#also keep in mind that i wrote this w the intent of not showing anybody

[chowtrolls]

Glitter

Length: 1791 Words TW: None, ask to tag if needed. Brief: Juleus talks to an old friend. Credits: Juleus and Brutus belong to me Here’s the song I listened to while writing this!

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    The halls of the ship groaned with each step Juleus took. The crew were scattered amongst the ship, doing their assorted jobs. In the distance, small chatter could be heard. Laughter. Voices of his crew making and forming relationships, conversing with each other, enjoying the company of friends and peers. And here Juleus was, the lonely commander, King of everything he wanted, making his way to the one room on the ship that held anyone worth conversing with.

    Juleus closed his eye as he walked. He listened to the ship, drowning out the sounds of voices and focusing on the hum. Every captain should know what his ship is saying. He learned this at a young age from a much wiser man. The ship was telling him it would be alright. 

    The voices dissipate as Juleus grew closer to the power room. One of many on this ship. Juleus was no idiot. If one battery died, there would be another. This particular room held someone...important. And yet, not. He unlocked the door and ducked inside. The room was dark, the only lights came from the glowing wires that traveled along the walls. In the middle of the room was a troll with his back to Juleus. He was silent, as if sleeping. In front of the troll was a chair. Nothing significant about it. The light from the wires pulsed, fading in and out as the energy was pulled. Mint and pink lights danced to a song only the sleeper was hearing. Juleus shut the door, causing it to make a heavy slam. 

    Every wire in the room flashed as the sleeping troll was startled awake. Juleus watched the goldblood before him glance around but said nothing. Instead, he slowly walked around him and sat in the chair. He crossed his leg over his knee and leaned back. The chair groaned in complaint. The goldblood narrowed his mismatched eyes when he realized who was before him.

    “To what do I owe the honor, oh great Imperial Bastard?”

    Juleus barked a bitter laugh. Despite the bitterness, he still grinned, “It’s nice to see you, too, Brutus.” 

    “You never call me that. Unless you want something.” Brutus cocked a brow, but he looked far from pleased. 

    “Can I not just enjoy the company of a friend? Must I want something, Brute?” 

    “You call me a friend, yet wear my ring. You always want something, Julie.” Brutus’ expression softened slightly, “Has it been getting worse?” 

    Juleus’ expression fell instantly. He glared at Brutus, lip pulling up in a slight snarl, “Who are you to ask such a thing? I should kill you for asking. Inconsiderate fuck.” 

    “I see, it has. I suppose Bixith being gone hasn’t...helped.”

    “Shut up.” Juleus sat upright, “You do not get to say her name. You do not get to question me. You are the exact reason we are here; therefore you do not get to question it.” His voice was cold, eye narrowed. 

    “Julie…” Brutus started, but was interrupted by Juleus slamming his hand down on the armrest of the chair. 

    “I’LL KILL YOU!” 

    “Then do it already, you bastard!” Brutus barked back just as sharp, with little fear in his chest. The wires flashed along with his outburst, but quickly faded into their normal rhythm. He had no doubt in his mind that Juleus would not. 

    Juleus glared at Brutus for a moment. Slowly, he slouched back into his seat. He looked off to the side, watching the wires pulse. The silence that fell over them was thick with tension. 

    “Julie, can you pull me out of this?” Brutus finally broke the silence after what felt like a millennia. Juleus perked up as his name was said.

    “It’s not safe to.” Juleus’ voice was now soft, “You know this.” 

    “I know. Just for a bit. I just want to walk for a few moments.” Brutus’ eyes were sad. He knew the reason he was a battery, and he knew how Juleus felt about him. His betrayal. But still, he tried. 

    Juleus sighed softly, and stood up. He walked around Brutus and shut off the power. The wires immediately stopped glowing, submerging both of them in total darkness. After a moment, an overhead light flickered awake. Juleus stood behind Brutus and contemplated what he was about to do. The goldblood was silent. Juleus sighed once more. 

    Slowly, the fuchsia wrapped his arm around Brutus. Doing this with just one arm was never easy, Juleus had learned this the hard way. Regardless, he paused before going further. 

    “Are you ready?” 

    Brutus closed his eyes, “In a moment.” He leaned back against Juleus, taking the moment to relish in the feeling of being held. It was more than just being held, of course. Being close to someone he once loved, he still loved. Brutus didn’t want Juleus to notice what he was doing, so it only lasted a second. Then he nodded. 

    Juleus had noticed, but said nothing. He steadied himself, then pulled. The wires gave out easily. They had gotten used to Brutus being pulled free by this point. Juleus gently set Brutus on his feet, slouching over to do so. He kept his hold on the gold for just a moment. To steady him, of course, that’s what he told himself.

    Juleus finally let Brutus free, and made his way over to the door. The giant man slowly got down on the ground, sitting in front of the only exit. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Brutus not to run. He wasn’t sure why he let the gold free once more. He watched quietly as Brutus stretched and took a few steps. There were scars along Brutus’ arms and legs. His hair was cut short, but still long enough to be wavy. It was naturally blonde. When Juleus had first arranged for Brutus to be a battery, he had the gold’s hair cut short. He found himself quickly regretting that decision. While his feelings on Brutus were uncertain, he knew for sure that he loved the other’s hair. As Brutus stretched his arms upwards, his tank top pulled up as well, exposing the bottom part of a hidden tattoo. The silence was filled with a few loud pops from Brutus’ neck and back.

    The gold shook out the last of the tension from his fingertips, then finally faced Juleus. He was silent as he got closer to the fuchsia. He stopped and sat on the ground a few feet in front of him. This made Juleus raise his brow. 

    “Can I help you? Walk around, stretch, enjoy freedom while it lasts.” That was how it normally went. Juleus would sit in this exact spot and watch Brutus walk around for a few minutes before telling him the time was up. Brutus never went back with a fight. For Brutus to sit in front of him...it was strange. 

    “Talk to me, Julie. Or don’t. If you don’t talk...can you sing? I miss your voice.” Brutus smiled softly to sweeten the deal. He leaned forward, closer to Juleus. Jules on the other hand was uncertain. He was quiet. 

    “I know you remember the shanties, the tunes we’d sing at sea. They haunt you. They haunt me too. My voice is no good...Can you…? For me? Then I can go back and you can leave.” Brutus inched closer as he spoke. Juleus felt cornered. And yet, he couldn’t find it within himself to lash out. He remained silent. 

    “Cap got your tongue, eh?” Brutus laughed softly, “That’s alright. I put you on the spot. Do you remember...what was it called...Old Maui....rolling down to old Maui.” Brutus began to hum the chorus softly. Juleus narrowed his eye slightly. 

    “You’re not in tune.” He finally spoke, though he knew well that Brutus had done that on purpose. 

    “Sharp as a tack, that Deepbite.” Brutus nodded, moving a little closer still. Before he could continue, Juleus spoke once more. 

    “What are you doing? Stop prolonging whatever it is you are prolonging.” Juleus said this with uncertainty. Brutus could lash out and try to kill him. That didn’t seem like a very in character thing for Brutus to do...but Juleus was never certain. 

    Brutus paused, before nodding. He crawled the rest of the way to sit between Juleus’ legs, and lean back against his chest. It was painfully obvious to Juleus just how small Brutus was compared to him. Despite the gold’s small size, Juleus still felt himself tense up. Brutus closed his eyes and Juleus slowly relaxed. 

    Juleus let the silence fall back between them. There was nothing for him to say. It was pathetic. He allowed himself to be toyed with by a goldblood of all things, and not just any goldblood. But the exact goldblood who got him in the Fleet. The goldblood who used Juleus’ status as a means for a cushy life. He was still using Juleus for a cushy life, even as a battery. Juleus was more upset with himself than with Brutus, however. 

    “I don’t hate you, Jules.” Brutus finally broke the silence and disrupted Juleus’ train of thought. 

    “...I know.” Juleus looked off to the side. 

    “Do you hate me?” Brutus opened his eyes at last, but kept his gaze forward. 

    “I don’t know.” 

