fixed culture

So here's the DEETS

The official Voltron character pages have come out, and they’re honestly so wonderful! I really want to collect them all asap. However, a lot of information has also come from this stuff. So for all of you out there fighting against shaladin, or are shaladins, here’s what you need to know! I have photo evidence if you’d like, but I’m on mobile so message me.

• Pidge is 15 / Italian
• Hunk is 17 / Samoan
• Lance is 17 / Cuban
• Keith is 18 / No race confirmed / birthday is October 23, making him a scorpio(or libra, depending)
• Shiro is 25, or, if you believe in crippling depression, 6
• Hunk refers to him as Space Dad

Those are the raw details! Now for conclusions:

• Klance has an age gap of 9 months if Keith is born the year before Lance, and an age gap of 3 months if born in the same year
• Klance is not pedophilic because of the 3/9 month age gap
• Sheith is 7 years apart
• Sheith is two people on different levels of maturity in mind and body, and is inappropriate, predatory, and abusive
• Shaladin ships have been softly refuted by Josh Keaton and Bex
• Shidge is absolutely pedophilic (15 and 25)
• Shallura is a teen and an adult, and is therefore inappropriate as well
• H/K/L ships are all cool
• Shance is a 17 year old and 25 year old, therefore inappropriate, predatory, and abusive
• Any shaladin ship showcases a power and maturity imbalance between the members of the relationship and is therefore abusive
• It comes from an official source, all packaging and information goes through Voltron official first
• Stop whitewashing COC(characters of colour)
• The paladins see Shiro as a father figure, or perhaps a brother figure(for broganes)
• I won’t be censoring this post, all people from all walks of the fandom have to see this

Representation and Respect

Excuse me while I get extremely emotional for a minute. Last night I was blown away how amazing The Doldrums was. Every single second was absolutely beautiful. But something that really astounded me, and has since his introduction in A. Malcolm, was how Yi Tien Cho’s character has been portrayed.

Representation matters. A lot. But what’s more important than simply having POC represented on in mainstream media is the production behind that understanding *why* it’s important. How it affects the people watching – both POC and non-POC alike. Because whether we like it or not, mainstream media – television in particular – shapes how people view the world and how they view cultures not their own. I was so moved by it I had to tweet this out to show my gratitude.

Maril + Caitriona liking this tweet is so much more than a simple like. It shows that the cast + crew alike understand that, yes there are people like me out there watching. People who were absolutely terrified that my culture was going to be reduced down to a caricature rendering of outdated stereotypical views. These likes were reassurance. These likes meant, “Yes, we see you. Yes, we understand. We see the value.” Simple statements that nearly moved me to tears.

This production not only understands these failings of an originally poorly and offensively drawn character, but they didn’t take the easy way out. Instead of taking out his character entirely, pushing him to the background with no lines or meaning to speak of, or whitewashing him to the point of unrecognizableness, they decide to go that extra mile. They gave his character depth, meaning, purpose – they gave him true life for the first time ever. And most importantly they gave him and all the viewers respect.

I will never not be grateful to the entire production for this change and never not applaud them for not caving to the pressures of a dominantly white Hollywood culture. All my praise and applause to you, Outlander. Thank you.


Cultural Appropriation is a real, important, and harmful thing, but god damn if it’s not one of the most recklessly abused terms in the social justice lexicon.

Transcription under the cut for accessibility

Keep reading

Seeing all this stuff about the Alex Tizon discourse is making me wanna throw up. 

Listen. What they did? It’s slavery. We know. We get it.  But it’s not your slavery, it is a product of the broken system which we have been mired in, one which America has been directly complicit in. It’s an unfortunate case, horrifying, not entirely unexpected, but not exactly the norm. The issue here is that foreigners are trying to put words in our mouth and making this discussion about them instead of letting Filipinos process this and have a proper conversation about it without them shutting us down and screaming BUT SLAVERY!!! APOLOGISTS!!! not only that but they’re deliberately misunderstanding our language and honorifics, they are making things out to be something they’re not.

