’s sad that I count myself lucky for being unaccepted by my parents, because some people could tell stories that would make you sick about their coming out, that would make your skin crawl, but this is my story, and I’m sharing it in the hope that it will help young LGBTQA+ individuals, but also in the hope that it will help parents. Please love your children. Accept them. Support them. Tell them you love them. Make them feel accepted. Make them feel supported. Because you could lose them. Far too many young people take their own lives because their parents don’t accept them, simply because of who they want to love.
Love is love, and love is the most important thing.
A/N: Hey guys!!! I’m so excited to finally be able to post my next series!!! Skyline received so much positive response and I really really hope you guys like this next story as much. It’s going to be pretty different, but I hope you enjoy it. Also, while I have you, let’s just cover some housekeeping stuff: I do not have a tags list, so please please please stop spamming me with requests to tag!!! I appreciate how much you like my writing, but I have it in my bio and put it on almost every update. I try my best to respond to every message I get, and sorting through all those messages just makes it harder!! Secondly, I don’t think I am going to be opening up requests. I’m going back to school in a week, and I have eight classes as well as three jobs. I’m going to do my best to update once a week, but I really just want to focus on the longer stories that I love, so I can give you guys the quality you deserve. I’ll make a longer post about this all later. Let me know what you think about this story!!! I would love to hear some feedback.
When you walked up the steps of Columbia University
for the first time freshman year, you had known that the path ahead of you
would be hard. Extremely difficult,
even. But nothing had prepared you for
the hurricane that would be your life for the next ten months. Between the all night cram sessions, endless
term papers, lab studies, and regular class hours, you were emotionally,
mentally, and even physically drained by the time you finished your final
exams. As you packed up your freshman
dorm, you remembered how excited you had been while decorating it for the first
time, and shook your head at how naïve you had been. Freshman year left you beaten, bruised, and
with permanent bags under your eyes, but at least it was done.
Now, walking into your sophomore year, you knew what
to expect. You knew what had to be done
to manage your time and your life. You
knew what study methods worked for you, and what didn’t. You knew when it was wise to go to a party
and when to stay in to finish your English literature essay. You knew which friends to avoid during exam
week so they wouldn’t whisk you off to a frat kegger, and which friends would
hold up flashcards to help you study.
You knew what profs gave retests, where the best snack places were on
campus, the best study corrals in the library.
You knew the name of the librarian that would spend his time helping you
find all the resources you needed for your chemistry write up, and the emails
of every TA for every one of your classes.
Unlike last year, you were prepared.
You were ready.
But you weren’t ready, however, for the biology
fieldtrip to Thatcher State Park, the fall you were about to have, and the
unexpected consequences that would follow.
There was no way to study up on how to keep a secret. There were no flashcards on what to do if one
of your classmates entrusts you with their life. There was no way to prepare for Peter Parker.
We welcome feedback of all kinds. Whether you have an issue with the way our game is monetized, or believe we’ve reblogged something here that’s harmful in some way, we want you to bring it up with us directly!
The caveat to this is that our modest team is almost entirely dedicated to the actual development of the game itself, so rather than having someone dedicated full-time to customer support, several of us have to juggle those responsibilities. Social media responses and email responses, for example, are often handled by different people.
Some players have expressed concern that their feedback is not being heard because they have not received a response to it. In the spirit of transparency: the person who was handling our customer support emails is no longer working with us, and since this was a fairly sudden development, we are unable to respond to as much feedback as we’d like to while we look for someone new to take on that responsibility. But we want to assure you that even though we can’t personally respond to every piece of feedback, we ARE looking at it all and we ARE taking it into consideration.
For now, we ask for your patience & understanding. Potential changes in response to player feedback have to be carefully discussed, and take time to implement. What may seem like simple suggestions can be far more complex when put into practice, and it can be difficult to find a balance between what players think is fair & what will actually keep our team afloat. We are going to do our best to find solutions that work for both us and you.
Again, we may not be able to personally respond to most emails at the moment, but we ARE looking at feedback and still encourage you to let us know your thoughts: email@example.com
Cey’s Summer Fun Event: Sanrio Amiibo Card Pack Giveaway
Okay ladies and gents, boys and girls, the Summer Fun Event continues, and this time it’s even bigger than the treasure hunts! These guys are sold out everywhere, what a pain to get them! But they’ve arrived! It’s finally time.
