shared heritage

I and most of my friends are working or studying in fields that rely heavily on US government funding and support. A week ago, we knew we were future archaeologists, historians, conservation biologists, policymakers, environmental scientists, diplomats, park rangers; now some of us don’t know what we are. For so many, it feels like the rug has been totally pulled out from under us. More so if your dream job was actually in government (like mine), or if you’re a veteran who could’ve expected to benefit from federal veteran’s employment initiatives, or if you’re a research scientist or grad student working on a federal grant funded project, or if you’re a new graduate suddenly plunged into a market where the jobs you’ve prepared for are gone, frozen indefinitely by an administration hostile to their existence.

This isn’t hypothetical angst. Across the US, jobs people were applying for last week are closed. Graduate students whose EPA grants are suspended stand poised to lose not only their work, but their living stipends.

But who gives a fuck about me and my friends, right? Who cares about the futures of we who so foolishly chose to work our asses off to preserve and share our heritage, defend our wild places, support vulnerable populations, understand the forces of nature, create a more sustainable world, alleviate poverty, educate the public, create public policy, and represent our nation? I guess we all should’ve studied to be fucking hedge fund managers.

When the President talked about “bringing back jobs,” which ones was he talking about, exactly?

Welcome, neighbor! We now have black sea nettles on display with the purple-striped jellies! Though different in appearance, their shared genetic heritage make them peaceful—if contrasting—roommates!

We’re very excited to display these two species together—with overlapping ranges in the wild, this gelatinous song of ice and fire is finally being sung in our exhibit hall! It’s been years of diligent work on the part of our jelly aquarists to raise black sea nettles (Chrysaora achlyos) and purple-striped jellies (Chrysoara colorata) from scratch behind the scenes.

“Decadence in modern mass multicultural societies begins at a moment when there is no longer any discernible meaning within society. Meaning is destroyed by raising individualism above all other values because rampant individualism encourages the anarchical proliferation of egotism at the expense of the values that were once part of the national heritage, values that give form to the concept of nationhood and the nation State, to a State which is more than just a political entity, and which corresponds to a particular people who are conscious of sharing a common heritage for the survival of which they are prepared to make   personal sacrifices.”
— Alain de Benoist, "Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft: A sociological view of the decay of modern society" by Alain de Benoist and Tomislav Sunic. 

Theory time! - Levi's cravat

To preface - I just got all of the Attack on Titan volumes up to the current one and DAMN it’s nice to not have to be online to read them. :)


During my rereading of the official translation, I noticed something interesting that I think indicates something important about Levi’s character that I don’t think I’ve read yet from anyone else.  Remember this in Chapter 51? 

In case you don’t remember, it’s when Levi finds out from Hange that Titans were previously human.  Cue guilt and Erwin creepy smile (man, him and Armin have the creepy smile game on LOCK, BTW). 

However, in every chapter since, Levi’s been missing something that we all associate with his character, his visual cue, if you will -

His cravat.  Yeah, I understand that at this point in the story, they’re on the run and haven’t worn their uniforms and such, but I feel like this little detail is actually pretty important. As momtaku has mentioned in previous posts and her readthroughs (which are great, btw), Levi is fairly horrified that what he’s been doing up until now (to paint in broad strokes) is killing humans, and is starting to lose it.  From what we’ve learned in later chapters with the appearance of Kenny and learning more about his past with the underground, this is what I’m thinking -

Levi and Kenny clearly don’t get along, and they lived together for a while.  Kenny raised him, to an extent, and Levi’s accustomed to squalor.

Once Levi joined up with the Survey Corps, he found a way out.  Keeping in consideration some of the information we’ve gleaned from character interviews and tidbits (like why he holds his teacups in his particular way), I think Levi’s preference for his cravat is another way for him to give an appearance of being more well off than what he actually is/was AND a way to signify a new beginning for him, where he isn’t learning how to stalk and kill people - in essence, “using his powers for good”.

