Mirrored Soul

What does it mean to have a sister?

To have a sister is to have a soul outside of your own body. It is to know there is another half of you somewhere in the universe; Not necessarily a carbon copy, Simply someone who understands you like no other- Someone who knows your story Without ever having to usher a word.

To have a sister means fighting over insignificant aspects of your lives. It means arguing over the remote And wearing each other’s clothes, But singing together in the car only minutes later.

To have a sister is to know there is someone fighting in your army. It is to start wars that you may not win, And have someone behind you regardless. It is to have someone catch you when you fall Or to pick you up and dust you off after you’ve hit the ground.

To have a sister means you’ll always have someone around. Someone who will see you at your worst and at your best, Someone who knows what you look like all dressed up And when you’ve just rolled out of bed. Someone who knows the deepest parts of you- Like they have a roadmap to your head.

To have a sister is to have a mirrored soul. The only person with a childhood exactly like your own, The one person with true shared experiences- The same trauma, the same love, the same genetic makeup. The one person who stood with you in the rain Until you both could feel the sun.

To have a sister is to have an enemy, To have an ally, a friend, a soulmate. It is to know love in the most complicated ways, But to always see it through. To have a sister is to know yourself, And have someone who knows you.

This is a friendly reminder to never, ever publish your book with a publishing company that charges you to publish with them. That is a vanity press, which makes money by preying on authors. They charge you for editing, formatting, cover art, and more. With most of these companies, you will never seen a cent of any royalties made from sale of your book. A legitimate publishing company only makes money when you make money, they will never charge you to publish with them. If a company approaches you and says "Hey, we'll publish your book, just pay us X amount of money," tell them to go fuck themself and block them.

Remember, kids: money should only ever flow FROM your publisher TO you.

Here's a very well-maintained resource by the SFWA (Science-Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association) that lists contests/editors/small presses/etc. with predatory behaviours:

Go forth and publish safely!

@selenite0 has a full presentation about shady publishing contracts, this might be something to add to that

This.

There is a part of me that believes that parenthood is burned into me, that there is something deep inside of me that was meant to hold and love a child. From the instant I lay eyes on a child to the moment they are taken away, I am filled with the unbroken, undeniable need to give that child all of the love that I didn't receive. While I am aware that I am far from a decent role model, I am more so aware of the fact that I would teach a child to wash their hands, to say 'thank you' to those who do them a good deed, to understand the world around them. There is something inside of me that longs for a child to hold beneath the armpits, to raise up into the air just as I raise them into a member of society. How I long to watch a child grow in front of my eyes, to learn from me, to copy my every move. How I long to hold and rock a baby while they cry on and on, unsure of why they are so uncomfortable, but knowing that they can find solace in their guardian. The intimacy of parent and child is something irreplaceable, and it is something that I so desperately want. My arms are bare, nothing more than a space for a baby to lie in. My lap is empty, desperate for a child to sit on for comfort. My heart has a hole inside, child-shaped and surrounded with hundreds of gorgeous, soft flowers. I am nowhere close to a mother, far closer to a father, yet my mind still carries the need to carry, feed, and adore a child, one that looks like me, copies me, needs me. Despite my masculinity, the femininity of motherhood calls out to me, and motherly love courses through my veins, all natural yet suppressed. Despite my desperation to be a strong father for a baby that doesn't exist, the need to be a gentle, loving mother for a beautiful baby fills my heart and swarms my body. My hope is that one day, I'll have the ability to teach a son how to tie his tie, but I'll also have the ability to teach a daughter how to style her hair. Most importantly, I wish to have the ability to teach both how to love unconditionally, just as I do.

HOW TO GIVE PERSONALITY TO A CHARACTER

Giving personality to a character is an essential part of character development in storytelling, whether you're writing a novel, screenplay, or creating a character for a role-playing game. Here are some steps and considerations to help you give personality to your character:

Start by creating a detailed backstory for your character. Where were they born? What were their childhood experiences like? What significant events have shaped their life? Understanding their past can help you determine their motivations, fears, and desires.

