#random nameless channel

[thenamelessdoll]

I wanted to see what Maid Marian from "Robin Hood" might have looked like as a lioness. :D [Final edit]

#Robin Hood #Maid Marian #Disney AU #disney #Disney edit #watch me edit #random nameless channel #Youtube

[amaranthhiding]

Dean’s Angel Kink and Sam’s Witch Kink (Part 2)

—What I See in Destiel and Samwena (this has more depth and less kink than I made it sound like)

You can find part 1 here.

In the beginning of episode 2x13 Houses of the Holy, we see a despondent woman named Gloria channel surfing on her TV.

A being of light that she thinks to be an angel appears to her, telling her to kill a man who we later find out literally has skeletons buried in his basement.

When Sam interrogates Gloria, she tells him with an enraptured smile that she thinks she was chosen for redemption.

Dean is so not buying any of this.

First of all, bless Sam for always seeing more in people than meets the eye. For not seeing her as a nameless hooker who has lost her mind.

That little smile on Sam’s face as he imagines someone being totally at peace with themselves is heartbreaking⁠—because imagining it is all he can do at this point in the timeline. He’s as far from at peace with himself as it’s possible to get.

Only three episodes prior in 2x10 Hunted, Dean revealed that John’s last words were that Dean might have to kill Sam. Sam found out that his own father was genuinely considering the possibility that Sam is past saving.

And as if that piece of information alone wasn’t already poisoning Sam against himself enough, he was then actually hunted by one of his own kind. A hunter whose declared goal it is to make the world a better place by getting rid of evil.

No, Sam is anything but at peace with himself at this point.

So getting a glimpse into the mindset of this woman who is genuinely content with herself in 2x13 Houses of the Holy was something that affected him deeply.

Dean doesn’t seem to share the sentiment, though.

Later in the episode, Sam believes he is the next one chosen by this supposed angel.

Again, Dean is not buying any of it. He believes they’re definitely not dealing with an angel but with the spirit of a recently deceased priest who was shot for his car keys right outside the church.

In another heartbreaking reveal, Dean finally admits why it is that he refuses so adamantly to believe that angels could be real.

“She used to tell me when she tucked me in that angels were watching over us. In fact, that was the last thing she ever said to me.”

"There was nothing protecting her. There's no higher power, there's no God. I mean, there's just chaos, and violence, and random unpredictable evil that—that comes out of nowhere...”

God, that scene hit hard. Both Jensen’s and Jared’s acting this episode is absolutely amazing, and there’s just so much going on on the characters’ faces in moments like this.

Of course Dean can’t believe in angels if those were his mom’s last words to him. If a lifetime spent with one horrific event following the next has taught him that the only way that there’s good out in the world is by creating the good yourself (saving people, hunting things).

Nobody can really blame him for not wanting to believe in angels or a higher power of good under these circumstances. And he’s right when he says that luckily there is no reason they’d have to settle this argument with anything less than hard proof, because they can prove if there’s a spirit at work here.

So their next plan is to split up, with Sam performing a seance to find out if there’s a spirit in the church while Dean follows the shady guy that the “angel” told Sam to kill.

This leads to some witchy Sam goodness even in an episode that has otherwise very little to do with witches.

Hilariously, we are shown that Sam has strong opinions when it comes to magic, really not liking to settle for inferior spell materials while Dean seems to have zero issues with that.

And that after I already watched Sam bristle over seeing water dowsing being called witchcraft in episode 3x09 Malleus Maleficarum (the episode I discussed in part 1 of this post).

Know who this bristling over magic not being done in a specific, pre-defined way reminds me of?

Rowena.

(Rowena’s spell in 11x09 O Brother Where Art Thou? vs. Sam’s seance in 2x13)

Anyway, even with a SpongeBob placemat, Sam successfully performs the seance—only to find out that Dean has been right all along.

They are dealing with a spirit, not with an angel. The disillusionment on Sam’s face is palpable.

In the meantime, Dean proceeds to be random, unpredictable good that comes out of nowhere and saves this woman from the evil guy he was tracking.

In peak irony, her reaction to the rescue is, “Thank God.”

Dean arrives back at their motel room to find a rather downcast Sam who isn’t dealing well with having his hopes crushed like this.

He had to believe in a higher force of good out there because being chosen by that force would have meant that he himself doesn’t have to walk down the path of evil.

That John’s worst fears would never come true.

Well, we know how things turned out.

We know that Sam—with nothing but the best intentions in mind to save the world from the Apocalypse—kind of ended up going darkside.

That by drinking demon blood, he gained incredible power levels that went far enough to make him immune against demonic powers and allowed him to exorcise demons through the power of his mind.

And that, in the end, all of this didn’t prevent the Apocalypse, but caused it by setting Lucifer free.

(Sam with black eyes holding out a hand in 4x22 Lucifer Rising, Rowena with purple eyes holding out a hand in 13x19 Funeralia, Rowena casting the spell that frees Lucifer from the Cage in 11x09 O Brother Where Art Thou?)

But even after all of that, Sam got rehabilitated and pulled back to the side of good. Because he has always had a shield throughout all of his life.

What I think Sam meant to say with this is that his shield deserves a shield, too.

That he wishes there was a higher power protecting his protector.

(Castiel in 8x08 Hunteri Heroici)

Because Sam knows that Dean has always put on a strong facade for Sam’s sake, but deep down, Dean craves to be protected, too.

That’s why, whenever Dean has come into contact with something angelic, he had a very particular facial expression that I’ll call his “angel face”.

We’ve seen it in various iterations, from when Dean believed that Sam was right after all in 2x13 Houses of the Holy, and that they were dealing with an angel rather than a spirit—that Dean had just witnessed a divine intervention sparing him but killing the evil guy in a freak accident.

To, of course, his first actual encounter with an angel in 4x01 Lazarus Rising.

To the angel stripper in his dream in 5x13 The Song Remains the Same.

To everything regarding Anna (Anna’s reveal that she’s an angel in 4x10 Heaven and Hell.)

I don’t think Dean would ever openly admit that he sometimes craves being the protectee instead of the protector, especially not to Sam. Not after growing up thinking he always had to be the strong one for his little brother, regardless of the fact that Dean, too, was a terrified young child in a motherless world filled with monsters.

In fact, he’d deny that deep-seated need adamantly, I’m rather sure.

And then play it off with a joke.

But often his body language speaks more than his words. The inversion of Dean and Anna’s positions during this scene in 4x10 Heaven and Hell is interesting, isn’t it?

Something hilarious that I noticed while rewatching scenes from these episodes is a kind of running gag regarding hands.

In one of the earlier scenes of 2x13 Houses of the Holy, we see Dean in a motel room, enjoying the bed’s “Magic Fingers” massage function.

It’s even his left hand that he’s holding up as he says this.

He also jokingly offered Sam “glow sticks” when Sam talked about the supposed angel encounter in the same episode.

And then later seasons of the show gave us these scenes, of Dean discovering the angel handprint on his left shoulder after he got rescued from Hell in 4x01 Lazarus Rising:

Of Anna covering said handprint with her own right hand in 4x10 Heaven and Hell:

Of that same right hand performing a gesture of titanic pleasure in the same episode:

To glowsticky acts of healing like this one in 15x08 Our Father, Who Aren't in Heaven:

If I didn’t know angels were never planned to be a part of the show this early on, I’d think all of this was done on purpose, starting as early as season 2.

Knowing what I know, though, all I can do is squint and tilt my head.

Let me tell you, noticing a reference that was never made is even stranger than not understanding that reference.

Before I wrap this up, let’s get back to Sam and his witchy delights one more time, though.

When Dean was still very much in “so not buying this” mood in 2x13 Houses of the Holy, Sam insisted that he wants to follow the supposed angel’s orders because:

Whether this was or wasn’t referenced by accident, I’ll never know, but episode 13x19 Funeralia gave us this counterpart:

While I do see the appeal that ships pairing Sam with an angel can hold—the validation Sam would receive from being told how very much not evil he is by an angel, especially after the events of 2x13 Houses of the Holy—I see his deepest longing elsewhere.

In contrast to Dean, Sam never needed a shield because he always had one.

Most of his life, Sam was pushed into a passive role by outside forces. He was the little brother, the one in need of protection rather than doing any of the protecting himself. The one who always got told by John and Dean what to do, and whenever he wanted to make a decision on his own (like going to college), it led to crisis.

He was the special child who was made to swallow demon blood as an infant, and there was nothing he could do against this supposed evilness resting inside of him, no matter how many good deeds he performed, how many people he saved.

He was the Boy King prophesied to bring the Apocalypse, and by trying to counteract that fate, he ended up inducing it.

The helplessness, the complete and utter frustration he must have been feeling his whole life long for always ending up in that passive role, for never being able to actually change anything...

(next four images from episodes 13x15 A Most Holy Man, 13x19 Funeralia, 13x12 Various & Sundry Villains, 13x19 Funeralia)

I’m not even sure I can put into words adequately enough how meaningful it is for Sam to be able to convert Rowena from evil to good.

Of course Sam also bonded with Jack, but despite rumors to the contrary, Jack never actually was evil. Rowena proudly was—for a time.

But a lifetime spent with Dean “No chick-flick moments” Winchester enabled Sam to see straight through Rowena “Love is weakness” MacLeod’s bullshit from the get-go.

She had been hurt so deeply in her past that she had muted most of her feelings in self-defense, unable to find another way of coping with them—thinking that self-imposed solitude, gaining as much power as possible, and masking all other feelings with humor would be the only way to shield herself from a repeat of that hurt that had almost ruined her.

And in the end, finding that her life has become so much staler than what she had been hoping for.

(next three images from episode 12x11 Regarding Dean)

She discovers that she wants all those emotions back that she had locked out in self-preservation so many years ago.

That perhaps, love isn’t weakness after all... if directed at someone worthy of it.

(next three images from episodes 15x03 The Rupture and 2x13 Houses of the Holy)

Though regaining her ability to love also meant regaining her ability to feel guilt, which was far too intense and confusing for her to navigate on her own.

Through saving her, Sam saves himself.

She empowers him with the ability to be active for once, not stuck in helpless passiveness where he can’t change a thing.

They show each other that the supernatural power resting inside both of them can be used for good.

Without her, Sam never would have dared to tap deeper into magic for fear of a repeat of the demon blood thing that made him go darkside.

Without him, she never would have started to transform Hell into something much kinder than it has ever been before.

All of this is why he cried so much more over Rowena than over anyone else on the show other than Dean.

One of the meanings for the name Castiel is “Shield of God”. Castiel is a shield of protection.

One of the meanings for the name Rowena is “White Spear”. Rowena is a spear of empowerment, for herself as much as for Sam.

All of this is why I see both Destiel and Samwena as the ultimate endgame. As a deeply satisfying conclusion to an intricate narrative that spans more than a decade. As two sides of the same coin that is entwined with both brothers’ personal history and the dynamic between them.

And both of these relationships don’t only carry an emotional depth that takes one’s breath away, no, hilariously they also encompass both brothers’ kinks.

You don’t have to agree with me. I’d actually feel deeply honored if there’s anyone out there who read up to this point even without agreeing with me. I respect your opinion, and I thank you for respecting mine enough to listen to my long-winded explanations of what I see in these ships.

(And I haven’t even mentioned Castiel’s incredible character development through all of this, mostly because Cas has always been my focus character while watching the show when it aired. Him I think I understand, while all of this here is a journey of discovery and broadening horizons for me as well, triggered by me trying to write my first Samwena standalone fanfic. This post is long enough as is anyway, Castiel’s character development would make it burst at the seams—and this post was meant to be more focused on Sam and Dean after all.)

#amaranthmeta #samwena #destiel #samwitch #deancas #sam x rowena #dean x castiel #sam winchester #dean winchester #rowena #rowena macleod #castiel #supernatural #spn #meta #2x13 #houses of the holy #4x01 #4x10 #4x22 #5x13 #8x08 #11x09 #12x11 #13x15 #13x19 #15x03 #15x08 #dean x anna #2x10

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Attention  ::  by William Segal

Attention is the quintessential medium to reveal man’s dormant energies to himself. Whenever one witnesses the state of the body, the interplay of thought and feeling, there is an intimation, however slight, of another current of energy. Through the simple act of attending, one initiates a new alignment of forces.

Maintenance of a conscious attention is not easy. The movement, the obligations of day-to-day existence constantly distract. With no base of operations, no home in one’s organism, the attention serves random thoughts, feelings, and appetites which conflict and tyrannize each other.

Sensation of parts or the whole of the body can anchor the attention; provide it with a kind of habitat. The structure, becoming more sensitive, helps to unify attention, so it is less liable to veer into mental channels that consume its power. In turn, perceptions and sensations are quickened, insights are multiplied.

Opening to the force of attention evokes a sense of wholeness and equilibrium. One can glimpse a possibility of a state of awareness immeasurably superior to that of the reactive mechanism, an awareness which transcends one’s automatic subject/object mode of response.

Freely flowing, the concentrative, transforming effect of conscious attention brings the disparate tempos of the centers to a relatively balanced relationship. Thought, feeling, and sensing are equilibrated under this vibrant, harmonizing influence.

Attention is an independent force which will not be manipulated by one’s parts. Cleared of all internal noise, conscious attention is an instrument which vibrates like a crystal at its own frequency. It is free to receive the signals broadcast at each moment from a creative universe in communication with all creatures.

However, the attention is not “mine.” In a moment of its presence, one knows that it does not originate entirely with oneself. Its source surrounded by mystery, attention communicates energies of a quality the mind cannot represent.

One needs to be at the service of conscious attention; one prepares for its advent through active stillness.

In quiet, tension free moments, man’s structure is open to energy flows which are ordinarily blocked. In turn, these energies blend with previously received materials, to serve the higher in a wordless, nameless exchange.

Attention is not only mediating; it is transmitting. Giving and receiving, God speaks to man. Receiving and giving, man speaks to God. Just as man’s structure needs to be vivified by the infusion of finer vibrations, those very same vibrations require the mixing of coarse material for their maintenance. Without the upward transmission of energies through the intermediary of conscious attention, the universe would give in to entropy.

In man, the smallest deformation of a balanced attention closes down this two-way communication. Alone, the mind cannot maintain it. A relaxed body, too, is needed.

Mid-way between micro and macrocosmos, man has his part to play. Returning to the body is a gesture of opening to the attention which, beckoned, is ready to serve its cosmological function.