    Silence fell on them once more. Brutus looked down at his hands, scarred and bruised. He reached to his side and gently took Juleus’ hand, pulling it up into his own lap. Juleus didn’t fight him. Brutus entertained himself by tracing his fingers over the tattoo of his symbol on Juleus’ finger. 

    “It’s okay if you do, Julie. You can hate me if it makes you feel better.” Brutus spoke softly, but Juleus never replied. He wasn’t certain if Juleus was even listening. Brutus wanted to explain the reasons for what he had done. But he knew it didn’t matter in the end. Nothing he said or did now could change the past. The silence was no longer uncomfortable, just heavy. Eventually, Brutus leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

    “I’m going to take a nap. You should too.” His words were more of a demand than a request. He kept Juleus’ hand in his own. The fuchsia did nothing as Brutus continued to stroke the rough skin. All Juleus did was sigh softly. They both knew he wouldn’t move again until Brutus had woken up. And they both knew once he did, that things would go back to how they always were. Juleus would leave and continue his slow descent, and Brutus would go back to the boring life of a battery. But maybe this time, Juleus would visit him more. Just maybe.

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU) - Chapter 5

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x f!OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Notes: I hadn't seen the video with all the sisters' lines, even those cut from the game. From the Maid's Diary we found, I assumed they could never leave the castle, even in Summer, as it was set in July like this fanfiction. I'll fix the mistake in this chapter. My apologies!

Thank you for all the reviews, follows and likes! It means a lot to me.

Trigger Warning: Language, abuse, blood and violence.

Castle Dimitrescu, Lady Dimitrescu's Bedroom - 3 Days Earlier

When Bela woke up in the morning after the attack, she had been taken to her mother's bed. After her transformation, she felt fragile like a child again. Not knowing who or what she was anymore, she was scared and lost. Her mother's bed felt like the safest place in the entire world. And it was. She loved being there. Alcina would never let anything or anybody hurt her. Nobody knew this side of her, when she acted like a loving and protective mother.

"Mother," she muttered, noticing Lady Dimitrescu was watching her and stroking her hair. "I'm sorry. I failed."

"Shhhh," Alcina kissed her daughter's forehead, "you need to rest now, daughter."

She started singing a jazz song Bela liked. Singing was one of her hidden talents. Her mother's voice was like a lullaby to her ears. She was almost falling asleep again, when flashbacks from the night before returned to her mind. She remembered being in Aleena's bed before falling asleep. She was holding Bela's hand, assuring her she'd be alright.

"Aleena," she sat down in an impulse. Bela feared what her mother and sisters could have done to the girl while she was sleeping. She started feeling agitated. "Where is she? I failed to protect her."

"She's fine. There's no need to protect her anymore, I asked Cassandra to keep an eye on her while I'm here with you."

Cassandra? But her mother knew Cassandra's intentions. She'd use Aleena to satiate each one of her desires and then, she'd kill her. If only she hadn't failed. If only she hadn't been so weak.

"But, mother... she's going to kill her. Please, she saved my life! She doesn't deserve to..."

"Nobody is going kill her, Bela. Once I have my goblet back, I'll let her go." Lady Dimitrescu pushed her back to the bed, tucking her under the blankets again. Then, she grabbed a book from the bedside table. "Why don't I read something for you? One of the stories you like?"

Bela forced a smile, listening as her mother began to read. She loved being there. It felt like the safest place in the world... in the past. Not anymore. Now she just felt betrayed.

When she noticed she was still wearing Aleena's jacket and inhaled her perfume, she thought there was somewhere else she'd rather be at the moment. Somewhere where she was truly feeling safe and happy. She wished to be in Aleena's bed again.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Lady Dimitrescu's Bedroom - Present Days

Three days passed and Lady Dimitrescu still wouldn't let Bela leave her room, even if she already felt completely recovered. She wouldn't leave her side for more than a few minutes and not even her sisters were allowed to see her.

She had everything she always wanted. Her mother's exclusive attention, to be sure she cared about her as much as she cared about her sisters. Yet, it wasn't enough. Not anymore. There was something new inside her. A part of her that wasn't connected to the life she had lived so far, a life that only included Alcina, Cassandra and Daniela.

"Good morning, sunshine," Bela covered her eyes as the sunlight invaded the room, immediately pulling her out of her sleep.

She was having those dreams again. Dreams she assumed to be memories from her past life. The one before the transformation. She decided to record them all in a diary. She hadn't much to do while she was stuck in that bedroom, it felt like a good manner to spend her time.

"Oh my god, now besides spending the day in bed reading Lord Byron, you're also writing a diary?"

"Cassandra," she angered, immediately getting up and grabbing the diary from her sister's hand before she could read anything she wrote. She also kicked the small pile of books on the floor to under the bed. "What are you doing here?"

"Quick and sharp. It's about time you leave the nest, don't you think?"

"This is what I want the most, but mom isn't convinced I'm recovered yet."

"Liar," Cassandra shook her head and smiled sarcastically. "You're loving it and I know."

"Are you jealous she remembered she has another daughter?" Her eyes and ears analyzed the space around her. Alcina was nowhere to be seen or heard. If their mother wasn't around, it could be a good opportunity to sneak out of the bedroom. "Where's mom, by the way?"

"Doing some boring shit in her office. She asked me to keep an eye on you."

"Okay, I'm doing great. Now leave, I'm gonna take a bath."

"Oh, no," her younger sister sat down at the bed with a book. "It's my turn to read something to read for you."

Cassandra began to read some words Bela recognized very well. She added a dramatic tone to her voice.

"When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end. The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me."

That was an excerpt from the book Daniela once found among a servant's belongings. The one about a vampire who fell in love with a human.

"Why are you reading this to me?" Bela rolled her eyes. That story was beyond absurd, suggesting vampires glowed in the sunlight. Yet, she wished she had the opportunity of attending school like those vampires were able to. Being weak to the cold was definitely worse than glowing in the sunlight.

"You know why," Cassandra did that judgmental look again. "It didn't work well for mom, it won't work well for you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," enough was enough. Bela went to the bathroom to prepare her bath. She would leave that room and no one would stop her. "And we don't talk about it, remember? You know how upset mom gets everytime she's reminded of her."

"We're not talking about her, we're talking about Aleena."

She froze at the mention of that name. It was surprising how in only a few days, a simple name acquired so much meaning.

"What Aleena has to do with this?"

"She saved your life," her sister followed her into the bathroom. "She could've ran away, saved her own ass, but instead, she came back to rescue you. She fed you her own blood, even knowing you could lose control and kill her. There is something going on and you can't deny it."

"So what?" Bela closed her eyes inside the bathtub, attempting to relax. All those things were true, but in the end, she had failed to protect Aleena. So much the task had been given to her sister. "It wouldn't be the first time a woman becomes infatuated by me. Which is not her case anyways. She's only trying to show how brave and efficient she is."

"You can fool mom and even Daniela, but not me. I know you, sister. Something about you has changed from the moment Aleena entered this castle."

Cassandra was definitely doing that to annoy her. That was one of her favorite hobbies. Bela decided to ignore all that provocation.

"You're wrong. And besides, she'll be gone soon. It doesn't matter."

But it did matter. And that was exactly why Bela was so desperate to leave that bedroom. What if Aleena was already gone when she left the room? What if she couldn't see her at least one last time? What if she ended up being another one of Cassandra's maidens?

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Office - Present Days

A few days had passed since the Lycans' attack to the castle. The heating system had been restored, as well as the windows. The members of the staff proved to be innocent, they were so scared and ambushed as any of us.

Cassandra and Daniela were finally warming up to me. But I hadn't seen Bela yet. Alcina was keeping her locked at her own chambers, not allowing me anywhere near it. Even her own sisters were only allowed to see her that morning.

I was caught by surprise when, after breakfast, Mrs. Volkov came to my room bringing the information Lady Dimitrescu wanted to see me. I hadn't seen her since her return. Her entire time and attention were dedicated to Bela and god-knows-what she did inside that office. Maybe that was the day she decided to end my life. Even if I knew she was immortal, I decided to go prepared. If she couldn't die, maybe my daggers could at least give me some time to run. I was glad to have my amulet with me.

