#that afro comment she has is bad but she's far from the only character in V3 to suffer from Japans prejudice

[problamticsideanna]

You know I wish people that disliked Himiko had more to say than "She should have died instead of X" or "she is so one note."

First point isn't a real argument on why a different character deserves to die and the second point a lot of characters you could easily write off as one note?

"Hehe Gonta only like bug" No there is way more to him that.

"Himiko only talks about magic." THERE IS WAY MORE TO HER THAN THAT!!!

Like she's using magic to cope with her trauma. I get it being infuriating in the second trial (I was a bit annoyed at a certain point too) but once you learn to understand how she thinks by trial three... acknowledge that it's part of her characterization you don't like instead of painting her as the worst character ever because of it.

People do this for other characters too but the Himiko hate is like above and beyond fucking annoying.

I am a bit biased because Himiko is one of my favorite characters in anything ever but you know what? Hifumi makes me uncomfortable but if you love him I will defend you to your dying breath. Write that character analysis on why Hifumi is the best actually, I support you 💖

[caermis]

❝ The Wish to Return...❞ Pt. 2

(A) Todoroki Shouto X (A)Bakugou Katsuki X Black!Reader X (A)Midoriya Izuku 

✑Characters ⟹(Apex Alpha) Todoroki Shouto ⟹(Alpha)Bakugou Katsuki ⟹(Alpha)Midoriya Izuku

✑Warnings: ⟹Yandere ⟹NSFW ⟹Non-con ⟹Mental/Physiological abuse ⟹Sexism ⟹Gender Norms

✑Prompt/Summary: Three males are dropped off into the middle of nowhere, having no clue what's going on or how long they'll be away. Yet the sweet smell of a woman makes them want to stay.

✑Notes: ⟹No Quirk AU ⟹Y/C/S = Your certain scent ⟹Listen, don't @ me. I’m trying something new with the Omegaverse bear with me pls ⟹Aged up ⟹Some warnings don't apply to this part, but for future parts. The NSFW still applies to this part.

«Pt.1»   «Pt.2»

Part 2: Disapperance 

Gone. 

Like you weren't even there to begin with. 

But the sweet smell of Y/C/S still lingered in the air.

It was upsetting. 

Whoever you are was just begging to be claimed, releasing such a sweet smell in the night alone with no Alpha or scent upon you. It could make one drool at how defenseless you were. The two men stare at where you once stood, inhaling all that they could before your scent was gone forever. They wanted you… no, needed you.

Upon walking back inside, Todoroki immediately headed to his room. Izuku in deep thought as he walked back to his room, only for soft speaking of the Beta and Omega in the kitchen, cleaning up from tonight's dinner. “It smells like Y/C/S or like fresh something. It’s always so potent.” Uraraka giggled happily as she looked up at her friend, his hands deep in dishwater.

“Maybe they're in the town. We can travel down and see.”

“I've already been, but they weren't there. Maybe they're from Haibazia!”

“We can't travel there, especially, with the overrun of Alphas.”

“So then the Festival! Everyone goes.” The two girls chatted to each other excitedly, Izuku pushing away from the back wall and walking to his bedroom. Eavesdropping on people wasn't something he'd like to do, but something he did often.

Haibazia, a much larger and more profitable town, but overrun with Alphas. Muttering all the possibilities, he stopped outside his room. ‘Taking two Alphas there won't do us any good.’ Mentally cursing his friends for their bad attitudes, made traveling much harder. 

That night he couldn't sleep. 

The soft voice whispering into his ear. Random hands running up his body. Like another body was pressed up against and the smell of Y/C/S filling his nose.

Bakugou was the second awake, finding Todoroki sitting at the dinner table rubbing a liquid against his neck. It wasn't odd to see Todoroki awake this early. He ran on his own internal clock, which resulted in him getting up before the sun rose.  “I suggest you wear this too.” Bakugou snatched the bottle and read over it. 

‘Scent Cancellationn.’

He glared and crossed his arms. “I don't need it.” Todoroki glanced at Bakugou, sending a shiver down his spine. Removing his hand over his scent gland, Bakugou slightly flinched at the movement. “I wasn't asking Katsuki. You can’t control yourself, and the last thing I need is for you to ruin my agenda.” 

“Sorry.” Muttering an apology, he applied the scent cancellation, avoiding Todoroki’s stare. He hated himself for easily bending over to Todoroki’s will. If it came down to a physical fight, Bakugou was sure he could win… right? That’s what he was taught to believe. He was above the rest throughout all his school years and a few of his adult life until he met Todoroki Shouto for a modeling gig.

‘Japan’s Hottest Alpha.’ 

A rank 1 through 10. Bakugou had been sure he would easily gain number one place until Todoroki came along and took his spot. Bakugou was enraged and Todoroki wasn't one who flaunted his status as Apex Alpha, well not anymore. He held that above Bakugou’s head, like a sweet treat that Bakugou couldn't earn no matter how good he was in his career. 

One could say that Bakugou was the reason Todoroki flaunted his power.

“Such a tense atmosphere.”

Kirishima tried to lighten the mood as he sat down at the table. “I see Midoriya isn’t awake.” He chuckled, earning a glare from Bakugou. “He has a difficult time waking up.” Midoriya being the type of person he is rather stays up the entire night and sleeps the entire day, until exactly 8:30 AM. No matter how long he stayed up the previous night, let him go to sleep at 8:00 AM, expecting him to be up and active at 8:30 AM.

“Todoroki, so you're an Apex Alpha?”

Rare. Most Alpha’s can go through their entire life without meeting an Apex Alpha. Nodded, he leaned back in his chair, straightening his spine. “My father was also one.” Kirishima’s eyes widen, asking Alpha a bunch of questions. How was your life growing up? Do you have a mate? Todoroki answered each one calmly, the fresh smell of the rain on wood getting stronger. 

“Slow down would you. I'm sure an attractive guy like Todoroki has some pretty little Omega at home.” Denki walked in sitting behind his friend. He was an unclaimed Omega and not on the timid or shy side, due to being around Alphas all the time.

“I don’t. I don’t have any interest in finding one.” Bakugou sneered at his comment, knowing damn well that any Omega Todoroki found interest in, he would scare them away, looking damn well unapproachable. “What about you, Bakubro? Any special Omega at home?”

“Tch. I don't want one.” That was a lie. Due to how Bakugou acted, he attracted Omegas that were overly confident and overly rude. Not to say he didn't want a confident mate, but he didn't need one insulting him constantly as their form of flirting. One asshole in the relationship was enough, and that asshole was going to be him.

“What about Midoriya?”

“He’s far too involved in his work.” Todoroki and Bakugou spoke at the same time. Midoriya easily attracted partners, Omegas to Alphas. He had a soft personality and spoke fondly about the things he liked and grew more confident after their first years at UA. Which drew girls, boys, and in between towards him. Like moths to a flame.

“That’s not true. I have an Omega in mind.” 

Izuku appeared with a soft grin. His eyes flickering over to Todoroki, before taking a seat beside Bakugou and Denki. A possessive growl leaves Todoroki’s mouth, leaving Izuku slightly unfazed.  Another thing pissed off Bakugou.

Deku.

He was an Alpha, a regular Alpha, but could fake it. Appearing as Apex Alpha, when his scent wasn't involved. His acting was so convincing, it even at moments tricked Todoroki. “You can't act all possessive if you haven't even met Omega.”

“Did you both catch a whiff of Y/C/S? We smell them a lot during the week.”

“You know about Y/C/S.” Kirishima nodded. “No one knows their name, well... I think Momo might know.”  Denki nodded and crossed his arms. “They come around here a lot, before disappearing. During the night, the entire driveway has the strongest smell of Y/C/S, but it’s gone in a matter of seconds, but I’ve actually seen her.” 

Denki spoke smugly, earning a playful shove by Kirishima. “What do they look like?” Izuku asked next. “They look like no one from around here. H/C hair that was extremely curly and in an Afro I can't remember her face exactly, ‘cause we only spoke for a small amount of time, but they had warm brown skin. Their voice was soft, with a light accent when pronouncing a few words.”

“Most of the town knows about their existence. I guess only two people had an actual conversation with them. Speak of the devil.” An earthy smell flowed from outside, followed by a soft knock on the front door. “I got it!” Uraraka opened the front door with a smile. 

“Momo!” Greeting the Alpha and allowing her inside. “Any treats for us.” Momo held up a large bag, following Uraraka into the kitchen. “Hopefully we can squeeze information outta Momo today.” Denki snickered, earning a slap on his arm.

Watching the black-haired woman descend the driveway, back to a wagon. Shouto watched in pure silence. Mentally cursing himself for getting distracted. His goal was to find a way home, so why was the appearance of this Omega distracting, There were two things that were going to happen if Todoroki found this Omega, either make them his and his alone or

rip your throat out for wasting his time.

“You sitting there pretending to be the good guy is pissing me off.” Kirishima and Denki both leaving to clean up the garden, leaving Izuku and Bakugou alone. “I'm not doing anything Kacchan.” Izuku leaned back and took another sip of his coffee, staring at Bakugou.

“You plan to fight Todoroki for that Omega. You'll lose.”

“As a person who acts so above everyone, you sure do scare easily.” Over the years, Midoriya graduating as Valedictorian, and going to a prestigious school earning his Masters in Psychology, and becoming one of the world's top researchers. He had become cocky and easily stood up to Kacchan, always seeming to be the peacekeeper. 

“I’m not dumb. I know what I can and can’t beat. Todoroki is one of those things I can't beat. You'll lose.”

“I don't plan to fight.” He was smart, far too smart for his own good.

“Y/N.” A soft voice called out, drawing me in from my imagination. Looking over my shoulder, I straightened my back. “Yes, Sir.” Hearing the soft jingle of chains as I stood, walking towards the man. 

“Seems your midnight walks have drawn attention to the townsfolk. What do you have to say?” His hand tilted my chin, his thumb running over my lips. “Forgive me. I was selfish.” He chuckled and placed a light kiss on my cheek, whispering against my skin.