2. Define Their Goals and Motivations:

Characters often become more interesting when they have clear goals and motivations. What does your character want? It could be something tangible like a job or a romantic relationship, or it could be an abstract desire like happiness or freedom.

3. Determine Their Strengths and Weaknesses:

No one is perfect, and characters should reflect this. Identify your character's strengths and weaknesses. This can include physical abilities, intellectual skills, and personality traits. Flaws can make characters relatable and three-dimensional.

4. Consider Their Personality Traits:

Think about your character's personality traits. Are they introverted or extroverted? Shy or outgoing? Kind or selfish? Create a list of traits that describe their character. You can use personality frameworks like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator or the Big Five Personality Traits as a starting point.

5. Give Them Quirks and Habits:

Quirks and habits can make a character memorable. Do they have a specific way of speaking, a unique fashion style, or an unusual hobby? These details can help bring your character to life.

6. Explore Their Relationships:

Characters don't exist in isolation. Consider how your character interacts with others. What are their relationships like with family, friends, and enemies? These relationships can reveal a lot about their personality.

7. Show, Don't Tell:

Instead of explicitly telling the audience about your character's personality, show it through their actions, dialogue, and decisions. Let the reader or viewer infer their traits based on their behavior.

8. Create Internal Conflict:

Characters with internal conflicts are often more engaging. What inner struggles does your character face? These can be related to their goals, values, or past experiences.

9. Use Character Arcs:

Consider how your character will change or grow throughout the story. Character development is often about how a character evolves in response to the events and challenges they face.

10. Seek Inspiration:

Draw inspiration from real people, other fictional characters, or even historical figures. Study how people with similar traits and backgrounds behave to inform your character's actions and reactions.

11. Write Dialogue and Inner Monologues:

Writing dialogue and inner monologues from your character's perspective can help you get inside their head and understand their thought processes and emotions.

12. Consider the Setting:

The setting of your story can influence your character's personality. For example, a character who grows up in a war-torn environment may have a different personality than one raised in a peaceful, affluent society.

13. Revise and Refine:

Don't be afraid to revise and refine your character as you write and develop your story. Characters can evolve and change as the narrative unfolds.

Remember that well-developed characters are dynamic and multi-faceted. They should feel like real people with strengths, weaknesses, and complexities. As you write and develop your character, put yourself in their shoes and think about how they would react to various situations. This will help you create a compelling and believable personality for your character.

Advice for writing relationships

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Where to watch willow?

hi questies!

I’m not sure if anyone else has posted this, but I wanted to hop on and ask for people to share the ways they plan on watching remembering willow once it’s been pulled. if anyone is willing to share safe links please feel free to do so! I know they can’t be shared super widely at risk of being taken down, but if you feel comfy sharing please message me!

UPDATE

the absolutely lovely and incredible @ksfreckles created a google drive for us to access!! you have to request access but i got in quite quickly after requesting!

here is the link to her og post and be sure to check out her awesome fic too!!

small details for fictional kisses

Okay, I need to jump start my writing so hit me with a prompt in my asks if you like!

ooh this list is good too

$50,000 immediately dropped into my bank account wouldn't improve EVERYTHING but boy it sure would be a grand, sexy little start to a good, happy life path, don't you think

Reblog for unexpected $$$ dropping into your Bank account.

yes.

This is the best description I’ve heard for this method, I always thought it was bullshit because I never heard a description that actually explained how to do this other than “tap your head 20 times”.

I have anxiety-induced hissing, which sounds/feels different from sound-induced tinnitus (which I have also experience). Sound-based tinnitus actually sounds like you’re “hearing” something in your ears, whilst the hissing I have feels like it’s “inside my head”, if that makes sense. But this technique still helps!!

Here’s a visual I found because I couldn’t understand the instructions well

My ringing just went away for the first time in years. What is this blissful quiet.

wait wait i gotta try this, i don’t think i’ve had Actual Silence since i was like 5

HOW THE FUCK

Welcome to my prompt list! A list of 200+ prompts that I love, whether they be from fics I've read or other lists I've seen floating around. I hope you enjoy ♡

Cloudy With A Chance Of Assassination

PAIRING: Yelena Belova x Reader

SUMMARY: My new girlfriend takes meeting the relatives to a whole new level.