"Sit," she ordered as soon as I entered her office. "We must have a talk."

I obeyed. She closed the door and served us both a cup of tea. I decided to accept it, even if I just had breakfast.

"How's Bela?" I asked.

"Oh Bela... my sweet daughter..." the woman sighed and shook her head as she took a sip of her tea. "She's the most tempestuous of my three daughters, even a small thing can affect her mood."

I had a feeling she was talking more to herself, than to me.

"She's recovering. Her wounds have healed but I still think she looks a bit weak. As you could see, the cold can cause a severe impact on their bodies. Had it been in Winter and my daughter could have..."

She interrupted her sentence. She couldn't pronounce that last word and neither could I. Even if I only knew Bela for a few days, I couldn't stand the idea of losing her. Seeing her looking so sick in my bed still haunted my memories.

"Anyways, this isn't why I called you here," Lady Dimitrescu changed the subject.

"Yes, m'am?" I asked, drinking my own tea. "Have I done anything that goes against our deal?"

She raised her eyebrows at my unexpected question. I could imagine she was used to people being less confident in her presence.

"You did everything against our deal. You've been bumbling around this castle like if you were at some kind of fairytale, you've been messing around with my daughters and you... you saved them."

"I did."

"You could've ran away or even killed them. That was your perfect chance but you chose to save them," I had never seen such a look in the eyes of Lady Dimitrescu before. Only in that moment she seemed like a loving mother, grateful that I made the stupid decision of giving up my freedom for her daughters' lives. "Why?"

"I don't know," I sighed. I really didn't have an answer for that. "Maybe I was just following what my mother taught me, to help anyone in need despite of who they are or what they did. Bela saved me in my first night here, I felt I owed her that."

"She saved you because I ordered her to protect you. I know how Cassandra and Daniela can be. You owed her nothing."

"I also owed you," I added. I had to work on earning her trust, if I wanted my freedom and my life back. "You could have killed me and my brother, but instead you're giving us a chance."

Alcina did everything to hide it, but I could tell my words had caused impact. She appreciated honor and loyalty, and that's what I was showing her.

"What do you want?" She finally asked. "I must give you something in trade for your courage."

I thought for a while. I could ask for my freedom. I could ask for money. I could ask for her to forgive Auryk. But instead, I asked something simple.

"I want to call my brother. I want to know he's well and inform him I'm doing fine. I also want to know about his search of your goblet."

"Okay," she indicated me the phone on her desk. "I'll give you some privacy."

I couldn't believe what just happened, but I dialed Auryk's number as fast as I could. Nothing brought me more relief than hearing his voice on the other side of the line.

"Auryk! That's me," I spoke.

"Leena? Oh my god, I was starting to think you were dead."

"No, actually I've been doing pretty well here. You wouldn't believe it."

"What? How is that even possible?"

"Nevermind," I smiled. "I'll tell you later, in person. So, how's the search for the goblet, speaking of which?"

"I've been following some leads but it seems impossible to trace the buyer. I've also received some information that seems confusing and misleading."

"Why?"

"Aleena, do you believe Miranda would be able to betray her own cult?"

We didn't spoke much after that, but the question remained inside my head. The leads Auryk obtained all lead him to people related to Miranda, her most loyal followers from the village. I also thought about the Super Lycans and how somebody planned to kill the Dimitrescu girls. Only someone with so much power would be able to plan such a thing.

"I need your help," Alcina spoke once she returned to her office. I lied to her, saying my brother was close to find her goblet. "Somebody has betrayed me and I need to know who."

"Okay..." I don't know how I could even help her with that.

"I bet that was him!" She smashed the teacup in her hand furiously, before starting to walk around the office like a maniac. "The pig, the bastard, the motherfucker..."

"Heisenberg?"

"Yes!" She looked at me proudly. As if it was any secret those two hated each other. "But I need proof to show Mother Miranda the rat he is. Otherwise, she would never believe me."

"You need to approach him cautiously," I suggested, "so he won't have any suspicions. Bring him into your territory, where you are in charge and not Miranda. It'll be enough to intimidate him a little. Enough for you to catch any hints of a strange behavior."

Lady Dimitrescu didn't say anything for almost a minute. At first, I thought she had found me extremely stupid for suggesting she should invite her nemesis to the castle, but then, she opened a sly grin.

"Smart girl! You just gave me an amazing idea... I'm throwing a dinner tonight, for Mother Miranda and the other Lords."

"Yes, give him some alcohol too. You know, men and alcohol... it's not a good match."

She laughed. Not sarcastically this time, but sincerely. Then she got up and caressed my chin. Her cold hands made me shiver from head to toes.

"If I knew you were such a good girl, I'd have kidnapped you earlier. Now go, I want you to be there too. I'll ask someone to get you an appropriate dress."

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Ballroom - Present Days

After lunch, Cassandra asked me to show her some of my knife moves. She had been strangely glued to me in the last few days, like a dog guarding its bone. I knew I had promised her we could do a training session any day, but I never imagined she'd take it seriously. I started to wonder if that was a good idea at all.

She picked the ballroom for our training session. Where we'd have plenty of space to move and chase each other. Scary.

"I'm giving you an advantage," she said. "I lowered the room's temperature a bit. I can't transform into flies."

"Good," I grabbed my twin daggers, "not all of us can buzz around."

She rolled her eyes at the pun.

"Oh and I also fed before coming. So in case you get hurt, I won't have problems with my instincts."

"I'm glad to know."

I started by teaching her some basic moves, which bored her a little. Then, we proceeded to a close body combat. I had to admit she was good, even if she didn't have a specific style or technique. But when she fought purely by instinct and impulse, that was a disadvantage. I was able to deflect some of her moves easily.

"Damn," Cassandra panted, a little tired. "You're not so bad. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"By myself, mostly," I swallowed an entire bottle of water. Training with a vampire had consumed all of my energies. "My father didn't believe women should hold weapons."

"Moron."

"And a bastard. That's what he was."

"How did he die?"

"I never found out for real. He was out for one of his travels and apparently he got in a bar fight or something. I can't say he didn't get what he deserved."

I sat down on the floor to get some rest before taking a shower, Cassandra joined me.

"Your mother is throwing a dinner tonight," I spoke. "She wants me to be there. I have to admit I'm kinda nervous."

"Don't worry, it's only an excuse so she and Heisenberg can yell insults at each other. It'll be like any other meeting."

We were in silence for a moment. Cassandra fell pensive but I noticed a smirk on the corner of her mouth.

"I saw her this morning," she commented. "Bela."

"And how is she doing?"

"Quiet, broody, boring... same as usual. I'd say she's completely recovered. Mother is exaggerating, being so overprotective. But it isn't like Bela doesn't like receiving attention and being spoiled."

"She seemed very weak that day."

"Not anymore," she was about to leave the ballroom when she remembered something else. "She asked about you, in case you wanna know."

"Oh," I tried to pretend I wasn't so worried and interested. But I could feel my cheeks burning. "She did?!"

"You're blushing, sweetheart," Cassandra was too smart to leave this unnoticed. "You like her, don't you?"

"It's not like that! I... I care about her, we... have this thing... we kinda saved each other, you know?"

"No, I'd call that 'having a crush'. And I must give one advice, it won't end well for you. You and Bela belong to two different worlds."

"I know that," I assured her. "Trust me, I don't have a crush on your sister. And I won't have. I have another priorities at the moment."

"Good for you."

She laughed sarcastically and leaving me alone in the ballroom with my own thoughts. I didn't have a crush on Bela. I couldn't. She was right, we belonged to different worlds. I was only fascinated by the sensation of danger, the adrenaline she brought to my life. A sensation I never felt before. She was a predator and I was her prey. A real feeling would never exist between us.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Dining Room - Present Days

Right after I took a bath, Mrs. Volkov knocked on my door bringing a stunning red dress, jewelry and shoes. That was what I was supposed to wear for the night. Never in my entire life, I could be able to afford something so fancy. If it wasn't for the fact Lady Dimitrescu was pondering if I should live or not, I could easily enjoy that life.