The system is broken. Any Filipino can tell you that. Yelling at us isn’t going to fix it unless you can somehow fix an entire culture with a press of a button and magically remove 400 years of colonialism and oppression, both by foreigners and fellow Filipinos, which has directly contributed to how desperate and helpless our people have become. It just doesn’t work that way.

But what really pisses me off about this? It’s because we’ve already been silenced before. We have been colonized, mistreated, our culture erased and labeled as inferior, our country gutted for resources and labor and this is still happening, just now its happening on more socially acceptable terms. 

Context and the underlying culture does matter, especially when our culture has already been so abused and erased that we have no idea what kind of culture or history we would have had if it hadn’t been beaten out of us by colonizers for 400 years, even the name of our country, our very identity. To this day we still struggle with our identity as a people, with the colonial mentality and nation-wide inferiority complex instilled in us by colonizers.

Keep in mind that every time you yell at us about how culture doesn’t matter, you’re all slavery apologists, without taking into consideration our views, our culture and the system which contributes to this, and how people are still working to correct it despite the fact that progress will likely not come for another 20? 30? years maybe even longer. Progress is slow when you live in a country where every system is designed against you. We are seeing people from a country which oppressed us, attempting to once again erase our narrative and tell us they know better, perhaps then you can forgive us for being wary of foreigners dismissing our culture and views to propagate their own.

McKayla has been through so much and is so brave to share her experiences to try to fix the culture in the sport and world. She’s dealt with creeps always making sexual comments about her since she was 16, Nassar’s sexual assault, so many injuries, Artur and Galina basically saying her injuries were fake and she just needed to lose weight, that trashy celeb hacker leaking those pics when she was underage and then gymnastics sites like Gymnastike (now FloGymnastics) linking to them, mental health issues, etc. I support her so much. ❤️❤️❤️

gun laws aren’t the main reason we have so much gun violence in america and neither are the mentally ill. it’s due more to a culture that celebrates hate and violence and the fact so much of the population lives in poverty and around said violence from a young age. putting a gun in someone’s hands won’t make them go on a mass shooting but years of desperation and/or unchecked hate will. background checks may help but this problem is both institutional and cultural and fixing it will require much more than legislation

I know antisemitism is insidious as fuck and I’m fairly certain some of the things I do, say, and reblog probably have roots in antisemitic rhetoric. If you spot any of it please call me out. This shit is so widespread that seemingly innocuous things actually have antisemitic undertones. A few months ago I was informed that the “lizard people ruling the world” joke is based in antisemitism when I’d always assumed it was just jokey sci-fi hyperbole. Since then I’ve been trying to make sure I don’t reblog anything like that, and I’ve also been trying to analyse the roots of other things I post.

I know it is not the job of the oppressed and attacked to educate people, but I truly want this blog to be safe for Jewish people, so if I ever post anything antisemitic, and if you feel comfortable doing so, please let me know, either in person or on anon. I promise I won’t publish non-anon call out asks because I want you guys to be safe. And if I mess up and you feel you need to unfollow me, know that I am truly sorry, but that I understand that you need to make your corner of the Internet safe.

I love you guys, and the last thing I want to do is upset you through my ignorance.

anonymous asked:

what makes someone good at learning languages?

Except determintion and hard work usually: 

- Sun/Moon/Mercury in the Mutable Sign
- 3rd/9th/10th/11th House stellium
- Mercury, Uranus, Jupiter, Saturn, Pluto dominance 
- Moon/Mercury aspect
- Moon/Jupiter aspect
- Pisces/Virgo/Sagittarius/Gemini/Aquarius/Capricorn dominance
- Mercury/Saturn aspect
- Mercury/Uranus aspect
- Mercury/Pluto aspect
- Mercury in the 3rd, 6th, 9th House
- Venus in Sagittarius/Aquarius/Pisces (makes them interested in other cultures and it usually goes for them trying to also learn language used in this culture)
- Fixed or Mutable dominance

Christmas on Mars

A/N: For @happy-snape-week 2017
I realize this is a little late for Christmas, and ALMOST late for Sev’s birthday (it’s not quite midnight where I live). I meant to get this done sooner, but I’ve been in the middle of traveling halfway across my country and haven’t had much time for writing. Also, I stand by this story as being happy, technically, although it’s the kind of happy that makes you cry, for parts of it. At any rate, it’s done, so enjoy!