“Learn to control yourself, or no one will want you.”

«Pt.1»  «Pt.2»

[gra-sonas]

I haven’t been following the BTS of season 3 of Roswell but I just saw the comments under your post about Carina’s insta stories that you guys already see the difference in writing etc. Can you elaborate on that? What do you feel is different now?

There’s obviously no way for us to know whether there’s going to be a difference in the writing of the show, we won’t be able to judge that until we get to watch S3.

There are things that are already different tho (or at least they feel different imo).

CAM’s always come across as extremely controlling. Everything (down to what kind of underwear actors would wear in a scene) had to be decided and approved by her. I guess other people had input on things, but overall it’d always be her who’d make the final decision.

The THR article indicated, that she used to rewrite scripts [others wrote], often on short notice. She’s claimed that the article didn’t tell the truth, but going by her behavior and what she’s said and how she’s talked about things in IG stories or in interviews, I believe that it’s actually true - it fits the pattern tbh.

She’s also been the one who decided on the final cut of episodes - meaning she made decisions which scenes to include and which to cut. She very much shaped 26 episodes of a show that she technically ran with a co-showrunner and co-developed/wrote with a group of writers, to her very specific personal liking. And while it’s not necessarily a bad thing when show runners do that, the RNM “end product” left a lot to be desired (mainly S2).  IDK, imo it’s usually better when there’s not just one person making all the decisions.

While we only know very little about Chris Hollier so far, they’ve said in interviews they’re pretty much polar opposites (I think they said sth like he’s the Yin to her Yang in one interview). Where she thrives on 90s high school trope driven drama and misery, he’s a romantic who likes scifi, but I assume that’s not the only difference between them. For one: he doesn’t come across as a control freak. 

Not based on truly “provable facts”, it just feels like things have already shifted a bit, like there’s (finally) room for the show to breathe. IDK, maybe we’re completely wrong about this, maybe Chris is a terrible show runner, maybe S3 will totally suck - personally I just don’t believe that’s going to be the case. 

Going by the few Hollier interviews that exist, he comes across as a super nice dude (and I mean that in the best possible way), apparently he has a knack for sci-fi, but is also a big fan of romance - the two things the show should actually be about. CAM’s always said that she’s not really interested in scifi (which shows tbh...), and going by what we’ve seen on the show so far, she thrives more on drama, miscommunication and queer trauma than romance.

Hollier co-wrote 1x04, 1x07, 1x12, 2x04, 2x08 and 2x13 - 1x12 and 2x04 in particular had some of the best Malex scenes. He’s been able to co-run the show and compromise with a VERY demanding and headstrong partner for up to 3 years (all the kudos tbh). He knows all the writers, he knows the cast and crew, and according to Jeanine and Vlamis, they all love him.

I hope with him running the show, things will be much more collaborative, I also hope he’ll put more faith in other people doing their jobs without him having to control every single detail. The RNM writers room seems to be quite diverse, I hope that the voices of these writers will get louder and clearer (and they won’t be overruled/rewritten by one “mostly straight" white person at the top).

I hope that Jeanine - who’s made it pretty clear in the interview with AbnormallyAdam that she wasn’t very happy with S2 - gets to be heard more, and that her pushing for more Indigenous and Afro-Latina stories will come to fruition, I also hope that Tyler’s input regarding how a queer love story could and should be handled, will be taken into consideration, and so on.

The show will likely not be able to deliver on everything we’d like to see (they only have 13 episode after all), it will probably fail sometimes, but overall I feel much more hopeful and optimistic about S3 than I did until CAM announced her departure.

Ngl, while she was still in the picture, I was dreading S3 (bc I expected more misery, heartbreak and trauma for Malex). That feeling has vanished. It’s wonderful that there’s next to no input from her on her social media anymore, no retroactive “rewriting” of scenes, and the fact that she now confirmed that A LOT of what she’d outlined for S3 with the writers room has already been changed, and that even the final script she wrote for the S3 premiere has been changed? Music to my ears, it gives me hope that Chris and the writers have taken over control of the narrative and 

Again, none of this is a guarantee that everything’s going to be amazing from now on, but we have an incredible cast, diverse and talented writers, and a showrunner who seems to be a kind and warm-hearted man - if this combination provides us with alien-themed scifi entertainment, mostly coherent stories, decent character development for the entire core cast and Malex getting together, I’ll be more than happy.

[tmnt-veelicious]

Across the Stars - Ch.17

*crawls out of a hole* HOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLYYYY FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

Yes. I am alive.

Yes I had a rough patch of life over the last few months.

And jeeeeesus, I think I wrote the beginning of this chapter like 3 times....

BUT IT’S HERE. AND I’M SORRY IT HAS BEEN SO LONG. At least the next chapter will be interesting and will introduce some new characters!!! I am definitely feeling the writing juices flowing~