Time for Cey to give away one super wildly-coveted, unopened pack of Sanrio Amiibo Cards – that’s the entire officially-licensed English 6 pack, with all 6 villagers! There is one card each for Rilla, Chai, Etoile, Chelsea, Toby, and Marty. Yep! I’m giving the entire pack away! For free!
But before you get too excited, I need you to slow down and read the rules to make sure you are eligible to enter this giveaway. Please read this entire post.
To enter this giveaway and qualify as a winner:
❀ You must be a US or Canadian resident with a registered address. Sorry, I’m not shipping these internationally.
These packs are NOT sold anywhere in the US or Canada.
I am in the US. No PO boxes. No exceptions. ❀ You must be able to give me your address / receive mail from a stranger. If you are under 18, I need to know you have permission from your parents to give me your address and to receive mail from me if you win. ❀ You must be following me. I paid for these cards, so this gift is for my followers. New followers are welcome! But please only follow if you are interested in following me long-term. (I post original content, it’s worth it.) If you follow me from your main blog, put your main blog’s name in your tags when you re-blog! ❀ Like and / or re-blog to enter. Two entries maximum per person. You may re-blog as many times as you like, but only your first like and your first re-blog count as ticket entries for the raffle. ❀ Entries will be open from August 1st - August 31st, 2017. That’s one month! Only entries within this timeframe will be accepted; all other entries will be ignored. ❀ Once I draw a winner, I will message the user to ensure they are still an active user (and I will also check to make sure they are following me), and if I do not receive a response, I will simply re-draw the winner until a viable one has been chosen. I also reserve the right to disqualify entries if necessary, for any reason. ❀ Winner will be announced sometime around the first week of September. This will give me time to confirm the winner is active, get their address, so forth and so on.
What do you think of Hulk the pit bull and the media portrayal of him and his breeders? Just curious
Oh boy. Alright, I think I may end up being attacked for this post,
because I’ve seen that “Hulk” has quite a few huge following of
supporters and I have seen that they that do not particularly like it
when anyone criticizes the the dog’s breeders, but I will try my best
here, I will try to tread lightly so please bare with me, thank you.
The fact is, “Hulk” is not a Pit Bull. And it would be best if we all stopped referring to him as such.
For anyone not familiar with “Hulk”, he is the record holding “World Largest Pit Bull” bred & owned by Dark Dynasty K9s. This is “Hulk”:
Let’s start with his breeders, Dark Dynasty K9s , who have probably never even seen a real APBT/Pit Bull, and wouldn’t know one if one bit them on the face.
I am not going to demonize DDK9 as dog owners, because I suppose from their photos and videos that they must love their dogs, but what DDK9 is doing as breeders is an entirely different story.
DDK9 is doing is very irresponsible, unethical, greedy, actually, and
even detrimental to the image of the real American Pit Bull Terrier and
it’s potentially damaging to the millions of non-APBTs bully breeds that
are falsely labeled as APBTs. And because of the size of “Hulk”, this
could very well put mastiff-type breeds in the same boat as bully
“Hulk” is giving public the false impression that Pit Bulls are capable
of reaching 100, 150, 175+lbs.
A lot of what DDK9 does as
breeders raises countless red flags. The most immediate red flag is that
they do not even know how to spell the breed of dog they are supposedly
breeding. “Pitbulls”, really?
They advertise their dogs as “XL Pitbulls”, which are essentially just oversized American Bullies (or American Bully x mastiff-type mixes?).
In the pedigree of “Hulk”, you will see a “Razors Edge” dog listed by the name of “Razors Edge Payback is a Bomb”
highlighted in yellow, which is the ever so highly popular original
American Bully line commonly (& falsely) referred to as Pit Bulls.
And, also “Eddington’s Wanna Be A Whopper”
(shown below) with a controversial, sketchy history as either an American Bulldog or
mixed breed falsely registered as an APBT in the UKC & ADBA,
which you can read about here because I really do not want to delve into that.