'The Structure of Man' (Brat-Tleboro, Vermont; Green River Press, Stillgate Publishers, 1987).

[Ian Sanders]

#quotes #Ian Sanders #William Segal

[2009jorose]

hello do you have any tutorials to follow to start editing or no anyone who has one ? I recently came back to editing and i cant find the video of how to edit videos like you do in after effect any advice will help

Random Nameless Channel has a tutorial for beginners as well as a playlist tat compiles pretty much all of the tutorials other editors have made.

xDivineTutorialsx is a channel run by @xdivinememoriesx that uploads tutorials specifically for Disney editors.

I hope that helps <3 feel free to message me as well if you need any help

[tsukai22]

FEH banner thoughts:

- No FEH Channel this time. It’s far from the first time a FEH tradition has been broken...

- A!Fir looks cool. - Dorothy’s artist did an excellent job. I recognised her appearance instantly even though I didn’t remember her name (I haven’t played Binding Blade before so I only knew her from looking at character lists). I would have her as a merge project but I already have Kiragi and Etie as modern Bow Infantry potential merge projects. - With Murdock being the GHB, I find it refreshing that the GHB units are more consistently being the most major villain available. Maybe we’ll actually get the likes of Jedah, Manfroy, Raydrik and Validar and the nameless FE7 Dragon at this rate... - EDIT: Saul’s the instant demote, and brings Incurable as a renamed Serpentine Staff! Excellent! I’ve wanted build a +10 Staff unit with it but I’m not sure who to use. I considered Sakura but I already have Forrest as a +10 Fates Staff. I might go with Elice...

- I was wondering what they were going to do for Tier 4 Null Follow-Up. I like these ones. Because 2 units have them, I’ll do the 40 summons thing for them.

- My way of remembering what Gold Serpent does is “it does a bunch of random things, and Heiðr gets another go”. Trying to find the “ð“ symbol just to flex was more time consuming than I thought it would be, probably because I missed it the first time while looking up fancy letters to copy-paste.

[cityjammusic]

New Song - Mishell Ivon - Nameless (POP Music 2022) #061 Genre: POP Style: VOCAL DANCE Location: Germany, Munich We imagined a magazine cover sound with this song. Glam, Fierce, Funky and Fresh. UK/ GERMAN production. Idea behind the song is, we all are famous in our own world we create, drop the mask and be who you are! Playlist Nu funk, Night out,party, groove theory, Driving list. Its super flex. The message is fierce and meant for everyone. Random fact Stiletto heel clicks are incorporated into the beatscape. Much love! 🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢🟢 Get your positive energy on with this channel. We've got the freshest, popular old school music, so you can enjoy new songs whenever you need to listen to good pop music. ♪ ♬♫ ♩ ♬ About This Channel ♫ ♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ We are platform for new and upcoming music and artists. We promote and support new music and new artists across the globe. This is collection of New Songs and New Music - Pop Music, old school r&b, old school hip hop, old school music, old school songs, old school, old school reggae, old school funk. ❤️ More New Music and New Songs: Don Jiggy - Dr. Feelgood (Dancehall, Reggaeton,Old School) https://youtu.be/O4xzilH8Gz0 The ReWd oNeZ - Like I Never Knew (Rock, Blues,Punk) https://youtu.be/hbV3EFOmDz0 Shawna Cupples - Slide the Woo (R'n'B, Soul) https://youtu.be/IzbUawixxTo Evan DeVries - Parental Approval [POP Music] https://youtu.be/MMApcdNPE-A Final Demand - I'm cheating on You [Rock Music] https://youtu.be/utXfRK6QeW0 Jive As Sleepers - Get Up Get Over [Dance, Pop,Club] https://youtu.be/FRPwDrt6FSo Jimmy Reid - Ill Bring You Roses [Old School Reggae] https://youtu.be/GD4N9Kmz_g4 Subscribe to @CityJamMusic Channel for New Music: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvJhXlhYeJKiLWkp3dhBA9g?sub_confirmation=1 City Jam Music is Music Promotion Channel for New Artists. Music submissions, general inquiries: SubmitCJM (at) gmail.com #newsong2022 #bestsongs2022 #newmusic @CityJamMusic

#newmusic newsong music @CityJamMusic popmusic englishsong music2022

[cheesewelsom]

Characters for my nameless percy jackson AU

Octavia Agustus

Random and unaligned facts! ( Also this is not her fill description because fuck that. )

( her looks, brown hair, eyes and porcelain skin. She is also 61.8 or ( 157 cm)

Is one of the very few children of Apollo, who has both healing and Amazing Archery skills to match

She has prophetic dreams ( which she doesn't know ), which leaves her to have a serious face of Deja vu, Impending doom, strong gut feelings, Foreboding ect. Which leaves her feeling jumpy and distrustful half of the time.

She doesn't like combat even though she is one of the best in camp, no one can beat her in archery and she has atleast a deer foot when she is holding a sword, she is horrendous with it you can only hope it doesn't fly in your direction when she swings it around.

Archery : yes she's amazing, three arrows and three Targets? Give her a bandana and cover her eyes shes about to girl boss those red and white circles.

Healing is one of her also stronger traits, she's very good in healing and greek, often playing haikus and poems for healing and singing rhymes at the nursery. She's also has powerful healing, if you hear her singing you'll notice that half of your wounds are already healed.

She knows french, german and spanish. her parents forced her to learn those languages but she doesn't mind, she often makes haikus in french and Tankas in german ( she loves to see the confusion )

She doesn't like fighting or facing off opponents, that also comes with people being mean, she doesn't mind it if she's being bullied, but if you bully someone she knows she couldn't stand up for her self or the person looks uncomfortable. Boy/girl, you better look behind you to make sure a golden arrow isn't flying your way.

She isn't the favorite of apollo surprisingly enough, but she is one of his favorite ones to visit. They make haikus and poems together. ( She's very good in making haikus. )

Calligraphy, this girl is amazing in art, calligraphy, painting, music name it! Anything that stems within those things she knows how to do it. Her parents forced her to do those too!

She's an amazing singer and painter

She likes piano and her lyre, flutes and violins are not her things but surprisingly she's amazing at those ( or unsurprisingly really )

She's a kind person, is she doesn't like you she'll most likely ignore you.

Her patience is a godsend, that's why most people make her the peacemaker.

She knows when someone lies, when someone does there's this underlying itch or something screaming at her. It's like water with but a invisible monster just above the surface. Depending on how big the lie is and how important it is.

Between prophetic dreams and sensing lies, she's also horrible at keeping lies to herself, she's a very truthful girl and does not keep secrets for her life.

She loves musicals, theater's and history, favorites are hamilton and six, she loves beauty and the beast and has an extreme love for oversimplified/ history channels.

Books, she loves books, give her a book about roman or greek columns and she will love it to a tea.

Nature walks are her favorites.

Rhymes, she loves Rhymes and riddles, also puzzles/word puzzles

She's awesome with directions

TIME FOR POWERS BABY!

Can curse anyone to say rhymes for the past couple of weeks.

Photokinesis ( one and only child of Apollo who has this )

Crepuscular rays ( also called sunbeam or Sun rays ), she can change the spot where Crepuscular is on the ground, she just needs to move her fingers.

Sunlight teleportation ( Solarportation ) the ability to teleport to one sunlight to another, she can even teleport to different countries as long as there is sunlight ( she wil also be exhausted )

Is able to generate sunlight even at the dark ( Though limited )

Sun beams, powered by sunlight these sun beams can melt almost anything.

Is able to generate sunlight/Light in an object, heat and light in all. The object needs to be in the air receiving Natural sunlight.

She is able to create heat waves.

Heat Manipulation

She can created illusion's in the sunlight

Invisibility ( only when directly exposed to sunlight )

Her overall senses amplify when in sunlight, (how much unknown )

She can set things on fire

When in sunlight, she herself shines, her hair turns to bright yellow, and her Iris turn to molten gold, it looks like her Iris turned to liquid as gold. Her skin so shines as if you were looking at blinding white, she's like the sun when you look at her. She also has a golden halo around her head with horizontal lines in and out of the circle.

She can also nullify or take off these things.

When in sunlight, her golden bows and arrows are also amplified.

Next up is healing powers :

She can heal minor, Major and fatal wounds.

Her singing helps with everything and even headaches and fevers

Whenever it was fever season, she would always walk around camp with a lyre to just sing.

She's immune to all sickness, poisons, burns or any harmful chemicals in her way.

She can heal in a very impressive rate.

She unknowingly heals herself whenever she's injured.

Sne heals herself and her patients.

Her healing may not know no bounds ( may )

In sunlight, her healing is amplified.

Whenever a is about to cut heals, a golden sunlight just appears to just magically heal the wound.

Aura healing

Vitakinesis

She can stop period cramps ( she never feels them )

Can see weakpoints or any weak spots in an enemy asap. ( Much faster in sunlight )

She can amplify her voice to make her music be heard everywhere to healing is easier.

Audiokinesis

She can change her voice to someone she's already herd before. But this power is a bit limited.

She can copy voices male or female

She's like Echo with this power, she can only recite what the person said with their own voice.

She often copys hamilton casts voice for the whole musical

The can mix voices.

She can not copy instruments sound.

That's all.. maybe i skipped a few things but those are probably unimportant.

[earthseed]

Laura Marling acts in “Random Acts”

#ok i mean this is literally random af but i'm here for it u know. gotta support the galdem etc #fuckin lora always playin these nameless women tired of men's bs ............... where is her oscar tbh #laura marling #channel 4 #random acts #david elms #tim key

[cienie-isengardu]

axelzp replied to “The Bad Batch”:

I think most people take issue with Omega and TBB due to concerns over whitewashing. Also, what do you have against the explanation of the biochips? Personally, I always thought it fit Palpatine's controlling nature better than the idea of clones just getting a command from some random guy in a hood, telling them to kill the Jedi.

First off, I apologize it took me so long to answer. I tried to explain my reasoning in a short and coherent way as possible, but apparently the years of frustration about this issue needed more space to be properly addressed. So, in advance, sorry for text length.

From all TCW changes done to star wars, the chip-in-brain is one of my top 3 reasons to dislike the whole TV show, despite many of its good moments. I understand why authors chose this sub-plot that allows them to separate the visibly individual "good" clones (thus making them more likeable for the audience / marketing) from the “bad” that kill the Jedi but frankly, I find it a cheap and kinda problematic excuse. Clones were victims regardless of which version people will accept but I really despite the idea that Jedi were their beloved generals and commanders - so beloved that clones actually had nightmares about killing them waaay before Palpatine ultimately won which undermines the whole point of Order 66. 

Jedi could never expect clones to shoot them in the back because they were used to their unquestioned obedience from the start of war. It was common knowledge, repeatedly mentioned in sources like “Jedi Trial” that clones were “bred to war, bred to discipline, bred to obey without question the orders of the powers that paid for their services”. Clones were made that way by genetic manipulations and years of intensive training; an indoctrination that makes clone troopers believe they have obey, no matter what cost.

Some sources, like Clone Wars Adventures’ “Orders” outright show us the mindset of clones:

and We’ve got nothing but each other ad our orders.

Because of that worldbuilding, I prefer Legends take on clone obedience and the Jedi approach to the problem than what TCW created. I talked about it more here, but the general sense is that I feel cheated by the idea of chips that turn people into some “programmed” machines because in such way, TCW erased the Jedi & Republic part in abuse & enslavement of clone troopers, while at the same time giving an unrealistic idea that Jedi were so liked / respected when most of clones did not have any special bond with them. And this is less about if Jedi were good military leaders or not and more that as generals/commanders they didn’t interact that much with common troopers. Because the chain of command doesn’t work like that. I’m willing to buy the close(r) bond between Anakin & 501st because frankly Darth Vader himself from the start was built as someone with better relationships with common troopers / “normal” officers than with most of the high ranking officers presented on screen. I’m pretty sure some other Jedi were caring and liking clones (and vice versa) but it is impossible for generals to know and be so close to all of their troopers.

Above everything else, Legends created an interesting situation in which the Jedi Council / Order knew clones would follow orders no matter if those were right or not and were aware how dangerous it could be yet they still didn’t do anything about it, because the obedience of clones were beneficial for them. Jedi not only took for granted their obedience, they mistook it for respect.

Which really speaks a lot about Jedi's own moral failing and/or lack of understanding the difference between those two terms.

In the Legends sources, there was no need for chips, really, when from the start Kaminoans tinkered with clone genome, created the effective system of “proper” education to mold clones into obedient soldiers and Republic wasn’t really interested to undo the damage done by such indoctrination. 

Before TCW brought the chips and “nightmares haunting clones” there were officially established Contingency Orders for the Grand Army of the Republic: Order Initiation, Orders 1 Through 150. A guideline for unexpected and/or critical situations, so the Great Army of Republic [GAR] would know how to proceed - especially when troopers were given contradictory orders. The orders (also known as Clone Protocols) weren’t secret and there is a big chance that Jedi knew it, if someone bothered to learn the manual. The whole formula of Order 66 was described as:

"In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander (Chancellor), GAR commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established."

And here how the scene played in the RotS novelisation:

That concealed compartment held a secure comlink, which was frequency-locked to a channel reserved for the commander in chief.

Kenobi nodded and spoke to his mount, and the great beast overleapt the clone commander on its way down into the battle.

Cody withdrew the comlink from his armor and triggered it.

A holoscan appeared on the palm of his gauntlet: a hooded man.

"It is time," the holoscan said. "Execute Order Sixty-Six."

Cody responded as he had been trained since before he'd even awakened in his creche-school. "It will be done, my lord."

The holoscan vanished. Cody stuck the comlink back into its concealed recess and frowned down toward where Kenobi rode his dragonmount into selflessly heroic battle.

Cody was a clone. He would execute the order faithfully, without hesitation or regret. But he was also human enough to mutter glumly, "Would it have been too much to ask for the order to have come through before I gave him back the bloody lightsaber. . . ?"

The order is given once. Its wave-front spreads to clone commanders on Kashyyyk and Felucia, Mygeeto and Tellanroaeg and every battlefront, every military installation, every hospital and rehab center and spaceport cantina in the galaxy.

So there is really no “random hooded guy” calling clones to kill Jedi but Chancellor himself using an appropriately secured military channel with confirmation of his identity to issue a legal order in a critical situation (an opportunity created by the Jedi Council themselves who went into the Senate building to kill Palpatine). So why the clones shouldn’t listen, when the order came directly from the Supreme Commander of the Great Army of the Republic? 