First Chapter -> HERE Previous Chapter -> HERE Next Chapter -> SOON

''I think this neighborhood suits you,'' started April as both women were comfortably seated at a table in a cozy café. Vee couldn't help her quiet chuckle, crossing her arms as her eyes ventured to the large window that offered a view to the street. ''I think it does too..., but I'll be so far from everything. Mostly far from Donnie. He's downtown and I'd be uptown...'' ''It's not so bad! You know these guys can travel fast and they know the city like no one else.'' True. A small sigh escaped the artist, her attention back to the other. She was glad the reporter had answered her call. Vee confessed feeling stupid for her sudden departure and her attitude, but April had been quick to waive those away, answering that all that mattered was that her friend was safe. The only thing left to do was to move forward. Harlem seemed like a nice place. It was mostly known for its nightlife and its jazz influences, to which Vee felt drawn to. Maybe she'd have opportunities up here, who knows? Her train of thoughts came to a stop as a waitress got to their table; a lovely african american woman adorning a dark afro like a crown. Vee did admire her style, noticing her septum piercing and her 'au naturel' look. It didn't seem like much, but so many people could ever inspire the artist, and that was the beauty of living in New York. As the orders were taken and the women left with coffees in hands, proper discussions could finally start. ''So...starting a family?'' started Vee. ''Since when were you two planning that little adventure?'' April's smile was soft: ''We were talking about it for several months, but only recently did we really start to properly consider it.'' ''Even with both your lifestyles? … You wouldn't be the most 'typical' and 'calm' family.'' ''I don't think that should stop us, or anyone. … It's something we both want, Vee, and we're ready to work for it.'' ''I'm not saying the opposite, don't worry!'' quickly reassured Vee. ''… I guess I'm just having a hard time wrapping my head around that idea. I never really thought about having kids, so the thought process kinda escapes me.'' ''Oh?'' the reporter slightly cocked her head to one side, curious. ''I don't want to say I'm surprised, but still am nonetheless.'' The other woman seemed amused: ''There's so many things I have yet to accomplish.... Getting a child is the least of my worries right now. I guess I just don't really feel compelled at the idea.'' ''In that case I can understand,'' added April with a soft smile. ''It's only natural that you'd want to advance your career and get more stability, I get that.'' The conversation paused as their food arrived. But as soon as both were left alone again, the reporter couldn't help squinting a little, now curious: ''Although.... do you think you could ever have kids with Donnie?'' Vee almost spat her coffee, her thoughts suddenly rolling at a franctic pace. She frowned, reminiscing all those times they had sex without any protection. ''I, uh... I'm not sure,'' frankly answered the artist. ''I've never really thought about it, but now that you mention it, I should verify with him.'' ''I think it'd be in both your interests to set things clear. At least you'll know where you both stand in this...'' ''Yeah … that's for sure.'' What if he wanted kids? Could it be possible? At least for now her cycle had been steady and normal, so there was no fear regarding that. And the relationship was still in its early stages – it was too soon to think about that! Oh, those thoughts would plague her mind for the rest of the day, she knew that...   ''Anyway, enough kid talk,'' said April, thankfully interrupting Vee's thinking. ''I wanted to discuss apartment and furniture with you.'' ''What, you wanna know how I'll decorate my fortress of solitude?'' playfully commented the artist. ''Oh come on now...'' ''Just kidding, just kidding, don't worry. What's on your mind?'' ''Since I'll be moving in with Casey and he pretty much already has everything in terms of furniture... I was thinking about giving you some of the stuff we have at the apartment. Fridge, oven, whatever you need.'' The artist lightly frowned. ''Wait... give? April, I can't just receive without giving in return. Tell me your price and I'll gladly give you so-'' ''Vee, please,'' gently cut the reporter. ''… I know I'm putting you in a difficult situation and things can turn expensive. I want to help in any way I can, plus you can always repay me in other ways. Don't worry about it. I've given it some thought and I'm at peace with that.'' And the artist was absolutey thankful. Knowing she didn't make the best of incomes, this help felt like a miracle. … Just thinking about all her future expenses was enough to make her head spin, but at least with Donnie's help – and now April – she knew she could get a good footing and proceed without immense struggles. ''Also,'' added April, ''I know you don't have the best of conversations with your parents regarding your choice of living in New York, so I wanted to ease things up by giving you a good headstart and make them less worried.'' Vee softly sighed, although showing a small smile. She knew the brunette had heard some bits and pieces of conversations ever since she moved in. Even if the dialogues had been in French, it was not hard to notice the argumentative nature of those calls. ''I, uhm … it's been almost a month since I spoke to any of them, so there's nothing to worry about for now,'' said Vee. ''Is everything alright?'' ''The less I talk to them, the better! So, yes, everything is fine,'' tried to reassure the artist. April seemed good with the answer, but there was no denying that for Vee to avoid her family, it would probably blow back to her face in a nasty way. But today was not the day to think about such matter. Breakfast done and over with, both women were now on their way to visit the apartments. The first one proved to be a complete disaster; mold found in the bathroom and under the kitchen sink, only two windows and barely any natural light coming in, a broken wardrobe door in the bedroom. The landlord didn't seem like the most caring person either, insisting that he'd get the needed repairs done once a new tenant would move in. ''Those things have a cost, you know?'' he would say. … And this apartment will be a hard pass, you know? Vee couldn't believe that she got fooled by the advertisment online. It seemed so nice... At least the second stop was promising. The lot was at the top floor of a five story high building. The entrance was a small hallway that had one door to the left which gave to the bedroom (with a window!), and a door to the right that gave to the bathroom. The end of the hallway gave to an open area to which the left part was planned for a living room, and the right had space for a kitchen, the area delimited by a side hall that gave enough surface for an extension of the counter tops. Some windows gave enough light into the place, as well as a nice view on the street and buildings around. Plus, the living room windows were tall and large enough, one being an entryway to the emergency staircase outside the building. It was perfect. *** Her step was light as she made her way back to the lair, the greatest grin plastered to her face. She did it! Well … almost! But it was at least a first step in the right direction. Her first point of interest when she arrived was Donnie's workspace, but she found it empty, instantly bringing a small frown on Vee's features. Maybe she should check the garage next? Her attention snapped when she heard a sharp sound – a can being opened. Turning around, she slightly jumped as she spotted Mikey nearby, an orange crush drink in his hand. '' 'Sup?'' ''Jesus, Mikey, you gave me a mini heart attack,'' she breathed out. ''Oops, my bad,'' he said, taking a sip. ''You lookin' for Don? He just got out on patrol with Raph.'' ''… Aren't you guys supposed to lay low for a while with the Purple Dragons and Foot Clan situation?'' The orange clad one shrugged: ''Going out on patrol doesn't mean we're looking for them, you know? We still gotta look out for the bad ones on the streets. Plus, going out in small numbers attracts less attention.'' ''Huh... touché,'' admitted Vee. ''I guess the good news can wait, then.'' ''What good news?'' The artist's grin was back: ''I might have found a new apartment! The landlord just needs to do a credit check and then, if it's all good, the place will be mine.'' The terrapin's smile was soon as big as Vee's: ''Yo! That's awesome! Where is it? How big is it?'' The woman didn't wast any time to grab a blank sheet of paper and a pencil laying around on Donnie's desk, already starting to sketch the layout of the apartment. Deep in her explanations, she did not notice Leonardo now standing near, trying to take a peek from behind. ''What's that?'' he asked. Vee slightly jumped again, already on the lookout for the leader. ''JEEZE, what's with you guys scaring me tonight?!'' Leo showed an amused smile, arms crossed before him as he took some pride in that comment. ''I'm an excellent ninja. Getting to scare you means I'm doing a good job.'' ''Alright, don't get too cocky.'' She briefly sighed, next bringing the paper to clearer view. ''Behold, this is probably my next apartment!'' The blue clad mutant took some seconds to observe the layout, pensive. ''… There's quite some windows in there. I'll have to get Donnie to secure the place so no one can spot you and get in.'' ''Leo! Chill!'' faintly laughed Vee. ''I don't even completely own the place yet. Plus I'll be on the fifth floor; I'd like to see anyone get in other than by the emergency staircase or the entry door.'' ''I'm sorry I am cursed with the leader plague. I always have to think many steps ahead.'' Vee's smile was soft: ''Don't worry, it's appreciated. But now it's time to celebrate! There's no place for worry tonight!'' ''Now we're talkin'!'' added Mikey playfully, rubbing his hands together. ''… Watchu wanna do?'' The artist left her paper back on her boyfriend's desk, a smug smile now showing on her features. ''Donnie and I do have a little secret stash of red wine, and I fully plan on going through one bottle tonight.'' ''Hell yeah!'' Mikey was now nudging his brother's arm with his elbow. ''Care for a drink as well? Come ooooonnnnnnnn.'' Leo was squinting, trying to appear severe, but it didn't take long for him to conceed with a grin, his posture relaxing. ''Alright. Just one.'' *** Vee was delightfully surprised to learn that Leo also had a taste for red wine, happily sharing her bottle with him – and of course he did take more than one drink. Meanwhile Mikey had opted for beer, some cans already resting in the fridge. It felt good to kick back and just be happy, living in the present and have no worries. But soon celebrations took an interesting turn, Vee definitely inspired by her luck and feeling a little bold. An idea came to her mind as Mikey was showing her some stuff he was hoarding, especially when it came to hair dye bottles. She had always wanted to try a new hair color... It didn't take long before everyone was set up: Vee sitting in a chair with a towel over her shoulders, hair in layers. Mikey had ''borrowed'' some of Donnie's latex gloves (used for when he was tattooing), already at the task of applying the chosen color. Meanwhile Leonardo was sitting nearby, keeping company and enjoying the show. ''It's gonna look dope as fuck,'' commented the orange clad turtle, hair dye brush in hand as he was spreading some color. ''I'm kinda nervous about it, though,'' added Vee. ''Last time I did something to my hair, it was only some blonde streaks here and there. … It's my first time going full on with a non-natural color.'' ''There's never nothing wrong with going wild once in a while,'' said Leo. The artist threw him a glance, somewhat amused. ''Says the guy who seems to overworry a LOT about anything.'' ''Hey, I have my moments, alright,'' chuckled the leader, next taking a sip of wine. Mikey tsked; ''What, your last wild thing was to shorten your training time or somethin'?'' ''Nooooo, I-...'' Leo lightly frowned, his lips forming a thin line. A sharp sigh left him as he confessed: ''I asked Mikasa out.'' Both Mikey and Vee's gazes were now locked on him, their smiles wide. ''Finally!'' let out the woman. ''How did it go? Is everything good?'' ''Spill the tea, bro!'' chided in Mikey. Leo's smile was shy, carefully choosing his words. ''We're still figuring some things out, I guess? It all started when we got to you both at the Maneki Neko... I brought her back to her apartment and we kissed. … I dunno how to explain it, it just felt right at that moment.'' ''So far, so good,'' commented Vee. ''What's next?'' ''I'll admit that I chickened out after that,'' continued the leader. ''I just didn't know yet if I was ready to get into some sort of relationship. I was a douche and I didn't say or text a word to her after a couple of days.'' ''You're a fucking dumbass,'' added the other turtle, slightly scolding as he parted some more layers of Vee's hair. Leo raised his glass a little: ''On that I agree, BUT! I kicked my own ass and finally got back in touch with her yesterday. I explained the situation to her and she agreed to meeting up and talk about it a little more. … I'm just-'' His eyes met Vee's, somehow pleading. ''How can I know she really likes me? For crying out loud, how did you know you liked Donnie?'' The artist couldn't help her laugh, surprising both mutants. Leo didn't really know how to react. ''Did … did I say something wrong orrrr?'' ''No, no! Good gosh, no!'' tried to rectify Vee, calming her laughter. ''Oh jeeze, Leo, you and Mikasa are just so freakin' adorable. …. Would you believe me if I told you that she kinda asked me the same question a while ago?'' The blue one showed a smirk, amused: ''Welp, I won't hide that I had a smiliar conversation with Donnie as well.'' ''See!'' pointed the woman. ''Dammit, you two. Mikasa likes you, okay? You guys … all four of you, there are people who're gonna like you and even love you for who you are, no matter the fact that you're mutants. Damn, get that drilled in your heads, alright?!'' Mikey couldn't contain a chuckle: ''You're pretty straight-forward when you get some drinks in you, Vee.'' ''I only speak the truth without reservation,'' she added, taking a sip of wine. She savored her beverage for some seconds before speaking up again: ''But to answer your question, Leo, I knew I liked Donnie when everything felt comfortable. I mean … whatever I would say or do, I knew it wouldn't mind him. … His presence is like a never-ending warm hug around me. I feel true, I feel seen...'' Her eyes got back to him. ''And if you feel like you can be your true self around Mikasa, then I say that it's worth a shot.'' ''I'll take your word for it,'' replied Leo, smiling and slightly lifting his glass in cheer. *** Hours later and Donnie couldn't be any more glad to be back home. Patrol had been pretty boring and tame tonight, but at least he got to spend some time with Raph, which was never a bad thing, at times. Hanging his gear for the night, he then proceeded to his workstation, only to frown a little once he spotted a sheet of paper with some sort of layout draw on it.