Once he realizes Titans were/are humans, I think he realized at that point he’s no better than Kenny, and everything he’s done to change things for himself have been for nothing - to paraphrase Kill Bill, he’s not a worker bee, he’s “a renegade killer bee”, and everything he’s done to “disguise” himself is pointless, because nothing in the world can change his Ackerman heritage.  As he tells the 104th -

He’s pretty uniquely qualified to deal with Titans and killers.  Like Erwin and Armin, because of what he knows now, he (and Mikasa, once he tells her about their shared heritage) knows what he has to do now and has “discarded” that part of himself to fight monsters.  Hell -

In summation, I think at this point, Levi is probably being the most honest with himself that he’s been in a long while.  Whether or not he puts it back on once everyone starts donning their uniforms again remains to be seen, and if he does, that raises interesting questions, as well.  Either way, I love Levi, and I get why people don’t understand certain aspects of his character, or broadly characterize him in broad strokes for fanfic purposes and such (I ONLY LOVE CRAVATS AND CLEANING kind of stuff), but I think that’s probably because I’m also “abnormal…probably because I’ve seen far too many abnormal things”.  I feel like that makes it easier for me to understand his headspace and some of his decisions (like his behavior towards Historia or using odd, long winded non sequiturs to explain himself).



queer! latinx! books! yaaaas. A video where I talk about being a queer latino (when am I not talking about that?) and share some queer latinx YA books, aka books with protags who are latinx and queer! Go read em!

Once upon a time there was a time traveling Samurai.
Strong, fearless, devout and humble,
He was flung into a devastating future. The people of the land…
…they called him Jack.

He met a young village girl who loved sunflowers and spoke his mother tongue. They shared similar heritage, though hers was mixed.
Because of this, she would never fully be accepted by the people of that town, But depsite this, she smiled for a brighter future.
They named her Nariko - Gentle child.
But she called herself Nikki

There was a fragment of a memory of time past.
Long ago in his youth, the Samurai ran through the fields of his home with a young girl. Centuries later, her descendant now labors in those fields under the rule of Aku, Quiet and intelligent, she pursues higher knowledge through old texts and books. She enjoys honey in her tear and the smell of oranges, 
Her name is Tao. 

Make sure to follow my Samurai Jack Blog in preparation for the new Season! 

“Man evolved in cooperating groups united by common cultural and genetic ties, and it is only in such a setting that the individual can feel truly free, and truly protected. Men cannot live happily alone and without values or any sense of identity: such a Situation leads to nihilism, drug abuse, criminality and worse. With the spread of purely egotistic goals at the expense of the altruistic regard for family and nation, the individual begins to talk of his rights rather than his duties, for he no longer feels any sense of destiny, of belonging to and being a part of a greater and more enduring entity. He no longer rejoices in the secure belief that he shares in a heritage which it is part of his common duty to protect —he no longer feels that he has anything in common with those around him. In short, he feels lonely and oppressed. Since all values have become strictly personal, everything is now equal to everything; e.g., nothing equals nothing.”   — Alain de Benoist, “Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft: A sociological view of the decay of modern society” by Alain de Benoist and Tomislav Sunic.

House of Cards - Park Jimin

Originally posted by jimins-bootae

house of cards, richmafia!au, jiminxreader


The previously moonlit room seemed completely different under the orange light of the wall lamps. Large curtains were stretched out to hide the room from curious eyes, even though Y/N was pretty certain that no one would dare eavesdrop.

Mr. Min and Mr. Park, two dangerous men that hadn’t been seen side by side in years, slowly sat down on leather arm-chairs. Their piercing stares were intimidating, even to their own blood.

As the residence’s owner spoke in the low rumble that was his voice, Jimin’s eyes snapped up to hold his stare.

“You are to be wed as quickly as arrangements allow.” He stated, not as a question of permission, but as a demand.

Y/N felt her blood boil, fingers curling as her nails pierced the soft skin of her palm. She was not in a position to refuse - especially after what she had been there to do. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from facing her father’s cruel gaze.

If his distaste for her hadn’t been clear before, now it was crystal.

