#painting something so real despite the fact that the muse is something of belief and faith

[justaz]

thinking about immortal merlin going to a super famous artist who is known for having super lifelike paintings a few hundred years after arthur dies and telling them their story and having the artist paint arthur just by merlin’s descriptions instead of by a recreation with his magic and just reliving his life in camelot mentally while sitting on this artists couch as they bring arthur back to life for merlin

[esperanzagalaxy]

what do you think of Botticelli's version of Virgil? :o

   DA I'M SO SORRY THIS ASK IS. 10 MONTHS OLD. IT WAS SENT BY THE TIME I WAS SUPER NOT ON TUMBLR SO I'M. I APOLOGIZE. AUGH    but onto your question, cause it is such a fun one, are you mayhaps referring to this gentleman? if so hold on tight because this got a little long and i'm neglecting my day job and i am Unhinged. you've unleashed the art history beast

so! you meant him, right? cause we get a lot of straight up Funny dantes throughout art history but virgilios tend to follow a stricter line of design, in my opinion, much more on divine comedy depictions than on regular ol' Life Of Vergil paintings, but fact remains, i'm willing to bet the default image of virgilio you have comes from either that classic mosaic depiction of him with the muses, or the marble busts with the real good hair and lips. that is what i, at least, have seen 98% of classical and contemporary artists go for. cause, like. that was him. possibly. that’s as much confirmation as we can get.

now, botticelli, good ol' botticelli. my man sandrito. his virgilio is A Treat. now: take into account that when i mention the classical depictions we are most likely to have in mind, those pieces are possibly from the xix century. y'know, doré, wicar, ingres, and so on. That is our handsome prettyboy virgilio. 

botticelli was painting his own divine comedy over 300 years before them, but only over a century after the completion of the poem and dante's own death. i won't lie to you, i sincerely don't know When the famed mosaic and busts were found or if botticelli had access to them -but i'm willing to bet he didn't. that said, our boy sandro simply did not have the long history of depictions that the artists that came way after him did have -he was among the first to make his own dante, virgilio & co! (and this is without even talking about his version of the kingdoms. Man)

 might sound like i'm going around in circles but it's to tell you this: in botticelli's time, the Tendencies with which virgilio was later depicted hadn't been established yet. the favored canon was another one, and when you have no idea How this important person looked like, you do what's always been done in european art: make them an ideal according to what an ideal is in your own time!

 and what was the ideal in botticelli's time? in the comedy virgilio is meant to be, among many things, the figure of the Wise Guide. for a european man in the mid to late 1400s, What was a wise guide? it had to be a man, he had to be white, he had to be Older, experienced, he had to Look exprienced and wise, so he'd be Aged and Bearded, but he still had to look respectable and regal -this virgilio is basically a socrates, or a plato! isn't that a delight? it falls into line with a representation i think botticelli Did actually know of, which was giovanni di paolo's, a contemporary of his! 

  yep that’s him in red and dante in blue! (wonder where else have we seen a dante dressed in blue... ;)) ). the fact that vergilius turned out to be a fucking Snack came after, and since us artists have always been going hearteyes after our subjects and muses, artists started to latch onto those younger portraits of the vergster and ended up on the other side of the spectrum -which is, ignoring the fact that he was way older than he's normally depicted as when he reads the aeneid to augustus and octavia, which is a Whole 'Nother Topic (i only know one other old vergil and i don’t like it. wack). back to botticelli’s!   now, do you wanna know the REAL awesome thing about botticelli's virgilio? get ready because this is beautiful. botticelli didn't make him into just Any kind of wise guide. botticelli's virgilio is the magician. the magician is a FASCINATING medieval archetype that found its zenith in Merlin. and what's our and their default image of the magician? old bearded dude! but let's talk about two wild things about the magician: first is that he and magic in general were ever present in the Collective mind of the people in the xv century. people would see this virgil and Would see the magician in him! it wasn't just any old dude, part of the public might not have known who virgilio was or why he was important, but This dude in the image? i'd trust him! good for the guy in red! remember that though art is famed for its elitism it's also developed for CENTURIES the capacity to teach and explain only through images. magician virgilio was Accessible. JUST LIKE THE DIVINE COMEDY BC OF HOW AND WHY IT WAS WRITTEN!!!!!    ahem. and second, the magician is a figure that carries incredible dynamics and meanings with it. the magician is not an evil figure, unlike, i believe, witches and wizards (i think the word is wizard. bear in mind that i'm translating from spanish terms and some are tricky). it's more of a mash between druids, alchemists, but all through a very academia lens. the magician is a Keeper of Knowledge, and that makes him Powerful. this means that a great part if not all of his power depends on the keeping of the Secret. i'm sure you can see & imagine how keeping knowledge Away from people has just... been A Thing for centuries and centuries, esp in cultures built on inequality. so the thing is that if the magician has this power, for them to be able to share it or Entrust it to another, is a big fucking deal. and that's the thing: the magician can have Initiates. the initiate is the inexpert person that a magician takes under his wing and effectively Opens Up The World to them. they share knowledge otherwise forbidden, they're let into the Secret that brings them into contact with what all these self entitled white dudes from the middle ages believed make them Greater than the rest. as such, the magician is fundamentally the one who has skills that others do not, he is someone with the capacity to Change the world around him, he is a Transformative force, he can Accelerate and Cause things. where the alchemist tries to understand and imitate nature, the magician is believed to be one capable of Controlling it. it's worth remembering that an immediate distinction between white and black magic is made, one seeking good and the other bad, hence the differentiation between magician and wizard/witch, where the first of the latter two is usually considered something more Rural than academic, and the latter is just straight out evil because misogyny and racism. i'm sure you can see how, in a profoundly catholic place and era, white magic was also easily linked to miracle making, despite how shifty some bits sound. in short, the magician is a very respected figure in which numerous traditions and wisdom converge.     now! does any of this ring a bell? try applying all these magician traits to virgilio, who was a poet now turned babysitter, being seen through the eyes of a man in the late 1400s. what is a poet if not someone who sees Beyond what ''regular people'' see? what is a respected Epic poet if not something of a prophet? what is a guide if not someone who Knows about what surrounds him, does not fear it, and has the capacity to Explain it to his charge? does the one who guide you through hell and back not Transform you in any way? isn't the relationship between an expert and an initiate who teaches you about the world around you and beyond it not only the next best thing to your love for your god, but also a direct reflection of what it means to be a poet who chose to follow on another greater name's footsteps? virgilio is part of the transformative force that drives dante to change. he is a figure of utter control and rationality. where latter artists would dress him as a roman, either in whites or colors of glory or suffering/passion (gold and red), botticelli dressed his in purples and blues, the (very expensive) colors of royalty & heaven, the world beyond, and trust me when i say that using ultramarine blue on a pagan poet is a big fucking deal, because that hue was Reserved for the virgin mary. goes to show you the respect sandro had for his virgilio, as well as a clear belief in dante's own vision that virgilio pretty much deserved the recognition of any other cool christian if it wasn't for the Rules. and do you wanna know what other figure worthy or respect for his wisdom was dressed in ultramarine blue. THAT'S RIGHT. MERLIN!!!!!!!!    (wipes off sweat) so to summarize, what I think of botticelli's virgilio, is 3/10 on apperance because come on man where the fuck is my hot virgilio? good clothes though but sandro was in the textile industry so he should know; and 10/10 on concept for being a beautiful, EXCELLENT convergence & display of beliefs and traditions that, to my knowledge, no other artists really tried to show with such force in latter interpretations of the comedy. sandrito if you're out there

  apologies for any mistakes! it’s been a while since i’ve had to be Exact about my art history musings but i can’t go into full investigation mode right now. hopefully there’s no blatant misinformation jdsfaasd 

 thank you for asking and i hope you’ve been as safe and healthy as can be!  

[onlysmagic]

🌌  ———  MEET CORDELIA .

hey hey hey! it's me, honey, back again. i've miss everyone so very much. how have you all been? good, i hope. for the time being, i'll be playing sweet cordy again ( nothing new  . . . nothing's changed . . . still the same old cordy! ) but noah could be coming back soon ~* and maybe some new muses *~ ooOOoOOh. as always, hit the heart for a new old friend and i'll im you to get the party started!

cordy’s stats 🌌 cordy’s wanted connections 🌌 cordy’s pinboard

thanks again for an incredibly warm welcome back! i've missed you all terribly!

🌌 —  THE STATS .

FULL   NAME *    . CORDELIA AMI WANTANABE . NICKNAMES *    CODY   ,   DELIA   ,   CORDY . AGE *    TWENTY-FOUR . DATE   OF   BIRTH *    APRIL   3RD   1996 . STAR   SIGN *    ARIES . HOME   TOWN *    NARA   ,   KANSAI   ,   JAPAN . GENDER *    CIS FEMALE . SEXUALITY *    (   CLOSETED   )   BISEXUAL . NATIONALITY *    JAPANESE . ETHNICITY *    ASIAN . FAMILY *    WANTANABE   TSUYOSHI   (   FATHER   ,   MAINTENANCE   WORKER   -   JAPANESE   )   &   WANTANABE   AMI   -   FORMERLY   ITO   (   MOTHER   ,   FLORIST   -   JAPANESE-CANADIAN   ) . OCCUPATION *   UNEMPLOYED . PLAYLIST *   COMING   SOON .  QUIRK *    STELLARKINESIS   ,   OR   THE   ABILITY   TO   CREATE   AND / OR   MANIPULATE   STARS   AND   USE   THEIR   STELLAR   ENERGY  . 

🌌 —  THE STORY.

           ONCE UPON A TIME , IN A FAR-AWAY LAND known as nara , an ordinary girl is born to two parents who love her ( but cannot seem to love themselves. ) they name her cordelia and, from a young age, there was always something a little . . . off about their sweet girl. now, many parents would claim that their child glows & a light seems to follow them wherever they wander, but the wantanabes would be right.

           it isn’t until the young girl turns 10 that she realizes that no, not everyone can bend space and time to their own whim. not everyone sees the universe as a malleable thing, able to be crafted in one’s own image should they wish. in fact, she is the only one she knows who can do anything of the sort. okay, her dad has superhuman-like strength ( in that he can help her open bottles and things of that sort ) and her mother is incredibly quick-witted, but neither of them can conjure hot balls of gas and light whenever they wish. cordelia can. it’s her mother’s idea to keep it a secret, out of fear that someone could find the young girl and exile her for being so . . . different. delia doesn’t see the harm in it. what’s the worst that can happen? at that age, all she tended to do was bring a bit of starlight to the light-polluted nara and its surrounding areas. it wasn’t like she was dangerous in her mind, it’s all fun and games . . . until someone gets hurt.

           and who should get hurt? why, her beloved parents, of course. a freak accident ( a rush, a blur, not knowing where her powers could take her. ) cordelia was swallowed whole by the guilt of seeing both of her parents in the hospital, doctors whizzing around them while not knowing what in the world had gotten to either of them. they couldn’t for the life of them guess; most thought lightning had something to do with it. if they only knew it was the little girl sitting at each of their bedsides, hot tears streaming down her cheeks.

           they both eventually got to go home -- becoming known around nara as the lightning couple, due to the belief that they both were struck by lightning, despite the outlandish odds -- but cordy knew that she wouldn’t be able to go home with them. she would never forgive herself if something worse ( and there wasn’t much worse that could happen to either of them ) so she found hosu and ran, ran, ran. of course, when she arrived safe and sound, she wrote to her parents, but she’s broken inside knowing that, well, it has to be this way. it’s breaking them all, but it has to be this way.

🌌 —  WELCOME TO THE ISLE.

          THE BROWN-EYED girl shows up on the island shaking. she'd never done anything so brash before, yet, here she was, so many miles away from everything she'd ever known and with nothing to her name . . . nothing other than that stupid quirk she'd been all but cursed with.

          stupid stars. stupid light. stupid gas. stupid universe.

          . . . so what if she's not exactly eloquent, she's too angry to care. what a wicked way to go, but cordelia figures it's better her than her parents. they do forgive her, eventually, but it takes quite a few conversations that last hours upon hours and some good, old fashion groveling. afraid of growing so close to someone that she can hurt them again, cordelia becomes a master of being seen and not heard; it's easier to not be missed if no one really knows you, after all.

          but it's incredibly lonely. living by a rule that an eleven-year-old version of herself created is becoming harder and harder with each passing day, especially when she starts having to lie to mom and dad when they ask about her friends ( cordelia never did like that sad sounding sigh that would always come across the line. ) so she creates these fanciful friends and their fantastic adventures across the isle. they all have their own quirks but they learn to live with them, learn to love them and, by extension, themselves. yeah, it sounds something out of a coming-of-age film that cordelia would probably love . . . but what her parents don't know won't hurt them.

          but it'll end up hurting cordelia. karma's been chasing not too far behind with its sight set on her and, one day, it finally gets her. a horrible accident, her mother exclaimed, so much blood and just -- what, what is going on? cordelia's heart was in her throat and she wanted to scream until she broke the sound barrier. she nearly went supernova ( quite literally, too. it took everything in her not to explode right then and there. ) her father was hit by some punk drunk driver and was announced dead on arrival . . . what? why would the universe do such a thing? why would those stupid stars that everyone swore by decide to take such an inherently good person away?

          it wasn't fair. cordelia fell into a deep deep depression. the stars didn't shine nearly as brightly as they once did ( there was no one to create new galaxies for anymore. ) every night, she'd watch the stars she'd created for her father, her mother, the old friends she knew in nara, die slow deaths. soon, there would be nothing left in the world with her namesake on it and cordelia, all at once, found that to be a crying shame. call it her father's optimism finally rubbing off on her, or just simply finding it hard to keep lying to her now-widowed mother.

          she was going to find some friends . . . anyhow, anyway. if karma, the stars, the government, anything or everything was keeping an eye on her, she’d at least give them a worthwhile show.

🌌 —  PERSONALITY TRAITS.

POSITIVE : appropriate, brave, balanced, sugary, polite, organized, practical.

NEGATIVE : co-dependent, stuffy, standoffish, aloof, lethal, anti-social, incapable, dishonest.

LABEL : the doll . . . beautiful but fragile / untouchable.

EASTERN ZODIAC SIGN : THE RAT . . . a clever, quick thinker; successful, but content with living a quiet and peaceful life.

WESTERN ZODIAC SIGN : ARIES / THE RAM . . . a fire sign.  a passionate, motivated, and confident leader who builds community with their cheerful disposition and relentless determination. uncomplicated and direct in their approach, they often get frustrated by exhaustive details and unnecessary nuances.