Christmas Eve had once again arrived at the Burrow, and it smelled like cinnamon and ginger and rosemary and sage. Snow, which had begun to fall gently in the outside night, was already sticking in a soft, clean layer, but inside, a fire was blazing cheerily, and familiar faces buzzed about, talking, laughing, embracing each other, hands and hearts thawing in the warmth of it all. Dinner had been prepared and enthusiastically devoured, and even the grownups had indulged in far too many of Molly Weasley’s sweets. When even the latest arriving guests had been served a plate, everyone had settled in for the lovely holiday evening. The children had sat in front of the hearth, playing boisterous games of Gobstones and Exploding Snap, until they were sent upstairs when they got too loud, while the adults had gathered in armchairs and sofas and at the kitchen table with steaming mugs in hand, smiling, remembering, and enjoying each other’s company.

Molly was in an old, patchy brown recliner, cooing at her newest grandson. Arther stood behind her shoulder, his elbows on the chair back, chatting with a smiling Hermione Granger, whose happy brown eyes kept darting between him and the baby. She and Ronald Weasley sat comfortably together on a settee, a navy blue knitted blanket across their laps. The longest sofa had been claimed by the Potters, and a small boy was slumped between Harry Potter and a very pregnant Ginny. She had her legs in her husband’s lap, and his hands rested on the tops of her feet. Other Weasley boys, extended family, and friends were scattered around the house. Conversation was carried about in the typical, noisy, Weasley fashion, and continued to be so until a very unexpected guest walked through the front door.

In an instant, the whole house became silent. Judging by everyone’s faces, Molly and Arthur were the only ones who knew of his possible arrival, and, Severus would assume, Molly was the only one who expected him to show up. The others wore looks of shock and horror so vast that Severus immediately regretted his decision to come. For what seemed an infinitely long time, he stood there, fingers still terribly cold, blood rushing in his ears, stray snowflakes melting in his hair, feeling the appalled stares burn into him while completely unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

Then Molly was rising from her seat, and then the baby was in Arthur’s arms, and Molly was right in front of Severus, who was still frozen, and then… and then…

Before Severus had time to process what was happening, Molly had pulled him into a tight, warm hug.

“I had hoped you’d show up,” she said loudly, still with a hand on Severus’ shoulder. “You go sit yourself down and I’ll fix you up a plate.” Giving his shoulder a last affectionate squeeze, she turned to do exactly that.

After one brief, uncomfortable second, the silence ended, and hushed but urgent conversation broke out.

Arthur, who had deposited the infant, who had a rather thick mop of brown curls, on Hermione’s lap, hurriedly stepped forward and guided Severus to the recently vacated brown chair.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Arthur admitted, and Severus resisted the urge to snort. Obviously. And then, as if realizing how that statement could be interpreted, Arther hastened to add, “But I’m glad you’re here.”

It wasn’t the words, so much, that caused such a foreign, and almost uncomfortable pang of something in Severus’ chest, but the sincerity with which they were said. Arther had really meant that, and so had Molly.

Severus inclined his head.

“I thank you, and your wife, for the invitation,” he said, his voice stiff with formality.

“Nonsense,” said Arthur. “You know you’re welcome here, any time. You’re family now.” Strangely, he darted a glance at his daughter and son-in-law before giving Severus a half smile that was equal parts nervous and honest. “Well, I’ll go see if Molly needs a hand, now,” he said awkwardly, and almost fled to the kitchen to ‘help’ Molly, leaving Severus to wonder what that bit about family had meant, as he hardly felt welcome at the moment.