Of course, the movie (and novel based on it) alone has this weird addition like “yes my Lord'', what I personally consider as the cinematic way to show the switch from Chancellor Palpatine to Emperor Darth Sidious. Still, I’m willing to give some benefit of doubt about the modification made by Kaminoans and if Order 66 could trigger anything hidden in clone subconscious. But even if there was something, it didn’t erase their personalities or changed the way clones behaved like it happened in The Clone Wars and The Bad Batch.

One way or another, the Order 66 worked out because clones “have no malice, no hatred, not the slightest ill intent that might give warning. They are only following orders”. Which I guess comes down to how clone troopers were presented - or maybe rather how they were seen by other characters in the Legends. As more detached, combat pragmatic, toned down, to some degree isolated from the outside world, less individual. Regardless of what Jedi or Republic citizens thought about clones, it did not make them any less human beings.

And here comes the paradox of The Clone Wars. The TV show made great effort to humanize clones by presenting them as very individual, outstanding people which in itself is a great thing. The names, the tattos, the different paintings of armours, visible variety of behaviour. All great to make the audience see clones as human beings, to get emotionally invested into them, because the more likeable clones were the better for marketing the story (and the cynical part of me thinks it really comes down to making money, isn’t it?)

But this effort became also the trap and the inhibitor chips is the excuse to make such loved, caring and brave characters into the detached clones gunning down the Jedi in Revenge of the Sith. 

The things that irks me a lot about this situation is the feeling like fans started care for clones because they were made into different type of characters than what they were (similar like Anakin’s movie characterization was thrown out of the window, to make him more suitable for fans who wanted the badass typical male hero instead of introverted, conflicted and traumatized young man). The clones get the visible individuality to make them the heroes we should root for, but then there is the “magical” switch that will cut down their heroic deeds because now they are “bad” and stormtroopers can’t have any personality. Which is just… frustrating. 

Don’t get me wrong, I adore how clone troopers get more visible individuality (even if sometimes if felt too exaggerated), but the “not standing out from the group”  was something that kept clones alive on Kamino and I can see why it was used as coping mechanism (the safe option) during the war. I regret that The Clone Wars didn’t show the transition from AotC nameless troopers into such individuals and how much it happened thanks to Jedi, what may help to build the feeling of supposed strong bond between Jedi and troopers. Because frankly, when we met TCW!clones, they already have names, different colors and marks on armor plates and helmets and for all we know, they could create their own “culture” without Jedi influence.

The final part of why I hate the chip-in-brain sub-plot is how it changed clones. Because even if that was a means to force clones into killing Jedi & ensure that Order 66 will be carried on no matter what, it shouldn’t change them into bullies toward their own brothers. But now in The Bad Batch, the clones don’t speak between themselves, are aggressive toward others and generally act like assholes for no real reason. And yeah, I get this may be a cinematic metaphor for a change from “good” republic soldiers into “bad” imperial stormtroopers and most likely something along the way “Republic/Jedi gave you individuality, Empire takes that away” but frankly, Republic did not give anything to clones. It did not acknowledge their human right, didn’t have any plan for their future, didn’t pay for their service or more expensive medical treatment for that matter, did not teach them they could - should - make their own choices.

Now clones are cheering for the Empire because inhibitor chips! They are assholes, because inhibitor chips! They shoot their *beloved* Jedi generals because of the chips! 

And in a way, I get this resolution, the chips make it clear clones were victims. But even without them, they were victims from the start. Except now clones are “programmed” while in Legends the senate (a power paying for their life) officially and legally renamed Republic into Empire and clones were glad for still having a purpose in life. The war ended (thus their usefulness), but they were still needed - still wanted - instead of being put down or closed at Kamino or whatever. I can see why the uncertainty of the future made clones cheering up for the Empire. And frankly, I personally prefer them not caring for the political change (because why should they? It never was their job to *judge* the rightness of their superiors) instead of being “programmed” like some droids and playing the role of fodder to kill for the “good guys”.

Dunno, if I explained properly my issue with inhibitor chips, it just feels to me as not really convincing and a too risky concept in the bigger picture of the things and the fact that Jedi just like that ignored this suspicion matter of Tup and Fives and biochips doesn’t help either. Like I said, I understand why the chips were introduced to the story, as the excuse in the change of clone troopers’ behaviour but at the end of day, Legends worldbuilding will always make more sense to me. I don’t need overly done differentiation of clones to care for them as an individual human beings (and it kinda seems to me like that, clones suddenly became fan favorite when every looks or act differently but not when the AotC literally presented them as an army created to blindly obey Jedi/Republic) and I don’t blame them for sticking with Empire because what better option they had, considering their upbringing and the pathological system in which they lived all their life?

Dunno, I’m biased and may just have allergy to TCW in general.

As for Omega, I’m not really surprised about this concern, especially after seeing TBB’s version of padawan Kanan (that if not for A) some basic knowledge about his backstory and B) Depa Billaba calling him by name, I would probably never have figured out who he was supposed to be). But for Omega alone, I don’t mind her look, because I’m used to Legends!Jango’s biological family in which his mother and sister were both blond haired women and frankly, some “defective” clones (including Rex?) apparently could be blond too, so it seems like Jango’s genome has a recessive gene somewhere for that color of hair. I try to hold my judgment about Omega and her appearance until the full backstory will be revealed because there is still a chance that Fett’s DNA was mixed with someone else's (still I hope Omega is not force sensitive…). I mean, Hunter has heightened senses while Wrecker has almost supernatural strength and both traits seem to be not really human, so who knows what Kaminoans really did with them.

 I understand people’s emotional response to Disney’s approach to characters and their visual look, especially since it isn’t the first screw up in New Canon (the models for characters in general and New Mandalorians especially). I’m totally okay with people’s criticism of that matter and demanding from Disney more diversity and respecting the already established ethnicity of certain groups. I’m aware I may not be sensitive enough to that matter as some other people (even more with barely watching TV shows to have any current and up-to-date comparison to trends in cartoons) and I’m pretty sure more qualified / invested fans already wrote or will be writing soon great metas about that. But the thing that irks me is hearing people saying that Omega *can’t* be Jango’s clone - I don’t like this sort of exclusion based on someone’s look alone. She may not look like Fett or other (male) clones but it is not something Omega chose for herself and does not erase her connection to the rest of the Bad Batch. Being angry at Disney/creators for her look is a different matter I don’t have any problem with.

#star wars #my replies #sorry it took so long and for #long post #feel free to ignore it #years of frustrations about TCW get better of me #new canon vs old canon #clone troopers #i hate chip in brain nonsense #if anyone missed it #but no really #i don't remember people caring that much for clones when prequels came #tcw made clones the same as anakin #as different that they were in movies #and suddenly fans love them and care heh #but the imperial stormtroopers can't be liked or loved or good so lets use a chips in brains #and treat clones as programmed soldiers who are now jerks #so no one is gonna be sad when they were killed by the good guys #isn't it frustrating? #the paradox of TCW #i feel like i need to shut up #sorry

[doloresdraws]

I am slowly filling this OC question meme with all my WoD characters and it is a lot of fun, but also very exhausting.

Here is your chance to get to know more about Stanley, my sewer goblin Nosferatu boy ❤ ❤ ❤

❤ There is also a video process of this painting on my Youtube channel ❤

1) Stanley rarely gets angry, when he is supposed to be angry he instead get anxious and either starts to talk nonsense or stays silent.

2) He finds the idea lovely, but he knows that he will never meet anyone he could call a soulmate

3) More than being a pet peeve it just really makes him uncomfortable: when people are loudly shouting at him or at someone else.

4) He often thinks about his early childhood before he was seprated from his baby sister.

5) Probably the time he spent in the hospital before he found out about the Nosferatu and became their ghoul. Before that incident, he was feeling safe, taken care of and loved having a routine, knowing the place well and always looked forward to visits from his sister.

6) When he was separated from his sister and put into different foster homes.

7) He wouldn’t even go to a bar, too many people and too loud for his taste.

8) He was pretty badly beaten up when he was  living on the street, but nothing was ever broken. After the Embrace he made Maks (his Sire) pretty unhappy a few times which resulted in him getting a few broken ribs. He tries to stay away from danger, but sometimes it doesn’t work out.

9) He would like to forget finding a dead woman’s body in the sewers.

10) His happiest memory is playing peek-a-boo with his sister in the driveway, he was oblivious about the world and his future. Life was good at that moment.

11) No, he doesn’t. His type is everyone who would treat him nice and made him feel safe :) He currently has a woman he got kinda attached to, only because she was nice to him when he accidentally bumped into her on the street. He had a hoodie over his face and it was dark. She thought he was a homeless kid. She helped him gather all of the small trinkets he dropped in the collision and he was captivated by her kindness, so he followed her home XD

12) Many – he has a collection of various random things he found in the sewers, he collects everything that catches his attention – mainly some personal things like rings, bracelettes, scrunchies, he even found a photo album. He remembers the exact place he found each of his possessions and he likes to imagine stories for each item. He keeps bracelet of the dead woman in case he would one day found out her identity and could return it to her family.

13+14) He has no tattoos or piercings, only way too many fangs in his small mouth that pierce his lips and cheeks XD

15) His dream house would be somewhere where he would be frozen in time as a happy child together with his sister.

16) You would not expect to find out that he is actually not a child, but a grown man, his small and frail stature is deceiving.

17) He has always good intentions with gifts, but he is not the best at choosing gifts XD  He misjudges other people’s interest in smelly, sewer treasures XD

18) He knows he has a great memory, but because it has brought him so much trouble, both internal and external, he isn’t really proud or even happy he has an eidetic memory.

19) A stranger would describe him as a weird, smelly kid who talks too fast XD

20) Someone who spent more time around him and got to know him more (Mateusz) would describe him as a scared, smol man who might look like he can’t even count to ten but is actually very clever, but let others walk all over him because he is afraid of conflict.

21) He, himself is a walking insecurity :) But his biggest one is to not be understood when talking as he normally talks pretty fast, but when he is nervous and considering how many fangs he has it is sometimes hard for him to make sense and then he gets even more agitated as he is worried he will convey the message in a wrong way.

22) Physical: dexterity, non-physical: wits

23) Depends on the nature of the lie, most likely he would just nod and tried to understand the reason why he was lied to.

24) He has fond memories of the summer as when he was on the street, summer nights were warm and he didn’t have to worry about freezing to death. Aside this he is indifferent to the weather.

25) From romantic point of view he never had anyone he could say these words to, in general terms he only said I love you to his sister. He wouldn’t have a problem saying it first, but as a Nossie he knows that chances of him finding someone who would even want to spend time with him are almost none, so he will probably never say it to anyone else.

26) His only issue with openly sharing his worries is his fear of not being believed or worse be punished, so it depends on the person. If he knows that the person won’t get angry at him, he will share his worries.

27) No, he never saw anyone die. But the dead woman in the sewers was the first dead body he saw and he can’t erase the empty look on her face, it haunts him every night. He feels sad for her, being left there nameless, alone, dumped like trash. She surely had family somewhere and maybe they are still looking for her to this day…just like his sister is looking for him…

28) He totally is ticklish, he is very sensitive to touch, mainly because he is not used to be touched at the first place.

29) Very low pain tolerance, he hates being in physical pain and he knows that he now can heal pretty much everything, but it doesn’t take away the fact that he would much rather avoid getting hurt in the first place.

30) He wishes he would have been brave enough to say no to some of the things he is asked to do.

31) He isn’t a particularly messy eater, he mainly feeds on rats, not because of the guilt, but because he thinks that feeding from mortals is very stressful and scary ordeal.

32) Most unloved: when he got stuck obfuscated in the same room as the woman he followed home and unfortunately had to watch her and her date being intimate with each other. Not only he felt innapropriate, but it made him feel so lonely and sad that he never in his life felt so safe with someone to share such closeness and now he never will.

33) When he was reunited with his sister after years apart. Despite her being the younger sibling she   basically took care for him and did everything she could to get his mental health problems under control.

34) He would most likely hate to lose touch as he likes to touch things XD On the other hand he would gladly lost hearing, so he could no longer spy on people :D

35) He likes small talk, because it feels relaxing and he doesn’t have to worry about saying too much.

36) He would have asked Maks if he ever cared about him as a person or if he just considered him a tool, a good asset to have because of his memory skills.

37) To the past, to his early childhood to spend more time as a naive child with the person he cares the most in the world.

38) positive: his sister – she made him feel loved and made him feel like he mattered, the staff and other patients in the hospital – they made him feel safe, cared for and not alone, negative: various people he met while he was on the street, his foster families, and to an extent his biological parents though he didn’t meet with them after.

39) Depends, in the hospital he liked being surrounded by people because they were nice and he felt safe with them, as a Nossie he prefers to be alone because the other Kindred most often than not scare him. He likes to spend time with Jamie (the ghoul that is living in the sewers with them) because of her child-like personality, she seems harmless and he likes that.

40) The scary thing that he had seen in one part of the tunnels one night, nobody believes him but he is pretty sure there is something terriyfing livin there. Aside this probably his Sire Maks, but he had heard that he met Final death.. apparently by Mateusz’s hands of all people…

Stanley © me/doloresdraws

#my art #clan nosferatu #oc Stanley #vamily #doloresdrawsocs #wod #World Of Darkness #vtm #vtr #vampire the requiem #vampire the masquerade #digital portait #digital painting #Vampire Art #chronicles of darkness #nossies

[raleighcarrera]

falling

platinum | raleigh carrera x mc (cadence dorian)

a little while ago i posted about the idea of a soulmate au where the first words raleigh & cadence say to each other are tattooed on them their whole lives, and this... is that. (for @platinumweekend ❤️)

tags: @choicesarehard ; @empressazura; @emomoustache ; @natesewell ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixeljazzy ; @brycemaloliver ; @grigori-girl ; @dulceghernandez ; @bitchloveskcbaseball ; @withbeautyandrage 

~10.5k words | T

i.

the words appear in looping script on his thirteenth birthday, right on time. they curve along the inside of his bicep, innocently punctuated. what’s your name?

