I’m currently on holiday in Spain and found these wonderfully rainbow coloured gummi sweets I just had to share with all of you…
What’s the coolest rainbow-coloured thing you’ve ever come across?
It’s that time of the year again… scores of parents despair at finding all the necessary school supplies, alarm clocks are dusted off to awaken hibernating offspring, leaves are starting to gain color and we can all look forward to increase in traffic in scholastically burdened areas.
Yep, it’s time to go Back To School. Yay! *ahem* No, honestly, YAY! I used to LIKE school. Going to school again after a long summer was always something of a new beginning, and this is what I thought of when I wrote my Back to School Drabble. So without further ado, here it is:
Chris stared up to where the great wooden gate sat at the top of a veritable mountain of steps. First day at a new school, one you changed to in the middle of the school year? Not scary at all.
Administration took their time handing over his class schedule so of course he was late. Everyone was already in their places, staring at him.
“Ah, yes, our new student,” the teacher said. “Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
Chris swallowed, hard.
“Hi, I’m Chris Sawyer. I’m here because my old school kicked me out.” He straightened his shoulders. “Because I’m gay.”
I hope you like Chris’ start into the school year, because you may well be hearing more about him….
Our lovely Bella Leone has done it again! Her short story “Fair Puckled” will be released by Torquere Press this Wednesday, 6/20.
When Jackson Stuart accompanies a professor on a research trip to Scottish Highland Games, he is thrilled to see the beautiful country he’s only read about in books. But one thing his books haven’t prepared him for is the handsome, kilted ginger giant who wants to welcome Jackson to Scotland in the very best way.
Now go forth and add to your To Be Read list on Goodreads!
Thanks to everyone for visiting our blog during the Hop for Homophobia. We were glad to lend our support to a very important cause. Thank you also to the hop organizers. You did a great job!
With the assistance of Random.org, we have selected a winner of a copy of It Gets Better: Coming Out, Overcoming Bullying, and Creating a Life Worth Living. Congratulations to Cherie Noel! Her book is currently winging its way to her.
The Bunnies come from all over the world, and we write different genres. But we agree: homophobia and transphobia must end. People are people, and love is love. We all fully support the International Day Against Homophobia, and some of the Bunnies want to tell you why.
It gets better…
Time heals all wounds, dogs that bark don’t bite, caveat emptor, hope springs eternal, your eyes will get stuck like that, quod licet jovi non licet bovi… there’s lots of sayings like that out and about, and I’m sure you’ve heard a few yourself – from your grandmother(s), assorted aunts and uncles, parents, cousins, teachers. Mostly with either a long-suffering expression on their face or one that’s just one step away from smug.
And then someone comes along and tells you “it gets better”. What do they know, right? Why should you believe them?
I’ll freely admit that I don’t know what it’s like to be subjected to the prevailing prejudice against any non-heterosexual relationships or sexuality in general.
That doesn’t mean I can’t say “it gets better”, though, because the power of those three words lies in the belief of people who say it, think it, promote it. If even one person believes, then it can get better.
The best place to start is to believe in yourself. Never lose hope, and always remember: It gets better.
So here’s one more saying for you, something everyone should take to heart:
Audaces Fortuna Iuvat – Fortune favours the Brave.
I just read the most interesting article. It’s called “15 Things You Should Give Up In Order To Be Happy,” and it really made me think. Specifically, number 15 struck a chord with me.
“Give up living your life to other people’s expectations.” Like is says below that number, people forget about themselves. I’ve done it. My husband has done it. My kids are likely going to do it.
It’s not a good thing to forget about yourself. I joke that I have the excuse of being a mother, but as I write this I’m on the verge of insanity because I’ve been stuck in the house with my sons for two days. All I want is a moment to myself, but when I’m constantly worrying about the needs of my family, it’s kind of impossible. All I want to do is go to a coffee shop and write until my fingers bleed, but I can’t do that right now.
But I know I want it.
You should know what you want for yourself and go for it.
It doesn’t matter ‘what’ you are. It matters who you are. It matters what you want in life. If what you want is to live your life, do it. If what you want is to write, do it. If what you want is to love who you want to love, do it.
Not everyone will agree with your choices, but guess what? Not everyone matters. You matter. Life your life for you, not anyone else.
That’s all that matters. Just ask the couple I know who have been together 35 years and finally got married this month. It gets better.
Sometimes life is hard. Sometimes life is amazing.
We don’t have to make it hard for others to make our lives more amazing though.
I heard once when I was a kid, “They’re only doing it to make themselves feel better.” What does that mean? They’re life wasn’t good enough so they thought picking on me would be a way to make themselves a better person? Sadly, it is true that some folks aren’t happy unless they are making someone else unhappy. My mom said that when I was little, I would get in between two fighting or arguing children and say, “Who raised you to act like this?” Six years old and I was already calling out poor parenting! No wonder I studied Human Development and Education. Thankfully, my mother was a strong woman who taught me that it just isn’t enough to be good, she also taught me to stand up when I knew something was wrong.
Spreading hate in America is wrong. Just as wrong as segregation was 50 years ago.
Eleanor Roosevelt said, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” I try to live by that rule everyday. You can’t make me feel badly about who I am unless I let you. No matter who tries, whether it is a bully child or a bully politician, we can choose to live our lives above their influence.
It hurts my heart that there are states like NC and AZ that wish to make a citizen of America less than another. It is not okay. I won’t pander to those reading our blog, you guys know my feelings. Half of America shares my feelings. Now we need to stop talking and start doing.
On a day like today, we need to celebrate our differences, our weirdness, our unique abilities, and who we are as humans. We are all humans and as long as we choose love over hate, we are better for it.