Mr. Park continued, his tone as unwavering as before. Jimin’s knuckles were turning white. “You’ll both live here in the upper east side of the house, where I’m sure you’ll be comfortably accommodated. Business matters will be discussed with you only when your intervention is needed.”

The men kept giving out commands and the invariable plans for the next days and months. All of which were heard with utmost silence and an underlining hatred.

To Y/N, it became obvious that they were being punished. Jimin, for not maintaining his fiancée satisfied and loyal; after all, her departure wouldn’t have happened if she had conveyed a positive image of the Park family. Through faithful sources, the marriage between her and the Choi’s was apparently out of love, not only financial purposes.

Y/N? She was being punished for surviving her suicidal mission.


Two hours later and a bottle of red wine, the newly engaged couple sat on the floor of his bedroom. The air of frustration had long morphed into one of melancholy.

Neither spoke for a while, a reassuring silence falling between the pair. Eventually, though, a tipsy 20 year old woman had to speak out.

“It has been a while since I’ve last been to your bedroom.” She sighed. He stirred in his place.

“Two years.” He muttered, emptying the contents of his glass down his throat.

She wasn’t exactly sure what brought her to follow him into his room, to accept a drink or to end up reflecting over their lives. Maybe, it was the eminent fact that it would be the very last day she would be allowed any sense of shock, any human reaction. Starting from the next day, she’d have to hold her chin high, bring back her expensive clothes and high heeled shoes.

For two years, just as he had said, she had recoiled to the darkness of a gymnasium. She had exchanged her pretty dresses for sports wear and her dignity for lessons with assassins.

Jimin didn’t know that, though. He had no idea what his lack of balls had done to her.

“I wasn’t counting.” She lied, her wine stained lips gracing the edge of the glass.

He bit back a rude remark, standing up instead. “It’s late. You should sleep in one of the guest rooms.”

“No. I’ll just go back to my house.” She stood up as well, denying any look in his direction. His words seemed to have jolted her up from the trance.

“Y/N, do you really have no fear? Walking such a long distance alone at night right after our parents decided to announce a new wedding to the world?”

She turned to him. “You seem to have forgotten that I can take care of myself.”

“I should at the very least make an effort to protect my fiancée.”

She snorted in reply, beginning to walk away. In a swift motion, his pale fingers curled around her wrist and tugged her back to his side. Clicking his tongue in a tsk sound, he retreated his hand.

“You can’t leave. It’d be seen as an insult by my father and you know it.”

Jimin,” she began, defeated, and it was the first time she said his name since they were separated, “just lead me to the room farthest from your brothers.”

“Half brothers.” He corrected, but she ignored him.

He guided her through illuminated corridors, the tension between them so thick and evident that it wouldn’t take even a mildly smart person to realize it.

As he finally stopped by a dark brown door, he hastily turned to her and said what had been haunting his thoughts the entire walk from his bedroom to this one.

“You called my name.”

Instead of softening, her expression turned stone cold at his words. “I’ll try not to do that again, Mr. Park.”

And she shut the door behind her.


One week.

This was the time their parents had given them of freedom. Why? To match the date of the previous wedding.

One week that went by with the minimum of interaction between the pair, and thankfully for Y/N, a lack of encounters with his family - or her brother.

As the strings of her corset were being pulled tightly, the fabric hugging her ribs, she soon realized that some things were impossible to avoid. Yoongi pushed past the wide doors and went straight to her side, facing the large mirror.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” Y/N muttered, meeting his eyes through their reflection.

He pulled out a small, velvet textured box from his suit’s pocket. “Dad told me I could get in.”

The woman behind her gave a last pull before bowing her head and exiting the room, leaving the two siblings by themselves.

Yoongi opened her palm and placed it there, wrapping her fingers around it. He was being strangely sweet. “It was mom’s.”

His words made her eyes widen, instantly bringing the box between her two hands to open it. Her voice trembled slightly. “I thought everything was thrown away.”

“That was with aunt Minjee.” He explained.

Inside was a pendant, a dark blue stone surrounded by silver details hanging on a short string that made it stay just a little bellow her neck.