By the looks of it, it seemed to be an apartment, the gears of his mind running as he also recognized Vee's handwriting. ''Bro!'' His attention snapped, suddenly realizing that he had been deep in thoughts. He turned to the source of his calling, then noticing Mikey with a big smile on his face. Donnie didn't have time to say anything that his brother spoke again: ''I have the immense pleasure to present to you the world-premiere revelation of Vee 2.0.'' He did some theatrical gestures before bowing and backing out of view in a comical way, finally giving view to Vee who had been hiding behind him. The purple clad turtle's eyes grew wide as soon as he noticed the artist's new hair color. Teal. A lush dark green color that reflected so well when exposed to any lights. ''Whoa! That's so cool!'' blurted the tall terrapin, already approaching the artist. One of his hands was still holding the paper, but his other one couldn't stay put, gently taking some strands of Vee's hair and having a closer look at the color. He couldn't erase his grin, his eyes scanning every inches. ''You should thank Mikey, he's the one who did most of the work,'' informed the woman. The tall terrapin did throw a glance towards his brother who was still nearby: ''No wonder it's perfect. There's always a positive outcome to any of his projects.'' ''Aww, thanks bro!'' added the orange clad mutant, somehow surprised, yet glad to hear such compliment. ''So … you like it?'' asked Vee with a timid smile. ''Like it? I love it!'' answered Donnie, his gaze meeting hers. ''It really suits you. … Any specific reason for that change, though?'' The woman had noticed the sheet of paper in his hand, taking it in turn and pointing the sketch she did. ''If all goes well, this little lot will be mine.'' Donnie's happiness was renewed: ''For real?!'' A simple nod from Vee was enough for him to lift her off the ground in an embrace, unable to stop himself from spinning around a little, obviously feeling overjoyed. Relief also washed over him, knowing how the whole process was stressing the artist – and himself as well, there was no lying there. ''You did it, baby,'' he gently said, loud enough for only her to hear, nuzzling her as he came to a stop while still hugging her. ''Almost, but yeah. Let's hope for the best...,'' replied Vee in the same tone, her arms gently coming around his neck. ''Get a room, you two!'' piped in Raph's tone, playful. The couple looked his way, the red clad terrapin making his way to Mikey. ''Come on, let's give these two nerds some space. Ya wouldn't want to catch their cooties.'' ''Hah! You're just jealous!'' added Donnie comically, next suddenly hurrying to his room, Vee still in his arms and now laughing. Raph was rather unimpressed, a sharp exhale of air leaving him as he glanced from the running one back to his younger brother. ''…. The day I'll be jealous of that bean pole, assume that I'm delirious or somethin' like that.'' *** It wasn't long before they were found in bed, exchanging everyday clothing for comfortable wears. Donnie was laying first, Vee next nestled in-between his legs, her back against his form. The artist was not finished, drink-wise, so she shared some more wine with the terrapin, a screen mounted to a telescopic arm brought over them so they could watch any videos they desired. It was during moments like this that Vee felt at complete peace, loved, and the happiest. The warmth that invaded her could only confirm that she was at the right place with the right person. And yet the same question kept repeating itself in her mind since her conversation with April. ''Donnie, are we compatible?'' she asked in a shy tone. The mutant slightly frowned, his gaze still on the screen. ''Define 'compatible','' he asked. ''Can we procreate?'' His body and muscles suddenly tensed. Both were now staring at eachother, not giving a damn about the video anymore, the turtle trying to find his words. ''… Uhm, well, no. I don't think so. … Wh- Why are you asking this?'' Vee shrugged: ''Well, we've been having unprotected sex and I don't take any contraceptive pills. I'm just curious.... How can you be sure that we're not?'' He sighed briefly, his thoughts running a hundred miles per hour. The video on screen was still going on, the subject suddenly a blur. But that didn't matter. ''First of all, we're not the same specie.'' ''Ok then, why can tigers and lions create ligers? Why can donkeys and horses create mules?'' ''Because to their roots, they are the same. As for us, we come from two different branches. I'm a reptile, you're a mammal; there's a huge spacing inbetween us. Plus, I'm suspecting the mutagen has something to do with it, as it mostly prevents us from contracting human diseases, amongst other things.'' Vee crossed her arms, diverting her gaze, slightly feeling uneasy as she circled her drink slowly and pensively. ''… You do make sense. … I guess I was mostly biased by the fact that you do present humanoid features.'' She felt one of Donnie's hands to her cheek, bringing back her attention on him. ''… Did you want to have a child with me?'' he asked in a hushed tone, forever soft. Vee suddenly blushed, frowning a little. ''No! I mean- uh. Based on your explanations, no. Also I'm not ready for that and it's too early in the relationship to know. I- shit, I dunno,'' she blabbered. The terrapin's smile was soft, amused by her reaction. ''Hey, don't worry, I was just asking! … I guess I'm just wondering too if you ever wanted one. If that was the case, I wouldn't want to prevent you from doing so...'' ''What? You mean you'd let me hook up with a human guy only so I can get banged up?'' questionned the woman, confused, as she sat up straight and was still looking at the other. ''Hell to the no - yuck. The whole pregnancy shebang doesn't appeal to me anyway.'' ''Adoption is also an option,'' added Donnie, matter-o-factly. ''That's pretty much this family's case!'' ''For sure, and I think it's very admirable, but raising a child is still a huge deal in itself.'' She sighed, timidly rubbing the back of her neck. ''… Sorry I brought that up, I was just curious. Ever since I spoke with April, it has been bugging me. I'm really not ready for that chapter in my life and I don't think I'll ever be, but I wanted to know your opinion on that.'' Donnie rejoined her, one of his arms snaking around her form. He was softly nuzzling the top of her head, keeping her close. ''Whatever you choose or decide, I'll always stand by your side, loving every moments – every seconds - spent with you. We build our own happiness, and that doesn't mean it has to imply a child in the future. … As long as you're happy, so am I.'' ''I know. … I do feel kinda weird for not wanting a child though,'' mumbled Vee. ''Hey,'' intervened the mutant. ''You're not weird, believe me. Having a child is not an obligation. This is your body, your choice, and I will forever respect it.'' ''Oh, you better,'' smirked the artist in return.

[mythgirlimagines]

Reaching the stars and coming back none for the worse is this Tuesday’s Talentswap, Myth Anon, the Former Ultimate Astronaut! (Fusion’s Interpretation)

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BACKSTORY AND TALENT

Having grown up in a rich and affluent family known for their contributions to scientific research, Myth had a whole bevy of scientific knowledge forced into her at a young age, ranging from physics to medical studies, and her hunger for knowledge meant that she just ate the knowledge up. But deep down, the sheltered yet studious heiress wants to explore the world beyond her lavish estate. Fortunately, Myth’s intellect made her a prime volunteer for NASA’s research, despite her age. She passed the high-difficulty astronomy and astrophysics exams with flying colors, and is slated to go on the research shuttle when she becomes a legal adult. But she is willing to postpone her studies if it means chaperoning the Ultimates and Jr. Ultimates, as well as meeting up with some fellow Former Ultimates. 

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RELATIONSHIPS

Wyre Anon, Former Ultimate Tennis Pro

With Wyre’s parents being business partners with Myth’s parents, they were practically inseparable, ever since they first met during a charity gala. Wyre regularly helps to physically train Myth for her astronaut exams, and Myth regularly helps Wyre study up for academic tests. Wyre regularly tries to get Myth to loosen up and have some fun for once, and they just live for one of Myth’s rare smiles. Despite Wyre’s rough, tough, and rebellious attitude regularly getting on Myth’s nerves, Myth knows that Wyre is a loyal and kindhearted companion to have. 

Outfit: A red visor with a black checkmark on the front, a red tennis jersey, a white undershirt and shorts, red and white knee-high socks, white sneakers with red laces, intact glasses.

Anon Scar, Ultimate Artist

Spending most of her elementary and middle school years as a wallflower, Anon Scar has taken to sketchbooks as her prime mode of entertainment. Although Scar mainly specializes in pencil sketches, Scar eventually mastered a whole museum of art forms. Now that she is in high school, she decided to forge herself a new identity, as the “Overlord of the Monochrome Realm”. But she doesn’t do a particularly good job of keeping up the charade, and turns out to be a bit of a concerned mother hen. Myth is regularly confused by Scar’s vocabulary and rich inner world.

Outfit: Shaggy hair in double buns held up by art supplies, elaborate black and white make-up, black overalls splattered with paint, a black and white striped sweater, black and white striped stockings, black rain boots with paint on the bottom, a black and white striped scarf.

Fusion Anon, Ultimate Magician

Having started out performing magic on the streets to help his struggling family, Fusion is a master at both quiet sleight of hand and loud bombastic performances. Fusion’s specialization is pulling disproportionately large items out of his long sleeves and large afro. Despite Fusion’s unnatural talent, Myth couldn’t help but admire his optimistic and paternal personality. Somehow, Fusion always knows whenever Myth needs something and pulls whatever she needs out of his hair/sleeves, and he always weirds the lady of science ever time. However, Fusion couldn’t help but envy Myth’s upbringing.

Outfit: A blue cloak with oversized and floppy sleeves and yellow details over a red t-shirt with a big yellow star on the front, blue pants with a red pattern on the end held up by a brown belt with a yellow star-shaped buckle, blue curly-toes shoes with yellow jingle bells on the end, glasses from original design.

Fusion Anon II, Ultimate Pianist

As the only child and rebellious heiress of a wealthy family, Fusion II has dominated piano competitions after piano competitions with her fast-paced and finger-flying compositions. But with the pressure by her parents to inherit the family business, Fusion II adopted a flippant and aloof personality that is dominated by piano-covered meme songs. Both Fusion II and Myth bonded over the troubles of being born into wealthy families and having to shoulder various burdens. Myth also regularly has memes taught to her by Fusion, and in exchange, Fusion II gets to play a soothing piano piece for Myth.

Outfit: Smoothed down hair, music note pin in the center of her red bow, light blue off-the-shoulder sweater with a piano key design on the ends over a white tank top, floor-length white skirt with a black music note design near the bottom, black heels.

Just Anon, Ultimate Inventor

A lazy yet strategically and mechanically intelligent young man, Janon would much rather lie in bed all day then actually lift up a tool to complete an invention. Despite being a chronic procrastinator, the few inventions that he manages to finish managed to revolutionize the scientific world as a whole. When meeting the Ultimate Inventor, Myth was internally excited to meet a fellow genius. But when Janon’s foul mouth and poor work ethic was revealed, Myth instantly took all of that back. Even today, Myth and Janon regularly feud about each other’s work ethic and general attitudes. 

Outfit: A grey gas mask that hides his face, an oversized pink overcoat with grease stains all over over a white button-up shirt, brown gloves, pants, and boots.

Sparkle Anon, Former Ultimate Child Caregiver

Having started a successful babysitting business from a young age, Sparkle’s eccentric, dramatic and rather childish attitude just attracts kids like metal to a magnet, particularly when it comes to her magical girl persona, “SPARKLE THE SPECTACULAR SPELLCASTER”. Eventually, Sparkle decided to just keep up the persona full-time, and that just attracted even more children and parents to her babysitting agency. While confused by Sparkle’s magical girl persona and general attitude, Myth knows that Sparkle means no harm, and just yearns to entertain and care for people.

Outfit: A pink frilly dress with white and gold details, an elaborate and long pink wig, white gloves with red flower bracelets, red knee-high boots with white details and laces, light blue contacts. 

3-GG (aka. Egg Anon), Former Ultimate Robot, and Wet Sock Anon, Former Ultimate Entomologist

Just like Myth, Wet Sock is the heirexx to a prestigious scientific family, with Egg being specially-crafted by the family to be a sibling figure to Wet Sock. But ever since one of Wet Sock’s pet moths flew into one of Egg’s circuit boards, Egg’s mindset hasn’t been the same, causing their parents to boot them both out of their estate to never be seen again. Myth couldn’t help but take pity on the two, and looking past the cursed comments that both of them made, Myth found two broken and lonely individuals. Myth yearns to get closer to the two and learn more about them. 