It's cloudy up ahead, but patches of sunlight leak through certain gaps like chinks in the sky's armour, and a warm silver lines the clouds as the sun sets behind them. There are no pink or orange hues in the sunset this cloudy evening, just tinted blue and cream with grey mountains in the distance and muted coloured trees at their bases. I have one hand on the wheel of the car Yelena and I just bought together, a sleek black Fiesta, and the other on my partner in crime's thigh. She has her window rolled down, the high speed we're going at blowing her golden hair everywhere. I drum my fingertips along the wheel as an upbeat song starts to play.

She's lost in the clouds, I can tell. I ask her if she's imagining pictures out of the white puffs, but either the roaring wind at one ear or the song at her other is blocking her from hearing my words.

I squeeze her thigh. She smacks my hand and glances sideways at me, mossy green eyes playful. I allow myself a single glance before looking back at the road. "I asked what you're seeing in the clouds."

She turns the radio dial down. "What?"

I snort. "Nevermind."

"You wanted attention?"

I flip her the bird, earning a boisterous laugh from her. "You were!"

I mimic her accent in a high-pitched voice. "You were totally like, give me attention! Because I'm Yelena Belova and I'm so special!"

"I don't sound like that," she objects. "You once said, and I quote, 'your voice is deep and sexy, like if a dressage horse could speak.'"

I frown. "I don't remember that. Was I drunk?"

"You were trying to outdrink me."

"Oh. Were you cheating? I don't black out that easily."

"No, I wasn't. And yes, you do."

I grumble and turn the radio up again. She hums along to the song, Snap Out Of It by the Arctic Monkeys. We drive until the sun goes down, or at least until I notice her energetic nature die down like a used battery. I search up the nearest motel on my phone and by the time I've pulled in, she's asleep.

I switch the engine off and relax into my seat. I allow myself a few seconds to admire the girl beside me.

I met her through a friend of mine, who lived in the apartment beside hers. I'd visit frequently, and she noticed and eventually grew tired of me oggling her everytime I passed her on the way out. So she coerced me into drinking too much red wine and then sent me over to her door, drunk and giggling.

I didn't know much about her past. She's from Russia, and she sometimes jokes that she's actually a trained assassin. She grew up in a foster home, got close with a girl named Natalia, who ended up living in the Big Apple as a high school teacher with a husband who renovates houses. She calls her every other week before bed, I think, when I spend the night and she thinks I'm asleep. I never hear what they're saying, but I enjoy falling into slumber listening to the soft hum of her voice through the plaster walls.

I admire her small, round, button nose, the even slope of her jawline, her long lashes that brush against her subtly tanned skin. We've only been dating for two months, but I'm positive I'm im love with her. We haven't exchanged those words yet, though. The car is actually our first and only big step.

I gently shake her shoulders to wake her up, and she grumbles sleepily as she shifts and peeks up at me. "Where are we?"

"Motel. Didn't feel like driving home. Come on, lazy bones, let's get you a pillow."

Once we're settled in a room, stripped of jeans and bras so we're just wearing shirts and underwear, I drift off with my head on her shoulder and my hand wrapped around her stomach.

When I wake up, the first thing I notice is the dried drool in the corner of my mouth. I don't think much of it other than the teasing I'd endure in the morning when Yelena finds out I drooled on her.

I pull her closer and then frown.

I am holding a pillow.

My girlfriend is not said pillow.

I rub my eyes and sit up. It's still dark outside, and the clock on my phone reads three in the morning. I scan the room for her figure, but I can't see her silhouette lingering in any of the shadowed corners. I frown and push the duvet off of my body, shivering slightly as I maneuver around the bed and into the bathroom.

No sign of her.

I'm starting to get worried.

Quickly, I grab my jeans — at least I think they're mine — and force my legs through them. I slip my phone in my pocket and head to the door.