Seeing the tears prickle her eyes, he coughed awkwardly - the ceremony would be starting soon. “You look pretty.”

She didn’t thank him, but instead stepped down the platform, not quite reaching his height even with heels. “Why are you so calm? Even before Mr. Park killed her, you already despised my relations-”

“You know that was an accident. He thought she was Mr. Choi’s wife. We went through that already. They wore the same coat, it was impossible to distinguish.”

She couldn’t believe what was happening. “You’re defending him?!”

“Fuck, Y/N. I didn’t forgive him. But in a few minutes you’re going to be at the altar, promising yourself to his son. Don’t you think you should try to resent the past a little less, if you want to survive at that house?”

He had a point, and she knew that, but it was easier to wordlessly walk away from the room. There was a place she had to be, a place that she used to dream about; the altar.

Her father stood ready to hold her arm, and she felt a wave of sadness washing over her. His gaze wasn’t loving, he held the same poignancy he would for a business meeting.

The music began playing and she had a chance to look around. A perfectly decorated room, with fresh flowers and expensive ornaments and furniture, and so many people that she had never seen. In the front rows, though, she recognized her closest cousin, Hoseok, and her aunts, uncles, and other cousins. On the Park’s side, she recognized his ‘half brothers’ (which in reality are step brothers, but are labeled as this by their mother’s request), that didn’t even share the surname for heritage purposes - Seokjin, Namjoon and Taehyung. Also, there was one younger cousin that she was particularly fond of, Jungkook.

After studying the venue, she walked straight ahead with her arm linked in her father’s, her other hand holding a pretty bouquet. Jimin had his eyes on her, and she couldn’t help but find herself entranced in his looks. For a second there, she was happy that it hadn’t been the other girl seeing such man every morning from that day forward.

For that second, there was a sparkle of hope. Maybe, just maybe, the old flame was still there, maybe they would live peacefully on their own side of the house, that she knew to have been furnish as an apartment on it’s own.

But when her eyes glanced away from him and found his stepmother’s gaze, she knew that her life wouldn’t be that easy.

Favorite Solavellan fanfic at the moment : Message Sent by aicosu. It has First!Lavellan and Professor!Solas, tons of super cute text messages, awkwardness, UST, Merrill (<3!), and most importantly (for me at least) shared heritage and modern elvish politics. Yisss. Everytime the notification for this fic’s update pops up on my phone, it feels like I’m one of these two dorks, getting a message from the other :P 

weirdnonsensefandomstuff  asked:

omg i love eldritch skywalkers please share more of your ideas? like on leia and ben/kylo? or how leia and luke find comfort in each other because of their shared monstrous heritage?

  • Her son is born shining. Many mothers have said similar things; but Leia means this quite literally, for she bears what on first glimpse seems to be some kind of opalescent octopus. It shifts and judders into shapes that human eyes cannot comprehend, and Han ducks his head, swearing through his teeth.  “Don’t look,” she says, soft and infinitely sad. Her son is like her: this should be a wondrous thing. And yet it isn’t. She takes the bundle of light and shifting colours – at least half a dozen colours that have not been seen in this universe – and at once it solidifies into a little baby. “Look,” says Leia. “Look how much he looks like you.”
  • He does. When he is human at least: the same knowing smirk, a smuggler’s grin. And at other times he looks like her, just like her, only at those times Han can’t look at him for longer than five seconds without cringing in pain. Hey princess, he said, when she brings it up, says how it bothers her, sometimes I can’t bear to look at you for longer than five seconds, you drive me kriffing mad, but I love you still – and she had slapped him, kissed him, and they’d laughed into each other’s mouths. 
  • Kylo Ren is roiling rank blackness. He is void. He is starless night. He is, he is, he is: this is what Leia and Han tell themselves. Their shining boy, their Ben, is locked away somewhere in there. But that isn’t right. And when Han faces Kylo Ren he doesn’t see darkness but white light, endless and shining and beautiful, and that’s when he realises how badly he has misjudged this. Because Ben didn’t die; Kylo Ren grew out of him, and they are one and the same, and it isn’t as easy as plucking Ben free from the mess that is Kylo Ren, for Ben made his choices again and again, and made himself into the monster that burned the temple. How could I have been anything else. I am a monster, you could not bear to look at me, says Kylo Ren, says Ben, and Han –
  • Han never gets a chance to answer. I love you. You’re a wonder. You’re –  
  • Kylo Ren wants to eat Han’s heart (Snoke’s suggestion: something final, derisive, the act of one who will never fall to the Light), but he doesn’t get a chance, because Rey – human and whole and beautiful – is intent on ripping his own out. 