“you got lucky,” one of his older cousins tells him, later, when everyone in his family comes by for cake and to ooh and aah over his new tattoo, “you’ll be able to hide that with a shirt or a jacket easily.”

but raleigh sleeps shirtless every night for the next two years, even when it’s cold, so that the words are the last thing he sees with his head pillowed on his arm before he falls asleep, dreaming of the nameless, faceless person who will one day say them, wondering what their voice might sound like when they do.

ii.

she has a more difficult go of it.

being a thirteen year old girl would be miserable enough without the added pressure of the words that practically feel broadcast across her forehead, most of the time. everyone at school teases her constantly and ruthlessly: say something funny, cadence. go on. tell us a joke!

so it’s difficult not to resent the two words scrawled lazily across her collarbone and the person attached to them, especially in the mornings before school when she’s angrily rearranging her neckline and jewelry in the mirror while the bus idles outside.

very funny. she isn’t, really. she’s plenty of things -- determined and passionate and sensitive, definitely, but... no one’s ever found her particularly funny, before.

and no one seems to understand just how much the expectation of having to be funny, one day, is weighing on her, not even her parents, when she finally works up the courage to squeak out, “but how am i supposed to know what i should say?”

her mom laughs indulgently, like she’s already said something funny. her stomach sinks further.

“oh, sweetheart,” she tells her, “don’t worry, it won’t matter. you just will.”

iii.

people ask him about it. a lot.

it gets difficult to keep it a secret as things change around him, but raleigh’s careful to avoid slip-ups and paparazzi photos and he doesn’t say a word about it in interviews, even when he’s asked directly. he’s never seen without short sleeves on, at the very least, and he doesn’t even tell blair and cameron about it.

he sort of wishes he had, though, because as his life turns upside down and he adapts to a new country with a new set of rules and an industry that makes his head spin most of the time it starts to feel more and more confusing, those three words -- what’s your name?

everywhere he goes, thousands of girls blocking the street scream it at him. so how is it possible that whoever’s waiting to meet him doesn’t already know it?

and what does that mean for how the rest of his life is going to turn out? 

what if all of this -- the fame and the money and the notoriety -- is fleeting, and he’s only a few short years from being completely washed up and irrelevant? what if the day he’s meant to meet his person is so far away that he’ll be completely out of the spotlight, by then, with sunset skatepark playing reunion tours and him having spent most of his life alone?

it’s a lot of pressure, for someone who’s already working their way through such a serious adjustment, and most of the time it’s dizzying, thinking about the fact that there’s someone out there who’s supposed to be perfect for him, when everyone he meets seems determined to forget every word they know other than yes, so they can suck up to him as much as possible.

his teenage years fly by in a whirlwind of mistakes and regrets. there’s things he would’ve never dreamed would come his way, like world tours and more money than he can count and so many girls who know everything about him before they even sit down to dinner, but there’s more than that, too.

there’s all the ways the industry weakens his trust until it’s gone, all the people who try to use him for what he can do for them, all the times he stumbles until he finally learns to distance himself by cultivating a persona, by leaning into all the expectations of raleigh carrera and creating something so outlandish it doesn’t hurt as much when disaster follows him around because it’s supposed to.

he watches everything that surrounds him turn fake and plastic and puts his energy only into his music, coasting on the rest. the days are less exciting than when he first joined the band at fifteen; he’s a solo artist, now, and most of the time, he’s just trying to get through.

but chaos continues to follow him and eventually his notoriety is inescapable. his first solo album is self-titled and he somehow manages to get a trademark on the word raleigh, as if the name is now more his than anything that ever belonged to the state of north carolina, and part of him sort of expects the words stamped on his arm to change, once he hits one-hundred million followers on his social channels.

they never do, though, and when he’s alone, and the veneer he’s built up for everyone else fades away, he can’t help but to be fascinated by this person who just wants an answer to the question no one else would ever dare ask him.

iv.

college isn’t exactly the fresh start she was hoping it’d be.

she was a loser in high school and things don’t get much better for her even now that she’s with ‘her people’ at a performing arts university she can barely afford, even with two part-time jobs. 

shane is across the country at a proper state school with parties and a social life and lots of friends who aren’t her, and she’s failing her improv class, proving that she isn’t actually very funny at all. 

boys continue to not notice her and patrons in bars continue to turn away from her one-woman performance, her old acoustic guitar the only constant in a life that feels utterly, unbelievably pointless, most of the time.

it’s like she’s drifting through the days, putting her time in at college in the hopes that it’ll fortify her for what’s next -- her big break, the discovery that’ll get her out of that shitty small town she’s been trying to escape her entire life. she writes hundreds of songs about how lost she feels and hates every single one, dreaming of a time when things might be different and she doesn’t have to second-guess every single one of her decisions.

she doesn’t have much of a love life and tries not to think about that, either.

the person on the other side of those two words stuck on her collarbone is probably looking for someone self-confident, who knows who they are and is comfortable with that. they’re probably expecting to meet someone who has their life together, who, at the very least, has a plan.

they’re probably not expecting a talentless nobody screwup like her, someone who tries as hard as she can yet never seems to make anything work.

things don’t turn around after graduation, either. sure, she manages to find an apartment in a building that’s nice enough and uses the last of her savings on the deposit and trying to furnish it, but it’s only a few weeks of trying and failing to secure a regular paying gig performing before she’s back at smoothie star again, begging for her old job back.

and there’s nothing that makes her feel more like a failure than working the same shifts she had in high school. 

as she hums along to the radio on a random tuesday afternoon when the store is dead and there’s nothing to blend, she wonders what mr.-or-mrs. very funny would think if they walked in and saw her here -- twenty-three years old and flat broke, with a dead-end job and a one-bedroom apartment all she has to show for her very expensive and very useless bachelor’s degree.

that, and a notebook full of half-finished songs about relationships she could only ever dream about and an escape from the miserable small town she lives in that feels farther away with every day that passes.

she can’t imagine they’d be very impressed.

v.

raleigh’s life gets monotonous very quickly. the music takes a backseat to the scandals and for a while there’s a predictable pattern of cause trouble, clean up image, rinse and repeat.

there are girls in between the cycles to help him pass the time. some he likes well enough and some he despises, but for the most part his management gives their recommendations and he agrees and makes awkward conversation for an hour or two over brunch until it’s time to go trash something again.

things get particularly bad after one minor cruise ship hijacking incident. 

but in his defense, no one ever told him that breaking into the harbor and joy riding was a first-degree felony, worsened by the fact that he’d just so happened to crash the boat into the pier while he was trying to dock it. 

at least he’d been sober.

though a monumental fuck up like this felt sort of inevitable; everyone who knew him probably figured it was only a matter of time before he went too far. how could he not when he was always chasing the next high?

still, the image rehab tour that follows is far from what he’d call enjoyable. he has to cut off all his hair and play nice at industry parties and waste time standing around being seen at charity events he winds up just cutting checks for instead of helping out at.

on top of the miserable community service comes the pr bullshit his team so loves -- dozens of tv appearances back-to-back where he’s herded around all day like cattle, in and out of green rooms with crappy coffee and bad catering.

he has no idea that showing up to be a judge on one in a million is going to change his life. hungover and running late, he barely even makes it to the taping of the semi-finals, slinking inside the concert hall in middle-of-nowhere, usa with a headache and some choice words for whoever thought this was the best way to clean up his image.

fortunately, raleigh manages to make his way inside virtually unnoticed. his phone is buzzing angrily in his pocket -- undoubtedly his manager trying to encourage him to hair and makeup or some other absurdity -- but he ignores it in favor of ducking back behind the line near the auditorium doors, only barely catching the last few words of some catty confrontation between two contestants as he goes.

as one of the girls stomps away, he sees the other’s shoulders slump from behind. “guess i’m not making any friends,” she mutters.

it’s clearly said to no one -- not even to herself, really -- yet for some reason, he can’t stop himself from responding. “where i come from, that’s a good thing.”

the girl’s shoulders straighten, but she still doesn’t turn around. “i’m not trying to succeed at the cost of others.”

raleigh smirks, leaning back against the wall beside his guitar case. “you do realize you’re at a competition show, right?”

“of course, but...” her hair ruffles with what sounds like a huff. she’s still not facing him, staring off at where the other girl she’d been talking to had run away. “that doesn’t mean i’m not rooting for everyone here to share their music with the world.”

“what a sweet sentiment,” raleigh drawls sarcastically, almost feeling a little bad for her and her naivety. this poor girl is going to be eaten alive. “it won’t last.”

her body tenses, her shoulders tightening again. he can almost see smoke start to pour from her ears before she spins suddenly on her heel to face him. 

whatever sharp retort had been on the tip of her tongue gets swallowed with a blink as soon as their eyes meet. something like electricity crackles in the space between them, strengthening the invisible pull he’d felt when he first stopped behind her. instead, she only asks, “what’s your name?”

vi.

the man in front of her snorts. “very funny.”

a smile tugs at her lips. “very funny, that’s a weird name.” this is unlike her -- the quick comeback, the flirting. usually being face-to-face with a guy as good looking as the one talking to her now made her want to wither away and die, but something about the stranger standing before her sets her instantly at ease. “so, are you gonna tell me, or not?”

now it’s his turn to blink at her. a hand lifts to rub at his jaw. “huh. you really don’t know who i am, do you?”

cadence’s eyes narrow as she assess him. there is something vaguely familiar about that crooked grin, she’s sure of it. 

at the very least, it’s an excuse to stare at him, and she does, moving her eyes slowly over the tattoos poking out over his jacket collar, the line of stubble on his sharp jaw, the glint of mischief in his eyes.

her helpless gaping is interrupted by a sudden shrill scream. “oh. my. god! is that raleigh carrera?!”

everything clicks at once. as a wild group of girls corner him, she realizes where she’s seen that smile before -- on just about every tabloid cover known to man, plastered all over convenience stores and the internet with headlines about his latest bender. in fact, she’s pretty sure he was just in the news for something similar -- crashing a yacht or something else ridiculous like that, something that only someone as rich as raleigh carrera could have accomplished. 

then she realizes what he’d said to her, as soon as she’d turned to look him in the eyes. very funny. 

her heart stops. all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him as he dispels the girls clamoring for a selfie, snapping back to the present when he waves one large hand in front of her face. 

“sorry -- what?”

“i said, what’s your name? it only seems fair, now that you know mine, and all.”

“cadence,” she answers numbly, “i’m -- um, i’m used to your hair being longer.”

“cadence,” raleigh repeats, smiling at her, “so you do know who i am.”

“what do the magazines call you again? r&b’s time bomb? puerto rico’s hottest export? you’re kind of notorious.” she blinks at him, then admits, “i’ve heard your songs.”

“seen the tabloid covers too, eh?” the expression on his face suggests he’s almost proud of them.

this is surreal.

“didn’t you crash a yacht or something?” she asks, brain whirring into overdrive as she tries to process what’s happening. he doesn’t seem to have realized it yet, which gives her a moment to gather her thoughts, something that feels impossible when she can’t push the way he’d scoffed very funny out of her mind. 

“or something. insurance paid out a couple million in property damage, but...” raleigh trails off, brow suddenly furrowing. he stares at her silently for a beat too long, then slowly turns a dull red. “hey, what’d you say earlier, again?”

cadence wets her dry lips, trying not to panic. stay calm, she silently coaches herself. raleigh carrera is not your long-awaited soulmate and you are not doing this in line to audition for one in a million. “i said -- what’s your name? and then you said...”

oh god, this is happening. her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fidgets with the neckline of her top, tugging it to the side so raleigh can see the two words on her collarbone. 

“very funny,” he mutters, “oh, jesus fucking christ. you can’t be serious.”

“me?” she demands, “you’re the one who --”

“next up,” calls a voice suddenly, cutting sharply through their argument, “contestant #9,276.”

her blood runs cold as she realizes that’s the number she’s wearing pinned to her shirt. she can feel herself start to sweat; how the fuck is she supposed to perform like this? she wants to throw up. why did this have to happen to her now? this was her shot -- her one fucking chance --

“hey, easy.” there’s suddenly two strong hands on either side of her shoulders, and she startles as raleigh stares at her from up close, closer than he was just a moment ago. “relax, okay? you’re gonna be fine. you’ve got this.”

“but --” she starts, then realizes her mind is racing too quickly to even articulate what she wants to say. she settles for shaking her head, eyes wide and panicked. “i can’t just -- oh my god, i’m going to throw up.”

“here,” raleigh directs, “take my guitar. prince gave it to me as a birthday present.”

prince?! she mouths hysterically to herself, as he flips the latch on his case open and pulls out the instrument. “how is this supposed to help me?”

“just trust me,” he says, giving her a gentle nudge towards the auditorium, “now go.”

she does, stumbling forward with the most expensive piece of equipment she’s ever held in her hands in her life alongside her, drawing in a deep breath as she makes her way onto the stage.

she can do this.

everything else will have to come after.

vii.

the thing is -- she’s talented. exceptionally so. 

he can tell she’s a little nervous, but maybe that’s just because he’s used to looking out for that sort of thing; he could probably recognize it more easily than the average person would. it probably has nothing to do with who they are, how he notices the nuances in her body language...

her belt is impressive. her voice is stunning, clear and uniquely melodic. his guitar looks spectacular in her hands, and cadence plays it like she’s been practicing on it her entire life. 

he tries his best to look nonchalant, feet kicked up onto the seat in front of him, but when she locks eyes with him from the stage he knows he hasn’t succeeded. raleigh’s breath catches, and he stares back at her, transfixed by the way her dainty hands cradle the neck of the guitar and strum the strings, how her lips purse around the long, emotional high note at the end of the song’s chorus.

she’s really very pretty. 

he’d probably be lying to himself if he said it doesn’t make him a little bit jealous and uncomfortable, watching how she and avery fawn over each other when she’s finished. he’s probably a much better suited match for her, clean cut and pristine as he is. 

he wonders if she’s disappointed that it’s him -- that it’s now, when she’s clearly on the cusp of something great all on her own.

it’s a lot to think about, and so he dips out of the auditorium before she finishes up, rushing outside with his heart pounding. it’s not until he’s halfway through the crumpled pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket that raleigh starts to relax even an iota, and of course that’s when the stage door he’d left propped swings open wide and cadence’s sneakers hit the asphalt beside his boots.

“uh, you can’t just leave me with this thing,” she says, apropos of nothing, and as he stares at her he realizes she’s talking about his guitar, which she’s holding in one hand like it’s a dead fish. “this costs more than everything in my apartment combined, i’m sure.”

he shakes his head at her, laughing as his fingers flick ash from the cigarette he’s holding. “no way -- you should keep it. you two looked perfect together.”

she hesitates, looking down at the instrument again. he can see in her eyes that she’s torn; it’s obvious she knows the right thing to do is to refuse a generous gift from a stranger, but she wants to keep it, and already his mind is racing as he considers what else he could give her that would excite her like that -- a private flight, a tour of his penthouse, a million dollars. 