Egg’s Outfit: Pale armor-like skin, an ahoge that functions like a satellite dish.

Wet Sock’s Outfit: Glasses from original design, a black jacket with a blue butterfly design near the bottom over a blue sweater vest, a matching tie and a white button-up shirt, black pants and matching shoes.

Curious Anon, Jr. Ultimate Cosplayer

Growing up with an unremarkable presence and a trouble with expressing emotions, Curious has taken to cosplaying and pretending to be different fictional characters. No matter the gender or personality, Curious manages to accurately portray the character, both in appearance and personality, with hand-crafted costumes. Because of Myth‘s sheltered upbringing, she hasn’t been exposed to anime until Curious came along to educate her. Myth is currently interested in magical girl and science fiction anime. However, Myth couldn’t help but want to craft Curious a proper identity. 

Outfit: A white-button up shirt, a red tie, dark green pants, black slip-on shoes, fake glasses.

Anon Nerd, Former Ultimate Adventurer

Having been abandoned in the wild at a young age, Anon Nerd had to do his best to survive in a dog-eat-dog world, as well as find a permanent home. Nerd’s socially isolated backstory made him rude and irritable, regularly mauling and pummeling people he doesn’t like (read: everybody) with his fists. Myth understandably steers well away from Nerd, fearing what would happen if she got on Nerd’s bad side. Which is a shame on Nerd‘s part, considering that he finds Myth cute. Unfortunately, Myth is far too dense to pick up on those feelings, and Nerd responds to unknown emotions with violence. 

Outfit: Mid-back length hair, a red headband, a black sleeveless parka over a tight white shirt that shows off his muscles, blue jeans, nothing on his feet. 

Eldritch Anon, Ultimate Anthropologist

Eldritch is well-known in the anthropology circuit for his cynical and misanthropic philosophies, and his elusive shut-in behavior. Eldritch seems to have the idea that Myth is either a malicious robotic overlord or a hostile alien queen, considering her fascination with space and her limited emotional range, and yearns to stay as far away from her as possible. Myth wonders what could have went on in Eldritch’s past to make him despise and distrust humanity this much, and why he doesn‘t seem to view Myth as a human. Myth just wants Eldritch to trust her, and gain his friendship. 

Outfit: Shoulder-length hair in a ponytail, a black face mask that covers his mouth and nose, a lavender and black poncho over a matching sweater and pants, bandaged hands, white shoes.

Dream Anon, Ultimate Supreme Leader

Despite Dream’s impulsive and childish behavior, Dream‘s followers renown her as sunshine in human form, and a beacon of hope, joy and optimism. At first, Myth was skeptical about the validity of Dream’s talent. She thought that a teenage girl, let alone someone as childish as Dream, couldn’t possibly be the leader of such a large organization. But upon witnessing Dream’s optimistic and rousing speeches, Myth was beginning to see why her followers named her the leader. Dream gifted her a sports jersey with her name on it, as a sign of friendship and acceptance. 

Outfit: Same outfit from her original design, only with her sidebag being replaced by a cardboard crown and a black cape. 

Iris Anon, Jr. Ultimate Detective/Assassin

While Astronomer!Iris has her interest in true crime, Detective/Assassin!Iris has this interest taken to an entirely new level. While Iris is known on the lawful side for her clumsy, yet intelligent and optimistic personality, Iris has an entirely different reputation on the opposite side of the law, as a devious little assassination master, who uses her clumsy and dorky personality as a facade to draw suspicion away from herself. Having a positive outlook to just about anybody, Iris took a liking to Myth already, loving how intelligent and well-put-together she is. However, Myth can’t help but feel as though there’s something off about Iris.

Outfit: A dark blue overcoat with a star badge pinned on the front over a black button-up shirt and a yellow tie, a light blue plaid skirt, black knee-high socks with a noticeable sliver taken out of the right one, red Mary Janes, glasses from original design. 

Purple Anon, Ultimate Aikido Master

Having been raised in a traditional family skilled in both martial arts and traditional dance, Purple’s aikido manages to mesh both of these traditional art forms together into one picturesque martial art. Purple, despite her combat-based talent, is timid and cowardly, regularly hiding behind her good friend Fusion. Purple’s vocabulary, if you managed to get it out of her, is very old-fashioned and loquacious. Luckily, Myth is intelligent enough to understand Purple. Just like with Wyre, Purple and Myth regularly like to meet up together and do physical training together. 

Outfit: A black headband, black hakama top, bandaged arms, purple hakama pants, white socks, brown sandals.

This series centers around the intelligent yet awkward and isolated astronaut learning about friendship from the colorful personalities surrounding her. 

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PERSONALITY

Because of her upbringing, Astronaut!Myth is cultured, highly-educated, mild-mannered and polite, never raising her voice or speaking before she’s spoken to, and when she speaks, her words come out clearly and precisely. Also because of her upbringing, Astronaut!Myth is also solitary, socially inept, not very good with emotions, and has a tendency to come off as cold. Despite her cold tendencies, Astronaut!Myth is actually really kind-hearted and tends to get excited and cheery when talking about her interests, about the only times when she ever actually smiles.  In her off-time, Astronaut!Myth can sometimes be seen practicing her smile in the mirror, in order to come off as more friendly.

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APPEARANCE

Astronaut!Myth wears her undyed hair in a moon-shaped ponytail. Astronaut!Myth’s upbringing is shown very clearly through her clothes, which consists of a navy blue vest with golden buttons and her family’s logo on the right lapel, a white dress shirt with a light blue tie and sleeve ruffs, a black belt with a gold star in the center, a navy blue skirt with a constellation design, black leggings, and black boots with light blue buckles and soles and white fluff on the insides of them. 

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Well, I’m finished with this week’s design. Let me know what you think of this talentswap! And don’t forget to tune in later for more of Fusion Anon’s creations, both in written form and visual form!

-Fusion Anon

---

Very nice!

[crqstalite]

drabble, resignation (aric && hakiojkl)

originally intended to be a short drabble on why hakio couldn’t put up with aric in the early days of havoc squad, and then sprouted into an explanation of her backstory with ‘the junkers’ when she was younger. for some reason, i like giving my characters a real reason to be so tough, or act that way at least. for hakio, it’s because she doesn’t want to be caught unaware anymore.

god, this trooper is going to be the death of me. as well as this chapter, because i cringed as i wrote some of aric’s crueler lines. i pray to the swtor gods i can be forgiven.

written : 7.6.19. published to tumblr : 7.6.19. word count : 3,167

tw : ptsd, anxiety attacks.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

��a good record doesn’t make a good leader.”

rookie, brat. she’s heard everything from that man (at least she thinks so) and it’s driving her up the walls of the thunderclap. whether her newest addition, elara can tell, she doesn’t know. the ex-imperial keeps to herself, and it seems like whenever hakio even steps outside the little line of expectations that aric has for her, it’s a snide comment here, an offhanded comment there.

it gets to her.

and she’s this close to snapping. she hates how he’s so blunt about his thoughts too, not even hiding how much he’s annoyed by her position. on one hand, she can understand. maybe this position was for him. maybe he should’ve earned it instead of her.

but it’s hers now, and she doesn’t know whether he can tell, but she’s working her damned ass off trying to do her best.

has she ever run a crew? no, hell no. she didn’t intend to leave ord mantell as a lieutenant either, but it happened, and aric hasn’t been able to discuss, and it’s pissing her off to hell and back. she’s never been good with her emotions, always on a short fuse. and leaving her with someone else with a short fuse is not a good mix. one of them is going to set the other off, and she doesn’t know who it’s going to be.

not to mention her anxiety is getting worse. shaving her hair before arriving on ord was a big enough change, one that scared the shit out of her as a woman with no hair (voonie said it made her look proud of her cyborg modifications and very strong and brave), how the others at the outpost would regard her. but running havoc squad, as it’s CO? that’s banking on sending her over the edge, as it all gets worse. nights she spends awake because she can’t breathe, reliving those weeks she spent half-concious receiving her cyborg modifications, and then being in the hospital.

and the tanker.

oh god-

“hey hakio, whatcha thinkin’ about?” she turns her head to the miraluka private, who grins at her as he shifts the rifle in his lap. “got that thinkin’ look on your face.”

“goin’ home next week, private. gonna see my brother and his baby, then my sister and her new husband.” she responds, retying her hair into a ponytail. originally she’d worn it in it’s natural afro, but it was getting hot around her neck and shifted too much against her helmet. “miss em’ like hell.” she responds as she puts the helmet back on.

“of course, everyone does.” he rubs his goatee as he mulls over his own thoughts. “goin’ home to my wife in a couple a weeks. merla’s gonna have my twins.”

“congrats, oz.” she says. ozy was one of her favorites in their small squad, even if he was older than her. she had her mother and father, but no uncles or aunts, and while she was still in basic training, ozy filled that roll. hearing his stories about his pregnant wife, who was due when they return. she was already planning to head home to her family, meet persie (tyqin’s new baby boy), and then head out to meet ozy’s twins, and merla. he looked out for her, told her what she needed to train for, what she needed to study on. only reason she passed basic training and made it through the academy was because of him. “i’ll be down there a week after i get home.”

“‘course, you gotta take care of yourself too, sergeant. merla makes it sound like m'babies are taking their time.” he chuckles, before turning back to her. “you take your time to, maybe find you a man to calm you down a bit.”

she doesn’t hear anything just as she opens her mouth to laugh at what he says, and the tanker hits something. not until later does she find out what it is, but that scene will forever be burned into her memory. the laughing face of private ozy grell seconds before disaster.

a loud rap at the cockpit door makes her jump out of her seat, hand going for her blaster before realizing it’s the last person she wants to see at that moment. heart racing, she slides it back in it’s holster on her hip, standing rigid as she tries to calm herself. “sergeant.”

“lieutenant.” he says. “we were supposed to be planetside half an hour ago, you forget?”