Angel Nomads: Candice & Behati

Globetrotting besties Candice Swanepoel & Behati Prinsloo reflect on their favorite trips & shared African heritage during our Costa Rica photo shoot.

CANDICE: What’s your most memorable travel moment?

BEHATI: When I was 12 or 13, I went to Egypt with my family. Egypt blew my mind. Seeing the Sphinx and the pyramids and traveling the Nile, it was so spiritual it was insane.

CANDICE: That’s amazing! When I look at the globe, I love to know that I’ve been on “that” spot. You know what I mean? It’s a weird, childish thing of mine, when you look at a spot and think, “Check, check, check.”

BEHATI: I know! Like you’re putting a pin in it. So what’s the most memorable place you’ve traveled?

CANDICE: Rhodesia [modern Zimbabwe]. My family and I used to stay on houseboats on Lake Kariba & watch lions. We’re in such a different world now! 

BEHATI: It feels like a different life! When I think about growing up in Africa and what I’m doing now, it feels like I’m making it up.

CANDICE: That’s a big reason why you and I became such good friends, because only someone who’s lived that can understand.

BEHATI: We have a connection. Like a soul connection. What about Costa Rica? Have 
you been here before?

CANDICE: Yes. Costa Rica’s really special to me. The whole energy here, the weather, even when it’s pouring rain…

BEHATI: It’s very raw. That raw, kind of savage beauty. It’s nice to lose yourself in a place and I think that Costa Rica has that energy. I was so excited when I heard about this shoot.

CANDICE: I had a lot of #friendshipgoals pictures in my mind.

BEHATI: Like two girls, running through the water?

CANDICE: Running and showing the happiness of being in a beautiful place. And you’re probably the only person in the world who could have been there.

BEHATI: Aww…you’re so sweet.

Follow more moments from Candice & Behati’s Costa Rica photoshoot on our Instagram.

ok as much as i love dadreyes sombra is. clearly her own woman. she’s 30 years old, she got herself those cybernetic upgrades, she lived through the crisis and came out of it with some serious power, im PRETTY SURE she joined talon for convenience considering she sacrifices their goals for hers. so yes, by all means, have reaper looking out for sombra and bonding over a shared heritage and all that good stuff; but she is not his protege or his baby and she sure as hell is not a fucking gremlin in a baby carrier. there is nothing he could give her that she hasn’t already taken for herself.

anonymous asked:

I'm so sorry. The question wasn't meant to be a trap. Perhaps I should not have assumed. It's just that you look ethnic. Thought maybe you could have provided some insight. I assumed the gay community as a whole would be a safe space. I assumed marginalized individuals would be a lot more enlightened. Boy did I call that wrong!

No worries! I just don’t want to seem cavalier about racism. I’m not an expert. I’m always learning from stuff and overcoming my own shortsightedness.

For what it’s worth, folks don’t typically “look ethnic.” Ethnicity is more about shared cultural heritage and less inherited outward appearances. So like if a young Brazilian girl is adopted and raised by Korean parents she may still be inherently Brazilian but could claim Korean as her ethnicity. Some Texans claim that as ethnicity or you may hear of Tejano. A lot of cultural things go into that and less genetic or race.

What are White Pride proponents so proud of?

Here’s something I don’t understand about “nice white people” who would never call themselves racist – why are they so offended that Black Pride is a thing?  This is a fairly standard example:

What is Morgan so proud of?  I’m serious here, not being shady at all.  What exactly does she want to celebrate?  Not being oppressed?  Oppressing everybody else?  Taylor Swift?