"You look amazing," was what Daniela spoke when I met her in the hall. "Come here, let's take a picture."

Taking advantage of the fact her mother had been busy with Bela, she was enjoying her free time to discover the joys of the modern world with me. She revealed me she also had a cell phone. One she stole from one of the maids and assumed to be broken. I explained there was no phone signal where she lived but that she could explore other functions of the device. Since then, she has been recording multiple videos of her daily life and taking pictures with me, Cassandra and even the staff.

Lady Dimitrescu was going to kill me. I raised a monster.

I also found out we shared the same passion for art. She was a very good artist.

"Red is Bela's favorite color, by the way," she told as she tapped her phone screen. Good thing the camera wasn't able to capture me blushing.

I finally saw Bela for the first time in days. She was coming down the stairs just as we took the picture. Dressed in white, she seemed like an angel.

"Aleena," she greeted me with a simple nod.

"Hey," I couldn't help opening a huge smile, "I was starting to get really worried about you."

"I'm fine."

She followed her way to the dining room. I could tell something had changed. I didn't know what though. Was she mad at me or at herself because of the Lycan incident? Was it something her mother said again? The thoughts were consuming me as we placed ourselves around the table.

It was a foolish idea to assume a civilized meeting could happen in that dinner. Lady Dimitrescu and Karl Heisenberg had already started to exchange insults. Daniela said inappropriate things about five times. Cassandra had just threatened a servant with her knife. In my turn, I observed Donna Beneviento and I could quite imagine why she wouldn't speak to those people.

"Mother Miranda," Alcina had finally reached the point where she revealed the true objective of that meeting. "About four days ago, I was called to an emergency at Donna's house. A prized possession of hers has also been stolen. When I returned home, my castle had been vandalized. Someone attempted to murder my daughters by exposing them to the cold air, besides sending Lycans to kill them. And they weren't normal Lycans, they..."

"Were Super Lycans," Daniela interrupted. "Their claws were exactly like my mother's."

There was an awkward silence before Lady Dimitrescu proceeded.

"As I was saying. The Lycans were modified to be stronger."

"Oh please," Heisenberg argued. "Who would bother wasting so much time with you?"

"Those Lycans could only have been created in that gruesome factory of yours."

"Gruesome? Let's talk about gruesome. How many virgins did you sacrifice for this bottle of wine?!"

Oh god. I suddenly didn't feel like drinking anything else for the night. But then, the conversation shifted to another point.

"You're inventing this attack to cover up the fact you let that little thief go and he has stolen from another Lord," Heisenberg accused. "It was more important to you to bring his sister to serve as entertainment for your daughters. Which she must be doing very well, considering she's still alive and sitting among us tonight."

"Hey," I opened my mouth for the first time that night. Suddenly everyone was looking at me. "My brother didn't do it. I called him this morning, he's not even around. He has been searching for Lady Dimitrescu's goblet. And dare you to disrespect me again and I will..."

Nevermind. What could I even do against him? He was immune to my bullets and my daggers.

Cassandra started laughing, while her mother looked at me in a mix of shock and disappointment. Heisenberg continued with his accusations.

"Prove it then. Prove your brother has no involvement in this whole situation. He could have planned the attack as well, to rescue you."

"My brother is human, he has no power to create modified Lycans!"

Mother Miranda cleared her throat, indicating all of us should shut the fuck up. I stared at her figure, remembering my brother's words. She could be the one behind all of that and everyone was blinded by her power.

"I've come to a decision," she spoke. "Heisenberg is right. So far, the only person who could be declared guilty is the Novak boy. Alcina, if I remember correctly, you made the decision of letting him go."

"What about the attack, Mother Miranda?" Lady Dimitrescu was furious, but not surprised at her decision. Miranda seemed to always favor the other Lords over her. "The girl has a point. Such a stupid manthing couldn't have created Lycans and given them more power."

"Do you have proof the attack even happened? I'm sorry, Alcina, but the castle is intact."

"I repaired the damage! It was a risk to my daughters! I have their word as proof, as well as the word of my servants."

Heisenberg started to laugh non-stop, before insulting her again:

"So now you remember you have servants? You always kill each one of them to satiate your thirst for blood."

Lady Dimitrescu couldn't find words to refute that argument. Whether because it was true or because she was being smashed by Miranda and Heisenberg.

"Your son of a bitch!" She punched the table, making everything shake.

"We're all doomed!" Beneviento's creepy doll, started to run across the room, repeating those same words. "Each one of us!"

In that moment, I could finally hear Bela's voice in all of the mess.

"At least one reasonable person in this room," she stood up and started to leave. "Angie is right. We're all doomed."

"Bela," Alcina called, "come back here. We're not finished yet."

But she had enough. And so did I. I didn't think before following her to the main hall.

"Bela," I called her. "Where are you going?"

She stopped, taking a deep breath.

"Somewhere," she said. "Are you coming?"

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Bela's room - Present Days

I swallowed hard when I noticed we were standing in front of Bela's room. She opened the door and invited me inside. I felt my heart thundering inside my chest. It was the first time a woman invited me to her bedroom.

Bela's bedroom was a reflection of herself. Completely organized, perfectly decorated. Daniela was right about her favorite color, some things had shades of red. Such as the curtains and the sheets covering her bed. The walls were decorated with some paintings and a portrait of herself. She also had a small collection of vinyl discs and a telescope near the window.

It had a small study attached, where I could see she had her personal collection of books. That was where she entered and came back seconds later, bringing a bottle of wine and two glasses. Then, she sat down on a sofa, inviting me to join her.

"There's no blood in this one," she spoke. I stared at her, wondering how she even knew. "I can't hear you thoughts. I saw how you put your glass aside when Heisenberg made that comment."

Good. That was probably something good to know. Bela couldn't see the mess inside my head. She was merely an observant woman who could read people very easily. I smiled in response. I was too nervous to show any other reaction.

"I just can't stand all that arguing, all that yelling," Bela drank her entire glass in one sip. Then, she stood up and went to the window. I followed her.

"It's a beautiful night," I commented, pointing to her telescope. "Do you like to watch the stars?"

"Yes and it's the only way I can do it."

"So you can never leave the castle, at all?"

"Sometimes, during Spring and Summer," she sighed melancholic. "Days when the temperature is higher than usual. This year hasn't been kind to us so far. Or the last one."

Never being able to go outside should be a torture. Now I could understand why sometimes she seemed so moody and upset.

"Summer has just begun," I told. "Maybe you can get some luck in the next few weeks."

"I hope so."

She went back to the other side of the room, serving herself another glass of wine. I hadn't finished mine yet.

"What do you think?" She returned to my side and asked. "About the attack. Do you think your brother is fooling you?"

"No, no way. Auryk never lied to me before, I know he's telling the truth."

I knew Heisenberg accusations would cause me trouble. Especially with Miranda siding with him.

"Lying is different from having secrets," Bela said. "Don't you have anything you hide, even from your brother? Something no one knows, but yourself?"

I did. I never told Auryk about the night I spent with Gustav, where I wasn't able to lose my virginity to him. I also didn't feel like telling him about my days in the castle this morning. I knew he'd judge me, in both cases.

"I do, but..."

She let out a small laugh.

"Oh Aleena," she traced the border of her glass with her perfectly manicured finger, "you act so strong and tough but deep down you're so naive."

"What do you mean?" I wanted to know.

"You should've ran away during the attack."

"I wouldn't let you die."

"Why?" Bela was staring deeply inside my eyes. In a manner I was feeling completely exposed, uncomfortable. "Do you know how many people I've killed? Or how many women I seduced only to drink their blood? It's not like I deserved to be saved."

"It doesn't matter," I didn't have a right answer for her question. "It felt right. You saved me in my first night here."

"Only because my mother ordered me and I try so hard to be a good daughter for her. But I failed, right? Now Cassandra has been taking care of you."

"Is she? I mean, I noticed she has been kinda glued to me lately but... sorry, I don't believe she'd save me if she had to."