Below are images meant illustrate the different sizes in this American Bully size chart, including the “Pocket”, “Classic”, ”Extreme”, “Standard”, and lastly the “XL” American Bully.
DDK9′s website does not include any of the important details about
their breeding program, I decided maybe we should give them the benefit
of the doubt…
And so I contacted DDK9 through email, asking
them if their dogs undergo any health screenings and evaluations, what
their standards are in breeding in terms of health and whether they aim
to breed away from certain health issues using screening results to
better their breeding program.
This is why it took me a
while to get to your question, because I wanted to give DDK9 some time
to respond to my email, and well it has been about four weeks now and I
have not yet received a response. But if they ever do reply, I’ll be
sure to post it.
DDK9 advertise their dogs as being “huge”, having “great wide chests” and that their dogs produce “monsters”.
DDK9′s sole goal is to produce more of these massive, oversized
American Bullies like “Hulk”, and I have just read that by breeding
“Hulk” within their own kennel they are working towards breaking his
current “record” as the world’s largest (fake) “Pitbull” at 175lbs with his offspring.
found that one of their breeding bitches in particular was bred twice
within a year under the age of two. With how enormous these dogs are,
it’s incredibly irresponsible and potentially harmful to be breeding
them before they have had time to fully mature, not to mention it was at
that bitch’s every heat. While this is just one example of premature
breeding, surely this is a common practice at DDK9, especially
considering their hurried efforts to prodce another record breaking”
“Pitbull”. There is no way that DDK9 is breeding responsibly or with the
health and welfare of their dogs in mind.
“Hulk” allegedly weighs 175 lbs, and is clearly overweight. Just look at this dog:
actually wonder if his breeders have intentionally packed as much
excess weight onto “Hulk” as possible, in effort to truly make him the “World’s Largest”?
The poor dog is probably one wrong step or hop away from blowing a
knee, and not to mention all the other health risks involved in canine
obesity, especially a dog of such a massive size.
Below is an illustration highlighting the ADBA’s standard for the American Pit Bull Terrier:
The American Pit Bull Terrier’s UKC standard calls for dogs/bitches
to weigh between 30 lbs and 60 lbs, and the ADBA calls for 30 lbs to 75
lbs, with 60 to 75 lbs being on the larger side which are few and far
between compared to dogs/bitches of smaller sizes. “The American Pit Bull Terriers is a small to mid-sized dog, an athletic breed with great physical ability.”
To compare to the above photos of “Hulk”, here are some photos of real purebred APBTs:
huge red flag about Dark Dynasty K9 is that they “train” their
“XL Pitbulls” in “protection”, in their own backyard (I cannot seem to
find their credentials in this area, or any titles their dogs have
DDK9 allows all of their dogs to freely socialize / interact with one
another, even sometimes including clients’ dogs that are boarded at their kennel / farm.
According to americanbullydaily.com, “Additionally,
he [Marlon Grennan, breeder] does not believe in separating each dog
whether they are in training or not. By removing any fences, physical
restrictions and barriers the dogs train and live together as a pack
that teaches them how to socialize with other.”
Real American Pit Bull Terriers / Pit Bulls more
often than not are known for exhibiting at least some degree of dog
& animal aggression, and with real APBTs it would be next to
impossible for a dozen Pit Bulls to socialize, interact and roam freely
without a fight breaking out. These are not Pit Bulls. And I am
media hype surrounding “Hulk” has only helped in giving his breeders
more reason to charge tens of thousands to half a million by exploiting
“Hulk” for stud services and his “XL Pitbull” puppies.
media surrounds anything canine related, it makes me terribly nervous,
especially when it’s about Pit Bulls, because it tends to be more
harmful than anything. When a dog bites, it’s the family’s once harmless
“pibble” mix, or in the case of “Hulk”, it’s misrepresenting an entire
breed and giving the public a false impression of what a Pit Bull really
According to www.peoplemagazine.co.za: “The
gentle giant is a doting father to his puppies and is even allowed to
play with the couple’s three-year-old son. “Hulk has shown the world
that when this breed is gentle and balanced, they can be the greatest
dogs in the world,” said Grennan.”
what “Hulk” and his breeders have done for the APBT breed is that they
have given the public an altered and damaging perception of the American Pit Bull
Terrier as a breed.