“no, i didn’t.” she did. sometimes she got to thinking, trying to calm one panic attack and gaining another. she’s stifling tears, thinking about how ozy had never met his twins, but she did. merla and her stayed in contact in the early days, but one day she didn’t return her calls, and hakio gave up trying after she was transferred to ord mantell. “just let me get my gear and we’ll head out, jorgan.”

“dorne and i have been ready to go. just waiting on you, as always.”

the as always grits against her already bruised skin. she tries to ignore it, but after yet another attack, she can’t. she just can’t. she’s too far gone now to do so, and she just wants to be left alone at this point. private grell, sergeant hyperion, lieutenants young and varz. commander tavarii. all assumed dead until they found her, half alive underneath the rubble, clinging to life.

commander lunar tavarii. a twi'lek woman who didn’t take shit from everyone, the one who had to keep ozy from giving her the answers, had to make her find things out herself. taught her how to shoot at point blank range, made her into the soldier she’d was today.

still had the same blaster the commander gave her weeks before the accident. spraypainted purple, the same color as her skin. had their sigil engraved into the handle of it.

hakio ran her fingers over it as often as she picked it up.

offered her some consolation.

“lieutenant?” jorgan’s voice snaps her out of her thoughts. “do you just want me to take dorne planetside for this mission, if you can’t do it yourself?”

he must be far enough away that he can’t see she’s breathing hard, heart almost beating out of her chest as her anxiety rises in her throat. she’s panicking, having a full-blown attack now and it’s scaring her. this isn’t the first time she’s hand an attack since arriving on the thunderclap, but the first time it’s even been this bad. first time jorgan would ever see her trying to recover from one.

and hell, he’s not helping with his stupid comments.

you’re not good enough anyways. why keep trying to prove yourself to the likes of him? you’ll never be good enough for him anyways. it’s just a matter of time before he’s your CO.

“hakio, please. i don’t want you getting hurt.” her mother buries her in her shirt, hugging her like her life depends on it. “promise me you’ll be careful and stay out of harm’s way.”

“can’t promise that mom. i have a duty to the republic now.” she adjusts her formal wear, trying to keep it from creasing before she leaves for graduation. “promise you i’ll always come home though.”

“all in one piece, i hope.” her dad crushes her in another hug, essentially ruining her hair, but she hugs him back with just as much raw strength. “can’t half you walkin’ around on one of these on your wedding day.” he refers to his missing left leg, cheekily smiling as she grins back.

“alright dad. i’ll promise that.”

she couldn’t even keep that promise. now he’s gone, he’d never walk her down the metaphorical and physical aisle, handing her off to someone, making them promise to take care of her when he was gone-

“lieutenant. you can have your personal moments on your own time. we’re on a schedule here.”

she’s done. something snaps in her as she whirls around from where she was previously standing to gather her things from the weapon locker, sliding her rifle back to wear it had been in the gun stand. “you’ve just got nothing good to say, do you sergeant? every damned comment, every sly remark and retort. i don’t know whether you hear yourself when you talk, but you’re a fucking asshole.”

she can’t bring herself to raise her voice at him. tavarii never did, and she doesn’t intend to either. but something about his face changes as tears begin pouring down her face. she can’t stop it, all the memories are flooding back too quickly, seeing their families, realizing their soldiers weren’t coming back. their wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers.

their families.

when merla was by her bedside, trying not to cry as she told her about the twins, hakio unable to speak. a girl and a boy, at least six or seven by now. at least she thinks. hakio tries her best not to think about the time in between now and then.

that she’d been the only one to survive. “you want my position? take it. fucking take it because i’m not putting up with you anymore.”

her helmet goes rolling across the floor as she pushes past him, dashing past c2-n2 to leave without dorne or jorgan. she’s breaking down, she knows that she is as she heads out into the spaceport. she has nowhere to go, she hasn’t even contacted garza yet to let her know they’ve landed.

well, jorgan would. she knows that he would. just as fast as her promotion arrived, it’d be taken from her.

maybe she’d just resign.

stars knows jorgan would be pleased to run havoc without her.

-

“is she usually like this, sergeant?” dorne asks as he picks up her helmet. dented by the throw, but she’d received it on ord mantell, only taking it off once or twice in the field to cool off. it’s still in pristine condition, surprising by all the firefights they’ve been in with her wearing it. “is she an angry person by nature?”

“no. she’s not.” he holds back a growl. he’s not angry with dorne, and he’s not angry with hyperion either. maybe, he has been too harsh.

“ran with the junkers a bit.” she patches herself up, wrapping a bandage around her exposed bicep, ripping off what she doesn’t need with her teeth. she pauses, looking at the roll of bandages like it holds some sentimental meaning to her. “…just got there as a private two years before the accident. got transferred over, got promoted to sergeant while i was there.”

he knows a little about the junkers. never crossed paths with them (the deadeyes often ran missions alone), but always heard good things about what they did on balmorra and corellia. only big thing that he’d heard before their dissolvement was that there was an accident, one that hyperion had been part of. “only survivor after the explosion.”

aric’s curious. he thought they’d dissolved after the accident, not that hyperion had been the only survivor of said accident. “never forgave myself after that but…can’t dwell on the past i guess.” she turns to him over her shoulder, throwing on her undershirt and moving to pick up the pieces of her armor. “let’s get going sergeant, hoping to find needles by life day.”

she’s a strong woman, she shows that time and time again. saved him more times than he can count on his fingers and toes, and is a frightening shot with both a blaster and a rifle. the way hyperion throws herself out there is terrifying, and inspiring.

but, he was beginning to see the chinks in her armor. how loud sounds when they weren’t in battle terrified her, how he’d get up early and find her slumped over in the pilot’s chair with a datapad in hand. sometimes, she seems to go for days without eating anything, how she’d always have hands running on her modifications when she was thinking. the zr-57 on ord mantell, it hadn’t seemed like a big issue in the beginning, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes hyperion didn’t have a firm grasp on the situation. she’d ask question after question about the specifics, the radius of damage, what wiring ran through it. she wanted to know because she was comparing it to the bomb that had killed the junkers.

he was beginning to realize that maybe his CO didn’t have it all together, even though she tried time and time again to show that she did. aric himself recognized from his previous team that she was experiencing a form of ptsd.

“this is none of my business, i’m sorry. but sergeant, you may want to talk to her when she returns. she’s not alright.”

“i can see that, dorne.” he says, a growl escaping him anyways. rubbing his temples, he sets the helmet down on the holoterminal. “well, she won’t be back for a while, so whatever you need to get done, do it now.”

“yes, sir.” she nods curtly and heads back to the med bay. the more he looks at the helmet, the more he realizes he’s messed up. that what he’s been doing isn’t right, and it’s clearly taken it’s toll on her. he’d done his research on the accident. the bomb that had taken out the junkers’ tanker hadn’t been anything near the zr-57, but strong enough to immobilize a republic tanker. done by imperials, he figured. hyperion must’ve know everything to know about that bomb.

is he still jealous? yes, quite a bit in fact. the position should’ve been his. but, hyperion’s molded to the role. the way she checks on dorne and he before tending to her own wounds, even after only a couple of fights on the way back to the ship. the way she’s awake until he and dorne have settled down, the way she makes sure they have their things before retreating to her private quarters.

she’s social with dorne. spent a good deal of time talking to her after acquiring her on taris, one of the few smiles hyperion’s ever graced him with. well, graced anyone other than him with. it’s been as icy as hoth between them since they left ord mantell.

this might be her tipping point.

and he doesn’t know whether she’s coming back or not. dorne seems to just accept it, but knowing what he knows about hyperion, he’s concerned she may not walk back through the ship doors. but why does he care so much all of a sudden? this is what he was waiting for, a chance to demote her and become CO again.

but, something about the scarred lieutenant makes that feel sour just as the thoughts cross his mind. it just feels…well wrong. he shouldn’t wish that on her. she’s worked hard, just trying to impress him even. but he ignores it, in favor of finding every little issue she’s ever had, every little mistake she’s ever made.

which is why when it’s late at night, and he hears the familiar shink of the door leading to the outside of the thunderclap, he stands up a bit straighter in the weapons locker, finishing up with her rifle. cleaned and outfitted with a couple of mods he had lying around, he hadn’t even realized he’d been working so late. dorne had already had a round through the 'fresher and had an mre by herself by this time.

her steps are light, even weighed down by durasteel boots. peeking out of the small armory, she’s not even looking up at him, holding herself up by the wall of the ship. it seems she can’t make it any further by herself, because she slides down the wall and buries her face in her hands. he figures dorne wouldn’t hear it, probably sleep by now, but his heightened hearing picks up on her soft sobbing. she would hate for anyone to see her like this, he’s met other soldiers like her. they never do, but any comfort from him would make it worse.

but he knows her better than dorne does. and while he doesn’t know what makes her tick (other than him), he figures he’s better than nothing.

scratching off a letter to her, he picks out an mre. when she disappears to her quarters, he leaves it outside her door and knocks softly. maybe she wouldn’t find it until the next morning, but…

well, it was the little things, he figures as he lies awake in the shared quarters, falling asleep to the sound of dorne’s soft breathing across from him.

-

hyperion-

you fell asleep before you came back to eat. nothing special, and i know you probably dislike me after this afternoon, but take care of yourself. can’t get yourself worked up over me if you can’t stand on your own two feet.

-jorgan.

she drags herself out of bed when she hears the knock. from how soft it is, she figures it’s dorne. there’s a note left with the mre, so as she goes to prepare it, she reads it through blurred eyes. she’s not sure whether someone forced him to write this as an apology, but it lifts her mood a bit.

she considers resigning again. it was the only thing on her mind today. she didn’t even end up leaving the spaceport, she just climbed until she couldn’t get down in her current state, right on the top of the thunderclap. nar shaddaa’s lights taunted her from outside, but she’d hate to be seen like this by anyone. within or outside of havoc.

hakio doesn’t think she could handle seeing jorgan again after the afternoon. she’s embarassed herself so badly, and stars is this going to haunt her everyday until she dies.

but as she picks at the ready-made meal, she considers it. leaving it all behind? and what for? to sit around with nothing but a target to shoot at and no way to express herself as a senator’s sister?

she scribbles a letter back in her loopy script, and padding into the weapons locker, she stashes the paper in between her rifle and his.