“are you sure?” cadence asks, without looking at him, and the hesitancy in her voice makes him realize how unsure she really is. she’s the one who’s wondering if he’s disappointed in her.

he licks his suddenly dry lips and drops what’s left of his cigarette to the ground, finding he doesn’t actually need the rest of it, anymore. “positive.”

viii.

they don’t actually get to spend a lot of time together, while she’s filming. she has to focus and it seems like she’s always busy, somehow -- not that she sees raleigh very often in the first place.

the days are spent rehearsing with avery and cramming in as much mentoring as possible, and when she can pull herself away from fiona’s lessons on image to get home at a reasonable hour she collapses into bed pretty much immediately, out like a light from the whirlwind of the day and hardly even aware enough to dream.

but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about him. she does, especially on the rare occasions she manages to catch a glimpse of raleigh walking around in the studio, or on one memorable evening she stays late in the auditorium to bang on the piano keys of the beautiful, enviable baby grand on set and startles to find him leaning in the doorway, watching her play.

it’s all a blur and wildly difficult to process; just when she thinks she has a grip on things she remembers the private moments she’s had with raleigh and her emotions tumble to pieces again as she lets the weight of the implications of what’s going on between them crush her completely.

one moment sticks out on her as being particularly worrisome, insofar as how it bodes for the rest of her life. 

it feels like something significant from the moment raleigh offers to help her warm up; they’ve hardly had a moment alone together in days and she still has absolutely no idea how she’s supposed to talk to him or what she should say, but for some reason the conversation flows easily and she hardly has to think about the (no doubt incredibly stupid-sounding) words coming out of her mouth.

“you’re going to kill it,” raleigh says finally, once they’ve worked through all the exercises in his arsenal, “you really don’t need my help.”

never in her wildest dreams did she ever imagine someone like him would say something like that to her. “you think?”

“i know it,” he answers confidently, shrugging his shoulders like it’s that simple. “and you should, too.”

there’s a moment of silence where they just stand there staring at each other, ignoring the restless murmuring of the crowd outside that’s waiting for him to slip into his seat at the judge’s table. she’s effortlessly lost in raleigh’s eyes, so fixated on the intensity of his gaze that she doesn’t realize he’s leaning in closer until it’s too late.

“insurance policy,” he mutters, before he kisses her, hands cupping her face gently. 

for a split second, she stands frozen, shocked totally still. then, her brain reboots enough to propel her into motion, and cadence gets with the program enough to wind her arms around raleigh’s waist and pull him closer and kiss him back, until her heart’s lurched up into the throat she’d just been warming up, pounding relentlessly.

they make out until the roar of the crowd is deafening -- until it’s impossible not to acknowledge it any longer. 

of course raleigh’s a life-ruiningly good kisser. why wouldn’t he be? why should any of this be easy?

it’s only a few simple touches, but raleigh’s mouth leaves her dizzy and lightheaded when she’s supposed to be concentrating on performing, and, independently of the way she’s blinking at him in stupid shock, cadence already knows she’ll never be able to kiss anyone else ever again without thinking about him.

“i have to get out there,” she gasps between desperate presses of their lips against each other, grasping ineffectively at his clothes while his fingers tug her hair out of shape.

“be late,” he suggests, “it always works for me.” 

but she’s not him. she’s not like him -- they have nothing in common. they come from different worlds; they’re two completely opposite people.

and yet every minute with raleigh is like coming up for air after being underwater for years, like the knots of guilt and shame and awkward embarrassment she’s carried around for her entire life without understanding why she has them are slowly starting to undo themselves, unlaced by his careful fingers.

they make it out there. eventually.

before she knows it, confetti’s raining down from the ceiling and falling all over her, and she locks eyes with raleigh from across the room to find his lips pulled into a genuinely affectionate grin -- lips that she’d just kissed for the first time a fucking hour ago and, seriously, what is her life now -- his eyes bright and excited. 

things just keep getting weirder and weirder, but the way they’re beaming at each other like idiots in a room full of thousands, broadcast on national television, too, makes her think things might be pretty great, too.

ix.

it sort of takes them a long time to getting around to talking about it -- the soulmate thing.

it’s not that he doesn’t try. he does, but she’s got a lot going on, these days: a big move and a new record deal and days filled with songwriting and nights out being seen. he’s still on his image cleanup tour, while she’s at it, so his fake smile stays fixed on his face throughout another boring week of restaurant openings and charity events and talkshow appearances before he finally gets the chance to spend some time with her again.

they text here and there, but nothing pans out until the stars align and they manage to slip out of the back door of a nightclub unnoticed together after a night of dancing too close for the comfort of her publicist while avery and the others cause a commotion at the front entrance to distract the press.

she goes back to his penthouse with him. he can’t remember the last time he brought a girl back to his apartment just to talk, and especially not one who spent the better part of the evening in a sparkly minidress grinding against him. 

but here they are.

“so -- how’s the city treating you?” raleigh asks, pouring them both a drink he doesn’t want from the bar cart in the corner of the room for something to do with his hands.

cadence shrugs from where she’s perched on the edge of his sofa, tugging at the hem of her dress. “good, i guess. it’s honestly all kind of overwhelming.”

“yeah,” he nods, passing her one of the glasses in his hands and taking a seat on the ottoman in front of her, close enough to see her face in perfect clarity but still maintaining a distance that he hopes is respectful. “i know what you mean. when i first came here after joining sunset skatepark everything felt so... huge.”

“totally,” cadence answers quickly, nodding in a way that’s almost aggressive. “i mean, there’s so much pressure to deliver an album right away, but i want it to be perfect, and the studio is so different from, like, writing songs in my room at home, and i... i guess i feel kind of homesick, but -- not for my hometown. i hated that place.” there’s hesitancy in her gaze when she asks, “do you know what i mean?”

“yeah,” raleigh says again stupidly, because the truth is -- he knows exactly what she means. cadence has just articulated something he could never quite put into words better than he’d even thought the sentiments to himself. “it’s like... nostalgia for something you don’t even want.”

“exactly,” she breathes emphatically, and then they’re kissing again, and she’s in his lap on the ottoman and he definitely brought her here to talk, for sure, but is it really so terrible if they get a little sidetracked on the way to their destination?

well -- they wind up making out for hours. so, there’s that.

it’s not part of the plan but it’s a hell of a side quest, memorizing the shape and feel of her with his hands while her lips pull every last bit of breath from his lungs, until he’s lightheaded and dizzy in a way no other girl has ever made him, before. it’s to the point where when he finally finds it within himself to push her away, he’s uncharacteristically nervous -- something that’s never happened to him before, not even on the night he lost his virginity.

“i really did ask you over to talk,” he says, voice hoarse.

cadence licks her lips and then beams at him, eyes sparkling. “i know.” she shuffles delicately back onto the couch, lingering in his lap for only a moment before pulling away entirely. he stuffs his hands under his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her again. “sorry i haven’t been around more.”

“you don’t have to apologize.” raleigh shakes his head. “i should be apologizing to you, i feel like... i should be the one who’s around, to help you with all of this. or at least -- i want to be. i don’t know if i’ll be any good at it.” 

he blinks, surprised by his own honesty. he hadn’t meant to say all of that, but the words came up before he was cognizant of them and now they’re out there, and there’s no taking them back -- especially with the way she’s looking at him, all soft and sweet and happy.

“well, you don’t have to be good at it,” cadence murmurs, reaching out for his wrists and tugging his hands free so she can interlock their fingers effortlessly. they fit together like puzzle pieces. “you just have to be you.”

x.

her budding relationship with one of the biggest names in r&b doesn’t have much time to bud at all before it’s rudely plucked from the plant and stepped on.

she finds herself blinking at fiona in confusion as the words take some time to process. “you want me to do what?”

xi.

raleigh balks at his manager, shaking his head emphatically. “no,” he spits out, “absolutely not.”

xii.

“cadence, it’s not a big deal,” fiona tells her, very nearly rolling her eyes. “everyone does it. you go on a few dates, play up the relationship for some photos, social media eats it up -- boom, you’re a star.”

“i don’t know,” she answers hesitantly, mind drifting back to the photographers that have already been following her around, screaming about avery when she ducks into the car with him. things with raleigh are... new, and complicated, and do they really need to add public scrutiny into the mix as well? “i just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“it’s a great idea,” fiona sighs, shaking her head. “all our focus groups agree. the label thinks it’s best, what with your single taking so long to put out.” she opens her mouth to protest -- it’s not like she’s dragging her feet on purpose -- but barely has a second to get a word out before fiona continues, “besides, raleigh does this all the time.”

her teeth bite at her bottom lip uncertainly. “he does?”

“of course. chantal clearwater? she was a pictagram model when they met, and now she’s opening shows at paris fashion week. it’s just business.”

it’s not, though. it could never be just anything, for reasons no one else knows about except the two of them, for reasons she’ll never tell. “well... what did raleigh say about it?”

xiii.

“i said no, frank.” he’s annoyed, now, and his manager knows it, raleigh’s arms folded across his chest and his eyes set into a glare. “n. o. no.”

“and i hear you, but is it really the end of the world? she’s exactly what we’re going for, and i know you already get along --”

“which is exactly why i don’t want to do this. so pick someone else. anyone else.” he’s not going to let his label turn her into one of the girls he has to be seen with for fake photos and mutually beneficial positive press. 

for so many years, he’s watched people fake feelings and use each other -- willingly participated in the using himself, too, more times than he can count. he never cared about any of it before.

but being with cadence doesn’t feel fake, and he doesn’t ever want it to. and he knows that if he agrees to this, everything he enjoys about spending time with her will disappear in favor of the ugly, plastic decay that’s eaten away at so many of his personal and professional relationships before. organic, genuine time with her will become strolls near celebrity hotspots, angling just right to help the cameras get the perfect shot. he’ll show up to support her at shows because her publicist called him, and their time together will become some manufactured narrative meant to push their labels’ agenda, until six months down the line they don’t even recognize themselves or what might’ve been if they’d done things a different way.

“look, there isn’t anyone else. her team’s already agreed to it, and i’ve got brunch set up for sunday. all you have to do is play nice for two fucking months, raleigh. is that so impossible for you?”

yes. already he feels a deep-seated desire to go somewhere and break something, to tear through the flower beds in central park with his motorcycle and wink at the cameras when they catch up to him.

instead, he storms out of the office he’s in, and into the sunlight, tugging the hood on his jacket up and melting into the crowd on the corner so he can be as anonymous as possible when he picks up his phone and calls cadence.

“hey raleigh,” she chirps as soon as she picks up, sounding far too cheerful for someone who’s likely had an equally as miserable early morning meeting on a friday. “guessing you heard the news?”

“can’t i just call you to say hi?” he grumbles, ducking his head as he strolls through the intersection with the mob of people crowded along fifth ave, turning down the next side street so he’s alone again, with no one following, just like that. 

“well, you can,” she teases, and some of the anger he’s carrying around with him fades, dissipating into nothing and evaporating like smoke. “but you’re not.”

“no, i’m not,” he agrees with a sigh, shaking his head. “you sound surprisingly cool with it, though.”

“should i not be?” cadence laughs, but he can detect a thread of nervousness in her tone. “i already want to hang out with you. we have the same friends and work in the same industry. we’re... probably going to go on dates anyway, so... how hard can this be?”

god. she has absolutely no idea. part of him thinks it’d be cruel to burst her bubble, but he should warn her, shouldn’t he? 

she sounds so optimistic about it, though. it’s hard to feel anything but hopeful when her voice turns up like that at the end. in the back of his mind, there’s a voice that’s not his suggesting maybe this time, things will be different. 

surely he knows better than to think something as ridiculous as that, though, right? 

“well, i guess it’ll be interesting, at least,” he muses, slowing his steps by the entrance to the subway. 

he’s going to lose his signal just as soon as he heads underground, and he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

xiv.

time with raleigh flies by. 

it doesn’t feel like they’re fake-dating -- they do everything she hopes he’d want to do with her anyway, like go out to eat at fancy restaurants and take walks through the park and bounce melodies for songs off of each other, facetiming late at night from their apartments or on the days he visits her and micah in the studio. 

he’s by her side for the release of her first single, and her first music video, and through it all, raleigh plays the role of the doting partner perfectly, holding her purse on the red carpet and feeding her paella at a strategically-placed outdoor table and fetching her coffee order when she’s too busy to stop writing for even just five minutes.

in the blink of an eye, it’s time to put out her album -- just like that. 

raleigh’s perfectly charming through that process, too. he shows up on time, says all the right things, and keeps a drink in her hand all evening long, so that when she’s finally done making the rounds and can enjoy herself after the entertainment and the networking and the schmoozing she’s giggly and touchy, doing her best to steal him away from the crowd.

“what were your other relationships like?” she asks, half expecting him to brush her off, though he’s always indulged her before. they’ve never really gotten this personal. “fake or... otherwise.”

“they’ve all been fake,” he shrugs, “and i can say with confidence that you’re the best one i’ve ever had.”

“really?” cadence smiles, chin propped up on her hand as she leans over the bar. “be honest. what did you really think, when you realized it was me?”

“what?” he asks, pushing the empty rocks glass in his hands around on the bar top, “you mean this thing?” he gestures at his arm, covered in expensive, custom tom ford, and the tattoo laying innocently beneath it.

“uh huh,” she confirms, “‘cause i was totally like oh shit.”

raleigh laughs, loud and wild, the sound swallowed up by the noise of the party around them. no one nearby is paying them even an ounce of attention, and it’s fun, to be anonymous at her own party, invisible to everyone in the room except for him. “i can imagine. i wouldn’t want to be stuck with me either.”

cadence shakes her head -- that’s not what she’d meant. but before she can protest, he rolls his glass between his palms and thoughtfully continues, “i guess i was a little surprised. it felt like i’d been waiting forever to meet you, so part of me was like, fuck, we’re doing this now? and i never thought it’d be someone so...”

“boring?” she suggests, eyebrows arching when raleigh’s expression immediately twists into one of disagreement, his nose scrunching up with distaste.