A lot of rescue organizations that specializes in bully
breeds, have even spoken out against “Hulk” and what his breeders are
doing, and have called for the media to stop portraying “Hulk” and his
breeders in a positive light.
By continuing to misrepresent dogs
like “Hulk” as Pit Bulls, it is seriously damaging to the APBT breed,
bully breeds, and to non-APBTs dogs, and just dogs in general,
especially when these same non-APBT dogs are involved in dog attacks or
are impounded at city pounds / animal shelters. And because of the
appearance of “Hulk”, this could be potentially detrimental to Mastiff
breeds such as the Cane Corso, Presa Canario, and other similar looking
breeds that may find themselves in a dog attack or shelter and are
mislabeled as Pit Bulls.
So, end point: “Hulk” is NOT a Pit Bull, so please stop calling him one!
Actually, it would be best if we stopped calling ALL non-pedigree bully breeds/mutts Pit Bulls.
What did the last emoji mean? You shrugged it off, deciding to let it go. You put the text conversation with Jungkook and ‘pen pal’ you on do not disturb––you were prepared just in case––and heard your room door open.
“Your savior has arrived,” Jungkook announced, holding out an iced coffee for you to take. Accepting it gratefully, you took a long sip.
“Thanks! So why out of everyone, I was the one you wanted to hang out with,” You scooted over on your bed, allowing him room to sit. Instead of sitting beside you, as a normal person would, he flung himself onto your bed, his head stuffed in the pillows and body laying across your bed.
“My hyungs are out partying and I wasn’t in much of a mood to go,” He mumbled, tiredly, voice muffled in the pillows.
“Why not? You’re not interested enough in anyone there?”
He turned his head toward you as if in thought, “No.”
Nodding at his answer, you yawned. “Still don’t know why you chose me out of everyone. Why not your pen pal?”
“I don’t know her, remember?”
“Right. How’s that going for you?”
“I manage. I’m just so curious. Do I know her? Have I spoken to her yet today?” He pondered aloud.
“You need a break from thinking about her too much. Let’s watch a movie!”
“Aw, Y/N, are you perhaps…jealous?” Jungkook cooed, smirking.
“You’re hilarious,” You rolled your eyes while grabbing your laptop.
“What movies you got?”
“That was a pretty good movie. The ending was boring, though,” Jungkook stated as the credits screen appeared on your laptop screen. “What did you think?”
The only response he received was the sound of your soft snores. How was he going to get out of this? Your laptop was in front of the both of you while you were laying on your sides. You were laying in front of him and he assumed when you fell asleep, your inner cuddling nature came out and you tangled your legs together and leaned back against him.
Shifting ever so slightly, he caused you to roll over so you were now facing him, still asleep. Your head pressed against his chest and arms wrapped around his waist.
“That didn’t help,” he muttered, a playful smile painting his lips.
After a few minutes of struggling in your grasp, Jungkook gave up and decided to stay. Peering at your sleeping state, he felt his own eyelids become heavier. Wrapping his arms around your back, securely, he sighed in content. He let his eyes close and fell asleep with you in his arms.
OkAY THAT WAS CUTE I DIDNT KNOW I WAS GOING TO WRITE THAT BUT AWWWW!
wow! thanks so much guys for your participation in this fandom survey. i received more than 600 responses in the span of a week! so, here it is! the results you’ve all been waiting for. persona 3 leads in the first place as the favorite game with persona 5 in a close second, and it turns out that more than 80 percent of persona fans on tumblr are LGBT!
“If you have been rejected many times in your life, then one more rejection isn’t going to make much difference. If you’re rejected, don’t automatically assume it’s your fault. The other person may have several reasons for not doing what you are asking them to do: none of it may have anything to do with you. Perhaps the person is busy or not feeling well or genuinely not interested in spending time with you. Rejections are part of everyday life. Don’t let them bother you. Keep reaching out to others. When you begin to receive positive responses then you are on the right track. It’s all a matter of numbers. Count the positive responses and forget about the rejections.”