"No, she wouldn't. She'd take advantage of the opportunity to get you killed and feed from your blood. My sister is more reckless than I am."

"You're different."

"I'm not. I'm just more careful with my actions," she placed a hand on my chest, feeling my heart beating fast. She shook her head in denial. "How do you know I'm not playing with you? How do you know you won't have the same fate as those five teenagers from your village, three years ago?"

"I... I..." deep down, I always knew Bela had an involvement in that situation. But now hearing a confession was totally different. Yet, I didn't feel afraid.

"How can you trust me? We've only met for a few days and here you are, standing in my bedroom where I could kill you and no one would even hear you scream."

"You wouldn't do that," it was my turn to face her, to look deeply into her eyes. I placed my hand over hers. "I know."

"I'm a monster, Aleena. All the stories you've ever heard about me? They're all true."

I don't care. I don't care. I'd still save you if I had to. I wanted to scream those words, but they wouldn't come out.

"You need to stay away from me," she removed her hand from my touch.

"Why?" I asked. "Tell me. Be honest. Who are you trying to convince with all of this? Me or yourself?"

"Just go, Aleena," she turned her back on me. "Just go."

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Library - Present Days

I couldn't get any sleep. I'd just keep rolling in bed, without being able to find a position. What did Bela mean with that conversation? Was she assuming I was in love with her or something? I wasn't stupid like the other women she was used to seduce. I knew better than that. She had absolutely no right to throw all her frustration and anger at me. I wasn't her mother. I wasn't Heisenberg or Miranda.

I grabbed my sketch book and walked to the library. That castle was even creepier when it was dark and silent. It was almost like you could hear the laments of the people who had been tortured and killed within those walls. I remembered the five teenagers from the village. My mind tried to picture how they were lured into the castle and who killed each one of them. I could see myself in the place of one of those girls and the only thing I could imagine was if they were in Bela's bed when they were killed. I imagined the things she did to them. I tried to feel scared but instead my heart would start racing all over again. I tried to ignore those thoughts, but I locked the door anyways.

I had to relax somehow. I sat down at the desk and attempted to find any inspiration. I started working on a piece that represented Mother Miranda, the Four Lords and all the mystery surrounding those people.

I heard the door opening, I quickly pulled a dagger from my ankle. I could sense a presence approaching me. I was ready to attack, when the low light of the lamp revealed who it was.

"Oh, I didn't know you were here," Bela spoke.

"I was about to leave," I grabbed my sketch book from the desk. When I turned around, she was standing very close to me. We were face to face now, even closer than we were earlier in her bedroom. Her eyes were different though. Before, she looked angry and upset. Now she just seemed sad. "Good night."

"You can stay, if you want. I shouldn't be here anyways."

"No, it's your castle and your library. I'm leaving. Also, I'm retuning your key."

I extended her my palm, handing her the key I was holding.

"Don't be ridiculous," she closed my hand again. "You're my mother's guest."

"Prisoner," I cleared my throat and corrected. Bela let out a small, ironic laugh in response.

"Well, you had the chance of running away. You wasted it, darling."

And we were back to 'darling'. The same 'darling' from the beginning, when she was still deciding if I should be her prey or not. From when she didn't even know my name.

"It wasn't a waste. Not when I was saving your life."

"You shouldn't have saved! I made a mistake, I should be the one to fix it or face the consequences."

"Oh my god, is it all because you were in danger? Because you lost control of the situation? You don't need to be perfect all the time, Bela. It's okay to fail."

"Not everyone is like you, Aleena. For you, it's just natural. You are perfect at everything you do. You can always fix everything that is wrong. You can always use the situation in your favor. You're always pleasing everyone, even my mom!"

My hands started to shake in anger. She knew nothing. I was far from perfect and my abusive father knew very well how to expose my flaws, my failure. For Adrian, being perfect was the only acceptable option. Otherwise, he'd beat us. He'd punish us. Yet, I didn't torture myself for that. Especially after his death. I was about to shout it at her face, when I dropped my sketch book.

I kneeled down, collecting all the spread papers on the floor and shoving them back into my sketch book. When I stood up, Bela was holding one of them.

"Why were you drawing me?" She asked, analyzing my work carefully. I froze.

"I... I..." I had no excuses this time, except for the truth. "I wanted something to remember when I'm gone."

"You shouldn't, Aleena. You should forget it as soon as you leave through the front door. Nothing in this place is worth being remembered."

"You are!" I finally said it. "What if I don't want it, huh?! What if I don't want to forget you?!"

She was in silence for a moment. Then, she closed her eyes as if she was trying to process what she heard and what she would do next.

"Then, I better give you something better than a portrait."

She grabbed my face, pulling me closer to her. There wasn't any more distance between us, I was pressed between her body and the desk. I couldn't move, not even if I wanted to.

Bela's kiss was like every other of her actions. Calculated, planned. She wanted to make sure she'd be in control of it. She wanted nothing but perfection.

She started it very slowly and shy, as if she was trying to figure out the territory first. Her lips softly brushed mine at first, like if she was asking for my permission to go forward. I retributed, pressing my lips harder against hers. I wrapped my arm around her neck, bringing her even closer. I wanted to show how much I desired her, I desired that kiss.

She gently parted my lips with her tongue, finding her way into my mouth. Her tongue gently stroke mine, raising shivers all over my body. I stroked hers back and I could feel her pulse accelerating too.

I don't know for how long we kissed. Minutes, probably. I didn't want to stop. Never.

"Now," I smiled against her mouth when we parted, "that was perfect."

"Shhhh," she whispered, opening a huge grin, "shut up, love. We're only getting started."

Our second kiss was different from the first. It was more desperate. More intense. More passionate. We were both confessing how much we had been longing for that. Then we kissed for a third time. And a fourth. Then I lost count.

All I know is that I spent the night in the library, making out with Bela Dimitrescu.

[aahsokaatano]

King I would love that essay about Changing Channels

Fjdjshjdhdjd thanks for reading my tags Jesse you're the real VIP here.

Okay SO "Changing Channels" is the 8th episode of the 5th season of Supernatural. I give this information bc it's important in looking at the context of the episode - now I've complained a LOT about how SPN is terrible at giving us canonical timeframes within the episodes (y'all i was SHOCKED to discover the first season is supposed to cover a little over a year's worth of time, I thought it was like... 4 or 5 months) so I can't say for sure how long before and after the other episodes happen in-universe around "Changing Channels" BUT

The episode before is "The Curious Case of Dean Winchester" where Dean and Bobby bet years of their lives in a game of poker with a witch. The episode after is "The Real Ghostbusters" where Sam and Dean end up at a fan convention for the in-universe Supernatural novels.

Why am I pointing this out? Because it's important, please, no audience participation, this is like a Brian David Gilbert panel.

[under a cut bc this got...... STUPID long. Who knew I still had this many opinions about SPN in 2020?]

Okay first of all I wanna talk about the cinnamon topography of this episode - I love the way the first 5 seasons are shot because you really feel the americana gothic horror aesthetic they were going for (I have a whole ‘nother rant about the first 5 seasons vs the last 10 but thats for another time). Everything is a little washed out and grey-toned, the camera angles generally serve to make Sam and Dean appear even taller than they actually are (larger than life - again, another post for another time), and there’s honestly a LOT of shots from the ‘monster’s’ perspective, which is really neat! I’ve said it before (on another blog - YES i have a dedicated spn rant blog, don’t @ me hdjfhfjfh) but the episode that really got me hooked on spn back in the day was the second one, about the w*ndigo. Yes, it’s a racist, culturally appropriating shitstorm, but the way its SHOT is fantastic. I’m honestly not a horror fan, but that episode could have easily relied on jumpscares and they DIDN’T and it was scary as all fucking hell and just - fuck okay getting off topic. 