PERSONALITY TYPE : INTJ / THE ARCHITECT . . . highly analytical, creative and logical.

🌌 —  THE CONNECTION IDEAS .

AURIGA / THE CHARIOTEER  . . . you and cordelia live in the same building. you have the ( un ) fortune of living above her, and in the middle of the night, you awaken to so many odd noises. when you look outside your window, you see her in the middle of the field painting the night sky with thousands of sparkling lights. stars . . . and so many of them! maybe you like them, maybe you ask her to spell out a swear word in the sky, or maybe you just want to sleep.

CASSIOPEIA - THE QUEEN  . . . cordelia rubs you the wrong way. that emotionless void of a girl has gotten on your last nerve and you are going to show her. how? you're not sure yet, but she will rue the day she ever crossed you. wait, what do you mean she's not that bad? that's not fair! you're supposed to hate her . . . wait, did you ever?

CYGNUS - THE SWAN . . . you fell for a vision. no, literally, a vision. they say you only dream up faces you've seen in real life, and for some reason, cordelia is that face. maybe she visits you in dreams and messes with your head, or maybe she's that serial killer who runs after you down the never-ending hallway with a knife in her hand and a smile on her face. how do you deal with seeing her . . . all the time?

GEMINI - THE TWINS . . . something happened and you were both in a tough situation, with cordelia being in the tougher of the two. you two strike a deal to help one another, but you tell her that she owes you. whatever she owes you, that's the deal ( please don't be weird about it tho ) and, for as long as you'd like, she can run around and do your errands for you, tell everyone your blunt opinion of them ( she's pretty good at that ) or just have to listen to you sing the entire aladdin soundtrack over and over again at 3 am. your call.

LYRA - THE LYRE . . . cordelia's never been the type to truly understand people. she always thought that it was because she was so sheltered growing up, really choosing to spend her time with her parents and a select friends from school. however, as she's grown up, she's come to learn that she does want to understand people . . . she just can't. not for trying, but she's too blunt, too sardonic, too -- cordelia. which is why she enlists your help. you're the golden child and she'd like a little bit of that sparkle to shine on her, thank you very much.

ORION - THE HUNTER . . . call it fate, destiny, whatever you will -- something brought you and cordelia together for a fun summer romance. however, now that summer’s melted into fall and everything is getting colder, so did your romance. you broke it off in a way that you thought was amicable but cordelia would be quick to disagree with. she doesn’t want you back, per say, but she does wish that she could have had better closure than a single text message . . . then again, she wasn’t exactly an angel in the relationship either. after she drops off one of your hoodies, you find a crumpled up note stuck in the pocket of someone confessing their love for cordelia . . . during your relationship. seriously, it includes your name and everything! do you confront her, or do you try and get the pair together?

URSA MAJOR - THE BIG BEAR . . . she didn’t mean to, honestly !! you just so happened to be hit by that star and, oh god, it’s like the entire ordeal with her parents all over again. only except she doesn’t really know you. every day during your stint in the hospital, you receive a bouquet of beautiful flowers -- maybe they’re your favorites or maybe they’re the type you cannot stand -- with the same note. i’m sorry. you figure it isn’t from anyone you know; it can’t be, can it? on your second-to-last day, the apologetic message is accompanied by an address and a little, scratchy handwritten note asking to meet someone there. against your better judgement you do, but no one is there . . . until you look up in the sky to see an incredible array of different-colored gasses ,you’ve never seen a nebula up close, save for photographs. a tall, black-haired girl walks beside you and begins to explain that she did not mean to hit you with a shooting star. she was simply practicing but her aim isn’t where it needs to be. do you believe this girl, or run as far as you can away from her?

[rwby-redux]

Preface

RWBY is the breakthrough anime web series created by the late Monty Oum of Rooster Teeth. Originally teased on November 5th, 2012, and officially debuted July 18th, 2013, the series follows the journeys of four young women enrolled in an academy that trains monster-slaying warriors known as Huntsmen. Set in the fictional world of Remnant, the story initially focuses on the surface-level plot of fighting against humanity’s ancient adversary, the ever-present Creatures of Grimm; over time, it becomes apparent that things aren’t what they seem, as the cast slowly begins to connect a string of heists committed by a criminal syndicate with the violent acts of a terrorist cell. The series is aired weekly on Rooster Teeth’s website, with its main arcs spanning 12 – 16 episodes per volume. In the years following the show’s initial release, RWBY has spawned numerous merchandise and related media, including two spin-off shows, multiple side-stories published as mangas, two standalone books, three mobile games, a behind-the-scenes artbook, and OSTs for every volume to date.

As of Volume 7 there are 98 episodes in total with a collective runtime of 18:52:00, or approximately 1,132 minutes, with more episodes and side content underway.

At best, they’re visually interesting; at worst, they’re disappointing.

Let me take a second to backtrack before the lynch mob starts to sharpen its pitchforks. The series deserves much of the praise that it’s gotten. RWBY was the first American-produced anime to be released in Japan (and if you’re a fan of anime, you know how insane those words sound). The 3D models and animation from Volume 4 onward are breathtakingly stunning, and even before the show made the leap from Poser to Maya, the fight sequences managed to be equally creative and entertaining. The show was nominated for and received multiple Streamy Awards, and was awarded Best Animated Series by the International Academy of Web Television. The Volume 1 soundtrack reached number one on iTunes, beating out the soundtrack for The Hunger Games: Catching Fire. Such is RWBY’s (and Rooster Teeth’s) reputation that it managed to attract the attention of, and later bring on, industry veterans and vocal legends such as Jen Taylor, Josh Grelle, and Aaron Dismuke.

That’s to say nothing of the fandom this franchise has amassed, of kids, teenagers, and young adults alike. RWBY has generated dozens of forums dedicated to fanfiction, fanart, and roleplaying. Thousands of people the world over have bonded over this show, fans from all walks of life. They’re passionate about this series. The fact that I’m writing this post is a testimony of that. If I didn’t care about RWBY, I wouldn’t be sitting on my couch at 3 AM, hunched over my laptop in my pajamas.

If RWBY is so good (or occasionally threatens to become good), you might be wondering, why, then, does this blog exist?

Well, because…when you stop and look at it critically, it actually kind of sucks.

Despite initially being written by a three-man team, the series is full of inconsistencies and an underdeveloped cast. The characters, especially from Volumes 1 — 3, are full of one-dimensional stereotypes whose contributions to the story amount to a three-word summary: “The School Bully,” “The Wacky Professors,” “The Racist Cop,” “The Cutthroat Bitch,” “The Anime Waifu,” “The Audience Surrogate,” “Discount Elle Woods,” and so on. Fundamental elements of the story, like Aura, Semblance, and Dust, are either poorly-explained or not explained at all, and the limitations of those core concepts can change at a moment’s notice to suit the needs of the plot. The primary antagonist of the first three volumes is universally hated by the fandom for having no discernible motivations beyond being “ambitious and power-hungry,” and having a personality that consists exclusively of irritating smug. The show-writers, despite repeatedly promising queer representation, have failed to make even one of their ten central protagonists queer. This isn’t touching upon the fact that the first openly-gay character on the show was an antagonist, or that the next two were side-characters who were relevant to the plot for all of seven episodes, before vanishing from the story entirely. The two leads that are currently being hyped as our first queer main-cast members have only been repeatedly teased, with said characters never once uttering the words, “I’m bi,” “I date women,” “I’m not straight”—nothing but narrative subtext and playful winks from the VAs whenever a fan asks if they’re queer. Subplots end up having no pay-off or get entirely forgotten mid-volume. The story is so protagonist-biased that the heroes are frequently able to get away with being hypocritical, or committing criminal acts because “it was the right thing to do,” with their POV framed as an infallible “fuck you, got mine” verbal gut-punch to the audience (while other characters in the show, who often make the exact same calls as the heroes, are ridiculed by the show and the fandom). Whenever the story isn’t spray-painting stolen cars and selling them to their original owners, it manages to clumsily handle allegories for real-world issues such as systemic racism, mental illness, abuse dynamics/victim survivorship, and gray morality. The worldbuilding is absent from the main show and has to be supplemented through RWBY’s spin-off series World of Remnant. The story’s setting feels flat and lifeless at times because the “cultures” of this world are never established.

The list goes on and on.

So if this show has so many flaws, why are we still having this conversation?

Because I’m captivated by the untapped potential of this world. When you brush away all of the detritus, you can see the wealth of raw material buried beneath. This is a world where the gods have forsaken their creations, with one having even deliberately created the monsters that hunt humanity. The two characters who are central to the history of this world are tragic figures, one cursed with immortality as a punishment for demanding that the gods revise the first draft, and do away with needless death; and the other, cursed to ceaselessly reincarnate into the minds and bodies of like-minded souls, waging a war of attrition against a person warped beyond recognition by the capricious spite of the gods. This is a world of forgotten magic, of shifting allegiances, of characters embarking on personal journeys and unearthing deadly secrets. It’s a story of people from all walks of life learning to cooperate and work together, forging friendships and alliances in order to face the challenges that lie ahead.

It could easily have the bones of an epic fantasy series as long as it remembers to drink its milk.

RWBY’s issues aren’t insurmountable. Most of them are the byproduct of the series’ blind adherence to “rule of cool,” the motto that practically codified the beginning of the show. From Volume 4 onward, the series took a radical shift in tone that tried to be “more mature,” and only succeeded in making the earlier episodes absurd in hindsight. Why, in Volume 6, are the characters concerned about civilian endangerment, when in Volume 2 they happily pursued a giant mech in a highway car-chase scene that would’ve caused untold collateral damage and civilian death? This change in storytelling created a thematic disparity that reoccurs time and time again, retroactively emphasizing just how inconsistent the worldbuilding and storytelling are.

It tried to be Avatar: The Last Airbender, and what we’re left with instead is Game of Thrones Season 8.

Now, I’m not using this blog as a platform to damn Monty Oum (or claim to be a better creator than him). But it’s important to address the flaws in his story, and to acknowledge that his passing doesn’t make RWBY somehow sacrosanct or immune to constructive criticism. RWBY has flaws, ranging from nitpicky to potentially capable of causing real-world harm (in the case of the aforementioned queerbaiting and racism analogies). I’m a firm believer that art doesn’t exist in a vacuum; art is informed by our beliefs just as much as art informs our beliefs. We can still respect and admire the potential RWBY has to offer, while being mindful of where it needs to improve.

That’s where this blog comes in.

At the end of the day, the RWBY Redux exists as a thought experiment. I’m writing it chiefly to entertain worldbuilding ideas and headcanons I’ve spent years musing on. I’m not asking readers to agree with any of my numerous stances, nor am I going to shy away from other fans’ criticism as I hammer this project out. With a little TLC, perhaps I’ll manage to create something that manages to be more complex than its source material. And if you choose to follow along with my endeavors, hopefully you’ll find this project equal parts engaging and entertaining.

Wish me luck.

[singledarkshade]

What Happened To Amelia Pond

Summary: Amelia Pond disappeared one day from Leadworth, and Rory Williams has wondered ever since where his best friend was. Author’s Note: Just a random idea I had. Enjoy.                                 ********************************************* Once upon a time in a small English village called Leadworth lived a young red haired Scottish girl named Amelia Pond who had a crack in her wall.

One night, when the voices coming from beyond it became too much to bear, she decided to ask for help from Santa - the only grown-up who had never let her down. To her surprise a Police Box crashed into the shed and a strange man appeared. He called himself the Doctor and told her of his magical box that had a library, a swimming pool and could travel in time. Then, after some interesting food choices, he fixed the crack in her wall.

Totally entranced by this strange man Amelia asked to travel with him so she could have adventures. To her amazement, because adults always told her she had to stay in stupid Leadworth, he told her she could but he would have to take his box away for five minutes to make sure it was safe.

She packed a case with everything she thought she would need, realising suddenly that she had to let her best friend know where she was going. Rory’s mum had died a few months ago and his dad was still not well meaning he had to live with his gran, Amelia knew she couldn’t just leave without letting him know where she’d gone or he’d worry. She quickly hid the message in their special secret hiding place so no one else would get it before she set her case down on the ground just where the box had been, sat on it waiting for the Doctor to come back.

No one would ever see little Amelia Pond again.

                                *********************************************

  The van they’d hired made its way through the small streets of the quiet village. Leadworth was a picturesque little place with very little crime.

Patricia Kane, freshly graduated from teacher training and the village’s newest Primary School teacher, sat in the passenger seat watching the houses pass by amazed by how perfect the place seemed to be.

Her research on the village had only found one thing to any real interest.

Ten years before a little girl had disappeared without a trace, typically from the house they were renting. It didn’t bother her, despite her mother’s concern of the history of the house; in fact Patricia was actually quite intrigued by the mystery.

“The ‘Welcoming Committee’ is here,” Josh noted from the driver’s seat as they drew close to the house.

Patricia chuckled at the resignation in his voice seeing Suzy Granger, the woman who had not only dealt with the renting of the house but was also part of the Village Council, standing waiting for them. They’d realised when looking for a place that living in a small village was going to be very different to living in the city.

  “Suzy,” Patricia greeted the woman the moment she slid out of the van.

“You’ve got a nice day to move in,” Suzy smiled back, she handed over a small package, “This is all your keys with the code for the alarm.” Josh appeared at her side and nodded to the front garden, “Do we also get a security guard?”

“Oh,” Suzy sighed as they all looked at the young man standing leaning against the large oak tree in the front garden staring at the shed. He had sandy hair and stood with his arms crossed, shoulders hunched sadness radiating from him, “That’s Poor Rory. He won’t be here for long.”

Patricia turned to her confused, “Which means?”

“You were told the story of the little girl who lived here and disappeared ten years ago,” Suzy said, continuing when they both nodded, “Well, Poor Rory was her best friend and it’s the anniversary today.”

“Do you think that’s all one word or does he hyphenate?” Josh murmured in her ear while Suzy glanced back at their visitor again, getting an elbow in his ribs.

“I’ll ask him to leave,” Suzy said.

“No,” Patricia stopped the other woman, “It’s okay. Let him have his vigil.”

Suzy smiled at her before she sighed, “Poor Rory, only a few months before Amelia disappeared he was in a car accident with his parents. His mother died and his father was so badly injured he lives with his grandmother. He’s almost a fully qualified nurse which I must admit we all think was because of his losses.”

“How old is he?” Josh asked interested, although a little stunned that they’d been given so much information on a stranger. “Nineteen,” Suzy replied, “He’s a very intelligent boy. Threw himself into his studies after his losses, skipped several years of school and went to college early.”