It took only a moment for the realization to set in that he was now in the dubious company of four former students and their progeny, all of whom were still mutely starting at him. Severus then became acutely aware that he had not seen any of them for over a decade, and as his dark eyes roamed over all of them in turn, seeing their faces - so much older, more mature- it occurred to him just how much time that really was, and how much had changed without him being a part of it. It wasn’t as if he’d missed it, exactly, but, to be fair, he had never imagined that he would willingly attend a Weasley Christmas.

Surprisingly enough, it was Weasley who seemed to come to his senses first. He leaned forward in his seat, blanket shifting from his lap, to extend his hand to Severus.

“Professor,” he greeted in a voice that was not the least bit hostile, and if it was strained, it was only from surprise.

Severus accepted the handshake, halfway wondering what alternate dimension he’d managed to step into. And then he saw Granger surreptitiously wipe her eyes, and the look of utter devastation on Potter’s face. It hit him, suddenly, that the silence and tension of earlier wasn’t because of disappointment at seeing a hated face, but because at least some of them -Granger, Potter, and the two youngest Weasleys included - hadn’t known he was alive.

Still, apart from the shock, their actions confused him. Why the tears? Why the sadness? He’d understand it if it had been Potter’s beloved Godfather, or even Lupin that had walked back from the dead, but him? All four faces were looking at him, eyes shiny with wonder and… something. And he didn’t understand. They hadn’t… mourned him, had they? It was impossible. If anything, they should have been glad that he was gone. Or indifferent. But this? And yet, the grief on their faces was undeniable. They truly had missed him while he was gone.

The pang in his heart was so strong that time that he reached his hand up to rub at his chest. Why? Why would they miss him? Why would they care?

Silence fell once more, all of them stunned, until a soft, gentle voice began to speak.

“Mum told us that someone would be here tonight. A special guest, she said. None of us imagined it would be you.”

It was Ginevra who had spoken, and she smiled, despite the tears running down her cheeks. She gave a shaky, overwhelmed sort of laugh, and then she was sobbing. Potter had his arm around her in an instant, his hand running soothingly across her back, but he had yet to take his eyes off of Severus.

Granger seemed to have recovered by then, and she tenderly placed her son in Ronald’s arms before standing and gently pulling Severus to stand as well. And then she hugged him, tightly, her head against his shoulder as if they were the best of friends, as if she were truly glad to see him. And then Severus, despite trying desperately not to, began to believe that she - that all of them - really were.

It was a long moment before Hermione pulled away, both of them blinking fiercely.

“Don’t you dare leave again, don’t you dare,” she said vehemently, but quietly. She sat back down, and Ronald took her hand. There was a respectful kind of silence as everyone waited for Severus to pull himself together.

“Mummy? Who’s that?” a small voice whispered loudly.

Everyone’s attention was then drawn to the little boy who was rubbing his eyes with one hand and tugging on Ginny’s sleeve with the other. It was Potter’s boy, it had to be, with the same messy black hair that seemed doomed to run in the family. And then the little brat turned to point at Severus, and Severus drew in a sharp breath as he was once again looking into achingly familiar bright green eyes, which also must have been genetic. He looked at Potter for a fraction of a second, but he could not keep himself from staring at the boy, who couldn’t have been more than two, maybe three years old.

“Alby,” said Potter slowly, and Severus realized that his voice was different than he’d last heard, deeper, and rough with emotion, “Why don’t you go and introduce yourself.”

Severus once again looked at Potter, but was confused to see that he was looking at Ginevra with an intensity that didn’t seem to make sense.

Slowly, and a bit shyly, the little boy walked to Severus and stopped by his knees, raising his arms as if asking to be picked up. Severus darted a glance to Ginny for reassurance before setting the child gently on his lap and giving him his full attention.

The boy, who Potter had called Alby, surprised Severus by giving him a blinding smile, all shyness forgotten, and once again, he was looking into those eyes.

“I’m Albus. Albus Sev'us Potter,” the boy said with a slight lisp, but evident pride in his voice. “What’s you’re name?”

But Severus didn’t respond immediately. He couldn’t. He looked up in shock, eyes flicking between Ginevra and Potter, mouth open and unable to fully take in the entirety of it. And then Arther’s words were ringing in his ears: “You’re family now.”