In the end, we are judged not by how we hate, but by how we love. Love lots and speak out against hate.
Oh, North Carolina. You have made me one riled up, angry citizen, and I can honestly say that, one week ago today, I was ashamed to live here.
May 8th was a day that could, and should, have been full of promise. Full of hope. Alas, more than sixty percent of our great state contributed to the continuation of hate, bigotry, and ignorance. My Facebook timeline was full of people celebrating come 10pm, which is when the results began pouring in from the various news networks. “Amendment One passed!” many of the statuses read. “Thank goodness!”
Really? So, what you’re saying is that, you’re thankful we took a step back? That we’re essentially discriminating against people for simply being themselves? For something completely beyond their control? Is this not reminiscent of the shameful period in our history during which we judged people based on…wait for it…something they could not control? Perish the thought! I wanted to lash out and scream at these people. I wanted to approach every one of them face-to-face and demand to know exactly who they thought they were. But then, I realized: that would make me no better than them.
Lord knows, it hurts my heart to see that people still believe these things. It kills me to know that my child will grow up in a world that’s still full of hate. I can only hope that I, along with other parents of this generation, will raise my child(ren) to love others for who they are. For their character. For the way they treat other people.
Many people try to throw out religious jargon in situations such as this, but I hold fast to one commandment from the good book itself: Love others the way that Jesus loves you. How hard is that to comprehend? It’s really quite simple. And honestly? It makes life a lot more pleasurable. Just give it a try, America. Please. And to those of you affected by this mess, I promise you: we’re not all like them. And yes, it does get better.
Growing up in the 70s and 80s, my parents taught me that everyone deserves equal opportunity and equal respect. They told stories about the 60s in Alabama. About the injustice people will do to other people based on religion, race, gender, or class. They didn’t talk about homophobia back then. If they knew any LGBT people, they never mentioned it to me or my brother.
But then AIDS came along. My parents were horrified by the discrimination against those with HIV and AIDS and the rampant homophobia that accompanied fear of the disease. Having never discussed it before, they now made it clear that sexual orientation (back then it was called “preference”) should be added to the list of things by which we weren’t to judge people.
Unfortunately, not everyone had parents like mine. They were raised by people who live in fear, and they in turn raise people who live in fear. They fear anyone different, anyone honest. And they want everyone else to be afraid, too.
As the saying goes, it gets better. Does it? I fervently hope so. I want to live in a country where people can be true to themselves. I want the richness of the South to include tolerance for everyone, just like my parents believed it should. But it can’t just be LGBT persons that fight for it. We all have to.
To mark the International Day Against Homophobia, we have a request and a gift.
The request: Visit these websites and consider donating to their efforts.
The gift: One copy of It Gets Better: Coming Out, Overcoming Bullying, and Creating a Life Worth Living, edited by Dan Savage and Terry Miller. Simply leave a comment with your email address, and we’ll pick a random commenter on Sunday May 20th. You may choose paperback, hardback, or Kindle edition, and we’ll send it to you. We’ll even donate in your name to a library, if you’d rather.
Visit the Hop Against Homophobia site to see a list of the 250+ other blogs participating.
A challenge from the lovely Becca.
“It’s so quiet out here.” Grace looked up at Logan with a smile. “Like, eerily quiet.”
He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. “Only means we have it to ourselves.”
Grace’s eyes flickered to the huge carousel. “It’s gorgeous. The last time I rode one of these things was with my grandpa. That was before…” She trailed off once the tears started prickling at her eyes, then blinked them away quickly. “Lots of memories,” she finally finished in a strained voice.
Logan pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. “Well, then. Let’s go make some more memories.”
(Challenged by Chelle)
I knew the moment I saw him my life would be changed forever.
His strong hands wrap around my thighs as he lifts me, and I laugh. Trailing my fingers down his arms, tracing the ink that disappears into his shirt, I smile at him and press my lips to his.
“I’m so fucking lucky to have you,” he murmurs, ghosting his tongue over the shell of my ear. I playfully push away from him and shake my head furiously when he asks me if I’d like to take a swim.
“No!” I gasp when I hit the freezing water.
(Challenged by Bella)
I ran my hand over his smooth chest, and I wanted to touch him everywhere. “Is this okay?”
His eyes were unfocused and glazed. “Of course it is.” He reached up and pulled me down for another kiss.
God, his lips against mine and his tongue in my mouth caused my brain to scramble. He arched his back, and our bare chests pressed together. Would he mind if my hand went lower? If I covered his body with mine?
“Coming here with me… I didn’t plan… I know this isn’t what you thought would happen.”
He grinned wickedly. “Says who?”
(Challenged by Kerry)
“What do you want?” I slide my hands across her back and sides. Watching with rapt attention, she mewls again and her skin pebbles. “What does my girl need?” I pull her back into my chest.
“Want,” she pants as I pinch her nipples.
“Want what, baby?”
Grinding into my thigh between her legs, I can feel how much she wants, but won’t give it to her unless she begs.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging me closer. “Please. Please take me. Make me cum.”
“Yes.” With a smile on my lips, now I can give her what she wants.
This drabble is part of one of my longest-going WIPs, the story of Camille and Merle (a merle is a blackbird).
You can see the picture that inspired it here…
Queen Maud, who’d once been the girl Camille, tapped her finger against the chair. The bird didn’t move a feather, just watched her with tiny, patient eyes. A blackbird, this, no fancy parrot. Completely out of place in a Queen’s chambers.
A merle in her rooms. She laughed, though she’d have liked to cry.
“Why are you here, and not he?” she asked the bird. Almost three months had passed since she won her throne. Two and a half since he left.
Because she’d rejected him.
Now there was just her, and this strange bird.
The wrong kind of merle.