We need to remember: Native Hawaiian Culture > Local Culture

I see this all the time from locals when issues on Hawaiian culture arise, where we think just cause we grew up around da culture, we have any say in how it should or shouldn’t be used.

Lucky we live HI but it doesn’t make us free from harming Native Hawaiians. We who do not have Hawaiian in our bloodlines, are haole to these lands in its original meaning. Yes, Hawai’i is a much more loving place than most and I am so proud to be from Hawai’i, but we are not free of racism, neo-colonialism, etc, including against Hawaiians.

When local culture says one thing but Hawaiian says another, Hawaiian culture wins, because it is HAWAIIAN CULTURE. We as locals, haoles, cannot combat the feelings and lived word of Hawaiians. Ainokea if we grew up with one thing and all of a sudden they saying different. Such as with Hapa. Local culture says its anyone who is mixed with anything. I grew up around that, you grew up around that. But that is false. That is erasure of the true meaning of Hapa, of what the identity of Hapa was born out of, of the Hawaiian culture attached to it. You are not Hapa if you are not part-Hawaiian, no matter what local culture says.

Hawaiian culture always comes before local culture. Respect the culture and respect Native Hawaiians.

highwiree  asked:

Drunk!Lance (or not drunk) making a pillow fort and Shiro finding this kind of cute

“Lance? What is this?” 

At the sound of his name, the brunet looked up from where he was crounching and turns his head towards the new voice, cheering loudly when he catches the blurry form of his boyfriend on the door frame, “Shiro! You’re awake!” Fluffing the pillow in his hand for the last time, he sets it with the rest on the floor - all of which were under the blankets that had been loosely tied to the dining room chairs. Lance focusses all of his attention on Shiro again, who stepped over some empty beer bottles and an empty ice cream tub. 

“Yes, I am. Did you drink all the beer?” Lance smiled in a dopey manner, “I did. All the ice cream too.” Shiro sighed and kneeled down next to his boyfriend. 

“And why do you have all the linens out?” 

“Our pillow fort. After college when we can move near the beach with a big lanai and close to a pizza place. ‘S gonna be our house. Gonna call it Casa de Amor.” Lance’s eyes were half lidded, and his voice was breathy and smelled of alcohol. His tan hand wandered up to cup Shiro’s face, and Shiro moved his cool prosthetic to meet the sticky sweat on the nape of Lance’s neck.
Lance’s drunkenly shiny eyes glistened in the stringlights that hung from within the fort, and Shiro felt like he was falling in love all over with this ridiculously drunk college student. 

//Sorry this is kinda late, been a lil busy

Ritual Sacrifice

I am slowly getting through all the prompts I have right now. So please know if you sent me a prompt, I’m not ignoring you, I just had to get through a monster Spacedogs story first. 

This story is for @victorineb and @desperatelyseekingcannibals, so blame them for this nonsense. I’d also like to thank @kateera for making this readable. 

         Hannibal adjusted his cufflink and smoothed his hands down his jacket, admiring his reflection. Thanks to their new life in Buenos Aires and Will’s general distaste for anything that couldn’t double as the covering of a picnic table, Hannibal had few excuses to wear suits anymore. Adjusting his tie, Hannibal turned, making sure the jacket broke properly to allow for a nice view of his backside. He froze when he heard a clicking noise behind him, his lip curling.

         “No, Martin.” Hannibal warned the shaggy white pup, recoiling slightly when the beast moved to sniff him. “Your fur covers quite enough.”

         The dog cocked his head, a filthy tennis ball in his maw. Hannibal reminded himself again that Will probably loved the cur more than him. With a pained sigh, Hannibal held out his hand and accepted the slobbery ball.

         “Fetch,” Hannibal threw the ball and absolutely didn’t run in the opposite direction.

         Taking a moment to catch his breath after a mad dash down the stairs, Hannibal began his search for Will. The kitchen was abandoned and spotless, his office door still closed. Checking his watch, Hannibal let out an annoyed huff at being made to play both fetch and hide-and-seek on his anniversary.

         “Out here.” Will called, amusement clear in his tone.

         Hannibal followed Will’s voice through the living room to find the door to the lanai open. When he finally spotted Will he stopped so suddenly that Martin and his disgusting toy barreled into the backs of his knees.

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