“Does he come here often?” Patricia asked.

Suzy shook her head, “No, only this day each year.”

  Rory leaned against the tree wondering where she was today.

Her message told him not to worry, that she was having adventures and maybe if her friend, the Doctor, agreed Rory could come on one too. No one believed him that the message he’d received had been from Amelia the night she disappeared. Instead they patted him on the head and murmured about the poor boy that lost his best friend just a few short months after losing his mum.

But Rory knew Amelia better than anyone and he knew that if she had told him she was going to have adventures then she was. Even as he grew and no longer looked at the world with the innocence of a child, Rory believed Amelia was having adventures with her magic Doctor.

Voices coming from behind him pulled Rory out of his musings and he grimaced when he saw the van, realising that the new tenants were moving in today. Seeing Suzy Granger standing there with two people he didn’t recognise he winced but headed over to them.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you were moving in today,” Rory apologised softly about to leave.

“How’s your Gran, Rory?” Suzy asked before turning to the couple standing there, “She’s a lovely woman, makes the best home-baked chocolate cakes for the fetes but has been a bit poorly.”

“She’s feeling better,” Rory stated.

“You know,” the man said suddenly, “I should start unpacking the van otherwise I won’t get it back in time.”

Rory was surprised when the man made a small head jerk to him but spoke up, “Do you want some help?”

“Great,” the reply came and Rory followed on to the back of the van.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Rory said softly.

“I’m Josh,” he introduced himself, “I could see the look on your face when Suzy started giving us all the details. I take it privacy is something that happens elsewhere.”

Rory nodded, “You learn to live with it.”

“Or you could leave,” Josh suggested as he started to pull out boxes.

Rory shrugged, “It’s an idea. I’ll take these inside.” “One question,” Josh stopped him, “Is Poor Rory one word or do you hyphenate?” Rory started to laugh, not sure why because it wasn’t even funny but every time he looked at Josh he started again making the other man laugh as well.

                                  *********************************************

  Rory dropped onto the couch with a sigh, smiling when Patricia passed him a mug of tea, “Thanks.”

“Bad day?” she asked, sitting on the chair and propping her legs up on the table.

Rory took a long drink of tea, “Long day. Where’s Josh?”

“He’ll be home soon,” she replied, “He’s bringing dinner.” Relaxing back and watching the movie Rory smiled slightly. Despite the hideous introduction they’d had, Patricia and Josh had become great friends to him. They were the only people in the village who didn’t look at him like he was some charity case and he loved them for it.

He even found himself talking about Amelia every so often.

It was strange that somehow he’d found new friends in the house where his childhood friend had lived. He’d helped them move in then Josh had asked him to help assemble some furniture, which did not go as well as it should have but left the three of them in hysterical laughter. He’d then been asked to help paint some of the rooms and several months later Rory was a regular for dinner at least three times a week.

  Patricia adored Rory.

He was very smart, supremely sarcastic when he wanted to be, extremely observant and very sweet. Josh was the eldest of four already so had just slotted Rory into the same category as his brothers. The younger man readily agreed to help them with anything for the house, although he would not go into the room that had been Amelia’s bedroom. She realised that for the first time in a long time Rory had people who didn’t think of him as ‘Poor Rory’, people he could spend time with who liked him but didn’t think of him as some broken waif.

To her surprise, after a few months, he even spoke to them about Amelia. Neither said anything at his steadfast belief she was alive having adventures but they didn’t treat him like an idiot either for the hope he carried it was true.

                                  *********************************************

  “No,” Rory stated folding his arms across his chest decisively.

“Yes,” Patricia told him, “You are coming and you going to enjoy yourself.”

Rory frowned at her, “On a blind date with Josh’s sister’s friend from work?”

Josh chuckled holding his hands up defensively when his girlfriend and his friend both glared at him, “I’m not involved in this.”

“It’s your sister’s friend,” Rory threw at him.

Patricia sat at his side, “Okay, how about I make you a deal.”

Rory grimaced but remained silent.

“You come for dinner and, if you’re not enjoying yourself, I will let you use the ‘working early in the morning’ excuse to get out of there right after we eat,” she told him.

Rory sighed in defeat, “Does it have to be tonight?”

Josh and Patricia shared a look before she rested a hand on his shoulder, “It’s been eleven years, Rory. You are allowed to move on.”

Anger filled Rory’s eyes which faded when his two friends looked at him concerned, “I know it’s stupid, I know she isn’t going to magically appear one day but I...” he trailed off not sure how to voice his need to watch for her. He knew no one believed that Amelia was having adventures, he knew that it was an utterly ridiculous idea that he did but it was one he couldn’t let go of.

“Come on,” Josh said, “It’ll be a laugh.”

Sighing Rory gave in.

  Jane was nice.

Rory was stunned to find he actually liked her and, to his surprise, she seemed to like him too. With a lot of pushing from Josh and Patricia he asked her out and they began dating. They were together for six months, Rory did his best but Jane wanted more from him than he was able to give her.

His grandmother needed his help, he’d been taken on full time at the hospital which gave him an erratic schedule and then there were his memories of Amelia. In the end she didn’t like coming second to the memory of his childhood best friend and broke up with him.

Josh and Patricia tried a few more times to set him up but most only lasted a few dates. And then as the twelfth anniversary of Amelia’s disappearance came around things became very strange.

                                  *********************************************

  Rory followed Dr Ramsden through the ward, wishing it had been one of the other doctors on because for some reason she didn’t seem to like him. Something strange was going on, the patients in the coma ward were wandering about the village. He’d seen them, he had photographic evidence but no one would listen to him. It wasn’t because he was just a nurse, it was because he was so much younger than everyone else. His twenty-first was in three days and he was worrying what Patricia and Josh had planned as they kept grinning at him whenever it was mentioned.

“So,” Dr Ramsden demanded, “They all called out at once, that's what you're saying?”

Rory grimaced at the tone of her voice.

“All of them. All the coma patients?” she continued harshly, “You do understand that these people are all comatose, don't you? They can't speak.”

“Yes, Doctor Ramsden,” Rory replied.

“Then why are you wasting my time?” she snapped at him.

Rory winced before saying softly, “Because they called for you.”

“Me?”

“Doctor,” one of the patients called before Rory could reply, “Doctor. Doctor.”

Rory looked at the woman standing across from him seeing the same confusion in her eyes that he felt as the other patients took up the call.

“Doctor. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor. Doctor.”

After several minutes silence filled the ward again and Dr Ramsden checked the closest patient.

“I don't think they were even conscious,” she said thoughtfully.

 Rory knew it was probably a bad idea but he pushed on anyway, “Doctor Ramsden, there is another sort of funny thing.”

“Yes, I know,” she stated, “Doctor Carver told me about your conversation. We've been very patient with you, Rory. You're a good enough nurse, but for God's sake.”

“I've seen them,” Rory tried to get her to listen to him while he pulled out his phone to find the pictures.

She frowned at him, “These patients are under twenty four hour supervision. We know if their blood pressure changes. There is no possibility that you could have seen them wandering about the village. Why are you giving me your phone?”

 “It's a camera too,” he explained, relieved when she reached for it, her beeper sounded and she waved him away again.

“You need to take some time off, Rory,” she told him, stopping him from arguing, “A lot of time off. Start now,” he tried to protest once more, “Now.”

  Rory parked his car and dropped his head against the steering wheel. He’d sent a text to Patricia and Josh telling them what had happened, they were the only people in his life he could talk to because they were the only ones who didn’t think of him as ‘Poor Rory’.

Frustrated he decided to walk for a while, he really didn’t want to explain to his gran why he was home from work early.

He was beginning to think about leaving Leadworth. There was very little keeping him here except the memory of a friend who had left twelve years ago and the grandmother who needed him. As he wandered the village green without thought Rory spotted one of the coma patients out with his dog. Pulling out his phone he was vaguely aware that the light seemed to be coming through a filter of some kind.

Rory jumped when his phone was snatched out his hands.

“The sun's going out,” a strange man in a pin-striped suit that looked as though it had seen better days said, “And you're photographing a man and a dog. Why?”

“What?” Rory demanded confused.

“Man and dog. Why?” the man snapped, “Tell me now.”

Rory shook himself and replied, “Because he can't be there. Because he's in a hospital, in a coma,” bemused as the man said the words with him Rory nodded, “Yeah.”

The man grinned at him, “Knew it. Multiform, you see? Disguise itself as anything, but it needs a life feed. A psychic link with a living but dormant mind.”

“Who the hell are you?” Rory blurted out spinning as the coma patient began to bark instead of the dog.

“I’m the Doctor,” the man replied absently before he confronted the strange image before them.

Rory was completely caught by how the man introduced himself that he barely noticed the alien spaceship, the explosions and the man turning to liquid before sliding down the drain.

“No TARDIS, no screwdriver, seventeen minutes,” the man was muttering to himself, “Come on, think. Think!”

“You’re the Doctor?” Rory demanded, pulling the other man out his mutterings, “As in Amelia’s Doctor?”

The Doctor turned to him, “You know Amelia Pond?”

“Where is she?” Rory asked stunned, “Is she with you or did you leave her at your box?”

The Doctor stared at him confused, “What?”

“Amelia,” Rory clarified, “I was her friend. If she’s back I want to see her.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Rory,” he introduced himself.

The Doctor took a breath, “I now have less than seventeen minutes to stop the aliens from blowing up your planet, Rory. Can we focus on that just now and then we’ll talk about Amelia after the Earth is safe?”

Rory nodded, “Okay.”

The Doctor pulled a phone out of his pocket, adding Rory’s number to it and thrust it at Rory, “Get to the hospital. Get everyone out of that ward. Clear the whole floor. Phone me when you're done.”

  “Rory!!”

He turned to Patricia as she came running towards him across the hospital car park, “You can’t be here. Something...” “The Police Box,” she cut him off, “It’s appeared in the garden.” Rory nodded, “I thought it might have.”

She stared at him confused, similar to the look she gave him when he explained Amelia’s farewell message before she asked, “How?”

“Because I just met the Doctor,” he explained.

“What?!!!”  she stared at him, “Is she with him?”

Rory winced, “I don’t know because there are aliens trying to destroy the world and I have to help.”

Patricia stared at him before shrugging, “So what do we need to do?”

He took a breath, “You get everyone out of the hospital while I check the ward.”

  Rory stared in amazement at the man, now dressed in clothes he’d stolen from the lockers, who had just called back aliens who were going to blow up the planet and told them off.

“Okay,” the strange man turned to Rory, “Let’s talk about Amelia.” Rory let out a laugh, “I always wondered if maybe it wasn’t true but meeting you, seeing what you just did I can even believe the time travel.”

The Doctor held up his hand, “Rory, where is Amelia?”

“She’s with you,” Rory said before frowning confused, “Isn’t she?”

The Doctor shook his head, “Rory, I left Amelia less than half an hour ago. I meant to get back to her in five minutes but the TARDIS took a little longer than I expected.”

Rory stared at him horrified, “But that means...”

“I’m sorry, Rory,” the Doctor apologised, “I don’t know where Amelia is.”

Bile rose up in his throat as the weight of the words came crashing down on him, Amelia hadn’t gone with the Doctor. She hadn’t spent the past twelve years having adventures. Something bad had happened to her.

The world around him spun and he felt two arms catch him before he was set down to sit against the wall.

“It’s okay,” the Doctor said, “Deep breaths. We’ll work this out?” “How?” Rory demanded grabbing the other man by his jacket letting out a cry when something burned him.

The Doctor pulled out a key which was glowing, “I have to get back to the TARDIS and make sure she’s fixed.”

Nodding absently Rory forced himself to his feet and followed the strange man.

  The blue Police Box sat just to one side of the shed and Rory stared in amazement to see it.

“So that’s your magic blue box,” Rory whispered folding his arms across his chest.

The Doctor nodded patting the side of it affectionately, “This is the TARDIS.”

“Small,” Rory noted.

“There’s no need to be rude,” the Doctor noted before shaking his head, “Alright, about Amelia. Tell me everything.” Rory shrugged, “There’s not much to tell. She disappeared one night.”

“How did you know about me?” the Doctor asked.

“She left me a message,” he explained, “I found it the next morning in our secret place and I know it was new because there was nothing there when I’d left earlier that afternoon.”

The Doctor frowned, “Okay, I need to see the message.”

Rory nodded, “It’s at home.” “You go get that,” the Doctor told him, “I need to check the TARDIS is working. I’ll meet you back here in an hour?”

“Okay,” Rory replied.

Two days later Rory resigned himself to the fact the other man was not coming back.

                                  *********************************************

  A few months had passed since all the weirdness happened in Leadworth and the Doctor had saved the world, Patricia shook her head fondly finding Rory fast asleep in the chair beside the hospital bed, still in his scrubs. Checking the woman on the bed she smiled to see she was awake.

“Hi, Mrs Williams,” Patricia said softly, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, dear,” June Williams replied weakly, “Just a little tired.”

Patricia nodded, knowing she was much sicker than she would ever admit.

“Has that grandson of mine gone home?” June asked.

Patricia winced and moved out the way so she could see Rory unconscious in the chair, “I’ll move him.”

“I was so glad when he met you and Josh,” June sighed softly, “He’s such a good boy but I know he finds it hard to make new friends after losing Amelia.”

Patricia smiled at the old woman, “Well, it’s easy to like Rory.”

“I worry what he’ll do after I die,” June whispered, “I know he’s only staying here for me.”

“You don’t have to worry,” Patricia assured her, “We’ll look after him, I promise.”

June caught Patricia’s hand, “Thank you. Can you make him go home for me just now?”

Patricia nodded, “Of course I will.”

  Rory stared at the coffin feeling Patricia and Josh on either side of him as he said goodbye to his grandmother. He knew she was dying. He was a nurse, he’d seen it plenty of times but for some reason he hadn’t been prepared for losing her. Rory was also trying not to let his anger for his father take over, anger that the man couldn’t get over his issues to come to his mother’s funeral.

It was now a year and a half since the Doctor had appeared and told him that he had no idea where Amelia was, where Rory had discovered something had happened to her and then the Doctor had disappeared again. Losing his gran had thrown Rory into a world where he had no idea what he was going to do now. It was only his two friends standing by his side that kept him going, that kept him from just curling onto a ball of misery while everyone gave him their condolences. Finally they left the cemetery and Rory was guided to the pub where a wake had been set up.

“I can’t do this,” Rory whispered when they reached the entrance, “I can’t...”