It's locked, which doesn't make sense, because my current assumption that Yelena had gone out for a quick smoke would mean that she wouldn't have gone far enough to warrant locking the door.

I swallow down the bad feeling in my gut and step outside.

The upper wrap-a-round level of the motel showed no people in sight. I head to the stairs and down to the front desk, where a young man with purple streaks in his hair sits, droopy-eyed and scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

"Um, excuse me, sir?" I ask tentatively, rubbing the goosebumps off my arms. I hadn't brought my jacket.

His eyes flick up to meet mine. "Sir? You're friendlier than your girlfriend."

"I'm assuming you mean the blonde, very pretty, homicidal-looking woman I came in with?"

He sighs, turning his phone down. "Look, this is a motel. Things like this happen a lot. My advice is to run before the wife sees you."

I stare at him blankly.

He stares back.

"Uh, what?"

"A tall redheaded woman came by, stole your girl for a talk. They were squabbling about you. I assumed . . . oh. You didn't know. Well, who knows, could be a relative or something."

My heart hammers against my ribcage wildly. I have to keep reminding myself that Yelena loves me, that she wouldn't cheat on me, or cheat on anyone else with me, or . . . I feel myself becoming pale. Her scars, I'd never thought much of them, but with her mysterious past, and this mysterious paramour? She was running away from the woman who had now found her.

"Where did they go?" I demand, anger rushing through my veins.

He shakes his head, looking sympathetic. "I've seen this play out before, trust me when I say you don't want to confront—"

"Tell me where they went or I will make you swallow your own fist."

He recoils. "Christ, fine, they're in the parking lot. For the record, I hope you get a good slappin'!"

I speed walk out of the motel and around the back, adrenaline rushing. I stop when I spot two figures under a streetlight by my car, one taller and waving her arms around as she speaks and the other, unmistakably my Yelena, glaring up with her arms crossed.

I march over to them. Their heads snap in my direction almost immediately. The redheaded woman pulls out a gun and aims it at me.

I yelp and freeze, hands up in surrender. Yelena yells something in Russian and smacks the weapon out of her hands before rushing towards me. "(Y/N), what are you doing?"

"We're leaving," I say, completely freaked out. "Right now. You run, tell the guy in the office to call 911. I'll fight her off."

"What? No! (Y/N), this is my sister! She's just paranoid."

I gape at her. "I thought she was a science teacher!"

"I told you we should have met somewhere else," the redhead hisses.

Yelena spits back in Russian.

"No, no Russian! Explanation, now!" I turn to the woman. "You're Natalia?"

"Natasha."

"Okay, Natasha the science teacher who owns a gun, what are you doing here?"

Her lips tighten into a fine line. "I'm not a science teacher, I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and I wasn't expecting Yelena to have company when I came here to drag her back home."

Yelena starts spurting more angry Russian words that mean nothing to me as I try to process what's happening. The two sisters argue for a solid two minutes while I decide I must be dreaming.

The lies. The scars. The mystery. The jokes about being an assassin.

This is a living nightmare.

I turn and walk away.

Yelena calls out, "(Y/N)! Wait!"

I don't stop until I've reached our room, where I promptly grab my jacket and bra and shove them in my bag.

"(Y/N), don't leave," Yelena begs when she catches up, blocking the doorway with her body. "Let me explain, love, please."

"Get out of my way," I snap.

She doesn't flinch, doesn't turn around as she closes the door and backs up against it as if to provide another barrier between me and the world she's trying to hide.

"Yelena," I warn.

"Let me explain," she pleads.

I stare her down, but she doesn't seem to be budging any time soon. I drop my bag on the floor and sit on the bed with my arms crossed, glaring at her. "Fine. Enlighten me."

She slowly eases away from the door. "I didn't lie to you about everything. I'm one hundred percent Russian, and I consider Natalia to be my sister, and we did grow up together. But we were trained together, too. As assassins."

"Fuck," I mutter.

She kneels down in front of me. "I got away from that life, I swear. And I met you and everything after that was the realist thing I'd ever had. I really love video games, and I really love your pancakes, and I really, really love you."