“no,” he huffs, “so... good, i guess.” she stares at him as he reaches for one of the waiting tequila shots on the bar, pulling it away from the line he’d set up for the crowd he’d been with before she’d tugged him to the side to talk, leaving the drinks untouched. raleigh knocks the shot back -- no salt, no lime. he’s had twice as many drinks as she has, and she’s definitely feeling them -- she has no idea how he’s even still upright, no worse for wear other than a few slurred words here and there. “but you just are. it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you, and i just didn’t know it yet.”

the noise of the party fades in favor of the pounding of her heart, loud like a kick drum in her ears. she bites her lip and stares at him, watching as raleigh shakes his head at himself, dazed. “you okay?” she asks quietly, leaning in a little across the bar. 

raleigh’s quiet for so long she has to wonder whether or not he actually heard her. just as she clears her throat and opens her mouth to repeat herself even louder, he nods, reaching across the bar and squeezing her hand before dragging her back over to the line of tequila shots waiting for them to enjoy.

the night is a blur after that, and there’s patches of the evening that are fuzzy in her memory the next morning, but she knows she’ll never forget the gentle kiss goodnight raleigh gives her when he helps her stumble into the car back to her apartment at dawn.

xv. 

things go really well, until they don’t. 

they have a blissful six months together with more fun than he’s ever had with anyone. slowly, he learns every single thing about cadence and returns her openness with honesty of his own -- honesty that feels strange and unfamiliar but weirdly thrilling, in a way, made easier every time one of his stories pulls a laugh or smile from her. 

it seems unnatural, having a honeymoon period that goes on for so long. in the entire time they’re dating, he doesn’t destroy a single thing -- doesn’t even want to, which is the weirdest part of it all. 

there are some moments that catch him completely off guard. more than a few times, he hardly even recognizes himself, she turns him into such a different person. 

he doesn’t hate it, though -- just the opposite, in fact. raleigh realizes he’s really starting to like the carefree, far from jaded person he is when he’s with her, though it only hits him for real when he’s watching her storm away from him on liberty island, eyes fixed on the angry sway of her hips.

he stews on it on the long ride back to his penthouse; the game had, admittedly, been starting to wear on him. but he’d gone along with it because it was supposed to benefit her -- he’d agreed to the stupid public breakup and following the rules and not seeing cadence in public for the foreseeable future because it was what she wanted, and -- frankly, it felt like a stupid fucking decision.

not that it lasts long. he starts texting her just as soon as he’s done washing electralite out of his hair and doesn’t make it more than twenty minutes when they first see each other again at the moda gala before he’s sneaking off with her, ducking under the velvet rope that demarcates the planetarium as ‘off limits’ with her hand tucked neatly in his.

“maybe this is better,” cadence muses between sips of her drink, her eyes on one of the stupid glass exhibits he couldn’t possibly care less about. “now we can just be together -- no pressure. our relationship is ours again.”

their relationship. is that what this is? they’ve spent a lot of time talking about who they are and what they like and don’t like, kissing and touching and holding hands. throughout it all, he’s done his best not to buy into the ‘soulmate’ bullshit too heavily, but over the last few months it’s been hard to deny that there’s a reason he was meant to meet her, that she’s been changing him from the inside out.

“what’s on your mind?” she asks, turning towards him with an open look of genuine curiosity on her face, like she really wants to know. 

“it’s nothing,” raleigh answers at first, reflexively, like he has so many times before. no one has ever really wanted to know. but cadence’s eyebrows arch, and she waits, patiently silent, and then the words tumble out of him. “it’s just that -- my whole life, i’ve watched other people use each other. so many people are just interested in the concept of celebrity status. so i played the game. never trusting anyone.” 

he shrugs. a hand lifts to rub his jaw, and he looks back to meet her gaze just in time to see the little smile playing at her lips, like she already knows what he’s about to say. “but it’s different, with you. you make me not want to be that person anymore. when i’m with you, it’s the only time i feel anything real.”

“raleigh,” she murmurs, her expression flickering before her face does something that cracks his chest wide open. her eyes go all shiny and sparkly and her cheeks crease with a grin, and the way she laughs is so ridiculously joyful the hand he has stuffed in his pocket curls into a fist to stop him from doing something stupid. “i feel the same way. i just... this whole thing, i know it doesn’t always -- work out, but... with you i really want it to. i’ve never felt this way before about anyone, and i think...” 

there’s a pause as her lips purse thoughtfully, and then she says the words that make it impossible for him to do anything but close the distance between them and kiss her over and over again: “i think even without this tattoo it’d be you, anytime, anywhere.”

xvi.

being raleigh carrera’s (real, confirmed, 100%-authentic) girlfriend feels almost too good to be true.

raleigh is... everything she never knew she wanted in a boyfriend, wrapped up into one tall, dark and handsome package, with a loud, goofy laugh and a deep, sexy voice that sends a shiver down her spine whenever his mouth so much as lingers near her ear for too long. 

it turns out that, despite their differing status in the industry and her initial assumptions that they came from two completely different worlds, they’re actually on the same page about pretty much everything. she finds that the pressure of the word she’d held in such high regard for so long -- soulmate -- disappears entirely where he’s concerned because being with raleigh is just fun. 

there’s motorcycle rides and boat trips and hours up late talking about everything and nothing; facetime calls with his mom and shopping trips where the stores are kept open late for them so they can shop alone, in an empty boutique, like every teen movie she’d ever watched growing up.

there’s late nights in the studio and either of their apartments where they both noodle around on their guitars and improvise half-hearted duets, content to just work in the same orbit as each other for as long as possible.

raleigh’s texting one night on the couch in her living room when she plucks out the melody to who i’ll be on her old acoustic, sitting on the floor in front of the tv.

he looks up before the first verse is over. “what’s that one? it sounds good.”

“oh -- just a song i wrote in college,” cadence hums, already downplaying it as she lifts her shoulder in a shrug. “i got stuck, never finished it. ellis made me sell the progress for some other writer to finish.”

he frowns, pushing up onto his elbow. his phone is tossed carelessly somewhere among the couch cushions. “why?”

“because i was taking too long with the odyssey,” she sighs. “it was kind of my only option. it’s weird, though -- thinking about someone singing something that was so personal to me.”

“play me what you had so far,” he says, and so she does, hesitating for only a second before strumming the chords, singing the lines she had slowly. 

when she’s done, she looks up to find that raleigh’s slid to the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees as he leans in as close as he can get with the coffee table in his way. “okay -- that was beautiful. you should finish it.”

she shakes her head, setting her guitar down. “i can’t. they already sold it. and even if i wanted to... i don’t know how it ends.”

raleigh’s legs spread in invitation and she stands to walk around to the couch, slipping into his lap and leaning back against his chest. his hands are tender as he rubs them across her shoulders, sliding up her back before one lifts to brush a lock of hair back behind her ear, his pointer finger pushing her glasses up her nose affectionately. “maybe one day you can write something else with the same theme,” he suggests, and she tries her best to smile even though it feels like a dream lost, somehow -- a ridiculous thought, given that she pretty much has everything she ever wanted, but the way she feels all the same.

“maybe,” she sighs, the kiss he drops to her forehead a bandaid on a wound that’s been doing its best to heal for what feels like her entire life.

xvii.

he’s never brought a date to the vinyls before. 

there’s been plenty of after parties he’s stumbled out of with a girl on his arm, sure, but cadence is the first person to sit by his side during the ceremony, and he’s surprised by how much he likes having her next to him.

then again, he’s self aware enough to realize he’d like being pretty much anywhere, with her.

still -- the awards are a lot less boring with her around to kiss and stroke his hair and make snide commentary about the rest of the attendees with, and when she squeezes his hand goodbye to rush backstage and get ready for her performance he misses her instantly.

what happens next makes him endlessly regretful of the fact that he’s not backstage with her.

he rushes around just as soon as he can, pushing his way through security and frantically scrambling technical assistants to find her exactly where he thought he might, between ellis knight and fiona, looking lost with her head in her hands.

she seems equal parts broken and pissed in a way that tugs at his heartstrings and makes him a little bit proud. raleigh shoves through the crowd to get to her and slips an arm around her waist. he’s only caught the tail end of the conversation they’re all having, but he knows enough to know that “you can’t bench her. that’s bull.”

ultimately, though, it doesn’t matter how much they stomp their feet. she’s under contract, their hands are tied, and he walks away seething at the unfairness of it all, this shitty industry that’s turned on her when all she ever wanted to do was make music.

she cries in the car back to her apartment to pack her things. there’s no way he’s letting her go home to iowa or idaho or indiana without him, and he barks at his team over the phone until they agree to move his appearances around so he can make that happen, his free hand clasped tightly in hers until he physically has to let her go so she can unlock her front door with trembling fingers.

cadence tosses clothes haphazardly onto the bed and he silently and precisely moves to folds each piece for her, until she gives up and sinks down onto the edge of the mattress, defeated. 

wide eyes filled with tears lock onto his, and he watches her bottom lip wobble before she says, “you really don’t have to do this. come with me, i mean. i know i messed up, and -- you have so much else going on. i don’t expect you to --”

“i’m coming,” he states firmly, setting the sweatpants in his hand down and stepping closer to her, sitting beside cadence on her bed. “what happened tonight was fucked up, cadence -- it shouldn’t have happened at all. i’m not going to let you go through this alone.”

“but --”

“but nothing,” he says, and before the words have even left his mouth she’s falling into his arms with a soft sound of gratitude, mashing her face into his chest as she sniffles.

“thank you,” cadence mumbles, sounding so unsure of herself it makes him wonder if she’s ever had anyone show up for her when it mattered most before, or if that’s yet another thing they unfortunately have in common. 

xviii.

raleigh tries his best to cheer her up, but it’s still hard, feeling like she’s let the entire world down. her fans. herself.

there’s something embarrassing about showing raleigh her apartment back home and the person she was before she met him -- all the places she felt most uncertain and where she experienced some her worst self-doubt, the room that still has the smoothie star apron hung up in the closet.

but there’s also something exciting, about being totally off the grid with him. no one knows they’re here and there’s no paparazzi waiting to snap photos of them -- especially given the fact that they don’t leave her building for the first three days she spends moping around while raleigh orders all the takeout he can get his hands on.

it sort of reminds her of when they first met, and there was nothing to do but learn about each other, though now there’s a familiarity to him she relies on, a unique raleigh-ness that feels more like home than this shitty apartment ever did.

still, she struggles, and the weight of the world doesn’t let up until zadie shows up with her fanmail and avery does his best to make her smile with a beach trip and some fancy new toys and a day in the sun with a drink in her hand.

eventually it’s just her and raleigh again, out by the fire after everyone else has gone to bed. her stomach is full of s’mores and her cheeks hurt from smiling for the first time in weeks, and it’s a shock when she realizes she feels content, even after everything that’s happened -- almost as though things will all work out for the better no matter what happens next.

“oh my god,” she gasps suddenly, cutting off what raleigh had been saying as her eyes light up and she hastens to stand. “i’ve gotta -- i need to -- oh my god.”

just like that, she knows how her song ends.

recording it is a process, but raleigh calls in some favors and gets them studio time and agrees to be featured on the song even though she knows he’s still working through a sound change that he feels unsure about.

but it means a lot to her, having him crammed in the booth at her side, singing into the same mic. they sound almost unbelievably good together, too, raleigh’s harmonies on the words that finally resolve that lost feeling she’s been harboring her entire life making something deep within her wriggle up happily, wagging its proverbial tail.

the fact that raleigh remains by her side throughout the entire fight with her label, the long nights of despair agonizing over what her next move is going to be and even the moment where they decide to break into indio, of all places, means more to her than she can ever say. she feels markedly less nervous about the entire thing every time she turns her head to the side and sees him, right there next to her -- right where he’s been this entire time -- smiling encouragingly and squeezing her hand hard in his.

though it’s not until they’re up at the top of the ferris wheel that she realizes how precious what she has really is. it’s not until he looks her dead in the eye and says, with that same soft earnestness he’s awarded her since they first met at the one in a million auditions that feel quite literally like a hundred years ago, “cadence, everything you want is on the other side of fear. and i want you to have everything you want,” that she truly understands that’s what between them is special and rare.

not because of any tattoos, or any preconceived destiny. not because of who they are and their status and the fact that people take pictures of them when they’re out in public together.

but because of this -- all these real moments of genuine connection they’ve been fortunate enough to share since fate threw them into each other’s paths.

“raleigh, i love you.” the words are said easily, not a moment’s hesitation behind them. 

just before she crosses over in the cart to kiss him until they’re both breathless, raleigh gifts her the brightest smile he has and says, “i love you, too.”

xix.

the night is a blur from the moment he first takes the stage with his old bandmates to when he finally finds himself alone with cadence in a rundown old motel a few miles out from the festival in the desert.

he can’t recall ever being so happy, so of course he doesn’t remember every agonizing detail of the evening, though he does know he doesn’t feel the need to have a single beer with cadence around, twirling barefoot in the grass and giggling when she leads him up to the room they’ve borrowed.

afterwards, when they’re sitting on the roof together in the blanket they dragged off the bed, he reflects on the wild year they’ve had with her in his arms, fingertips tracing the delicate very funny scrawled across cadence’s collarbone.

he feels... free. completely liberated. like there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get to him, now, like he’s untouchable, like he doesn’t care about a single thing that happens after today and how perfect things have been. 

“i think i’m actually freer than i’ve ever been,” he muses, where his lips are pressed into her hair, “i can take my sound in any direction i want.”

“i’m so happy for you, raleigh,” cadence returns genuinely, tilting her head back so he can see her upside-down smile. 

his arms tighten around her. “i’m so excited for what you’re gonna be doing, too. i’m excited for us.”

“yeah,” she sighs, “who knows what’s next, right? now that ellis let me out of my deal...”

he can hear the thread of worry undercutting the words. he shakes his head, hands rubbing up and down her arms. “you can worry about that tomorrow. for tonight, just enjoy the comeback. what you did out there was amazing.”

“what we did,” she corrects, and he blinks up the stars as he realizes she’s right -- they’re a we now. he’s part of a we again, after being on his own for so long.

the phrases bounce around in his head, unfamiliar and foreign. me and my girlfriend, he thinks to himself, cadence and i. we’re going to be late. we’ll be away that weekend. we just started watching that show. we, we, we. 

“what we did was amazing,” raleigh amends, the words slow to come out but feeling right all the same. “whatever we do next will be amazing.”