Patricia gently rubbed his back, “It’s okay. Josh will take you back to the house. You can stay with us as long as you need.”

Rory hugged her grateful for her support before he let Josh lead him back to the car. He’d been staying with them since his grandmother had died, unable to go back to the home he’d grown up in since she was no longer there.

Exhausted by the day Rory undid his tie and pulled off his jacket discarding them unseen on sofa before he dropped to sit.

It was time to leave Leadworth.

                                  *********************************************

  “Final day at work,” Josh noted when Rory walked into the kitchen, “How did it go?”

Rory shrugged, “It seemed like any other day but we had cake.”

Patricia chuckled, “Bring any for us?”

“Like there was any left,” Rory rolled his eyes before looking at the couple before him, “I never would have made it to this without you two. You know that. I’m so grateful to both of you for becoming my friends and giving me a place to stay for the past few months.” Patricia moved and wrapped him in her arms, “You’re our family, Rory. You know that and we will always be here for you.”

“Even if we hate you for the fact you’re going to see the world while we’re stuck here,” Josh teased, laughing when his fiancé smacked his arm.

Rory chuckled, “Well at least we’ll meet up in Spain in a few months for your wedding.”

“Let’s have dinner,” Patricia said, “And we’ll celebrate your last night with us before you go travelling.”

“Pizza is on the way,” Josh told them.

  Rory grimaced feeling Patricia shake him awake while calling his name. His sleep fogged brain wondered what was going on wincing when she shook him again.

“Go away,” he murmured burying his face into his pillow.

“Rory,” Patricia called, “You need to wake up.” Batting her away he sighed, “Go annoy your fiancé if you can’t sleep.”

“The blue box is back,” Patricia told him.

Rory jumped awake, running to the window he saw the TARDIS sitting there. Pushing on his trainers he ran out the door with Patricia just behind him.

“Rory,” the Doctor greeted when he exited his ship, “Sorry, little later than I intended but the TARDIS just rebuilt herself so there’s always going to be a few glitches.” Rory stared at him, “A little later?” “What is it?” the Doctor looked up, “A couple of hours.” “Try a couple of years,” Rory snapped at him.

The Doctor winced, “Oops.”

“Oops?” Rory yelled, “That’s all you have to say? Because I have spent over a decade wondering what happened to my friend and you appear possibly with answers then bugger off for a few more years.”

“I am sorry, Rory,” the Doctor told him sincerely, “But I’m here now and I want answers as much as you do.”

Sighing Rory said, “Alright.”

“Do you have the letter she left you?”

With a grimace Rory nodded, “I’ll be back in a minute. Do not move.”

“I promise,” the Doctor replied.

  Rory found Amelia’s letter grabbing the rucksack sitting packed for his trip. Reaching the box again he thrust the paper at the man aware of Patricia standing at his side.

The Doctor studied the letter for several moments, licking the paper making Rory wince in disgust.

“Alright,” the Doctor finally said, “I will use the traces of Amelia to do my best to find her.”

“I’m coming,” Rory told him.

The Doctor stared at him for a few minutes before nodding, “Alright. Let’s go.” “I’m coming too,” Patricia said stopping Rory from arguing, “You’re not doing this alone.”

Rory stared at her for a few seconds before shrugging, “Tell Josh you’re coming so he doesn’t worry.”

Patricia patted his arm, “I’ll be right back.”

Rory waited until she entered the house before turning to the Doctor, “We’re going now.”

“You know I have a time machine,” the Doctor noted, “I can get you both back ten minutes ago.”

“Your track record so far doesn’t fill me with confidence,” Rory replied, “I won’t let Josh spend years wondering when she’ll come back. So we go without her.”

Opening the door to the TARDIS the Doctor let Rory inside smiling slightly when he stalled seeing the large room there. Closing the door he quickly started the engines and taking them into a temporal orbit. He glanced over to where Rory stared around the massive room inside the small box. He dropped his bag and slowly took a few steps further inside.

“It’s...It’s...”

“I know,” the Doctor grinned before becoming serious, “Alright, this might take some time but I promise you, Rory that we will find what happened to Amelia.”

 Rory nodded.

The Doctor grinned, “Then let’s get going.”

[jordanianroyals]

Harper’s Bazaar Arabia March 2019: Queen Rania of Jordan on 20 Years of Intelligence, Integrity and Intuition (x)

By Louise Nichol | Photographer - Alexi Lubomirski

Her Majesty Queen Rania of Jordan is determined to forge a bright future across the Arab world

"I'm not ready to give up on humanity,” says Queen Rania Al Abdullah of Jordan, the steel in Her Majesty’s voice belying her softly smiling eyes. It’s a position that must have been sorely tested over the 20 years that her husband King Abdullah II ibn Al Hussein has ruled Jordan, the Arab nation that shares its borders with Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Israel and Palestine, placing it at the heart of some of the most harrowing global conflicts of recent times. Yet amid five ongoing conflicts and two of the world’s biggest humanitarian disasters – in Syria and Yemen – Jordan remains a beacon for resilience and optimism in the Arab world; its Queen, a globally-revered symbol of modern Arabia.

Sitting in her office in the capital Amman, photographs of her four children beaming out from amid the whispered hush of the chic Middle Eastern-inspired surrounds, 48-year-old Queen Rania gestures as if to the beige environs of the city, musing, “It isn’t really about the magnitude of the crises we face, but what we choose to learn from them, and how we use those lessons to become better leaders, citizens and human beings.” Since the onset of the Syrian crisis in 2011, Jordan has taken in 1.3 million vulnerable people, bringing its current population to around 10 million, according to UN estimates. The strain on the resource-poor nation’s infrastructure has been immense, with schools forced to operate double shifts to accommodate around 150,000 Syrian students. “We couldn’t turn away innocent people fleeing war, death and despair,” Queen Rania states simply, “I think the choice Jordan, its leadership and its people made when Syrians started fleeing across the border will go down in history as an example of moral leadership and moral courage.”

Her Majesty’s role is as far away from the storybook ideal as one could imagine, despite her fairy tale princess exterior. It is Queen Rania’s integrity, intelligence and intuition that arm her to battle the giants that history has placed at her door. “If I were to be queen in a different time, I do not expect that it would be any different,” she says pragmatically, “The world will always bear witness to catastrophic events, some naturally occurring, others man-made. Giving up or even slowing down is not an option, neither for me, nor for His Majesty.”

Born in Kuwait to Palestinian parents, Rania Al Yassin was working in Amman when she met the then prince Abdullah at a dinner party in 1992. They married the following year but it was not until 1999, when Rania was 28, that the line of ascension was changed by King Hussein on his deathbed and her husband ascended the throne. Over the latter half of his reign, His Majesty King Abdullah has steered the country through the fallout of the global economic crisis in 2008, the Arab Spring in 2011, the rise of Islamic extremist factions across the region and the ongoing civil war in Syria.

Jordan’s open-arm position towards its neighbours pushes back against the tide of global populism that erects walls at borders and sees countries turn in on themselves, ostensibly out of fear of what lies beyond. “Fear is a powerful emotion, and, in today’s uncertain world, it has become a potent political force,” Her Majesty explains. “People are worried about the economy, social and technological disruptions, violence and terror attacks… They’re worried about their future, and the future of their families.” In times of seismic change, she explains, it is natural to seek comfort in the familiar as people can feel left behind, which creates “room for others to capitalise on their unease, and to sow divisions and hatred.”

It is all too easy to sense the tremors of isolationism that threaten to rip humanity apart as would-be leaders espouse a rhetoric of division masquerading as patriotism. “After all, one of the simplest ways to win people over is to validate their anxiety by giving them someone else to blame, like globalisation, foreigners or refugees,” Queen Rania explains, “that’s certainly easier than finding real and lasting solutions!” Yet find lasting solutions to humanity’s woes we must, she asserts. “Our world is too interconnected for any nation or group to succeed on its own. Turning inwards and trying to keep the world out is no longer a viable option. Climate change, economic downturns, the global refugee crisis… These challenges transcend borders. So instead of indulging prejudices or playing the blame game, we need to come together to seek sustainable solutions to the issues plaguing our world.”

As a Muslim, Queen Rania is acutely attuned to the divisions propagated by religious separatists. “There are over 1.8 billion Muslims in the world, yet many people continue to confound this diverse group of people with a small minority who commit heinous crimes in the name of Islam,” she says. “Our religion preaches compassion, tolerance, forgiveness and embracing people of other faiths; it condemns hatred, prejudice and bigotry.” To those who would spread dissonance, she counsels, “There can be no true understanding or trust in a world divided by walls – and not only those walls built of concrete and stone…But the walls we erect in our minds.” She urges Muslims to “speak up and reclaim our religion’s true values and principles which – not too long ago – built a thriving and diverse intellectual civilisation.” Only by Muslims and non-Muslims addressing their growing intolerance and fear of the other can they move past their divisions, she says, adding with innate optimism, “I would like to believe that extremism falsely committed in the name of Islam has reached the apex, and that if we as Muslims continue to reject the extremists’ mangling of our faith, they will eventually lose their sway on the ground.” “There can be no true understanding or trust in a world divided by walls"

In an era of fake news, Queen Rania warns that our human instinct to judge those different to ourselves has been amplified by social networks, leading to the global spread of false stereotypes and divisive discourse.“The danger here is substantial,” she says, “but is even more so when this online debate starts gaining ground offline; when negativity on Facebook or Twitter becomes fodder for negativity on the streets, schools or in conversations with friends and even strangers.” Her measured response is not to blame or ban social media itself but to reassess the way we use it. “The repercussions of misusing social media have already permeated our daily lives, and now we are a little in over our heads,” she cautions. “Our best bet is not to dial down our use of these platforms, but to become more discerning about what we are exposed to online. If destructive discourse is being brandished around us, we need to question whether it can be validated and think before we share in the conversation.”

At its most base level, social media can be an easy tool for bullying, and as an outspoken woman in the Arab world, Queen Rania is wide open to negativity and criticism, which she handles with grace and insight. “Listening to criticism is part of my job,” she smiles. “It’s important to respect all different viewpoints, and sometimes it’s the people who disagree with you who are able to point out something you may have overlooked. But criticism is constructive only when it is based on fact. Sadly, in today’s media landscape, false information can become irrefutable fact in a matter of hours.” She admits that when she first stepped into the role of royalty she was reluctant to speak out or take risks for fear of opening herself up to scrutiny or attracting censure. “With time and experience, I’ve become more comfortable in my own skin. There is nothing more important than being authentic, saying and doing what we believe in, and owning our narrative. If we don’t, others will fill in the gaps on our behalf,” she says. “I’ve learnt that the path to progress is long, hard, and often thankless – if you let fear of criticism paralyse you, you’ll never make it out the door. The difficult choices – the ones we most fear – are often those that need to be made.That fear is there to let us know that they are worth it.”

One of the most politically candid first ladies in the Middle East – if not the world – Queen Rania muses, “I never really made a conscious decision to be outspoken, I feel it’s something that I have to do because any voice raised against injustice erodes the power of that injustice.” She urges us all to follow suit. “I think it’s the most important thing in the world to be authentic, to live according to your beliefs and to speak your truth. Particularly at this time because the public discourse is dominated by hatred and intolerance and anger and fear, and so we need to provide a counter-narrative to that, particularly for people in public positions.”

Beyond those in the public sphere, Queen Rania encourages individuals to speak out, particularly women in the Arab world whose voices may have been hushed by cultural restraints. “For too long that voice has been quite muted,” she says.“When it comes to women from the Middle East you’ll find a lot of international experts ready to jump in and speak on their behalf, but you get narratives that are either inaccurate or just stereotypes. Women are usually painted with two broad brushstrokes, whether as dangerous extremists or oppressed victims; the nuance is lost in the narrative. Authentic voices from the Middle East are few and far between and it’s absolutely critical that women do speak for themselves because the stereotypes really don’t capture what women in the Middle East are all about.” Few would deny the yawning chasm between the perception of Arab women that proliferates in the West and the reality of the female experience across the Middle East.

“The women that I see and interact with are so strong, they are so determined, they are so ambitious, they are resilient. A lot of them are extremely well-educated. A lot of them are high achievers,” Queen Rania agrees, adding, “We can’t expect the rest of the world to recognise our successes and our achievements until we recognise them ourselves. We have to do a better job of celebrating Arab women, of highlighting their successes, of creating environments for them to thrive and express themselves and build on each other’s successes. Then we can start to reset global perceptions about Arab women.” Are observers in the West aware, for example, that in many Arab countries there are more females enrolled in universities than males? “In Jordan girls are much higher achievers academically than boys are, but the challenge is how do you transform those academic achievements into successful careers? All the time we see women bumping into glass ceilings and barriers in the work place. A lot of times it is because there is just a bias and a lot of times it’s because the working environment is not helpful or not conducive for women.” Such obstacles, however, can forge iron wills. “I think cultural and familial barriers really hold women back but I’m always inspired by how determined Arab women are. Because we are faced with all these challenges we try that much harder, so they’re very resourceful.”

One third of start-ups in the Arab world are headed by females, a higher percentage than in Silicon Valley. “That tells you a lot about how determined Arab women are to succeed in spite of their barriers. And how little of a victim mentality they have, contrary to what many in the western world think,” Queen Rania smiles. “So there’s a lot to be celebrated in the Arab world. But we need to amplify those successes. We need to talk about them. And we need to create linkages between these women because it’s like the reverse domino effect where one woman lifts another woman up and we all end up standing together. The greatest support that a woman can get is from another successful woman who lifts her up and tells her, ‘You can dream, you can succeed.’” We all have a role to play, she says, in encouraging, listening to and sharing a diversity of women’s voices from across the region, “so they can speak of their own story whether it’s the good, the bad, the triumphs or the trials. All of it. It’s part of the picture of who Arab women are and we’re so diverse; there isn’t one stereotype of an Arab woman. In different parts of the Arab world each woman is her own unique person. I would love to hear more voices coming up. Increasingly we’re seeing them but I think we still have a long way to go before we really leave a mark on the world stage.” "A meaningful life is a life where you have made things better for people around you"

As recent times have highlighted, it is not only in the Middle East that the female narrative is silenced, subdued or subjugated. “Women all over the world see the subtle and sometimes not so subtle ways that gender discrimination can hold us back,” Her Majesty says. For women in the Middle East, however, the stakes can seem so much higher. Surrounded by war and conflict, women face issues of displacement, barriers for movement, and the severe economic challenges that result. “And whenever those things happen, there is a disproportionate effect on women; they tend to bear the brunt of the fall-backs. We see women and their needs and their status fall down the priority list,” she explains. The battle for equal rights, for education, for gender parity is forgotten when a battle of bombs and bullets is raging outside. “If you look in a lot of the countries where there is conflict, people don’t talk about how the rights that women have worked so hard to acquire are now taken away from them,” she says.