My glare softens.

"Even if you can't cook," she says.

I give her a semi-playful, semi-annoyed shove.

"You said be honest, don't hit me!"

I stand up and pace the room nervously. This time, she sits down on the bed. I mutter under my breath, gnawing on my thumbnail, until, finally, I sit down beside her.

"Okay, deal breaker. Do you know Captain America?"

Gold Rush (pt.2)

Pt.1:

~*~

You hear your name shouted eagerly in that raspy voice you adore, and it’s everything you love to hear but can’t afford to hear.

She bounds over to you, blonde locks glinting under the neon lights of the bar. Her smile is wide, pretty and rounds out the edges of your whole world; the hold this woman doesn’t realize she has over you is exactly the reason you never wanted to love her, but somehow you still can’t bring yourself to regret it.

She slides up next to you, leaning on her arms on the table.

“Hey there, Y/N,” she winks, and you feel your stomach flutter in spite of yourself.

You tip an imaginary hat at her with faux politeness. “Comrade.”

She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, and you errantly admire the full pinkness of it before you startle yourself back into reality. “-you been? Haven’t heard from you today.”

You blink, and Karly, no Kate’s drink comes into focus. It’s the first time you’ve thought about her since Yelena walked inside, and you’d feel bad but you know it’s not a choice; you’re helpless and there’s not much you can do to get over her when she’s right in front of you.

You grimace, and rub your neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I’m uh, actually on a date right now. She’s in the bathroom.”

Yelena’s mouth drops open and her body tenses. “What do you mean you’re on a date right now? You didn’t tell me you were going on a date, how long have you been seeing this girl, who is she?”

Your startled by the rapidness of her demanding questions, but stammer out the answers. You’ve never seen this fierce seriousness in her, because she’s usually so nonchalant and easy going.

“Kate Gosser? What? Absolutely not, no, she sleeps with everyone!” Yelena splutters, face getting red. “You can’t date her!”

You raise your brows in disbelief, because even if you’re in love with her you can’t let her tell you what to do and get away with it. You’re not even committed to defending Kate, it’s more that you have an innate aversion to letting Yelena go unchallenged.

“Oh well that’s rich coming from you, Black Widow,” the nickname drips with sarcastic venom from your throat, every resentful and jealous thought you’ve had about the guests to Yelena’s bed behind it. “Have you slept with her, is that how you know?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’d never sleep with her. I have taste,” she shoots back immediately.

You open your mouth to retaliate but are interrupted by Kate approaching cautiously. You’re not sure if she heard your conversation with Yelena, but she can clearly see the tension radiating off the two of you.

“Hey Y/N,” Kate says tentatively, glancing at Yelena, whose jaw is locked in a scowl. “Is everything alright here?”

You start to respond but Yelena answers for you, cold and clipped. “Everything’s fine.”

You kick her lightly under the table but force a sickly sweet smile at Kate. “Yes, everything’s okay. Kate, this is my friend, Yelena. She just walked in a minute ago.”

Your date seems to accept your answer, and smiles at both you and your angry Russian, who merely quirks an elegant, unimpressed brow. “Cool, I feel less bad now because I think I’m going to have to head out. I really enjoyed tonight, but I have work really early in the morning so I better go.”

You nod at her. “Oh that’s too bad, but I totally understand.”

Kate grins. “Well I’ll see you later, call or text me anytime.”

She goes to hug you, but Yelena stands solidly in between you, unmoving. You kick her again and she finally budges, if only an inch. Kate squeezes in the space and kisses you on the cheek. You feel the molten green glare like smoldering coals from a fire.

Your date pulls away, and Yelena petulantly takes a long drag from your drink as she waves goodbye to her.

Kate walks out, oblivious, and you both turn fiery eyes at each other.

“What the hell is your problem, Yelena?”

She looks mockingly surprised. “My problem? I don’t have a problem. You have a problem choosing suitable women, is my only problem!”

You scoff at her. “Once again I believe you’re projecting your own behavior onto other people.”

“So you’re saying I have a problem picking bad dates.”