Keep reading

Mexican Character and Stereotypes

sonnelittle said: Hello! I’m writing a fantasy and my character is a young mexican girl, she lives on México from 1839, but I’m afraid she is gonna end up very stereotype; she is very hardworker because her family is having financial troubles, she doesn’t know how to read or write since she is working and don’t have enough time, after some events she have to run away and now wears what we know as “china poblana” a very common dress that indegenous woman wear at that time (she is mestiza, but she is wearing it because is comfortable to move than her usual victorian dress, she is constantly moving around so is hard for her to jump, fight and run with her usual dress).

I’m afraid all these characteristic are bad, since I have heard people think mexicans are hardwokers but poor, ignorant and wear typical clothes.

I am mexican but even if she and I share the same heritage I still can go wrong, I also have other things about her personality but I don’t want to make this any longer, do you think I should change this? or is okay if I justify? Thank you very much and sorry for the very long question! (and sorry for my english)

Hey there, sonnelittle

For what it’s worth, the woman who raised me when my parents were overworked to make ends meet was a cattle rancher from San Luis who was illiterate (until she taught herself in adult life how to read) and poor, and hard-working. She was walking dignity and among the most badass women I know. My grandfather abandoned my grandmother to fend off AWFUL debt shortly after my mother was born. So my grandmother was another “poor, hard-working Mexican” and a young, single mother to boot — and she is also one of the most badass women I know. Lastly my grandmother and her sisters and brothers were the first generation in my mother’s side of the family (a line of Mexican ranchers and farmers) to be completely literate. And my family and our poor, illiterate, hard-working friends had dignity, tradition and honor. So, I like your story already, I do not think she is stereotypical, I think it is relatable, and I would read your story.

As for the china poblano in the 1830s: This is fine. This makes sense. I would not change it.

As for the illiteracy: Being illiterate in the 1800s was typical even among men. The decision to make her illiterate is not inappropriate. It was very, very common and I would not worry about it. It was exceptional to be literate in the 1830s.

As for the poverty: Again, this is the 1830s, so just like with illiteracy, wealth distribution was unbalanced. Many people were poor. I don’t think that this is making her stereotypical, I think this is just a point of her heritage. Even today, every country has a significant working class and every country has poverty. Being poor does not mean being lazy or stupid. Stories about people who are hard workers are respectable stories. If someone says “Oh, she’s poor because she’s Mexican,” THEY are the problem.


I love cultural appropriation!

Cultural appropriation is a good thing. Let’s celebrate our differences by embracing them. Let’s share our cultures with one another and learn to understand one another. Do not allow yourself to be segregated because some entitled asshole thinks their culture is meant to be selfishly hoarded and restricted. Cultures were meant to be shared. 

I loved at previous job how eager and excited the Nappali people were to share their cultures and customs with me. Just the same, I was elated to have the chance to share my heritage with them as well. It was a way for us to bond. People from vastly different cultures sharing their heritage and becoming friends. It made us see we aren’t so different after all. 

All you do when you fight against cultural appropriation is further segregation. All you do is further the divide between us. All you do is promote hatred. 

TRINI HEADCANON: trini is hispanic, but her last name is kwan. she was made fun of for her name in middle school. she was adopted by her step-dad, who is of asian descent, after her mother remarried when trini was seven, legally changing her last name from hernandez to kwan. her brothers are half hispanic, half asian, and she hates not being able to share the same heritage biologically with them. she loves her family, her siblings especially, but she always finds herself wishing her mother never would’ve remarried. her step-dad, who has raised her since adopting her, has never given her reason to believe he’ll think less of her for desiring who she does, but she can’t help but feel like the black sheep of the family. 

at least she has friends now; or as close to them as she’s ever going to have.

[Headcanon that Jason Todd and Jaime Reyes both share a Latino heritage and both turn to Spanish when they’re flustered, exceptionally angry, or confused. They also happen to get along surprisingly well, the few times they run across each other. The Scarab/Khaji Da approves of many of Jason’s usual methods, speaking of, while Jaime… doesn’t.]