For the daughters, sisters and mothers who are thrust into life-destroying circumstances – whether Myanmar’s Rohingya Muslims forced to flee child murder and rape, or those touched by atrocities in neighbouring Syria – the effects of such butchery are unimaginable. Yet while the rest of us can switch the channel on the television or turn the page of a newspaper when faced with images too horrific to process, Her Majesty has witnessed first-hand the suffering inflicted on humanity across the Muslim world, encounters that must levy an enormous emotional toll. “Every day we’re bombarded with images of human suffering and injustice and that can turn you into a cynic,” she agrees, “but we need to remember that even in the worst of circumstances you still see incredible acts of humanity and sacrifice. Even in the darkest places – particularly in the darkest places.” By seeking out the compassion of mankind, Queen Rania refuses to let the darkness overwhelm her. “I’m not ready to give up on humanity. Against all the terrible things that we see, there’s incredible goodness in people,” she says, “and it would be good for all of us to focus on that, and also our faith, in prayer. I feel that at times of reflection you find a lot of the answers, and our religion teaches us to face these kinds of situations with patience and determination and acceptance. That’s a great source of comfort for me and it keeps my faith.”

Cocooned by the zen surroundings of the Al Husseiniya Palace compound, where elegant cypress trees line the drive and the air is softly scented, the ills of the world seem a million miles away. Bringing up four children – Crown Prince Hussein, 24, Princess Iman, 22, Princess Salma, 18, and Prince Hashem, 15 – the temptation to be protective must have been strong. “Like any mother, I want my children to be happy and fulfilled and challenged but also I really want them to be decent human beings,” Queen Rania says of her drive to instil compassion and empathy in her children. “As parents we’re always very protective over our kids and eager to take care of their needs but I think we need to teach them from a young age to balance their needs with other people’s needs. Whether it’s standing up to a bully or sharing a toy; those are qualities that you instil in your kids from a young age.”

The playing field is skewed, however, when you have the word Prince or Princess before your name. “I want them to be normal kids. Sometimes I feel like I’m swimming against the current because obviously they’re royals and people sometimes treat them that way, but I try to make sure that they have an identity outside of their title,” Queen Rania says. “I always tell them, ‘You carry your title, it doesn’t carry you’ and to think of it more as a responsibility and not a privilege.” Ultimately, she explains, honorifics are not character defining. Children’s true identity is derived not from a title but through values, morals and principles, and “making sure that they’re aware of their history and heritage and their faith.” These are the things, Queen Rania says, that create a sense of identity for a child. “Although we can’t shield our kids from all the things that life is going to throw at them, when you instil those things in your kids they become resilient. That’s what I want for my kids, to have that kind of resilience.”

Raising a future king must present its own set of challenges, ones that Queen Rania has experienced first-hand. “There’s plenty of personal sacrifice,” she says of life as a royal. “When you’re in the public eye you do get exposed to a lot of criticism, a lot of judgment. A lot of times my decisions are based on things that I can’t do rather than what I can, because there are certain restrictions or you just can’t go there because it’s not accepted, whether culturally or in any other context.” Queen Rania understands the gravity of duty. “When you are in the public eye your choices are not yours because you’re not living for yourself. But nothing that’s worthwhile is necessarily easy; you take the good and the bad, and I feel like it’s an honour and a privilege to be able to have a positive impact.”

Despite the human rights abuses she has witnessed around the world or the ongoing economic struggles of her fellow Jordanians, Queen Rania is motivated by the prospect of betterment for her country and those that surround it. “Ultimately what we all have in common is that we all want to have a meaningful life. People spend so much time trying to look for that meaning but I think it’s actually quite simple; a meaningful life is a life where you have made things better for people around you. And I think we all can do that whether you’re a public personality or a private citizen.” That’s not to say that she doesn’t allow herself some respite. “I’m more conscious now of making sure there’s a balance in my life. When I started out I didn’t understand fully the impact of emotional stress; how much that impacts your physical health, your energy, your outlook. Now I see when I am run down from too much work or too much stress that I suddenly become exhausted. So I make a much more conscious effort to create that balance. I make sure that the evenings are for my kids and for my family, watching TV. And also weekends, sometimes we’ll go to Aqaba or something like that.” With half of her children in Jordan and half studying abroad, she admits that it is hard to carve out family time. “I make sure that we somehow organise our schedules so that we’re together for a few weeks as a family over summer, and I must say that it is the most fulfilling time for me. That’s when I really fill up the tank. Just being with my kids, having that interaction every day, I love it. There’s nothing more important.”

Queen Rania was an employee of technology giant Apple when she met her future husband and today she embraces social media, where she describes herself as ‘A mum and wife with a really cool day job’ to 10.4 million Twitter followers, 16 million on Facebook, and 5.1 million on Instagram. But as her own children come of age in a newly digitised world, she is aware of the tightrope between empowerment and subversion that such connectivity brings. “When my kids started becoming old enough to be on social media and on the internet, as a mum my protective antennae shot up. But then I realised that snooping around is not going to be helpful because it will erode the trust between us and they will stop sharing things with me, so I’d rather we have an open dialogue and channels of trust that allows us to give and take,” she says. “At the end of the day it’s about moderation. It’s the same boring advice that you heard from your mum and your mum heard from her own mother: be moderate. I tell my kids to spend less of their lives on the phone and more of their lives being in the present, being in nature, picking up a book. It is hard because a lot of our lives are slowly migrating online but every now and then you just need to remind them that’s what is happening so they can be conscious of it and try to keep that balance.”

In addition to balancing time on- and off-line, the digital sphere can be a double-edged sword, Queen Rania explains. “The internet has unleashed a lot of potential for a lot of kids and sometimes when I look at YouTube channels or websites that are run by children they’re incredibly inspiring. But it is also a dangerous space where kids can be exposed to unsuitable content and negativity, to bullying, to content that makes them doubt themselves, or their self-image,” she says.“Increasingly, I try to guide my kids to look at the marvels of the internet and really steer them away from the dark corners.” The two-dimensional nature of platforms such as Instagram can be a battering ram in the face of wavering self-esteem, something that Queen Rania is also acutely aware of. “One thing that I’m very conscious of is that it’s become a very visual world and you really have to guard against your kids either becoming too superficial or unaccepting of who they are and becoming critical of themselves. Physically, emotionally; people start to think that other people’s lives are better than their own. I see that all the time, how people become incredibly insecure.” And it’s not only children who are susceptible, she warns. “Sometimes it really surprises me when I see people whose characters online are so different from their characters offline. And it makes me wonder, ‘Why do you feel you have to wear that mask? Why do you feel you have to project a certain image to the rest of the world? Why can’t you just be comfortable with who you are?’ Because ultimately your authentic self is what matters. And the closer you remain to the trueness of who you are, the happier you will be at the end of the day.” Despite what Snapchat filters would have us believe, “You don’t deceive anybody by trying to portray some kind of image on social media,” she counsels. “The number of likes that you get ultimately doesn’t matter. The validation that really matters comes from a sense of self-acceptance, achievement, doing something, developing your own skills.”

For these portraits taken for Harper’s Bazaar Arabia by photographer Alexi Lubomirski, Her Majesty was keen to stay true to her own sense of style, a style that is always secondary to substance. “I am very passionate about my work, and the clothes I wear don’t have any bearing on that. I am also very mindful that I have a duty to represent my country well. So, rather than follow the latest trends, I aim to dress in a way that reflects who I am,” she says. “I find that I’m most comfortable in modest wear – partly because of my position, but mostly because it feels right for me, as a woman.” Her Majesty just wishes that the emphasis would be on what she says, rather than what she wears. “Of course, one of the downsides of being a woman in the public eye is that there will always be comments about my outfits and appearance. Sometimes, there is a lot of exaggeration as well. I suppose it comes with the territory,” she says, “But at the end of the day, I hope it is my work that defines me, not my wardrobe.”

Chief among her work achievements is Her Majesty’s focus on education across the Arab world. Away from the images we see of starving children, displaced families and people in desperate need of medical aid, Queen Rania believes there is another less visible crisis unfolding in the Middle East, one that doesn’t make front page news. “Across the Arab world there are millions and millions of children who are receiving education that is inadequate, it’s outdated, it doesn’t prepare them for today’s job market, let alone tomorrow’s. So they really don’t stand a chance,” she says. “People don’t see it as a crisis. I see it as an emergency.” The slowly unfolding repercussions of failing to educate the region’s youth could decimate a generation. “What will become of them? Will they become vulnerable to extremist ideology, will they be a burden on society? What kind of impact will they have on our collective future?” She has seen first-hand how Jordan’s own education reform efforts have been strained by the pressure of accommodating Syrian refugee children in the country’s schools. “There isn’t anything more urgent for us in the Arab world than education because at the end of the day it’s about the individual being able to have the skills to participate in today’s economy, to feel competitive. There shouldn’t be a conflict between the sense of, ‘I’m an Arab, I’m a Muslim but I’m able to compete on the international stage’ and you can only achieve that through a quality education.” She urges a communal effort to revolutionise education across the Arab world. “If we put our hands together we can all muster up the resources that we need for our kids. Obviously some countries have more resources than others, but ultimately when it comes to the education of our kids we all have the same vested interest. If I’m in Jordan, it’s in my best interest that kids in Syria get a great education because if they don’t, that’s going to become a problem for me in the future.” While the challenge is huge, there is also great potential. Just imagine what strides a well-educated workforce could make. "The greatest support that a woman can get is from another successful woman who lifts her up and tells her, 'you can dream, you can succeed'"

“A large percentage of our population are young and therefore with the right interventions, what we see as a challenge could become an opportunity for very quick change,” she says. The digital world also makes it easier to reach students, train teachers and modernise learning. In 2014 Queen Rania launched Edraak as an Arabic online educational platform for adult learners, who were starving for engaging digital content in their native language. Since then, Edraak has reached more than 2.2 million registered users. Last September, the platform was expanded to schoolchildren too, with the Edraak K-12 platform, which will offer e-curricula in all major subjects to Arab children everywhere. “We’ve already rolled out mathematics, and there is much more to come. The platform will eventually include thousands of Arabic instructional videos, quizzes, and practice exercises covering everything our children learn in schools, all available free of charge to anyone with an internet connection,” Her Majesty says. The aim is to provide all Arab school-aged children with free access to quality education by 2020, whether they are in urban centres, refugee camps or conflict zones. “It is a tremendous undertaking, but it is one that our region cannot afford to put off,” she says. “A child denied an education is not a tragedy for just that child – it sets us all back. So we owe it to them, and to ourselves, to give them a fighting chance.”

By taking on as mammoth a responsibility as education reform in the Arab world, Queen Rania is setting herself a gargantuan task. “Sitting still is not who I am. You can ask my team, you can ask my mum,” she smiles. “The easy life is not something that I ever aspired to. And I think the easy way is never really the right way.” The education crisis can’t be solved overnight, and reform is fraught with resistance and cynicism, she says. “I could feel discouraged when those who are resisting the change have got the upper hand, but then there are days where I feel that we’ve really moved the dial, even if it’s for an inch. Where I see teachers who have just taken a course and are feeling empowered with their new skills and I see how their students are becoming inspired by this new atmosphere in the classroom.”

With the dreams and ambitions of a generation in her reach, Her Majesty Queen Rania's lasting influence over the Arab world has the potential to be prodigious. “I don’t believe in legacy; you’re not there to see your legacy,” she muses. “What I do believe is that you need to leave good deeds behind. Do whatever you can to positively impact other people’s lives.” We may not all be queens, but as Her Majesty says, the end game is the same for all. “Really we’re all here to leave a decent mark behind.”

Photography: Alexi Lubomirski Fashion director: Belen Antolin Hair: Alain Pichon Makeup: Valeria Ferreira Photography team: Diego Bendezu, Maximilian Hoell and Jeremy O’Donnell Producer: Neha Mishra

[tinyghanouj]

A Heart Full of Love - Les Miserable GT (#2)

“Had you seen her today, You might know how it feels

To be struck to the bone, In a moment of breathless delight!

Had you been there today, You might also have known

How your world may be changed, In just one burst of light!

And what was right seems wrong, And what was wrong seems right!”

Thirteen seasons had passed since Cosette’s first meeting with Jean. They lived a gentle life where the gardens and nature were her only friends. But that would change today. The giant knew that his daughter needed to see more of the world that he would be unable to teach her with words alone. Although words had a magic to them, there was significance in seeing and experiencing. He knew this as much as he hated to admit to it but he did. After all, love was about appreciation and not possession.

The year she turned sixteen he finally took her to the market he frequented since she wanted to pick out her own things. She had reached an age of independence sadly enough, but he would accept it.

Atop his gentle hand, she sat, her eyes appreciated the sights of the market when they reached there. Although predominantly filled with giants, which she felt more comfortable around because of Jean, she could see a few humans here and there. It had been some time since she had last seen one since she was raised in the safety of the stonewalls. To say the least, she had reverted back to being a child who ooh’d and ahh’d at the sight and smells that made their way to her.

It was amusing that she was able to retain her childlike-self despite being sixteen seasons old. Jean could only laugh at the fact, booming laughter that would attract the attention of many giants before most of them would turn away. Although one remained; an intense and heavy gaze of the most prestigious and adored giant, Marius Pontmercy. A giant with features that made humans and giants alike fall for but due to his brooding personality others would shy away from him. Perhaps he was used to being surrounded by surface value people who held no real interest in him that he became fascinated by a small creature who seemed akin to a fairy or an angel. Small but filled with a holy aura that was crowned on her fair hair and snow-white skin.

Marius had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

He couldn’t help but widen his eyes at the sight of the tiny girl sitting on a man’s hand, her hair long, a wave of curls framing her face perfectly, her big, round eyes staring out ahead of her. He could have sworn he saw a glint in them, one that made his heart race as he carried on gazing at her.

Marius wasn’t entirely sure who she was. He knew very well that if he had come across her before that he would have remembered such a soft, elegant face. She was definitely a stranger, the kind he would have loved to get to know, but there she was, placed on another man’s hands, the smallest of smiles on her lips. The man she was attached to looked older than her, old enough to be her father, Marius realized, and when the blonde looked over her shoulder to stare up at the man who held her, Marius saw a look of admiration. Not desire or lust – just love. Marius nodded to himself as the giant carried on walking throughout the crowded market, his mind filling up with thoughts of speaking to her. He wondered what her voice sounded like, convinced it was sweet and soft and airy.