“Yes.”

“While you’re out dating Kate Gosser.”

“It was one date, I don’t know why you’re so pissed about it!”

It’s then she goes quiet. Her brows go up and she bites her lip as she toys with her fingers on the table. Something has changed, but you have no idea what; the fire in her goes out as she takes in a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I did pick the worst person to fall in love with. You’re my problem, Y/N.”

Your eyes widen as she shakes her head, scoots back her chair and leaves the bar, alarm bells going off in your head as you sit paralyzed. It takes you a second to process what she said, what you think she said, but when you do you’re shooting out of you own chair and chasing after her.

It takes you a few minutes to catch up with her, but finally you see her ahead of you, walking swiftly but stiffly, like if she stops moving she’ll break down.

“Yelena!” You shout, and when she turns to look at you, you know you have no choice but to tell her you love her, just like you have no choice but to love her to begin with. “It is the natural condition of mankind to want you!”

She furrows her brow in confusion as you slide up to her, panting and yelling.

“Everyone, absolutely everyone wants you. I hate that. It’s like a requirement to live in this town. ‘Do you like Yelena Belova? Yes? Welcome in!’ I hate that. You’re like the human version of a gold rush and I hate that too!”

She looks at you in absolute bewilderment. “I’m not sure if those were compliments or insults-“

“The one thing that I can’t hate is you-“

“-thank you?”

“I can’t hate you even though I very much want to sometimes because what I really hate is being a cliche. I don’t like to do what everyone else does and here I am doing it anyway because you’re you and how could I not?”

“I still don’t understand what you’re saying,” she pleads, and it comes rushing out of you because you’d do anything to make that hurt look in her eyes go away. “You’re my problem! I’m in love with you!”

It’s like she’s been hit with a truck. “Wh-what?”

“I love you! Te amo! Je t’aime! However the hell you say it in Russian, that’s what I do to you!”

She blurts something out breathlessly, and your eyes widen as you register what it is.

“Wait, that’s-“

She says it again, nodding, and you suddenly feel like you’ve been hit over the head with a brick or a grand piano.

“That night, you were telling me that night that you love me?”

Yelena steps closer to you slowly, as if you might disappear if she goes too fast. She’s gazing at you in awe, like she’s struck, and you know a similar expression must be mirrored on your own face. “I was,” she smiles so gently at you. “It was the night the Black Widow retired.”

“So you haven’t been with anyone since then?”

The blonde shakes her head simply.

“But that was months ago. You’ve loved me that long?” You ask in disbelief, reaching out with your hand to grab hers. It fits warm and snug against your own.

“Much longer,” she admits sheepishly, rubbing her thumb over your knuckles. “And you? How long have you loved me?”

You grin and squeeze her hand. “When you compared yourself to an onion, like Shrek. That’s when I realized I was in love with an idiot.”

She looks at you in absolute wonder; it’s like the whole of the galaxy is in her eyes as you move even closer together.

Your hands move up to cup her face and her pretty blonde eyelashes flutter shut as you lean in to finally kiss her.

It feels like coming home.

She sighs in content as you part, nuzzling her nose against yours when you lay your foreheads together.

“You’re not going to call Kate Gosser back, are you?”

You kiss her again, grinning against her lips.

“Absolutely not. I’ve struck gold.”

Choices

Yelena Belova Masterlist

Requested by Anon: How about Yelena and R getting in an argument and Nat comforts reader and they cuddle platonically but Yelena comes in the room and sees them in bed together and is fuming and lots of angst and maybe Yelena says something like “I’ve been second best to Nat my entire life” like how Amy March said that to Laurie

Word Count: 2.5k (longish and angsty)

A/N: I love love LOVED writing this, I love this scene from little women and I adored including it in this fic, i genuinely think you’re going to love it

"Hey baby," You greeted, smiling when you saw your girlfriend standing on the balcony of your room. Yelena hummed in response, her shoulder leaning against the door frame. She didn't turn around to face you, her gaze fixed on the cars outside.