“absolutely,” cadence confirms, with conviction, like it’s something she believes wholeheartedly.

and though he has no idea what to expect or what it might be, a large part of him is inclined to agree with her -- she’s been right about everything else so far.

xx.

one year later, she’s finishing a set in berlin, the last stop on a sprawling european tour that had taken she, avery, micah and raleigh across the continent for dozens of performances to sold-out crowds of thousands screaming her lyrics back to her. 

if her contract with overknight had been a dream come true, signing to wilshere records is heaven incarnate. cadence’s trip through the u.k. with her new label is proof enough, and the chance to meet new fans with new stories to share that she could connect with is one she’s taken to with enthusiasm, the experience made all the sweeter by the fact that her favorite people get to be by her side throughout it all.

berlin’s crowd is one of the best, and she fully expects to end the tour on a high note, head banging to the last few notes of ‘knockout’ before raleigh’s planned entrance for the last song of the night, so they can sing the duet that’s closed out every show they’ve had on the tour together. 

when he struts out with his guitar, waving and grinning at the crowd, she can’t stop herself from smiling stupidly at him, just like she does every time she sees him join her on stage, every time she realizes that this is their life, that this is something they do every night, now.

though her grin falters when raleigh pauses in front of his microphone and asks, “berlin, do you mind if i talk a little bit before i start the song? no? cool, because i’ve got an important question to ask.”

her eyes widen. cadence’s mouth drops open and doesn’t close throughout the entire speech raleigh gives her, even though thousands of people in the crowd are filming every moment of her gaping like an idiot, snapping close-ups of her shocked face.

the arena practically vibrates with screams when he drops to his knee, popping the box in his hand open so she can see the giant diamond ring nestled inside of it. 

“so?” raleigh asks, and cadence can just barely hear him in her in-ears with the way her heart is beating frantically up into her throat, as wild as the crowd’s raging around them and then some. “whaddya say, babe? will you marry me?”

as if the answer could ever be anything but yes. she nods, laughing as she launches herself into his arm for a kiss that’s too grand to be given on stage, though that’s hardly going to stop her -- not tonight, at least. tonight, she’s okay with the whole world watching their every move, just one more time.

“oh, i don’t know if it’s going to fit,” raleigh jokes as the ring slides easily onto her left hand, amping up the theatrics for the fans still watching them avidly, even up in the cheap seats.

cadence rolls her eyes playfully at him. “very funny,” she praises, and the grin he offers her in return is so loving -- so knowing, with the secret that only the two of them share and every weird piece of their history included in it -- that it takes everything she has to shove him away so they can perform instead of dragging him down to the floor to kiss him over and over again.

clumsily, she flubs a few notes of love who i’ll be on her guitar. from across the stage, between the bridge and the chorus, raleigh jeers, “someone hasn’t learned to play with the extra weight on their left hand, yet, i see,” and when she flips him off while belting out the last lines of the verse, his raucous laughter is all the harmony the final few bars of the song needs. 

#platinumweekend #platinum #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #cadence dorian #raleigh x mc #raleigh x cadence #myfic #long post #well. this sure took me a long time DFJGHDFJHGDFJKGH so i hope you guys like it !! it was kind of a new style for me 😳

[thenamelessdoll]

Giving the first 3D Odette from The Swan Princess a make-over to match her original 2D design more accurately. [Final results]

#The Swan Princess: Christmas #The Swan Princess #Watch Me Edit #random nameless channel #princess odette #Odette

[rhys-rambles]

FIGHT CLUB | 1999

I was introduced to the movie Fight Club around 3 years ago. It wasn’t until recently I’ve become interested in it. So here’s my Fight Club breakdown :) WARNING FOR SPOILERS!!

For those who don’t know, Fight Club is a cult favorite novel that was later adapted into a film released in 1999, directed by David Fincher. Starring Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, and Helena Bonham Carter.

The story of Fight Club revolves around three main characters. It’s told from a first-person perspective by a nameless character that’s commonly called ‘the narrator’, who has a dead-end white-collar job at a major car company and has fallen prey to what he calls the ‘Ikea-nesting instinct’. Dictated by social norms he walks perfectly in line like a docile sheep, which translates into an inauthentic, repetitive and empty life.

He suffers from a bad case of insomnia, which causes him to be neither fully awake, nor fully asleep. Sometimes, he entertains self-destructive thoughts: as he flies around from state to state for his job, he prays for a crash or mid-air collision every time the plane bankes too sharply on takeoff or landing.

During a flight, he meets an eccentric and hypermasculine character named Tyler Durden.

Tyler seems to be the direct opposite of the narrator. He’s a wolf rather than a sheep, disentangled from society, and impervious to social norms. He takes what he wants, without asking, and whenever he pleases. He’s self-sufficient, has no superiors, and doesn’t care about material possessions.

The movie later reveals that Tyler and the narrator are the same person, as Tyler is a product of the narrator’s imagination, that’s probably induced by severe insomnia combined with dissatisfaction with a dull, meaningless existence and a lifetime of repressed urges.

The narrator is addicted to going to support groups for specific illnesses because these give him the opportunity to cry, which seems to be a remedy for his insomnia. The downside of his behavior is that he isn’t genuine; he has no testicular cancer, or blood parasites, yet acts as if he does, so he can reap the benefits of these sessions.

But these benefits come to an end when another non-genuine visitor starts to join the sessions as well. This is a woman named Marla Singer, and her motive for joining these sessions is, and I quote: “It’s cheaper than a movie and there’s free coffee.”

Marla is a self-destructive, chain-smoking fatalist, who’s expecting to die at any moment, but finds it tragic that it never happens. She steals food and clothes for a living and attempts suicide by overdosing Xanax.

Even though the narrator, Tyler, and Marla are totally different personalities, they all live their lives accompanied by a nihilistic undercurrent.

Tyler seems to have figured out what causes this emptiness, and during the course of the story, his solution unfolds. Unfortunately, his character slides from a sage-like father figure to an anarchist terrorist, who’s out to destroy modern civilization. Nevertheless, he exposes a series of harsh realities about modern life that are worth contemplating.

Anti-consumerism

The anti-consumerist stance of Tyler Durden becomes obvious when he verbalizes his concern about the modern way of life. Shortly after the narrator meets Tyler, he discovers that his apartment went up in flames. After this unfortunate event, realizing that he has no friends to call, he calls Tyler. The two meet, and the narrator complains about losing his furniture, and his respectable and almost complete wardrobe. Tyler responds rather indifferently and slightly sarcastically before he begins to express his views on the matter. Quote:

“We’re consumers. We are by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don’t concern me. What concerns me are celebrity magazines, television with 500 channels, some guy’s name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra…”

It becomes clear that Tyler has quite an unconventional view of what’s good and bad. Murder, crime, and poverty are generally considered bad things, while consumer goods like televisions, clothing from a certain brand, products that help to hide aging, enhance bedroom performance, and help us with weight loss, are considered preferable.

Tyler has a contempt for the artificial, as opposed to elements that have been a natural part of the human condition, probably as long we exist. This way of thinking touches upon an ancient Cynic philosopher named Diogenes of Sinope, who believed that modern, civilized life hinders our natural state.

At the end of the movie, it appears that the narrator has destroyed his apartment himself when he was taken over by his alter ego, Tyler Durden. This deed was the first step onto the road of detachment from his property, into a more authentic way of life and to (how Tyler puts it): “reject the basic assumptions of civilization, especially the importance of material possessions.”

The narrator moves in with Tyler, who lives in a dilapidated house with ongoing leaks, power failures, and no Ikea furniture. Slowly but surely, the narrator indeed detaches from his previously destroyed property. “Things you own end up owning you,” Tyler tells him. And this simple piece of wisdom probably hits home, when the narrator realizes that he doesn’t need all these worldly goods, and is actually much happier without them.

Non-conformity

Tyler Durden is a non-conformist, and shows, again, similarities with Diogenes, who not only purposefully lived in poverty, but also rejected social norms. For him, social constructs are nothing more than a superficial layer of culture that represses our true nature.

Diogenes lived in a barrel, Tyler lives in an abandoned building. Diogenes urinated in public, Tyler urinates in the soup of a restaurant.

The narrator, on the other hand, seems to be the embodiment of conformity, as he adapts his lifestyle completely to societal expectations. The problem with this behavior is that we dedicate our existence walking the paths that people other than ourselves have laid out for us. This need to conform, the fear of falling by the wayside, this sickly preoccupation by what others think of us, this necessity to keep up with the Joneses: what an exhausting way of life, just to feel ‘accepted’.

So, what if we stop caring? What if we reject the generally accepted norms, and choose our own values, elect our own leaders, determine our own goals, regardless of the social expectations? This is a fundamental difference between the narrator and Tyler Durden, who puts it like this: “I am free in all the ways that you are not.”

Ironically, later on in the story, Project Mayhem, a terrorist organization led by Tyler that grows out of Fight Club, is a textbook example of conformity, as it’s members wear the same clothes, are absolutely equal, abolish their names, and are referred to as space monkeys that sacrifice their lives for a greater cause. We could say that by rejecting one doctrine in order to be ‘non-conformist’, we often imprison ourselves in another one.

Fighting and masculinity

Fighting and the experience of pain play a significant role in Fight Club. At the beginning of the story, Tyler asks the narrator to hit him as hard as he can. He explains his strange wish by saying: “How can you know yourself if you’ve never been in a fight? I don’t want to die without any scars.”

So, the narrator hits him. Tyler hits him back, and the two engage in a fistfight. Both seem to feel surprisingly pleasant afterward and decide to do it again. Their nightly activities on a parking lot attract the attention of other men, that are also interested in joining these non-hostile fistfights. And thus, Fight Club is born.

It’s widely known that voluntary exposure to certain forms of pain makes us stronger in the face of adversity, which could be a legit reason to partake in these fights. As the narrator states: “After fighting everything else in your life got the volume turned down.”

However, Fight Club is more than just a metaphor for dealing with hardship through exposure: a physical fight, and the violence and aggression that goes with it, resonates with the primal part of our being.

Not only the men in the story are attracted to the violence of fighting; Fight Club as a movie and novel was so impactful on its audience, that real-life Fight Clubs started to emerge.

The story shows an experiment in which the members of Fight Club pick fights with random strangers (and are supposed to lose), which isn’t as easy as it sounds; most people do everything to avoid physical conflict.

But Fight Club makes us wonder if it’s a good thing that we’ve lost touch with these primal tendencies. Should we repress this part of human nature? Or, perhaps, integrate it in healthy and constructive ways?

Self-destruction

When the story progresses, Tyler and the narrator begin to see the world through a different lens. Tyler criticizes the modern self-improvement hype by saying: “Self-improvement is masturbation. Now self-destruction… ”

This statement is slightly confusing, as the increasingly destructive nature of Fight Club, in which faces are permanently mutilated and teeth are knocked out of people’s heads, doesn’t seem to be a sustainable way to live.

But Tyler might be onto something when we look at self-destruction as the destruction of a false self.

‘Self-improvement’ often points to the accumulation of external goods: a better house, a better job, a better body, more money. But why should we endlessly want to improve ourselves? Why can’t we just be happy with how things are, and take life as it comes? Or as Tyler states:

“I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may.”

We create an identity through material wealth, and social status. And as far as Tyler is concerned, this false sense of self must be destroyed, before we are free to do anything we want. Therefore, the ‘space monkeys’ of Project Mayhem live by a mantra which goes like this:

“You are not your job, you’re not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the car you drive. You’re not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. You are all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler makes a so-called human sacrifice, namely a man called Raymond who works a dead-end job in a convenience store. Raymond wanted to be a veterinarian, but didn’t make it because it was “too much studying.” Tyler threatens Raymond, saying that if he doesn’t start studying within six weeks, he’ll kill him.

In this scene, Tyler points to another aspect of self-destruction: the act of letting go of fears, negative self-talk, and all distractions, so we can fully focus on our purpose. It’s the destruction of everything within ourselves that holds us back from living life on our own terms.

A near-life experience

Many people go great lengths when it comes to pain avoidance. The problem is that running from pain means running from an inevitable part of life.

The prospect of incurring pain makes us anxious, and often leads to self-indulgent decisions. That is: choosing the less painful path, even if a more painful path guarantees more success and pleasure in the future.

Tyler Durden deals with this by inflicting a chemical wound on the narrator’s hand using lye.

As expected, the narrator does everything to escape the pain: he uses visualization techniques he learned at a seminar, and retreating in his cave to find his ‘power animal’. But Tyler slaps him in the face, forcing him to stay with the pain, saying: “This is the greatest moment of your life, man. And you’re off somewhere missing it.”

For the narrator, Tyler has one central goal: he must reach bottom. After putting him through suffering, and destroying his false identity, there’s yet another aspect that must be crushed: hope. Losing all hope is freedom. And, therefore, he must reject what has rejected him: his father, and God. I quote:

“Consider the possibility that God does not like you. In all probability, he hates you.” - Tyler Durden, Fight Club

Tyler states that we don’t need God. That we shouldn’t care about redemption and damnation. And if we’re God’s unwanted children, so be it. Thereby, we lose all hope, but are also liberated from religious doctrine and fatherly authority.

Now we’re truly free. Now we can create our own meaning, and live how we want to live.

Tyler emphasizes the importance of knowing what we want in life. To achieve this, we must be willing to get out of our comfort zone and jump into the unknown without safety brackets.

The narrator, however, has difficulties letting go of security. He begs Tyler to not mess around when he lets go of the steering wheel in a driving car while hitting the gas. Tyler calls the narrator ‘pathetic’, and yells: “hitting bottom isn’t a weekend retreat. It’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to control everything and just let go!”

After an inevitable car crash, Tyler states that they just had a ‘near-life experience’.

Wrap up

Fight Club is a story about rebellion against the status quo and a plea for the simple life. It criticizes the ways in which we are so hung up on security, and material possessions, and how people let social norms dictate their lives.

‘Stuff’ has become our religion. The idols we worship are Ikea and Starbucks. And the more we immerse ourselves in such an empty and unfulfilling existence, the more we start to resemble the things that we produce: manufactured products rather than authentic human beings.

Tyler shows us a way out. And even though his insights are profound, the execution is questionable. Fight Club, and its terrorist branch Project Mayhem, show us how easy it is to oppose one ideology, in order to fall into another, and how a cult-like echo chamber built on rigid beliefs could become very destructive.

Nevertheless, Tyler challenges us to be self-sufficient and disobedient to the authorities that let us down, to live authentically and in the moment, to confront our fears, to boldly step out of our comfort zones, and let the things that don’t matter truly slide.