Not only that but she had a toothy smile that he could not help seeing the light in. In his bleak world that was painted only in gloomy emotions, she seemed to be a change of pace. It was no wonder he had found himself fascinated by her and the beauty that she was. A creature so unlike anyone else in this rugged realm. But with all good things they must come to an end, his appreciation for her becoming cut short as he was unable to even talk to her.

Not a word out much less a greeting.

During most of the trip, Cosette had remained oblivious to his gaze, but it was not until the end did she see him. Saw those dark and brooding eyes burning holes into her. She felt shaken for a moment as if they had seen the truth of what she was. Past her layers of projected happiness down to the girl who selfishly sought love. However, there were no judgments in that gaze that stared at her instead of kindness that she could not help but want to sink into. However, she could not. It was time to leave, and she hoped that she would see him once more when she visited the market if her father would allow her to.

One last glance was thrown back to him before she faced towards the direction of her home.

Oh, how he needed to see her again.

Marius didn’t make it a habit of finding out where girls lived, but the man was desperate. He had asked around town, being as casual as possible when probing others as to who the girl and the man were. It didn’t take long for him to get answers and directions, and with the sun slowly setting, a soft, gentle wind on his skin, Marius took off to the home of Jean Valjean.

“A heart full of love

A heart full of you

A single look and then I knew

I knew it too

From today, Every day

For it isn't a dream

Not a dream after all.”

Night had fallen, the cold air was a sweet comfort in contrast to the hot day that had only been a few hours prior. Cosette brushed her hair and slipped into her nightgown, readying herself to sleep for the night. What she did not realize was that Marius had come by for a visit, utterly captivated by her existence that he had to see her once more. The meeting at the market was too short and brisk for him to assess what he felt when he saw her. And the young giant continued to be fascinated by this angelic creature in the form of a human, her expressive face that was softened by her fair hair and bright eyes.

During his watch of her, he had taken a few steps closer than he had meant to, the moonlight cascading onto his body and revealing that he was there. When Cosette had turned to look at the stars like she did every night she was suddenly surprised by him but not for long. After all, she had lived with her father long enough that she was used to unexpected visits. With a questioning look, there was confusion reflected from her eyes. His appearance still left her stumped but seeing as he was too far she figured she would approach him since he did not budge from his spot.

She had the strangest urge to go and talk to him. Being the stubborn human that she was, she grabbed the make-shift rope by her balcony. Cosette was used to sneaking out to play in the garden during the night that she always had a rope on the ready when she wanted to slip out for the night merely to dance among the flowers. Perhaps because of the nervousness of being watched by a handsome giant she lost her footing which never happened before. Her grip had loosened from the room, and she was about to yelp but as she screwed her eyes shut she realized that she had not fallen. Instead, her body was caught by a pair of hands that she did not expect to be gentle, but they were. As if they had never experienced a day’s work but instead were loved and kissed by others. Hands softer than those of her father which although soft was covered in callouses. A gentle surprise.

“Are you okay?” He asked with a blink, worry blanketed over his handsome features and brought out a softer feel than the usual gloomy expression he wore. That alone made Cosette appreciate him more for who he was rather than what his moods made him out to be.

Turning over with a broad smile, Cosette spoke immediately. “I’m fine. I barely fell,” she giggled as she stood up. “Thank you so much. You saved my life.”

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me,” Marius blushed. “I’m just happy you’re okay. You probably shouldn’t climb such a flimsy looking rope.”

“I suppose so… But if I have you to catch me, then it shouldn’t be too much of a problem,” said Cosette, the corner of her lips curling up into a smile.

The giant cleared his throat, his cheeks staying red. “What’s your name, dear Mademoiselle?”

“I’m Cosette, my hero,” She mused with a playfulness that would soon be brought out more. She gave him a gentle pat, sending shivers down his spine and he appreciated it. Something about this little human girl who was so tiny fascinated him beyond belief. “And you?”

“My name is Marius Pontmercy. Charmed to meet your acquaintance, dear Cosette. You have a lovely name… I must say, it suits you very well,” he said with a nod. “I… I saw you earlier today at the market, and I must admit I’ve never seen you around before. Are you a newcomer?”

“I’ve lived here all my life.” She paused, a small white lie but she did not want to remember the time before her arrival here. Everything before meeting her father was a myth, a legend to tell children. “I just don’t go out much. I’ve never seen you around here.” She was teasing him in a playful tone, those cute pink lips now curved into a sly smile that was innocent, to say the least.

“I...If I am, to be honest, I was looking for you.” A confession, rather than stumbling to find an answer he had one that was ready. She brought that out in him despite this being their initial meeting. “When I saw you at the market, I couldn’t help but notice you. Your lips, your face, your eyes… I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

It was Cosette’s turn to blush. Her cheeks felt hot as she smiled at the giant, tucking some hair behind her ear quickly. She sat comfortably on his hand as she drew her knees up. Resting her face on her chin, she gave him a cheeky grin that meant she was about to continue this playful teasing that had undertones of flirtations. She was inspired by the romantic books she read that she could not help say the next words. “Couldn’t get me out of your mind?”

The way he shyly looked away was an answer enough. The hint of embarrassment on his face to imply that he genuinely could not get her out of his mind. And it was true, he could not. As much as he tried, he was burdened by the angelic smile on her face or the way her eyes reflected a light of youth. She was purity personified, and he wanted to be near her if only for a moment.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” Although he waited a minute or two to reply the answer had a stronger effect. There was a fire in his voice, a passion weaved into the amusement he was expressing towards her.

“Not at all.” She shrugged, demurely looking away before peeking up at him. A splash of pink tinting her cheeks as she whispered words that struck his heart. “Thank you. You’re quite sweet. And I would be lying if I said I didn’t find you handsome. I could not get you out of mine.”

Cosette watched as Marius let out the softest of smiles, his thin lips parting to end the sound in a hum. Cosette couldn’t get over how sweet he looked. All gentle and kind and welcoming – the kind of person she craved in her crazy world.

“Well, I’m only telling you the truth, Cosette. I’m quite intrigued by you. Your house isn’t exactly made for a person of your size,” chuckled Marius, nodding towards the looming house behind her. “You must find yourself standing on the tips of your toes a lot.” He also countered, “I wonder how you see me as. Aren’t you afraid of me the slightest?” After all, humans were humans. Afraid of beings that were bigger and more powerful than them. Surely, she would be the same whether she wanted to admit to it or not.

“That matters not. All I’ve seen is someone who saved me as I fell for them.” And that was the final blow that was to be landed for him. She was well-versed in the words of romance that it came naturally to a girl whose head was crowned by the flower’s kisses and books surrounding the concept of love.

They matched each other well, easily carrying a conversation with one another. Although this was a conversation that seemed shallow at best, there was a depth to it. The truth behind the flirty words that were being exchanged. They both seemed to have found common ground in their feelings that the words after that were a whirlwind of getting to know one another under the guidance of the moon’s light.

Marius had found himself in a whirlwind of emotions sprouting for her, lost in their conversation and the way this little human seemed to light up his world just by smiling. Her laughter sounded like chimes as it painted his world in a yellow tint; a color that implied happiness. To say the least, he was falling in love with her.

From the way she was passionate about a world, she knew little about her love for flowers. She was too gentle, too kind. What he wished for was to be beside her as she would continue to flourish and grow. But before he could delve deep into his own feelings and into the conversation barbed with flirtations they heard a booming voice that reminded them that this meeting was never supposed to happen in the first place. Especially when she had an overprotective father.

“Cosette? Where are you?” Jean’s panicked voice roared through the night which struck fear in Marius’ heart, but Cosette was used to it. The way she quickly patted Marius’ hand without missing a beat was a clear sign of this. There was a calmness in her eyes that he could only appreciate for they held a depth that he wanted to explore. They could hear Jean stomping around which only made their situation direr but Marius was quick to act since he had Cosette to guide him.

Quietly but quickly he went running her over to her window, upon reaching it his hand lowered so that she would be able to hop down onto the balcony. She looked back at him with a smile that could even convert a sinner to good faith. Her cheeks faintly kissed pink from the adrenaline and the fact she was spending time with a giant who had made her feel so alive. Her heart was beating, and she wished she could spend a moment longer with him but she did not want her father to find out about this feeling just yet. Not until she was able to nurture it carefully and watch it grow.

“Cosette!” Her father yelled, worried about her disappearance that caused him to look high and low for her. The promise that he made to her mother struck him as a stark reminder that he needed to care for her, to keep her from harm's way until the day he died. Before he could find out the fact that Marius had momentarily whisked her away from the night, she turned her head to yell a response to him that sounded like bells.

“I’m coming, Papa!” She looked back at Marius with a sheepish smile, regretful that they had to part of all times when there was a spark between them that was undeniable; feelings that were mutual in that respect. But this would not be their last meeting.

“I know this might be sudden…” whispered Marius. “But I must see you again, Cosette. I know we barely know one another, but I know once I leave I won’t be able to stop thinking of you. You’ll be in my dreams forever, Cosette. Please tell me you feel the same. Please tell me you want to see me again.”

“Oh, Marius,” Cosette sighed, her hands on her cheeks, desperate to cover the redness on them. “Of course. Of course, I want to see you again.”

Marius let out shocked laughter, his eyes bright as he stared at the girl. “Thank you, Cosette. I’ll leave you now, I don’t want to get you into any trouble. I’ll see you when I fall asleep tonight.”

 He suddenly did the unexpected: his face inched closer to Cosette’s small figure and placed a soft kiss on her tiny head. She gasped in surprise, her face flushing even more. With that, the giant nodded at the blonde, eyes sparkling as he backed away from her, a wide grin on his face that made Cosette’s heart flutter.

Marius had reached euphoria, and a smile touched his face as he watched her run into the house, the white dress she wore swishing about. But as soon as she disappeared, he could hear the heavy footsteps of Jean, and he knew that if he were caught this feeling would be put to a stop. Instantly he hid behind one of the stone pillars that was covered by moss, vines, and a sprinkle of flowers.

Jean looked around as if he would find the reason why Cosette had disappeared, but there was no answer. So, he reluctantly went back to where she was. Any longer out and she might fade once more.

Falling for someone brought out the bravery in Marius and he would not let these emotions be taken from him. He slipped back into the night and stomped away, wondering when he would see her next.

 A fire had been lit inside of him, and it burned for her.

[tjbcnntt]

guess who’s back, back again, lenny’s back, tell your friends. ok so tj is my newest baby so he’s not quite as developed as noah but i still love him dearly and i’m very excited for you to meet him. if you like what you see below the cut, just give this post a good ol’ like or hmu and we can plot !!!

( keith powers • twenty three • cismale ) look, it's tevin “tj” bennett from apartment 6A! apparently he moved into moreau apartments one month ago and rumour has it, they can be quite reticent— good thing they’re also passionate, hey? i hear they’re the phoenix of the building. 

↘︎ 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚜 !

given name: tevin james bennett

nickname: tj, tev

age: twenty3

birthdate: october 15, 1995

hometown: tba

occupation: art gallery ambassador & bartender

↘︎ 𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 !

(tw: mention of death) a normal childhood could not have been further out of reach for tj. growing up, it was just him and his father — his mother unfortunately passed away after complications during his birth and despite reality promising it wasn’t his fault, tevin’s always had a deep-rooted guilt about it

his father never made it much easier on him either honestly. though calvin never outright blamed him for his beloved wife’s death, his attitude towards his son always seemed to hint towards it

tj doesn’t remember ever rlly seeing a smile on the man’s face — except in the few photos he found of his parents together, which only confirmed his beliefs that his father wasn’t the same man that he was before his wife’s passing (end tw)

on top of that, nothing tj ever did seemed to be enough for the stone cold man, including pushing away his own passion for his father’s. art has always been tj’s first love. painting, drawing, writing, music, everything considered “art” tevin is sure to love. but his father never agreed with his love for watercolours and paintbrushes — instead he wanted his son to follow in his footsteps and go into the medical field, which was the last thing tj wanted to do. the schooling, the pressure, everything that went along with the industry gave tevin shivers but as a young boy who wanted nothing more than the approval of his father, he saw no other option but to go into it

(tw: mention of anxiety) so with no break or gap year after high school, tj went to university for his bachelor of science but his fears of the pressure were only proven right. the workload was already a lot but with the added pressure of his father’s constant looking over his shoulder, he developed anxiety and he just scraped by on most of his classes in his last year (end tw)

after graduating at 22 with his ba in science, tj felt a weight lift off of his shoulders – for about 2 minutes.. and then the pressure was back when his father wasted no time bringing up med school and his son’s future. calvin was just so pleased his son was actually doing something with his life (what a backhanded compliment hey?) and while tev felt a glimmer of hope that he might actually be pleasing his father, he knew nothing would ever be enough for the man. he’d never be able to reach his father’s high standards if they only kept going up

this all was a lot on his shoulders for a while and tj fought the tension building inside of him, trying to find his passion and motivation for med school, but it just kept just kept building up as he woke up everyday never feeling fulfilled with his choices of pushing away his own dreams for his father’s

his fingers continued to yearn for the paintbrushes he’d packed away and ideas for sketches kept flashing across his the backs of his eyelids. his passion for art became a burning itch he couldn’t scratch and in the middle of this summer, it became too much for him

an argument began between tj and his father after his father started pestering him about applying to med school and getting angry that he was “slacking.” tj, normally one to just bow down and hide away from confrontations with his father, exploded on his father and a fight ensued that ended with tj packing his bags and storming out of his father’s house, slamming the door on his past and diving head first into the future he wanted

↘︎ 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 !

after a few weeks of bouncing between his friends’ couches, tj and his best friend, priya, set their sights on vancouver (very fast car by tracy chapman of them) to start fresh together. they both needed a new city, a new home... a new outlook. so vancouver, here they came

to pay the bills, tevin picked up a bartending gig at a popular bar in the granville entertainment district but continued to search for a job that would put him in the right direction and just a week ago, he found that job at the vancouver art gallery as an ambassador, basically someone who welcomes guests and orients them on the current exhibits, and feels one step closer to finding his place in life

since breaking apart from his father, he’s also rediscovered his passion for the arts. it took him a while to feel comfortable with a paintbrush or a sketchbook (hell, it still gives him jitters sometimes) but after a few brushstrokes, he’s begun to fall into the flow of letting his muse consume him once again

↘︎ 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 !