It was like a dam had broken inside. He was horrified to find tears came to his eyes, but there was nothing he could do. He was completely helpless against the emotion that overwhelmed him. Maybe they hadn’t been as happy as he’d have imagined by his death, but this was simply too much. It had to be too much.

“Severus,” he told the child distractedly. “Severus Snape.”

Alby, of course, was too young to realize the significance of what had just occurred, and contented himself by leaning against Severus and closing his eyes, seeming happy enough to just be held by a perfect stranger, albeit one with the same name as him. Severus’ hand, without conscience decision on his part, came to rest against the child’s dark hair, as he pulled the boy just a bit closer to himself. And finally, he looked at Potter and spoke.

“He looks just like his father,” he said softly, his voice coming out altered and thick. “But he has-”

“My mother’s eyes,” Potter finished for him with a grin.

Severus nodded helplessly. It wasn’t the first time he had seen the boy - man, now, he realized - smile, but it was the first time he had smiled at him, and, at some point, due to his face maturing into that of an adult, his grin had stopped looking like a carbon copy of James Potter’s. And with that came the realization that Potter was now older than his father had ever been.

This time, the silence that followed wasn’t weird, but comfortable, and even pleasant. Severus wasn’t used to being around this many people, especially not this many people who seemed to like him, and he certainly wasn’t used to having children on his lap, but as it was, the child’s warm weight was rather soothing, and his hair was very, very soft.

Eventually, Molly came in and set a plate of food on the table beside him, and Severus realized vaguely that her waiting for the tension to ease before interrupting was thoughtful, but then, Molly usually was.

Knowing from experience that he’d get a thoroughly embarrassing scolding, even at his age, if he were to not eat, he picked up his plate, careful not to disturb the sleeping boy in his lap. The plate was piled high with turkey, served with stuffing, gravy, and current jelly, roasted potatoes, Brussels sprouts, and Yorkshire pudding. There was even a smaller dessert saucer of sherry trifle, and Severus wondered if it was a coincidence that it was one of the few puddings he was fond of. He made a valiant effort to eat as much as he could, but still didn’t even manage half of it before he had to set it aside.

There were a few quiet minutes where the only sound was the deep, steady breathing of the - currently - youngest Potter. Then Ginevra stood and walked, or rather waddled, over to take Alby to bed.

Severus looked at the young, obviously pregnant woman, and then at the stairs, and hesitated. To Severus’ amazement, she rolled her eyes at him and huffed.

“This is the third one,” she said dryly, hand over her belly to indicate the child within. “I assure you, I know my limits.”

Severus spent the next second patently horrified at how very much Ginevra resembled her mother, and the openly fond smile she gave him as she picked up her son didn’t help at all.

“You should see the way she scolds James when he misbehaves. It’s like Molly all over again,” said Potter, rightly interpreting the look on Severus’ face. He was clearly amused, by the way the sides of his lips had curled up, and the way his eyes sparkled, just a bit.

It then clicked that James must be the third child Ginevra mentioned, and the oldest by the sound of it.

“It’s a redhead thing, I assure you,” said Severus after a moment. “Your mother could be the same way. She could be downright lethal with a wooden spoon.”

Talking about Lily was less painful than he had imagined it would be, and Potter’s face immediately brightened, making him look younger, so much so that couldn’t help but remember the years he had spent as the boy’s teacher.

Harry smiled at him, a genuine, happy smile that was apparently contagious, because, after a second of hesitation, Severus felt himself smiling back.

At that moment, George Weasley walked into the room and promptly froze at the scene before him.

“Woah,” he exclaimed, eyebrows shooting up in pure surprise. “We must be on a different planet, right?” He looked between Harry and Snape in amazement.

“Never imagined you’d see Professor Snape smile, eh?” Ronald joked lightly. “And at Harry, no less.”

“No indeed,” replied George mildly.

“Oh, but it is Christmas,” said Hermione, joining in on the teasing.

“Yeah,“ said George with a grin. “Christmas on Mars.”