-

jorgan-

i don’t just forget to eat. though, i am grateful for your concern over my health.

i assure you this won’t happen again.

-hyperion.

he finds the card nestled in the weapons locker the morning after. she has better handwriting than he’s ever given her credit for, but as they head out the next morning, he pulls her aside while dorne is gathering her things.

“something out of line again, sergeant?” she raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. same sass, but puffier eyes, which the the worst case scenario, makes her look sadly pathetic.

“no. just…blast it, glad you’re back, lieutenant. thought i’d have to run havoc myself.” the words spill out of him unintentionally, but the hardened look in her eyes lifts for a moment.

“oh.” she tries not to make eye contact with him, but mutters a 'thank you.’ when dorne returns from the medbay and they head off into the bowels of the smuggler’s moon.

[detectiveguapo]

Why do think the backlash towards Emily on Mayans is so mean spirited? I understand people will not like every character, but some of the comments about the character and even Sarah herself are disgusting. I noticed after some of things Potter said last night to Emily some were way too happy to applaud and cheer him on.

Misogyny is the simple answer. The Sons fandom has a track record for being unnecessarily harsh toward women, so it���s not surprising that Emily gets a lot of that harsh criticism. The men on the show get away with far more than the women ever do, and I’m not only referring to ‘crimes’ but also personality flaws. I’ve seen comments about Emily and Adelita manipulating EZ and Angel respectively, and the reactions are often angry and defensive of the men. But EZ and Angel have lied, too. And while most people acknowledge that these guys’ actions can be questionable, the reactions tend to view these men as ‘precious’ and only ‘making mistakes’ in the moment. All is easily forgiven because the thirst is real (which, I admit, I relate to because Miguel is fiiine and my threshold for ~bad behaviour~ is much higher given he’s not a real person). The takeaway here is about how we hold these characters accountable – are the standards higher for women? Are we more lenient with the men? Are we reflecting society? Yeah, probably because there’s a lot of ingrained shit we need to wade through as humans. 

The way Emily was portrayed early on – this seemingly innocent porcelain doll who was willfully blind to her husband’s wrongdoings – it didn’t make her a likable character. However, I do find her to be one of the more strongly developed characters because we’ve seen her sort-of embrace the darkness and ruthlessness of the cartel. And, now, with her knowledge of EZ’s status as an informant, it adds to her complexity and further complicates her relationship with both EZ and Miguel. I find this arc more compelling to watch than a character that’s loyal and 100% aligned with the lead right from the get-go, and I’ve seen some people online express this reason for disliking the character. So yeah, she isn’t exactly written to be likable in a superficial good guy/bad guy sort of way, so I get why there’s backlash. I just, personally, don’t watch the show that way so my opinion of these characters is more dependent on development and how much they contribute to the story. 

The complicated answer is the fact that Emily is white, and two Latinx male characters have a white woman for a love interest. Let me preface by saying I’m a WOC but I’m not Latinx, so I don’t feel like I’m in the right position to explain why this writing and casting choice is controversial. Representation matters. I’ve spoken ad nauseum regarding my disappointment in the lack of women in the main (and supporting) cast. And I’ve also spoken about my hope for subsequent seasons to include more diverse representation of Latinxs to include Afro-Latinxs and LGBT people. I mean, they’re there in the periphery. EZ’s one-night stand and Gracie from the dog kennel come to mind, but they’re not even recurring characters, which is sad. 

All that being said, it’s not Sarah Bolger’s fault that the writers of the show purposefully wrote Emily to be a white woman. Why they wanted to portray a biracial love triangle? I don’t know. Maybe it’s got something to do with Elgin James’ own relationship. If people were really upset by this writing and casting choice, I think the anger is better directed toward Kurt and Elgin rather than the actress hired to play a very specifically written part. Sure, this show is lacking severely in the representation of brown and black women, but just because that’s true doesn’t make it any less worthy to explore on television the nuances of biracial relationships. Just because it’s true that there aren’t enough brown and black women on this show, doesn’t make it all right to make aggressively mean-spirited comments about a white female character. Especially if those comments are about the woman’s appearance, which the actress happens to share (hoo boy, imagine that). For me, it becomes so easy to dismiss negative commentary on Emily/Sarah the moment her appearance is brought up. Like you said, anon, it’s disgusting and I like to spare my eyes from having to read things that disgust me.

The answer most people will say, whether or not it’s the absolute truth: Sarah isn’t a good actress and she just doesn’t have chemistry with either JD or Danny. People have a right to their opinion. I don’t agree with either point and I haven’t really seen any convincing arguments to validate them, but it’s totally cool if people feel differently. I think Sarah’s a good actor, and her experience is clearly demonstrated relative to a cast that features quite a few “new” actors (no shade). I’m also not going to reblog and argue with every person on this site who says they can’t see the chemistry in a ship. I don’t think that approach has ever been effective in persuading anyone to ship a ship in the history of ships. At the end of the day, people should be forming their own opinions, provided they aren’t hateful, and just enjoy the show (which is advice I should probably take given the length of this answer, but I promise I enjoyed myself writing this response). Thank you for the question. 

[how2to18]

APRIL 30, 1992. NBC’s The Cosby Show ended its run as the United States’s best-case scenario: Negroes not of its dreams. The situation comedy wrapped one day after a bunch of black guys beat the shit out of Reginald Denny at Florence and Normandie. A quarter-century or so ago, America’s racial schism peaked enough to make our Trump stuff look like chump change.

A month or so after that unmasking of day and night, Darius James’s phantasmagoric dark satire Negrophobia was published. Spoiler alert: James’s debut novel was not a healing tonic for its times.

But it could be one for ours.

Published by Carol/Citadel Publishing over 25 years ago and rereleased this month by New York Review Books, Negrophobia blends satirical narrative propulsion with sci-fi through a 21st-century scenario, stocked with characters based on the most husky and dusky 20th-century racist stereotypes. Among the parade passing through James’s political nightmare are horror versions of Race Subconscious Hall of Fame players: Elvis, Malcolm X, and Walt Disney.

Last century’s broadly digested racist cartoons drive both the James style of storytelling and the substance of his comment. The script is full of action that leaps about like a stereotype-mining Tex Avery short one might have taken in before a film like as Gone with the Wind, as a kind of appetizer. The story James told a quarter-century ago turns aggressively sci-fi as it leans on an endless stream of lies about black people that were cool with your grandparents’ generation. And these monsters from their minds are lampooned deadeye.

James’s twisted beasts engage in a cascade of violent strife. The book’s most engaging star and primary signifier: A delinquent teen girl best described in 2019 as a cross between Paris Hilton and Little Annie Fannie. (In an email exchange, the author told me the female character was inspired by the latter ’60s-era Playboy comic and Terry Southern’s novel Candy.) Her name is Bubbles Brazil. A whole bunch of bad things of a sexual nature happen to Bubbles, and if you’re the sort of reader who found him or herself halfway triggered by the title of this book in itself, Negrophobia sho’ nuff ain’t the book for you.

Which doesn’t make it not a book for the times.

James credits voudou in his lineage as a kind of co-pilot. Composed in the form of a movie script, Negrophobia from its very first sentence comes across as conjured. Be it conjured or hallucinated, the piece could only have been created in that the 395-year epoch before black lives began mattering on this here soil. When mass stereotypes went unquestioned and famous Negroes danced for chicken on TV. Out of this rich cultural content, the author cultivates extreme black caricatures to play in Bubbles’s mind. The comic narrative, one disturbing image diving in after its predecessor, is capable of producing a laugh and a wince per page.

James’s “screenplay” gives minimal internal motivation, just the raw expression of devious acts and racial distortion. “TEEN SEX-BOMB BLOND” is how Bubbles is introduced to us.

So delinquent is Bubbles that she’s forced to attend an all-black public high school in New York City. And Bubbles ain’t into it like Ann Coulter ain’t into Day of the Dead activities. Which is to say Not At All, and for good reason: the blacks inhabiting the mind of Bubbles Brazil — the one she’s matriculating with in her dreams — are literally The Worst Black Folks Imaginable. Monstrously bad. Graphically terrible.

The Maid, Bubbles’s Act One archenemy, resembles a demonic and funky-ass Nell Carter, illiterate as all get out. She’s a big beast in Bubbles’s mind. Only when The Maid enters do the proceedings turn truly, mind-blowingly shameful.

BUBBLES

What’s a white girl to do in a school full of jiggaboos?

MAID

Mind her business. Yo’ parents spent all dat money sending’ yo butt off to fancy private schools. ‘N’ whatchoo do? Get hot little boll-daga ass thrown out!! ‘N’ den you end up in a crazy house fo’ rich dope fiends! Face it, you just’ gonna’ hafta put up wid dem niggas.

Reading satisfaction results will vary. As a 52-year-old black American male, the humiliation of having been stereotyped provides the book its gravity. If you’re a white American of about my age, you might be enjoying the mouth-feel of James well-wrought coon-speak. In your case, reading Negrophobia might feel like a treasured childhood brand returning to the local supermarket.

In Negrophobia, the previous century’s popular culture runs deep. Bubbles Brazil attends Donald Goines Senior High School. Lawn jockeys come to life. A take on Our Town in which Grover’s Corner is now Garvey’s Corner is in the play’s changes. Buppets are black muppet B-Boys in T-shirts that say, “IT’S A DICK THAANG! YOU WOULDN’T UNDERSTAND.” Shelley Winters gets summoned back from Wild in the Streets. Unfrozen President-for-Life Walt Disney delivers a really fucked-up speech. Bernhard Goetz makes a chilling appearance. And, of course there is zombie Elvis. Hellish-Manhattan trains and apocalyptic scenarios tap into the absurdity of America’s racial horror show, late-20th-century-style.

Always in play is shame. James weaponizes the indignity through razor-sharp send-ups that are as lean as poetry, scene after scene.