#fight club #tyler durden #the narrator #marla singer #fight club (1999) #i wrote this instead of sleeping #movie analysis

[saxxxology]

Cosmo Says - 1

PAIRING: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester x Reader WARNINGS: smut: p/v sex, oral sex, some dom/sub themes, eventual threesome, exploration of kinks, and more NOTE: Do not save or repost my work without my consent. I don’t tag for spoilers, so feel free to message me with any questions you have. This work is 18+ only.

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“Cosmo?”

You look up as the magazine lands on the table beside your laptop. The bright pink background is glaringly obvious, as is the half-clothed model on the front cover. Dean’s brought in the mail, and he’s leering down at you like he’s just uncovered your biggest secret.

“Yeah, Cosmo.” You grab the magazine and move it to the other side of your computer, facedown. “What about it?”

“Nothin’.” Dean strides around behind you, leaving the rest of the mail—assorted newspapers and Sam’s monthly National Geographic—on the table. “You just don’t strike me as the kind of girl who reads…” he snatches the Cosmopolitan before you can grab it and peeks at the front cover. “‘Sixty-nine Ways to Spice Up Your Sex Life’.”

Your cheeks flush. “I didn’t subscribe for that.”

“Really?” Dean raises his eyebrows. “What did you get it for, then?”

“It’s none of your business,” you stand up, reaching for the magazine. He holds it above his head, smirking down at you.

“Who’re you gonna try those out with?” he asks. “You got a secret boyfriend Sammy and I don’t know about?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” He grins. “That’s hot.”

“Shut up.” You jump, trying to grab the magazine out of his hand as a playful giggle escapes. “Just give me my magazine back, Dean. Please.”

He puckers his lips, bending over to kiss at your cheek before you can squirm away. “Gimmie a kiss first.”

“Back off, Dean.” Sam strides in, tugging the magazine out of his brother’s hand. He unfurls it, reading the cover, and issues a soft chuckle before handing it back to you. “Really? Cosmo?”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, it’s Cosmo. I don’t see what the big deal is, Dean’s got a subscription to fucking Playboy and I don’t even wanna talk about what I’ve seen in his browser history.”

“Wait, you’ve seen my browser history?”

“Yeah, and you’re nasty.”

“Okay, guys—” Sam steps between you, hands held up. “Dean, leave her alone. She’s right, your browser history is gross.”

Dean frowns and turns on his heel, stalking out of the room, muttering “puritans” under his breath. Before Sam can say anything, you stick your tongue out after the older Winchester and stomp down to the kitchen, open laptop forgotten on the table. 

A week goes by with no mention of your subscription. One night, after a long, lazy day spent lounging around in pajamas and eating junk food, Sam finds you in the television room. You’re flipping through the Cosmo, scanning an article about different kinds of cruelty-free makeup, and you barely glance up when he flips the TV on, scanning channels until he settles on some old black-and-white. 

“Anything interesting in there?” he asks, slumping back into his armchair and glancing over at you.

“It’s Cosmo, what is there to be interested in?” 

He chuckles. “Just askin’.”

You go silent, flipping absentmindedly through pages until you end up in the section that made the front page. Sam turns his attention to the television, and you hope he doesn’t spy the several glances you cast at him. Dean’s joking taunt about you having a boyfriend had hit a little deep—you’ve been single for the last few years that you’ve been with the Winchesters, hitting up one-night stands in towns you linger in long enough to have a drink and a lay before taking off again. You want someone to love you, sure, who the fuck doesn’t, but you’re tired of taking nameless men to bed.

You’ve got two perfect specimens around you almost twenty-four-seven, anyway.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“Am I fuckable?”

He frowns. “What?”

You sigh, dropping the magazine onto your lap. “If I was some stranger in a bar and you’d had a couple drinks, would you have sex with me?”

Sam clears his throat, shifting a little in his seat. “Well, yeah, I would. But I wouldn’t have to drink to have the balls to do it.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam turns the volume down on the television. “You’re a pretty girl. Besides, drunk sex isn’t my thing.” He spies the pull of your lower lip between your teeth. “Why? Something wrong?”

You know you can trust Sam. If anything, he’s the one person who’s always had your back through thick and thin. “I’m just tired of fucking random guys,” you confess, “I like sex, but it’s boring with them, there’s no connection, we know next to nothing about each other… I hate it. I’d rather fuck men I know.”

Eyebrows raised, Sam completely mutes the television. “By men you know…”

“Well, that is why I got Cosmo.” You ruffle the pages of the magazine. “I was gonna join a dating app or something, maybe try and find another hunter…”

Sam narrows his eyes. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“But,” you continue, unable to help a small smile. “I just figured… you and Dean…”

“Wait,” Sam holds up a hand, “me and Dean?”

You reopen the magazine, staring down at a perfume ad on the back of the front cover. “Why have one when you can have two? Besides, I don’t think Dean would care.”

“Care about what?” Dean steps into the room, a bowl of popcorn cradled in one arm. “What’s going on?”

You chew on your lower lip, suddenly embarrassed. “I just thought that… um… I got Cosmo to kinda explore some more, um… things, and I just thought that you guys might be interested.”

Dean absorbs your words carefully, eyes darting from you to the magazine and back again. “Wait,” he finally says, “the last four years we’ve been talking about getting you in bed and now—”

“Four years?” You sit up a little straighter. “So you guys have been trying to get—why didn’t you just tell me?”

They shrug in unison. “Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Sam says, “or make you feel like you were bein’ used.”

“I’ll give you that.” You turn your gaze to the older brother. “Dean’s a slut anyway, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Dean frowns, mocking offense at your joke, but sinks down onto the small couch and stretches out. “Just putting it all out there on the table, we both think you’re hot and Sam’s got a list of things he would do to you if you let him.”

“What?” Sam’s cheeks flame red. “No, I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Shut up—”

You hold up both hands, instantly quelling the bickering. “Anyway… this doesn’t have to go anywhere or lead into anything. I just thought that since we’re friends, we could make arrangements or something.” 

The brothers exchange a glance before Dean speaks. “Have you had two partners before?”

“No,” you reply honestly, “but I think if we’re open with each other about who’s getting what, where, when, et-cetera… it could work. Have you two shared before?”

“Once,” Sam replies. “Long time ago, it was just a weekend thing in Vegas and we had a lot of boundaries.”

You nod understandingly. “Well, I know where I stand. I want sex with someone I trust and I got two guys apparently willing to share right here in front of me.”

Sam darts his tongue over his lip. “How would this work?”

You flip to the dog-eared segment of the magazine. “We could do things from here? Pick out things to explore.”

Dean frowns. “What, like the dick in a donut hole thing?”

“Ew, no.” You wrinkle your nose. “Donuts are pure, we don’t need to defile them.”

“True.” Dean throws a piece of popcorn at his brother. “What do you think?”

Sam shrugs, giving you a quick, slightly nervous smile. “I’m in.”

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#scheduled post #cosmo says... #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam x reader x dean #sam x reader #dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #sam winchester x you #dean winchester x you #sam winchester reader insert #dean winchester reader insert

[i-did-not-mean-to]

❤️ Francis Dolarhyde idea ❤️

So, based on a post I saw on here about Richard being kind of vain (in the insecure way that breaks my heart) and on the amazingly smart comment of one ThiccMerc on Reddit, an idea sprang to my mind.

This is a very short piece to clear my head and I wanted to share it with you :)

With a start, Richard awoke in a bed that was clearly not his own. A strange smell pervaded the space, and it took him a second to place it; it smelled like the homes of old people: stale air and old clothes full of pests.

Where was he and what had happened?

Blinking several times to make sure that he had not slipped unawares from one dream into another, he got up.

His surroundings felt familiar, but it was not a place he had any reason to be in; not any of his abodes, not the family home, not even the place of one of his lovers.

As he advanced towards a broken mirror, he realized that he felt different as well…younger and stronger than he had been when he had gone to bed yesterday.

He gasped when his eyes fully adjusted to the semi-darkness of his surrounding and he was able to make out the fractured image reflected in the shards of broken glass. It was the face he had expected to see, the face he had seen for decades day in, day out, and yet, it was not quite right.

Tentatively, his index ghosted over the surgical scar running down from his nostril into the narrow upper lip. He remembered the silicone prosthetic, a quick application for effect and faithfulness to the original opus, but his probing finger found no purchase now.

“Welcome to insanity.” A voice, low and growling, hissed inside his skull; it felt like his muscles were rippling even though he was standing perfectly still.

This was not possible, Richard tried to calm himself, this was not something that happened to real people in real life.

And yet, he recalled the painstaking research he had made at that time, years ago now, to search the mind of a demented murderer. He had worn his skin, lent him his own body, channelled his pain in pursuit of artistic excellence; had he gone too far?

Why now? Had he died? At 50 years old, his years of excesses lay mostly behind him, and he was almost certain that nobody would have had any interest in drugging and abducting a random actor for fun.

No, he was back in the body and mind of one Francis Dolarhyde; he recognised him immediately: the slightly hunched posture, the darting eyes, and the defensive scowl he just couldn’t wipe from the marred face.

His own vanity reared up its ugly head; he took no pleasure in seeing the scar that seemed so much more vivid and angry than it ever had on screen.

Of course, he was indeed younger as well; this was a level of fitness he would not achieve again without working himself to the bone…or to hospital.

His hands, Dolarhyde’s hands, slid over the smooth skin and the bulging flesh underneath it, but a wave of disgust washed over him, flooding and drowning out his own fragile consciousness.

“Are you the dragon?” He asked the one who had spoken to him and heard that his own voice was rough and gritty like sand on stone.

“No, I am Francis…the dragon is you.” The voice replied, plaintive all of a sudden.

Was he? Was he the thing that haunted this imaginary man? He couldn’t be. He had many a fault, but he was not a murderer.

Richard rubbed his hands again and again over that face that was so much his own and so foreign, nonetheless, as if he could tear away the nightmare by brute force and wishful thinking.

He could go out and ask someone for help, maybe? No, he dismissed the idea immediately; no-one was to see him like that or hear that mangled voice that was so unlike the one he was praised and paid for.

Also, if he was here, there was a distinct chance that the rest of this universe was actualised as well: murderers and psychopaths. He’d be safe here; he could not hurt anyone here.

He returned to bed, willing himself to fall asleep again and wake up in his own life, but the sweet relief of drowsiness would not come to him. His whole body tingled with a dark need to break out of this shell, no matter the price he had to pay.

Reality and fiction blurred as the seconds ticked by. He had loved the work, but Francis was not the kind of person he’d want to be. Most of his roles weren’t the kind of men he would model himself after, come to think of it.

A dull, aching pain crept into his soul now: the suspicion of being just outside of what was considered normal, handsome, desirable…

He was functional, he was useful, he was good at his job, but was he really loved? The inability, for he knew not if it was due to his own shortcomings or to circumstances, to be truly cherished and to engage fully with people sat, like a bullet lodged within a withering bone, in his heart.

No, this festering, poisonous dart was not his own. He was timid for sure, but he did not let the shadow of insecurity darken to the abyss of hate and resentment.

He would not succumb to the madness he had but dipped a toe in, for all the right reasons, and fall prey to the seduction of logical fallacies and short-sighted justifications.

Francis had not had a choice, he had been abused and neglected, but Richard held on to the memory of his family, of his friends, of the many faceless, nameless people paying money to enjoy the art he created.

“I am an artist too. I make beautiful things and people love them, people love beautiful things, don’t they? That’s why they do not really love us.” The voice muttered at the back of his mind, lying in wait for a moment of weakness, for the minutest of openings in his defences.

Richard could not bring himself to declare that he was, as a matter of fact, beautiful.

He just wanted out; he needed to get back to a world where his own doubts were a dull, nagging twinge in his soul and not the spring of terrible crimes. Already, he felt the frenzied anger rush through his blood and set his body on fire.

Resist it, he admonished himself, don’t give in to the darkness.

He had believed that he had washed himself clean of the people and stories he had plunged into, immersing himself in their pain and demented mania, but now, he realised that there had been treacherous stains left behind.

Those marks bled into his soul, spreading rapidly, and engulfing his own personality at a dizzying rate. It became harder by the minute to remember the sound of his own laughter or the last time he had felt genuinely warmed by the love of his fellow men.

He’d stay here until it passed, he swore, he would not be led like a lamb to the slaughter, for he knew that he would be the perpetrator and the victim of the crime in equal measures.

It would be fine; he was a patient man.

And then, the doorbell rang.

#fanfiction #francis dolarhyde #richard armitage #imagine #waking up in your character #short #angst #am I crazy?

[sharonaparadox]

hd + subtitles available!

fandom: Frozen and Brave (Disney crossover) focus: Elsa/Merida (mostly Elsa-focused) audio: “Monster Mask” by Pomplamoose coloring credit: “Call of the Wild” and “Contrast” by xXAmity0ParkXx masking credit: Random Nameless Channel (TheNamelessDoll) and Petit Fantome fonts used: Ion Lucin’s “Slim Joe,” Khurasan’s “Takota,” BLKBK Fonts’s “Beyond Infinity,” “HeummKkomaB,” Kimberly Geswein’s “The Only Exception,” and Måns Grebäck’s “Notera” program: Sony Vegas Pro 13

finally… my ordeal is over… the beast has been vanquished…

if i’ve ever mentioned working on other projects before, this video is what i was talking about. i’ve been trying to work on this for years, which seems ridiculous since it’s such a simple vid, but i’ve had this concept in mind since i worked with windows live movie maker (which is, admittedly, not a good program to make crossovers with). it didn’t help that i next tried to work on this when i was still a newbie with vegas and then finally in 2020, which has just been… absolutely terrible. that’s also why i didn’t try doing my own masking or coloring for this, so i slapped some typography in here to make it more my own

the “storyline,” as it is, is that the elsa’s lettin’ it go and then reminiscing about meeting a cute scottish princess at her coronation b4 freaking out and revealing her ice powers. merida then remembers her own problems from her movie (in my head, that took place three or four years ago, but lol this isn’t a fanfic so who cares) and eventually goes after a very surprised elsa

what happens next? how does merida’s presence affect frozen 2 or any of those godawful sequel “shorts”? idk man this is why i make fanvids and not fanfics

also, why is merida sitting down at the party? doylist reason: those were the best masks i found that both fit the story i wanted to tell and also covered up the foreground characters bc there are no unobstructed shots of the people moving around in the bg that would make merida look like she actually belonged in the movie watsonian reason: uhhh she’s got medieval jet lag

#Disney crossover #Disney femslash #Merilsa #Elsa x Merida #Merida x Elsa #(non)Disney #fanvid