In “Changing Channels” we get that distinctive grey-washed tone in the beginning and the very end of the episode, but the middle? When they’re in TV Land? Everything is bright. Almost comically so, I mean - okay look at these two shots of Sam (apologies about the crappy phone pics, netflix won't let me screenshot)

This one is from the start of the episode, in the "real" police station

And this is from a little later in the "TV" hospital

Ignoring that my phone is washing him out a lot in both pics, you can still see the warmer tones in the hospital shot as compared to the cold greyness in the police station one

Okay, now look at this picture

Dean inside the Impala, and those warm tones are back. Why? Because even though Sam and Dean believe that they’re back in the “real” world, they aren’t - so instead of the grey-washed shots that we’re used to, its the bright and warm shots that we see in “TV Land”! So the viewers pick up, even if its just subconsciously, that the boys aren’t out of the woods yet - everything is still too bright to be the in-universe reality we’ve come to expect from SPN by season 5

Which is also why i love this shift so much

These shots are literally SECONDS apart. The first is in "TV Land" and the second is in the "real" world. I have some red strip lights behind my bed, which are reflecting off my laptop screen - notice how much brighter they seem in the second picture? That’s because literally all of the warm colors have been drained out of the shot. As soon as Gabriel snaps them all back into “reality,” things get so much colder.

Okay, so the second thing I want to talk about is some of the very pointed dialogue choices within the “shows” the Winchesters take part in. Not between Sam and Dan and Gabriel, but from the, for lack of a better term, NPCs within the shows.

In the hospital, Dr. Piccolo tells Sam that he is “the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So that girl died on your table; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Sometimes people just die.” Standard cheesy soap opera dialogue - but lemme just swap some words here and - 

“You are the finest hunter I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So that girl died on your hunt; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Sometimes people just die.”

Or even - 

“You are the finest hunter I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So Jessica and Mary died above you; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault [but Azazel’s]. Sometimes people just die.”

Keeping in mind that the NPCs are basically Gabriel’s mouthpieces, its easy to see why so many people ship Sabriel. I’d actually love to see a fic that explores them talking about this moment in particular later on and the kind of gentle forgiveness that Gabriel can give Sam... getting off topic again.

In an abrupt about-face, the herpes commercial (much meme’d within the fandom) is straight up Gabriel shaming Sam. Because if you replace “genital herpes” with “demon blood” it’s.... dark. And very intentional.

So that’s what I did! (I combined all spoken lines to make the message easier to read, rather than splitting them up across 3 speakers as in the episode)

“I’ve drank demon blood. I tried to be responsible... did I try. But now, after being forcibly detoxed, I fight my addiction every day to reduce the chances of passing back into that toxic mindset. Ask your loved ones about a demon blood intervention today. [...] I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the chance of drinking demon blood again. And that’s a good thing.”

Like... the subtext throughout this episode sure is. Something.

Okay this is getting ridiculously long so I wanna wrap up by talking about The Best Scene In The Whole Goddamn Show

I’m talking, of course, about Gabriel’s Confession

“Max,” you might be saying, “there are so many better scenes out there, even within the first five seasons!” and to that i say, again, no audience participation, please. Also, you’re WRONG and here’s why!

Gabriel’s confession hits every goddamn emotional chord that the fandom begged for on this show - fear, rage, grief, pain, guilt, and even, yes, absolution. 

Okay, here’s the scene again for those of you who don’t think about it at least once a week like me

Now this video is missing some of the conversation, but most of it is there, enough for you to see what I’m talking about. Gabriel up to this point has been, essentially, a nameless antagonist - this is the third episode he appeared in, and before this, we didn’t even know he was going by Loki. He was just referred to as ‘The Trickster’. But here, not only do we get a name (a real name at that), but we also get a glimpse of his backstory and a hell of a lot of character development in less than 5 minutes. I mean, Sam didn’t get this much character development throughout the entirety of season 1! There’s a good reason Gabriel has been a fan-favorite for a very long time, and I think a big part of it is this particular scene.

Because here, we get to see Gabriel being vulnerable. And we even see Dean show a little vulnerability, as he can empathize being the third party to explosive arguments between the two people who mean everything to him.

I mean... okay, it will never see the light of day, but I wrote a little bit of a Reverse ‘Verse fic (because I’m a sucker for Reverse ‘Verse) and this was the scene I started with. Not s1e1, not even the resurrection in s4e1, but this scene. Because this scene, more than any other, is critical to the way not only Gabriel’s (first) arc plays out, but also to how Sam and Dean conduct themselves for the rest of the season (and maybe a bit beyond, it’s been a hot minute since I watched s6 and later). Dean is angry but determined, he has a point to make, he is going to save Sammy and if he can’t do that, then he’s going to damn well die trying. But Sam... it’s after this episode that we start really seeing how bone-achingly tired Sam is. It’s after this conversation - where one of the other archangels, one of the few beings who can truly understand how powerful Michael and Lucifer are - says that there’s no other way around this that Sam seems to start inching towards giving in. Saying yes.

Sure, in the actual episode, he seems outraged by the idea, practically scoffs at it - “you want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?” - but it’s after this where Sam really seems run down.

I mean, look at the episodes before and after (HAH you thought I forgot about that first point I made at the very beginning of this post! I did, briefly, but I’ve circled back to it, thanks for being understanding). In “The Curious Case of Dean Winchester,” Sam behaves much as he did since the start of s4, which is to say, ‘annoying little know-it-all brother tossed into the middle of the apocalypse and just trying his best’ and it works well for the mad scramble for any scrap of information that’s happening in s4/early s5.

But in “The Real Ghostbusters” it’s different. This is another funny meta episode - except, while Sam and Dean are technically aware of the joke, they aren’t as amused by it as the audience is. And it’s not because of the ghosts. It’s because they’re just... done. Especially Sam. Dean has that nice little moment with the cosplayers at the end of the episode, but Sam... threatens to shoot Chuck. Sam ‘goes darkside’ more often than pretty much any other character in the show, but that moment is different. It’s a flat promise, not a threat. He’s not being an asshole, like he is after losing his soul. He’s just... done. And it’s obvious to see.

Gabriel’s confession is the turning point for Sam in s5, and it informs a lot of his behavior through the rest of s5, and possibly beyond! Like I said, I haven’t watched past s5 in a very long time, so I don’t feel confident enough to analyze that specific sort of character line, but I feel confident in saying that hearing one of the most powerful beings in the universe basically say “it doesn’t matter what you do - your destiny is unavoidable” and then he’s proven right (Sam says yes to Lucifer, and Dean eventually does say yes to Michael down the line!)... like, that’s really gotta fuck up your world view that was built on free will and throwing off the shackles of fate. Sam managed to avoid his ‘destiny’ in s2... but then it turns out that that wasn’t ever his destiny. Lucifer was his destiny.

Talk about an obscured view of the inner self.

[iredreamer]

Hi! really love your blog. I find Anne's dairies to be fascinating and I love reading through your interpretation of her words. If you don't mind me asking, cause i don't remember seeing it addressed before: did the whole thing with Ainsworth actually happen? Did Anne really threaten him like she did on the show? did he actually inflicted himself on Ann or was he just a past lover of sorts?

hey :) thank you so much sweet anon, I’m happy you’re loving all the Anne’s facts! She’s just so fascinating, I’m inspired and amazed by her every single day. And my brain still doesn’t fully understand that she actually existed lol.

About Ainsworth, I remember writing something about it but just little things while talking about other things so, no, I never answered these questions.

Let’s start with the death of Mrs Ainsworth, because that’s what really sets things into motion:

October 26, 1832 > The letter with black-edged paper & black seal from Miss Bentley [Ainsworth’s sister-in-law], Manchester, being given to Miss W- junior to read – it fell from her hand on seeing that it was to announce the death of her friend Mrs Ainsworth, in consequence of being thrown out of an open carriage… Immediately proposed our returning – walked home with Miss W-, & instead of going to Shibden as I had intended, wrote & sent at 5 little note to my aunt, stating the case & begging her not to expect me today.