aesthetics: black coffee in a chipped mug. the sound of a pencil scratching against paper. sun rays poking through drawn curtains. patterned button down shirts. paintbrushes drying in the setting sun so they’re ready to use by sunrise. fresh watercolours. a stocked liquor cabinet. boots worn at the sole from too many walks along the coast. a sketchbook full of pencil markings. frank ocean playing through the night.

notable traits: honest, passionate, dexterous, reticent, altruistic, loyal, aggressive

best described as a cloud of creative visions that are fighting for a way out of the cement walls built around them after years of neglect.

though he never met his mother, distant relatives never let tevin forget how much of her he’d inherited, from her selflessness to the creative spark in her eye, and though he hates to admit it, tj is well aware the phrase “like father, like son” is all too real in regards to his short temper and reticence

growing up with such a sour relationship with his father, however, pushed tevin to distance himself from these traits as best he can, never wanting to look in the mirror and see the one man he loathes most. he often bites his tongue in confrontations unless pushed further and has been working effortlessly to let his emotions and feelings shine through to those he trusts

at first sight, his quiet, mysterious exterior can be intimidating to most, unless he’s caught drawing in public in which his features soften to let the pained young boy living inside of him to shine through. but around friends he’s grown comfortable with, tj’s charming and gregarious side comes out through his contagious laughter, jokes, and pure loyalty

along with his painting and drawing, tj fuels his passion for the arts through dance. when he isn’t working or creating, he’s often found in a dance studio near moreau

↘︎ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 !

i totally aimed to make sure this wasn’t as long as noah’s and i failed pretty miserably. sigh. jkahs

if you made it through yet another one of these, you are incredible and i love you so much.

tl;dr: a boy with no mother and a father who projected his own dreams onto his unwilling son. his intimidation forced him into the medical industry, despite the fact that his fingers itched to hold a paintbrush instead of a scalpel. but when the pressures of med school became too much, an explosion occurred between father and son that sent tj storming out of his childhood home and into the arms of his best friend to start their new life in vancouver. now a starving artist working at an art gallery by day and popular bar by night, he’s searching for his muse once again and determined to live the life he wants to live

first things that come to mind when thinking of tj: paintbrushes, drake’s discography, a caged eagle, early mornings in the dance studio, and thick chains.

again, i would love any and every connection for my dear tj so pls give me all of them! like this / hmu and we can chat xo

[umbracxlo]

about the muse —

FC: kou mabuchi for manga ; jakub gierszal && kondo yohdi for real life ( still in search for a stable and better faceclaim though, as the former gives off dimitri’s vibes perfectly, but the latter is actualy japanese and has dimi’s cute face ) Name: nakamoto akihiko dimitri mills Age: nineteen Height: 5’6″ Race: myrker ; japanese Eye color: pale mint Hair color: black brown Birthmarks: none that stand out

Date of Birth: february 20 Zodiac sign: pisces Birth Gem: amethyst

Favorite Color(s): black Favorite smell(s): sweet candles, freshly washed sheets, the ocean Favorite sound(s): jakob strumming his guitar, the audio of his favorite book, laughter of the people he loves Favorite food?: pepperoni pizza

Talent(s): singing, chess, cooking ( but rarely practiced ), painting ( with difficulty ) A wish they have always wanted: to meet his parents again An item they hold dear to their heart: a skull ring, given to him by talon Accomplishment(s): ...staying up for four days straight? eating an entire pack of double stuffed oreos in an hour? managing to stay ( mostly ) sane and gentle and loving after being experimented on for the majority of his adolescence?

Fear(s): doctors, needles, hospitals, anything medical related Likes: emo music, the beach, candles, fantasy and sci-fi books, superheroes, cuddling Dislikes: cleaning, responsibilities, the outdoors, himself

Something about your muse that is different from everyone else: he is a myrker, a race of an alien species which gives him the ability to kill people with their mind What makes your muse cry?: just about anything. he’s easily moved to tears. What makes your muse happy?: being shown that he is loved. What makes your muse laugh?: talon’s stupid antics and jakob’s angry rants over them

Does your muse love his/her parents?: Why or why not?: he loves both his parents despite the fact that he hasn’t had contact with either of them in over twelve years Does your muse have any friends?: in his main, canon verse... nope Which friend is closest to him/her?: technically, his only friends would be jake and talon, which he considers to be more like siblings to him. both of them are very close to him.

Does your muse follow a religion?: If so, what is it and what are their beliefs?: he doesn’t practice a specific religion, but he strongly believes in the principles or concepts of karma, destiny, fate, reincarnation, and that the universe as a whole is a higher power Has your muse ever killed/murdered somebody?: yes. he remembers every single one.

What would get your muse to fall in love with someone?: dimitri can fall for someone easily, but it doesn’t mean that he actually loves them. he might think he does, but he’ll know for sure when he’s comfortable enough to trust them with the knowledge of his past, his abilities, and his current mental state. Does your muse have a type when it comes to physical attraction?: physical attraction doesn’t play much of a part in dimitri’s life. mostly because he’s blind sooooo What does your muse find endearing personality wise?: just be kind to him. show that you care about him, even if it’s the littlest thing.  What is the stupidest/ most illogical thing your muse has done and why did they do it?: he does too many stupid things to point out just one, but i can assure you his motivation every time is deep rooted suicidal feelings

[sad-trash-writing]

Halloween prompt maybe? Skimmons + car breaks down (or gets sabotaged, knowing these ladies' lives) in the middle of nowhere and it's getting dark

Halloween Prompt #1!

AO3 Link 

Daisy tried to appear calm as they drove deeper into the woods. Jemma, in the passenger seat, was completely at ease, and Daisy knew she would be teased relentless (and in really big words) if Jemma could see how nervous she was. 

I mean, who has a bonfire on Halloween night in the middle of the woods? That was when all the crazy murderers were out, if the spooky movies Daisy had been watching every night for a month were any indication. Also ghosts. Daisy peered out the side window and saw the moon creeping up the horizon. It was a full moon so, great! Werewolves too.

Not that Daisy actually believed in any of that (at least not if someone asked her), but it was better to be cautious. 

Still, all their friends would be there and Bobbi was the one who suggested it, so Daisy and Jemma both said yes immediately. Daisy tried not to grumble at the fact that she knew Jemma said yes because she had a massive crush on Bobbi. Not that Daisy could blame her, but it still twinged a bit. 

Jemma hummed to herself in the passenger seat and tapped her fingers along to the song on the radio, despite the fact that it kept cutting in and out. As often as she could risk it, Daisy hazarded a glance at her. She just looked so pretty and peaceful and didn’t even care that the radio was about to die at any minute.  

Daisy’s attention was jarred back to the road when she hit a rather rough pothole. She reassuringly patted the dashboard as her van made a distressed sound. It had been through a lot, but it always pulled through. 

Then, Daisy noticed the van was grinding to a stop. She muttered words of encouragement as she pumped the gas, but it refused to respond. She finally resigned herself and guided the van over to the side of the road. 

“Oh no,” Jemma mused, “Should we call Bobbi to come pick us up? Or a tow truck?”

Daisy waved her off. “No, it’s fine. I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t fix.”

Daisy dug into the pouch on the back of her seat and pulled out a set of worn tools. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to do a 5-minute tune up on the side of the road. 

It would, however be the first time she had done one in the middle of the woods. On Halloween. 

It sounded like the set up to a bad slasher movie. 

Daisy gulped and hopped out of the car.

She popped the hood of the car open and propped it up. At least there wasn’t any smoke. She pushed her sleeves up and dug into the bowels of the engine to figure out what the issue was. 

“Do you need some help?” Jemma called from the car.

The sound of her voice made Daisy jump and bang her elbow on the radiator.

  “No, it’s fine. It’ll only be…”

She trailed off as she found the issue. A clump of wires was dangling loose in the middle of the engine. She grabbed the end to inspect them. They were cut through. Each had a tiny fiber that wasn’t cut, one that would stay attached until the van was jarred just harshly enough. 

Like it did on that pothole.

Daisy’s stomach dropped.

It couldn’t be what she thought it was. That would be ridiculous.

  At that moment a screeching, grating sound pierced the air. Metal on metal shrieked against Daisy’s eardrums and broke the relative peace of the nighttime. 

Just as quickly as it had started, the sound stopped. Daisy’s ears were still ringing, but she thought she heard something crash through the trees on the side of the road, moving away from her van.

The passenger side door opened and slammed closed again. Jemma jogged around the front of the car and met up with Daisy. 

“What the hell was that?” She asked.

Daisy just shook her head.

She rounded the driver’s side of the car where the sound seemed like it originated from. 

Where there were previously only dents and the odd spot of rust in the paint of the van, now there was a long, jagged scratch mark running the length of the car. 

Before Jemma could ask another question, Daisy grabbed her around the waist, wrenched open the back sliding door, and threw her inside.

Daisy quickly followed Jemma inside, slammed the door behind herself, and reached into the front seat to lock the doors, before cowering back in the spacious back. 

Jemma sat up where she had been thrown and glared. “Daisy, what the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t you see? It’s the Hook Man! He’s real and he lured us out into the woods to murder us on Halloween!”

Jemma just blinked at her. Daisy was fully aware of how ridiculous she sounded, but all the evidence added up.

“You didn’t see the wires! He somehow knew we were going to be heading this way and cut the wires just enough so we’d get out into the woods, hit that pothole, and get stuck here!” Daisy defended.

“Are you sure there’s no other, more sane explanation? Like maybe, you just needed to replace those wires and the happen to break at that moment,” Jemma suggested.

“But what about the scratch on my car! Normally, I’d be out there, ready to murder whoever did that to my baby, but that could only be made by a homicidal maniac with a hook for a hand!”

Jemma rolled her eyes. “Daisy, that’s just an urban legend to scare teenagers away from making out in their cars.”

Daisy jabbed a finger at Jemma. “That’s what they want you to think. There’s always one disbeliever.”

“Oh for gods sa-”

“Shhhh! Listen,” Daisy interrupted.

The pair sat in silence for a moment. Then, they heard it: the rhythmic tapping on the roof of the car. 

“I’m going to see what that is,” Jemma said and moved towards the door.

“No!” Daisy shouted, grabbing her by the back of the shirt and pulling Jemma into her lap. “The skeptic is always the first to investigate, and they always end up getting murdered! As soon as you go out that door, there’s gonna be a psycho in a trench coat waiting to string you up from a tree by your intestines like whoever is dripping blood on the roof!”

Jemma rolled her eyes again and grumbled something, but it was muted because Daisy had pulled Jemma’s head into her chest and was gripping her tightly.

Jemma wriggled to free herself. “Daisy, I don’t want to belittle your beliefs, but is it possible-”

“I have to tell you something,” Daisy blurted.

“It better be something sane.”

“Since were going to die anyway-”

“We’re not going to die-”

“I love you.”

Jemma blinked. “I…oh.”

Daisy fisted her hands in her hair and took a deep breath. “I should have said something earlier, but I’m a coward and I told myself I would keep my mouth shut unless one of us was dying, or something. Well, now here we are: living out the start of a B-horror movie.” 

“Why did you have to wait until one of us was dying?” Jemma asked exasperatedly. 

“I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same,” Daisy mumbled. “And then, hanging out would be weird and I’d lose you as a friend.”

“Oh.”

“I’d rather have you as a friend than not at all, so I kept quiet.” Daisy fidgeted with her hands as she spoke. She kept her eyes to the floor, except when they flitted to the front windows to keep an eye out for a potential murder.

“Daisy?”

“Hm?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

Before Daisy could question why she was ridiculous (though she knew she was), Jemma’s lips were on hers and her back was pressed into the wall of the van.

She didn’t even care about the serial killer outside anymore. If he broke down the door right now and stabbed her, Daisy thought she could die happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hunter jogged up the hill, trying his hardest not to trip over all the roots and rendezvoused with Bobbi and Fitz at the top of the ridge. 

“How’s it going on this end?” He asked. He tossed the old nail he had used to scratch the car off into the woods.

“Pretty well,” Bobbi replied, periodically tossing a jelly bean onto the roof of Daisy’s car while leaning against a tree. “I thought you were gonna win with the ‘one or both of them pee themselves’ for a minute, but they both just jumped in the back of the car.”

“Not to worry. A bit more calibration on the x-ray goggles and we should be able to see whether Daisy is going to sacrifice Jemma to the murderer, meaning I would win,” Fitz replied, tinkering with what looked like a massive set of binoculars.

“I’m not even going to ask why you have those, mate. I’m just glad you do,” Hunter replied. “Though, this seems to be turning into one of the most expensive pranks you’ve pulled. Daisy’s going to kill you when she finds out you planned this.”

Fitz waved him off. “Don’t worry, I’m going to pay her back for the paint job on her car and Mack will replace the wiring for free.”

“My money’s still on them rigging up a weapon to attack the murderer,” Bobbi pipped up, tossing a handful of jelly beans into her mouth, before resuming tossing them at the car.

“Ah, got it!” Fitz said triumphantly. “Now to see what they’re up…to…”

“What is it? What are they doing?” Hunter prodded. Bobbi scrambled up from her place to see what the fuss was about. 

“They’re…making out?” Fitz said in disbelief.

“What?! Who had that?”

“Nobody,” Bobbi replied with a shrug, “Unless you count Mack, but he never officially got in on this. Other than to tell us we were sociopaths, of course.”

Hunter gaped. “What about a psychotic murderer stranding you in the woods screams ‘romance?’”

“We all know Jemma loves romantic near-death-experience confessions,” Fitz muttered. 

“Really. Are you talking about the time you and her got trapped in an underwater research pod and you thought you were going to drown?” Bobbi prompted. “How’d that work out?”

“That was- that’s n- This is an entirely different scenario, okay,” Fitz sputtered. Hunter patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “So, when do we break up the smooch-fest and get them to the actual bonfire?”

Bobbi shrugged. “Let’s let them have a few minutes. They’ve been through a lot.”

[noelsilvas]

MEET NOEL ADRIAN SILVA !