For this reader there’s a strange kind of gratitude, if not thorough enjoyment for the reissue. I had all but forgotten that White America used to label my people as chicken thieves. And that there was a recurring media image of us filing down our own teeth, as African cannibals. I almost forgotten about hophead, jungle bunny jigaboo, spear-chucker, shine, jug, tar baby, boom blasters, coon, pickaninny, Jimson weed, and being called wool-headed, as our times no longer dictate that I remember. The language was not that far below the surface of my mind.

The worst Negroes imaginable, Darius James so artfully makes clear, live vividly in the culture of unedited cartoons. The sexual violence imposed upon his Downtown Little Annie Fannie echoes those Tex Avery and Warner Brothers reels. It’s a neat trick, loading their takes into Bubbles’s mind, because she and so many real-world characters have been unable to “imagine the existence of things outside [their] sum of knowledge.”

The idea to present James’s narrative in screenplay format came from the great and emotional darkie Michael O’Donoghue. James’s mentor and friend Terry Southern supported the development of it, as did Kathy Acker and Olympia Press. All over the pages of Negrophobia — nearly as much as mid-20th-century cartoon shorts — is the voice of Richard Pryor. Rudy Ray Moore and Ralph Bakshi are heavy in the mix. Steve Cannon’s in there, too.

Johnny Depp loved his first-edition copy of James’s book. Members of the band Fishbone read and related to it, and the painter Kara Walker said reading Negrophobia in grad school “was one of those good but rare occasions when I thought there might be one other person in the world that would get what I was doing.” Bill Cosby, James says in a new preface, forbade a daughter from bringing Negrophobia into his home.

James wrote a crazy punk book, bringing to the page an ethos of a Lower Manhattan in the ’80s scene that he frequented so as to turn the indie-lit party out. “He had a pedagogical intent throughout the book that can easily be missed in all the sex and grotesquerie,” D. Scot Miller, author of The Afro-Surreal Manifesto, told me in extolling James. “Afro-Surreal presupposes that beyond this visible world, there is an invisible world striving to manifest, and it is our job to uncover it.” Where before there had been scarcity of surrealism this side of Chameleon Street, Afro-Surrealism has become, if not widespread, reassuringly present in television shows like Random Acts of Flyness and Atlanta and the feature film Sorry to Bother You.

Negrophobia is “a brilliant book whose time has come and whose time has always been now,” as Amy Abugo Ongiri calls it in the introduction. Bubble’s dream would make for the dirtiest film in the history of world cinema, but I cannot help but think James’s notes on a film could be an event in the hands of Jordan Peele. Then, James could work on the script and add a scene with Race Subconscious Hall of Famer Christopher Dorner. If I have one complaint about the re-issue of Negrophobia, it’s that I am missing Christopher Dorner. Cannot stop thinking of him, even when I’m not.

¤

Donnell Alexander is a writer whose work has been featured in Time, The Nation, Al Jazeera’s “Inside Story,” and Economic Hardship Reporting Project.

The post Pedagogy in All the Sex and Grotesquerie: On Darius James’s “Negrophobia” appeared first on Los Angeles Review of Books.

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[sharionpage]

Identity: Not Just a Fashion

The Self Improvement Blog | Self Esteem | Self Confidence

Identity. Self-esteem. Self-confidence. Individuality. Each are words we hear every day. But when I speak to women and young people and listen to how they feel about how they fit into society and the media, I wonder how much of our sense of individual confidence is generated from within. How much of it depends on what is in fashion?

One of my girlfriends recently admitted that part of her confidence in her own body shape is because it’s become societally desirable. When Alek Wek was on the front of all the magazines with her gorgeous Dinka features, the media constantly reminded us that she was very far from the conventional beauty ideals at the time. Whose beauty ideals? For me, Alek is a stunning woman full-stop. As much as I was thrilled to see her ‘breaking barriers’ and records, I feel strongly that we didn’t need the media to tell us what beauty looks like.

From disability to color and everything in between, it seems like not a week goes by that a new identity trend is on the front page. Only where it was once a new seasonal color or skirt style; it is now people’s actual real identities.

As a PR expert, I know how the media machine works. The media uses representation to convey (or push!) specific ideas and values related to culture and identity in society. Blackness, disability, culture, and class have all become ‘fashionable’ at different times but why? And according to who? As a diversity marketing pioneer, I’m always happy to see new frontiers being forged. But as a psychologist, my concern is that these representations aren’t an authentic celebration of our differences. I’m concerned that they are more and more a temporary act of ‘permission’ for minorities to feel at ease with their individuality.

The problem is that fashion isn’t timeless, it’s what is hot right now today. Once the season is over, today’s hottest trend becomes ‘out’ overnight. So what happens when the trend is over?

Last year Kylie Jenner caused a backlash when she posed for a photo shoot in a wheelchair. She appeared as a ‘disabled’ fetish sex doll all in the name of ‘fashion.’

The media touted it as an ‘empowering representation’ of disability.

Historically, people with disabilities have been denied fundamental human and civil rights. Modern societies still attach a huge stigma to both physical and mental disability. As it stands, the representation of models with disabilities is particularly bad in the UK. To me, an able-bodied reality TV star posing in a wheelchair isn’t a route to the disabled community feeling relevant. Kylie Jenner sitting in a wheelchair doesn’t promote diversity, it portrays disability as a fad.

The Paralympics sparked similar conversations with Paralympian Baroness Tanni Grey-Thompson pointing out,

“When we see next year’s hate crime figures then we’ll have a better view of whether there’s been a real change or whether it’s been a moment in time.”

Whether we like to admit it or not, it feels good to be ‘en vogue’ and particularly for those of us in minority communities, the feeling of acceptance from seeing your culture, race, disability or ‘look’ on the front of Vogue is reassuring. Still, this shouldn’t be viewed as validation.

Our teenagers are totally consumed by this feeling. In their world social currency is the amount of “likes” or

Photo by giano currie on Unsplash

“retweets” they get. With their self-esteem at a low (7 in 10 girls believe they are not good enough), social media has become a safe haven as they instantly get the attention or the validation they are craving for. When this stops or changes, the effect on a young person’s self-esteem is catastrophic, in some cases resulting in suicide.

For adults, social media might not have the same appeal or importance but mainstream media affects us all. Some time ago Dove performed a study that revealed women are suffering poor self-esteem because of advertising campaigns which use airbrushing techniques to portray ”unattainable perfection” with 80% of us unhappy with our appearance. We might feel that our days of trying to fit in with the ‘popular’ crowd are over but with statistics like those, we’re more susceptible than we realize.

When self-esteem is harvested from within, our confidence is more likely to be centered on who we are as unique individuals. So, regardless of the latest trend or fad and whether it reflects us, our sense of identity and self-esteem stays intact.

Few would argue that exchanging cultural ideas is a negative thing. But what happens when the influence and origins of a culture or community go unacknowledged and ignored? How are we meant to feel accepted as individuals if we need celebrity fashion to validate our uniqueness?

I was a model in the 80’s and I can tell you now that a big butt was not in fashion. I weighed every week to maintain a tiny 8 stone figure and part of my success was down to my lean figure. Today, I’m no longer a size zero. But black body shapes are suddenly being accepted because of the ‘Kim Kardashian curves’ fashion. Am I supposed to feel better about myself because of that? Will we remember how to love our shapes and sizes and big butts once the trend is over? Or will we go straight back to asking ‘does my bum look big in this?’

My standards for my body no longer depends on what I’m told is ‘O.K.’  I understand now more than ever that when self-esteem is dependent on a person, trend, or campaign, anything external, it will crumble the moment that thing is taken away.

I grew up as a minority and the last thing me and my peers received when my mum put my hair in cornrows was praise from my non-black peers. So much so that girls of my generation desperately wanted their hair chemically straightened so that they could ‘fit in’. Fast forward to 2017 and Selfridges. One of London’s oldest and best-loved department stores opened Braid Bar. Celebrity models Lila Grace Moss and Stella Jones (the daughters of supermodel Kate Moss and Clash guitarist Mick Jones) helped launch the campaign. The problem is, whilst Selfridges might say this is a ‘step forward’ I don’t see how a pair of white privileged teens can ‘endorse’ a protective Afro hairstyle that has history and meaning. This isn’t an example of progress to me, it’s another fad.

I would rather my daughters love their hair and feel confident wearing their braids for themselves regardless of the latest campaign because I feel it has a deeper, more enduring impact.

We grow and harvest self-belief from inside. It’s the power base of energy that we were born with. The first step to achieving any kind of ‘wholeness’ is to develop the strengths within our character; to celebrate and accept our own quirks and uniqueness.  When you spend your time wishing you were somebody else, comparing yourself to someone else, regretting what you have or have not done, analysing your every flaw, wishing you were more ‘normal’ and only feeling confident when someone like you is on the screen, you are driving yourself further and further away from your life’s happiness. The solution? Your identity, history, and body are as unique as your DNA. So look yourself in the eye, appreciate yourself for everything that you are and celebrate the uniqueness of YOU.

A strong sense of self-worth will never be out of fashion.

About Dr. Diahanne Rhiney

Biography

Dr. Rhiney is a leading-edge Domestic Violence interventionist. Her passion lies in providing guidance, support, education and giving voice to marginalized groups.  Further, she is a recognized award-winning commentator using her multiple platforms and enterprises to raise awareness, educate and empower. She has developed groups, presented workshops and spoken extensively on self-esteem, body issues, children in care, abuse, emotional wellbeing and healthy relationships (including peer pressure and intimate relationship abuse). Also, she is a long time ambassador for children’s women’s rights, safety, and wellbeing.

Diahanne has provided training for foster carers on the challenges of online grooming. She has also worked across borders in Washington, Ghana and Malta focusing on concepts of ‘wholeness’.  She is a qualified psychologist. Her pioneering Domestic Violence charity, Strength With In Me Foundation (S.W.I.M) is a trailblazing method for change. The Foundation equips the next generation with the tools to avoid negative relationships and make empowered life choices.

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