This is what Anne Lister writes about the announcement of Mrs Ainsworth’s death. It happens just like in the show, and Anne stays with Miss Walker all night. They talk about the Ainsworths and Anne even thinks that Miss Walker will "succeed her friend ” and become the new Mrs Ainsworth: “Miss W- seemed much affected but I have really got her to be far better than I could have expected – It instantly struck me – she would in due time succeed her friend & be[come] Mrs Ainsworth.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0135] She thinks that AW will marry Mr Ainsworth, that’s her first thought, even before anything that might suggest a possible proposition of marriage happens, and (in my opinion) that says a lot about AL’s fear of being left for a man (again) and seeing yet again another one of her lovers not choosing her but marrying a man in the end.

The first letter to Ann Walker from Mr Ainsworth arrives on the 1st of November: November 1, 1832 > She [AW] begged me to stay till she had read her letter from Mr Ainsworth, & this occasioned us such dolefuls that I offered to stay till tomorrow & wrote to this effect to my aunt saying Miss W- had had letters giving the particulars of Mrs Ainsworth death & was so affected I would not leave her tonight. Mr Ainsworth hopes Miss W- will not forsake him as a friend, and begs her to write to him, without mentioning to Miss Bentley (his sister-in-law) his having written to Miss W-. ‘Oh ho’, thought I, ‘all this is very clear’ and I candidly told her what I thought. She owned she could not misunderstand him but could not shew me his letter after the request he had made. This led to my saying that she must now decide between Mr A- and me and ought to make up her mind before she sat down to write to him. Convinced her to this & it ended in her resolving to give me her final answer on Monday – to write to Mr A- on that day – and shew me her letter. [SH:7/ML/E/15/0136 & SH:7/ML/E/15/0137]

So, before having anything to do with Mr Ainsworth, Anne Lister tries to understand what are Ann Walker’s intentions about all this. The events in the show have been slightly re-ordered, just because at the end of the day they were writing a show and we’re watching a show, so things have to be structured and the story needs to unfold not in a confusing way.

The 2nd of November (Friday) is their last sad day together before the weekend and then on Monday (the 5th) all the business with the purse happen (which actually happened, they were so extra I cant with them I swear) etc. etc. 

After the purse thing, Anne Lister gives more time to Ann Walker (till the 1st of January) to decide whether to say “yes” or “no” to her. Ann Walker still remains undecided about Ainsworth and Anne Lister "even had to dictate Ann’s discouraging letter back to the importuning Ainsworth.” [Nature’s Domain] (as we see in the show).

Finally, on Wednesday, AW tells AL the truth about why she thinks she has to marry Ainsworth: November 7, 1832 > Then spoke of Mr Ainsley [Ainsworth] – she was very nervous. At last, from little to more, it came out that if she married him, it would be from duty. I pressed for explanation & discovered that she felt bound to him by some indiscretion – he had taught her to kiss, but they had never gone so far as she & I had done. He had express pathetic sorrow but was annoyed at the business with Mr Fraser & she did not know whether she should have been happy with Mr F-. On  Mr A-’s account my indignation rose against the parson – I reasoned her out of all feeling of duty or obligation towards a man who had taken such base advantage.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0141]

After this “confession” and after Anne tells her that she has no obligation to marry Ainsworth, AW gives AL her “yes” (but, as in the show, it’s not a firm yes and she will take it back etc. etc. her indecision never ends). Mr Ainsworth keeps writing to AW and AL keeps dictating discouraging letters as a response. AL never meets Ainsworth, she just threatens him through letters. It’s just all correspondence. From the companion book: “The Reverend Ainsworth continued to write, but following a thinly veiled threat to expose his adultery if he continued to communicate with Ann, it was Anne Lister to whom his long ‘rigmarole’ letters were addressed.”

Clearly they changed this because it would have been boring to watch people just write letters to each other all the time, and I’m glad they did because that scene with Ainsworth is AMAZING. But Anne did hate him, she really hated him, at one point she even told AW to not answer anymore and just ignore him. AW kept rejecting him for the longest time (he proposes to her even in 1833 while Ann’s in Scotland).

Going back to the: “he had taught her to kiss, but they had never gone so far as she & I had done.”... From what AL writes, and from what AW says, Ainsworth never inflicted himself on Ann Walker and they never even had sex but the whole thing is not so clear, in fact, at one point AL suspects that AW did have sex with Mr Ainsworth: November 25, 1832 > “In spite of all her declarations to the contrary, I begin to suspect he [Ainsworth] really has deflowered & enjoyed her or how this so declaring against marrying anybody else & this feeling bound to him & how all the pain she suffered sometimes could scarcely walk & why never tell the gross & offending expression he used in his first lett[er] after the death of his wife & that no man would use to the woman he meant to marry? She must have had some man or other, I can never satisfy her.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0153]

So, Anne Lister thought that AW and Ainsworth had indeed been intimate with each other. At the same time we should keep in mind that these are just AL’s thoughts and not necessarily the truth, she’s just trying to find an explanation to AW’s behaviour.

There is also a passage that I think could be open to interpretation. Anne Lister writes: November 25, 1832 > “Then grubbled her, she making no sort of objection but evidently enjoying it – she thought Mr A- had a smaller hand than mine – I said he had done it more roughly than necessary to spoil her as much as he could without the real thing “yes” (but said she hastily) “he did it first”, that is grubbled first.” [SH:7/ML/E/15/0153] AW had also said to AL that she “felt repugnance to forming any connection with the other sex.” (November 1, 1832) If we put these two things together, maybe we could speculate that what happened between Ainsworth and AW was not consensual. But this is just an interpretation and, as far as I know, in the diaries there’s no explicit mention of rape or sexual abuse.

(Most of the diary’s extracts are from Nature’s Domain by Jill Liddington, and others I decoded from Anne’s diary > Anne Lister’s diaries archive)

tl;dr the Ainsworth thing happened, yes, slightly different from what we saw but mostly accurate; he was certainly not a past lover; AL did threaten him but a lot more subtly and through letters, they never met; there was no rape but maybe Ainsworth’s attentions were really unwanted even tho’, to be absolutely sure, we would need Ann Walker’s pov on the matter which we don’t have.

[randxmthxughts]

At the end of the day, it’s MY song

AU w/ Shawn Mendes

Genre: Some angst, some fluff

Word count: 1512

Short description: Yourself and Andrew have a little fight with Shawn because he wants to announce that his new song is about you.

Author’s note: I threw a few pun/references there, haha. Hope you’ll like this one, I think it’s too cheesy though.

 (the gif has nothing to do with the text, I just love it)

    “Can I tell them?” Shawn looks at me already knowing the answer.

    I swear, this boy will drive me, Andrew and everybody else in his team crazy one day.

    “Absolutely, no,” I reply crossing my arms.

    “Andrew, can I tell them?” he turns his head to his manager sitting next to him on the couch.

    “You’ve heard her," Andrew shrugs his shoulders.

    “I swear to God,” Shawn rolls his eyes and looks back at me “Can I tell them? Just say yes.”

    “No,” I reply one more time.

    “Babe,” he looks at me begging with his eyes.

    “She already told you, Shawn,” Andrew cuts in.

    “Ugh, for God’s sake! Why am I even listening to you two? I can do whatever I want to, at the end of the day it is MY song.” Shawn steams up raising from the couch and starts to walk in circles.

    “Yeah, but your song is about her," Andrew adds up, and Shawn stops for a second to give him the most annoyed look.

    “Thus, I get to say a word in this decision. And I am saying no." I also stand up walking up to him.

    “Why don’t you let me just tell them? Don’t you like the song?” he looks at me with a confused expression on his face.

    “No, Shawn, it’s not about…” I start, but he interrupts me.

    “Be honest. Don’t you like the song? Or don’t you like the lyrics? Maybe some of the lines” he says and pauses waiting for my answer.

    “I love the song” I breath out and see a wave of relief appearing on his face, “but I don’t want anyone to know it’s about me.”

    “What do you mean? People already know we’re dating, what’s to hide?” he raises his eyebrows a little.

    “It won’t end up good, Shawn,” I say quietly looking down at my feet.

    “I don’t get it” he waits for my reply, but I remain silent, so he turns his head to Andrew, who’s on his phone, and continues “can anybody explain to me what’s happening?”