(IN)CORRECT QUOTE

“ i’m way too sleep deprived to deal with your negativity right now ” - jake peralta or noel silve u tell me

BASIC

NAME: noel adrian silva NICKNAMES: nada AGE: 25 BIRTHDAY: december 23 SPECIES: he’s like 90% acrylic paint at this point GENDER: cismale PRONOUNS: he/him

FAMILY

MOTHER: biological , unknown FATHER: biological , unknown PARENTS:  celeste & malachi “mal” silva who love him more than they love themselves FAMILY:  v much chosen SIBLINGS: younger sister, 20-21 unnamed JUST IN CASE but super into music and v much a pain in his ass, actually came up in foster care together ; nicholas “nicky” silva , 5 , celeste and mal’s only biological son , kind of a miracle and the love of noel’s LIFE

PHYSIAL ATTRIBUTES

FACE CLAIM: tommy martinez RACE/ETHNICITY: venezuelan NATIONALITY: american HEIGHT: 6′2 WEIGHT: idk whatever a healthy bmi is BUILD: was once an athlete, hasn’t lifted a weight in 2 years HAIR: curly and in desperate need of a cut FACIAL HAIR: stubble, at the moment, will likely grow it out as winter comes  HAIR COLOR: dark dark dark brown EYE COLOR: light brown SKIN COLOR: also light brown DOMINANT HAND: right ANOMALIES: freckles mostly on his shoulders and chest SCENT: patchouli and vanilla ACCENT: nada PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: nada LEARNING DISABILITIES: nada, just really bad at math ALLERGIES: peanut butter :( DISORDERS: nada FASHION: stripes! mismatched socks, cuffed jeans, knit sweaters, band merch, black denim, owns one (1) pair of overalls, beanies in the fall NERVOUS TICS: rubs his bottom lip in thought a lot QUIRKS: wears a broken watch, socks never match, almost always has paint on his fingertips, owns 38274 notebooks full of handwritten lyrics and has 3298427 untitled unsorted voicenotes of melodies he’s made up in his lil brain

LIFESTYLE

HOME ADDRESS: east side RESIDES: east side apartment BORN: west side of victoria RAISED: west side of victoria VEHICLE: 2015 toyota SOCCER MOM SUV PHONE: iphone x LAPTOP/COMPUTER: macbook air, massive desktop in his room PETS: orange tabby w 3 white paws and 1.5 ears named JIM 

HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION: graduated COLLEGE EDUCATION: graduated but ... not quickly and not happily lol ... will be Going Back once he figures himself out MAJOR: business  MINOR: music theory CAREER: currently works at a tattoo place on the west side EXPERIENCE: had odd jobs growing up, sold some artwork every now and then OTHER: dabbling w the thought of going back to school to be a hs music teacher

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: independent RELIGION: read a lot about wicca bc he thinks it’s ‘dope’ but doesn’t practice anything BELIEFS: WHOLLY believes in art for arts sake , ‘time is a manmade concept, an illusion’ DRUGS: eh, maybe once or twice SMOKES: gets high every sunday but cigarettes are GROSS  ALCOHOL: occasionally DIET: literal black hole will consume anything

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: heteroromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual MARTIAL STATUS: *sweats* CHILDREN: absolutely not AVAILABILITY: loves love LOOKING FOR: a muse

LANGUAGES: english, spanish

PHOBIAS: heights HOBBIES: plays like 10 instruments including french horn, writing, painting, sketching, smoking, taking jim for walks TRAITS: + charismatic, kind, ardent, nurturing ; - kinda dumb sometimes, flaky, no sense of self SOCIAL MEDIA: instagram, tinder, snapchat, twitter, myspace still active

FAVOURITE

LOCATION: in front of a blank canvas SPORTS TEAM: ....... nah GAME: a bitch probably loves cards against humanity and actively plays any video game that isn’t grand theft auto MUSIC: indie pop, independent rappers, would DIE for j. cole SHOWS: community, bob’s burgers, great british bake off MOVIES: dazed and confused, remember the titans, everybody wants some FOOD: will literally eat anything but particularly likes his mom’s oatmeal cookies :\ BEVERAGE: chocolate milk :\ COLOR: forest green

CHARACTER

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral ENNEAGRAM: four, the individualist ZODIAC: capricorn HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff TV TROPES: jake peralta, nick miller, SCOTT! MCCALL!!!! SONG: fuck, i’m lonely — lauv 

IDEOLOGIES: it costs $0 to be a decent fucking human being, brad

INFO

grew up in foster care which really prevented him from having any sense of permanence. he bounced around a lot but never outside of victoria. his childhood was spent constantly sharing a room and not really knowing who he was or where he came from or if he’d ever ... know lol. was literally left on a doorstep on christmas eve, hence the name noel

was always a messy kid, always getting into something. never really any REAL trouble but he was a handful and no one seemed to want to adopt the bouncing kid who drew on walls and wouldn’t stop singing the fucking arthur theme song. he was fine with it, didn’t mind the company, didn’t really know anything else though

otherwise was fairly,... normal as a kid. was v average in school but excelled in creative arts, spent a lot of time in an after school program that allowed him to learn music and further his art skills

this is where he met celeste and mal, as they sort of ran this little non-profit after school program and boy oh boy did they love noel

they married young, very much in love, and they’d been trying for a while for a child but... unfortunately had too many problems conceiving. the only issue with adoption was they really just ... loved this noel but weren’t sure if they were ready to take a full on pre-teen into their home, being in their early 20s themselves

it took about three years ,... agonizing but ... worth it .. to be fully ready to adopt noel (and unnamed sister) and when he was 14 he moved to the east side and officially became a silva. they weren’t super wealthy, but they had more than enough and gave him everything he could’ve asked for. they’ve always been... nurturing and encouraging and despite the fact that noel doesn’t really know who he is at his core, he knows that he got patience and kindness from his parents

and they are ... his parents ... and he has nO desire to find his biological parents. like literally zero. he can figure himself on his own and as far as he’s concerned celeste and mal are mom and dad

anyway ... dude’s an artsy soul through and through. his first love was music but he’s... not the spotlight type, not a front man, literally retches at the thought of being on stage bc it lowkey frightens him so mostly he just writes music, plays it for the sake of relaxation

his second love is art. sketching, painting, most specifically: street art. he’s careful with it, though, considering he’d never want to put his parents through the STRESS of having a delinquent son

feels a lot of pressure to be something great because he’s ... just.... idk he has this fucking weird complex where he KNOWS he knows his parents love him but he kinda feels a need to prove that choosing him was The Right Choice

anyway he’s currently working at a tattoo shop, living his best life, considering going back to school and dreading it

it’s just really important that you know

that his socks?

they never match

thank you

[fragiilexa]

1 - 10

identity ask………oh shit           ACCEPTING

1. if someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to?

Hm, well I guess this is three questions omg but I’ll just go down the line. If they wanted to really understand me they’d have to read the Bible, which I know is saying a lot in one thing. But the reason I am the way I am is because of the things I’ve learned from that book and I would not be who I am without it. Of course I actually haven’t been able to read the whole thing yet but I take a lot of who I am from it & it’s just something that’s shaped me as a person? Oh but also I really don’t read books much anymore, but if I had to give another one it would be The Last Song? Maybe? ( The book is better than the movie, even tho I like the movie, the books better ) It just talks a lot about forgiveness & stuff and it was a lesson I really needed to learn at the time I read it & also am still learning. OH and also Crazy Love by Francis Chan, which is like a christian book, but it’s also had a huge impact on me, okay but onto watchin’.

Okay this is hard because there isn’t one full thing you could watch where the whole thing has impacted me. But there are a lot of movies I’ve learned from, ( and also since this doesn’t say specifically movies ) there are also a few speeches that I’ve really learned from ( and people would probably be able to understand me better if they watched them. But I can’t name those right now? But, I’d have to say, like, not as a whole, but Dr. Who, at least some specific episodes. Uh, Captain America?? The Help? There are more but I have a hard time naming movies/shows.

Okay and then music, fricken music, okay I could put so so so so many songs down, songs are like the soul of my life & help make me, me BUT I’m just going to give you ONE because if I didn’t this would go on forever and TWO it’s kind of my theme song but I Was Here, by the queen Beyonce. Is like, hands down my favorite *what makes me, me* song. I could name a lot more. I could make a 24 hour long playlist. But I won’t bc that would take forever. 

2. have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

Yes, There have been a few and most of them are not on anymore but, Kae I think I can solidly say we think very similarly on just, like, how to develop muses, how to work out characters and how REAL they’re supposed to be, you know? Characters can, and should have flaws and no one has tons of perfect relationships. Real life is messy & writing should reflect that & I think we are just hella synced with that message & feeling and she’s just lovely so yeah @spookylip is bae & we think alike ( obviously bc we took those selfies that matched wITHOUT EVEN KNOWING ) we are #one

3. list your fandoms and one character from each that you identify with.

Girl Meets World: Riley Matthews.Glee: Tina Cohen - Chang.Marvel: Captain America, Steve Rogers.Hamilton: Eliza or Peggy SchyulerDisney: HeiHei ( no just kidding ) Moana, Princess Anna, Rapunzel,Harry Potter: Newt ScamanderStar Wars: FinnMy Little Pony: ( don’t u dare judge ) FlutterShyTwilight: Alice Cullen

4. do you like your name?  is there another name you think would fit you better?

Okay so I used to not like my name so much ‘cause it was really bland & there were a lot of other girls named rebecca when I was in school, then people started calling me rachel so it was like ‘my name is totally forgettable’ ( or i was i dunno ) but over the past few years I’ve started to love it, though someone ruINED the meaning of it for me *side eyes that kinky anon* but I don’t really care & I love my name now, just, never ever call me becky or I will murder u in ur sleep. :))))

5. do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? do you identify yourself by the things you do?

I was slightly confused reading this but I re-read it & now I get it. I think at the moment, or for the longest time I’ve been a human being, like, there are just no opportunities right now for me to be doing what others my age are, or even younger than me. Not only that but I have to work on a lot of anxieties of mine, but that being said I don’t think I’m doing nothing. What I’m doing is small, yeah, but I try to do the best I can with what I have & I have a lot of faith that things happen for a reason & right now I’m keeping things going in my family & trying to better myself, no matter how many downsides that has, sort of. & I do Identify myself by the things I do, mostly because in doing something you have the opportunity to help someone. I try to do the right things, sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t but it’s a daily thing, y’know?

6. are you religious/spiritual?

Yah. You can see that with some of my answers but I am, though I know right now a lot of people assume that if you’re religious ( especially christian, on this site at least ) that it automatically means you’re this, this & this *insert any form of ism or phobic term* but that’s really not how it works. We’re all sinners & no matter what that still doesn’t change the way God feels about us ( no matter what, we, as humans think is sin, or sinful ) I could go on a lot about this topic, honestly it’s a big part of who I am. But personally, I love God, I have a personal relationship with him that I try to work on daily & grow with him daily, my God is all loving and I just wished more people my age, or at least people on here knew that?? I dunno, there’s just so much rhetoric surrounding Christianity & most of it is wrong & I just??? Mmmm I’m getting off topic but yes! I am! It’s like a huge part of what keeps me going, I love Jesus.

7. do you care about your ethnicity?

YES. Oh my Gosh yeah, okay well I’m white, lmao, but where I come from is still like, really important to me. It used to not be. I actually used to be kind of… not ashamed but embarrassed when my Mom did really dutch things. Like, ok backing up, My grandpa moved here from the Netherlands when he was in his early teens around the time that the holocaust happened, though I couldn’t give you the exact date because I’m hella forgetful but he came with his parents and he met my Grandma and u know the deal it goes down the line. But anyways I used to like, not like the things that came with being dutch, like, I just thought it was all stupid & silly, like clogs & doilies & stupid little things like my great grandma & grandpa always used to use forks & knives with everything because it was a custom where they came from & like, it’s all small things but over the years I’ve just learned to be really proud of where my family came from? My Grandpa went through a lot to come here, he saw a lot of things he never talked about and I didn’t know him well because I was young when he died but I just really love embracing my heritage there & stuff. 

Like I’m white yes, and I’m basically a ‘mystery white’ ‘cause my dad is a mutt  & my mom isn’t fully dutch either. I’m one of those 10% Irish 25% Hungarian 50% Dutch & 15% other type of whites, but??? I’m still proud of all of it?? Like I love learning about where I came from & who I am & I think everyone should be proud of all parts of their ethnicity. As Matthew Montgomery said: “ Love all your percentages. “  

8. what musical artists have you most felt connected to over your lifetime?

shiT fam, this is getting so long & it’s gonna get longer, okay let me just do like… two, tha two tops…

Demi Lovato: Obviously, I mean… obviously She is one of the people I look up to most and I don’t know where I would be if I never had her & her music in my life. She’s taught me so much about strength and confidence and overcoming something when it looks like it will be impossible. She’s helpped me grow into someone who cares & wants to learn & help others and I just admire her so much for what she’s done, for herself, for others and for never giving up when she could have. Not to mention the ballads that have helped me through really hard times, or the speeches she’s given that remind me I’m strong & capable 

Taylor Swift: *que everyone groaning who’s reading* anYWAYS I can’t even honestly write down or explain how many times that Taylor and her music has helped me when I felt like I wanted to give up, or how many times I have cried listening to songs that should not have resonated with me but did. She’s helped me to realize not only that I am important but that no matter what, despite what people may do to me, or make me feel that I’m still important and worth working on. She’s also shown me what goofing off can do to make you feel better, how not giving a shit has helped me move on from past relationships and how being unapologetically ME is okay

In fact, I feel like Demi’s taught me those things too. But they’ve both done it in different ways, which I think shows how beautiful loving yourself can be. Because you don’t have to love yourself how another person loves themselves. You have to figure out your own, unique way to view yourself & believe in yourself & love yourself & I think that’s just really beautiful. Now, they both hate each other ( or at least severely dislike one another ) but I just feel like they’ve both done so much for me and I don’t think I could thank either of them enough for showing me strength, beauty, confidence and love in the way they have. It’s insane how much of an impact people can have but they have. I could go on but I woont I promise.

9. are you an artist?

YES I am, though my skill can be debated I love drawing when I’m in the mood & painting & jst everything that has to do with art. 

10. do you have a creed?

I don’t know if this means religious, or… otherwise… but I mean, technically I’m a baptist christian ( i think? not sure anymore ) but like, I am Christian, I feel like, sadly, the beliefs I hold are a bit left leaning & less erm, strict? When it comes to how I interpret the bible, where as a my family is different, I think? I don’t know, but I just try to follow the teachings of Jesus & his disciples. “ Love others as I have loved you - John 15:12 “ I do go by other teachings but I think that’s the top of my list. Jesus loves us unconditionally, he died for us, lived for us, and rose again so we didn’t have to burn up in hell for eternity. The least I can do is show everyone the same kind of unconditional love he’s showed me throughout my life & make sure people know that though we do sin & are inherently bad at heart, he still loves us despite our downfalls and doubt. I don’t know if that really answers this question but I had to look up creed & this is the best answer I came up with SO, thank u for sending this in and I love u