Frowning at her lack of response, you walked over to where she was standing. The cold breeze danced along with the curtains, flowing near your bare feet. Goosebumps formed along your skin, you tried to put your feet in the sun to warm them up.

Yelena remained silent, watching you fidget beside her. Her eyes shifted to where your hand was fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. Her gaze trailed up to the bandaged gash on your arm, staring at the spots of blood seeping through. She blinked in surprise when you spoke, interrupting the silence.

"Is something wrong?" You asked timidly, trying to play off your injury.

There should be way more pictures of modern zoos so i just add some more

Seriously zoos do so much important conservation work as well I hate when people shit all over zoos as if the animals are locked up and not looked after

The SF Zoo has two sea lions. Now, if you know SF, you know that sea lions are a Thing. They’re all over Pier 39 and various other beaches in N California. In fact, the zoo is near the ocean, so there are sea lions not 200 yards from the zoo entrance. So having sea lions in the zoo seems sort of superfluous.

Except the sea lions are blind. One was found as an adult after suffering a gun shot wound to the face that destroyed his eyes. The other was found as an adolescent, weak and starving because it had been blinded and unable to hunt. So they were rescued and introduced and the zoo built them a nice pool where they can swim and sunbathe and people toss them fish. It’s not the biggest exhibit, or the fanciest. But it’s a home for them, where they’re safe and well fed. Sea lions aren’t the most romantic of animals, but they’re a part of SF culture and a lot of us have a soft spot for the loud, bulbous things. And because of zoos, these two get to live long, happy lives.

Whenever anyone complains about zoos, I think about Silent Knight and Henry. 

I think it’s St. Louis zoo that is saving big cats in Africa. Scientists couldn’t figure out what was killing off the local lion population. They were dying off from Canine Distemper. The local unvaccinated dogs of the towns would spread the disease to other animals or have it themselves. When the lions ate the infected animals they would catch it as well. You know what that Zoo is doing to stop this disease? They are going over to those towns and vaccinating the dogs for free. The community loves it and people from other villages comes for miles to get their dogs vaccinated as well.

They also do work with camel populations because the local human population use the camels for food sources the zoos help monitor the camels health.

Another zoo, I want to say it’s the Oregon zoo but don’t quote me on that, is helping female inmates. The zoo works with the female prisons by encouraging the inmates to assist in the breeding and raising of endangered species of butterflies. They plant the specific plants that the butterflies and catapillars need, raise them, and release them. These inmates get noted in any scientific journals that get published. They are giving these inmates a sense of accomplishment and validation.

Zoos not only save species but bring together and assist communities in an effort to save the environment. Zoos, good zoos, are essential to the future and I will fight anyone who tries to say otherwise.

PS you don’t see PETA doing any of this.

One of the local zoos in my area at one point rescued a bald eagle that had been shot and kept it in the zoo to let it recuperate until they freed it again. Some of the zoos in my state will keep injured animals there until they heal again.

Helsinki Zoo is the world leader in snow leopard and Amur leopard conservation, in their care these endangered species have managed to breed more than anywhere else in captivity and this in turn has enabled the re-introduction of these animals back to their native habitats. https://www.korkeasaari.fi/helsinki-zoo/

I work at a zoo that is instrumental in the California Condor recovery program (among dozens of other conservation projects). We went from 42 surviving individuals left to over 400, over 200 of whom are in the wild. We’re part of the amur leopard species survival plan with two young animals who are eagerly attempting to make babies. We host one of North America’s only bachelor troops of western lowland gorillas, preserving the social structure of wild gorillas. All of our bald eagles are rescues who would not survive in the wild. All our keepers participate in field research and conservation work in addition to a full time team of conservationists. We host the most genetically valuable male Masai giraffe in North America, who has sired 5 offspring with 1 on the way, increasing the genetic diversity of his entire species. If you’re against zoos, you don’t know what zoos do.

Super, SUPER important thread.

Also zoos tend to do a lot of breeding and conservation work with smaller, less charismatic species like invertebrates and amphibians. Those species are extremely important in the ecosystem but don’t get the same notoriety as the charismatic megafauna.