    “She’s right, Shawn,” Andrew says without even looking at Shawn, focused on the screen, “Whatever you might say it’s gonna make your fans go crazy. The press also likes to provoke them even more by writing the most insane articles. They will end up writing something and make the situation go out of hand.”

    “What? No.” he narrows his eyebrows and quickly turns to me to see my reaction. I nod in agreement with Andrew’s words, and slightly annoyed, Shawn looks back at Andrew.

    “It was hard to settle them down when the rumors of you two dating first came up. The press was quicker; we didn’t even get a chance to prepare your fans. They were offended they didn’t found out it directly from you. You absolutely know why she received too much attention that time. If we can call that "attention"... Nobody liked it” Andrew says and finally puts his phone back into his pocket to look up at Shawn.

    “No, no.” he refuses to agree “this time will be different. Everybody already knows about us, what’s the point of not telling them that I wrote a song about her?”

    I shake my hand disappointed that he still doesn’t get it.

    “You’re a dumbass, Shawn” I take a turn in the conversation not letting Andrew speak.

    “What do you mean?” he storms off looking back at me, crossing his arms over his chest.

    “I mean that they wouldn’t want to hear that a song like that is written about me. Just imagine this situation if you just find out that your favorite artist whom you have admired and think of as an honest, talented person doesn’t trust you, his fan, enough to tell you about his girlfriend. Then imagine that when you finally start to get used to this thought, out of nowhere comes out a song about him confessing his feelings to her. And it’s not like the song is just about something light but has such a deep lyrics. Shawn, this song is not just a catchy melody with dumb words.”

    “Yeah, but the fans already settled down. They are used to the thought of me not being single anymore.”

    “Don’t be so quick, Shawn” Andrew speaks up “Only a month passed by. Many are still upset. We cannot release a song like that with a big announcement you wanna make right now. It’s a love confession song, and it is an excellent song. We can’t make it work if you’re gonna jump in with announcements. Gonna sound like you’re faking it. I don’t think they will like that.”

    Shawn remains silent for a few seconds proceeding Andrew’s words. By the look in his eyes, I can tell that he starts to realize what we were telling him for the past two days.

    “Okay, I get it.” he nods admitting his defeat.

    “Thank God” Andrew, and I let out a sigh of relief.

    “Just tell me when?” Shawn asks immediately.

    “When what?” I reply confused and look at Andrew who has the same confused expression on his face as I do.

    “When can I tell them that the song is actually about my current relationships, not imaginary ones,” he says with a sarcastic tone.

    I sigh and return to the armchair I was sitting in. Andrew thinks for a few seconds before giving him an answer.

    “When the album comes out.”

    “What? No. It is too far from the song’s release date.”

    “By the time the album comes out your relationships will be more public, and people will get used to it. Besides, you’ll have to give interviews for promo anyway; you might as well tell them that the song is about her” he looks at me and then continues “it’s gonna bring more attention to the album. Which is good for-”

    “I am not doing this for promo, Andrew” Shawn cuts him.

    “I know, Shawn, but that’s the best time. Everyone could benefit. We just need to wait for a few more months.”

    “For God’s Sake-”

    “Shawn, it’s fine” I interrupt him and grab his attention back, “I know that you only have good intentions, and I love the song. But you cannot always do whatever is on your mind.”

    “But I wanna tell them now. I don’t care if it’s gonna bring more attention to the album if I tell them a few months later. I don’t care if anybody will get mad, I wanna tell everybody that I love you and I wanna share my song” he storms off again.

    We remain silent for a bit until calms down a little and bites his cheek not breaking the eye contact with me.

    “Honey, but your career and fans also matter, and you gotta include that too. Just let’s wait, okay?” I slightly nod to reassure him in the newly-settling thought in his mind.

    “Okay, I’ll wait, babe,” he breathes out, and a smile appears on my face.

    “And it only took us 40 hours to get you to agree, God, I love my job so much,” Andrew sighs getting up from the couch and walking to the doorway past Shawn.

    Shawn jokingly hits him in the arm and Andrew just sighs one more time. I could feel how annoyed he was, but he also was happy that we won over Shawn. It was hard to make this Canadian dumbass understand the complicated things unavailable to his mind, but we somehow succeeded. I knew that he wanted to tell everybody that the song was about me. He was proud of it, to be honest, the song made me tear up. It was great, what’s to hide? However, he has thrown some serious words in there. Words like “I love you” and “I’ll never get over it if you break my heart.”

    “Now, come here,” I say opening my arms to him.

    Shawn quickly walks over to me and sits down on his knees right in front of my armchair.

    “You know, that I wrote the song absolutely truthfully, right?” he says.

    “I know, I love you too, Shawn” I smile at him.

    “You do?” he asks “in the beginning I thought I was coming at you too strong and that is why you didn’t want me to tell them that song is about you and-”

    “I love you, Shawn” I repeat one more time.

    He looks at me with the most loving eyes and makes my heart beat twice as harder. I cannot help myself but hold him for a few seconds before leaning back to see his beautiful face one more time. I think about the song for a bit, and the idea that he meant every single word in that lyrics makes me a little dizzy. I still don’t get how I managed to make this boy love me.

    “God, you’re gorgeous” he breathes out as if answering my question, and his face lightens up with a big smile showing off his white teeth. I’m a lucky girl.

MASTERLIST

My recent works:

“I’m not mad, I’m furious”

“We’re keeping it”

“Babe, you’re bleeding”

[artificialqueens]

Why Am I Not One with the Earth and Other Questions to Ask When Finding Yourself (Sashea) -Panic

AN: Hello! A little white ago I wrote a fic called “Is This what if Feels Like to Be Alive and Other Questions to Ask When Falling In Love” and I finally got around to writing it from Sasha’s perspective! I’m not sure which one I like more tbh. Unrelated note: I am working super hard on finishing up the next Chapter of Just Strangers, but I’m really stuck on a transition section, and it’s pretty long for me, so it’ll be a little while longer, but I did post a teaser of it on my Ao3, itwilleatyourbabies and I’m guessing it will be up around the last week of August, maybe a little sooner. Enjoy! -Panic  

When Sasha was a child, she hated painting landscapes, she had never been able to paint the beauty that surrounded her, but she wanted too, she wanted to be one with the earth. Eventually, she realized that would never happen. She was fire, and she didn’t want anybody else to get burned.

She stood at the front of the soon to full gallery, glancing around at her body of work. The walls are filled with her abstract portraits, bright colors are ((assaulting)) her bright eyes. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t absolutely terrified.

This wasn’t Sasha Velour’s first gallery, but this one was different, she hadn’t pulled her inspirations from the outside world this time, she pulled her inspirations from herself, from her mind, from her struggles. A knock shocked her out of her thoughts. She turned on one heel toward the door, where Tiffany stood. Sasha felt her face break out into a bright smile, it’d been a few days since she’d last seen her long term girlfriend. Pushing open the door, Sasha grabbed Tiffany’s hand and pulled her into the gallery, pressing a firm kiss to her lips once she was safely inside.

She didn’t feel Tiffany smile into the kiss. Pulling away, she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. “It’s been so long!” Sasha exclaimed, excitement tangling with her earlier feelings of fear, creating a weird sensation inside of her body in the pit of her stomach, not like butterflies, more like a freight train ramming itself around inside of her.

“It’s only been a couple of days, babe.” Tiffany replied, voice cool and calm, the annoyance in her voice *faintly* hidden. Sasha sighed and looked down at the ground, lightly kicking one food against the smooth wood of the gallery. The silence was suffocating.

“I know, I just miss you.” She and Tiffany had always been total opposites. Tiffany was water, cold, but still inviting in the heat of the moment. She kept her emotions under control, under a veil of eyerolls and sarcastic comments. Tiffany was an ocean in the way that she seemed so inviting, so calming and cool, but like the ocean, it wasn’t always true. She could turn controlling, suffocating, in a single instant.

Sasha was fire. She was bright and passionate, filled with heat and determination but unable to understand when she had gotten too hot, when her heat began to drive people away, because even though  she didn’t have great emotional control, she always meant well, but something about her always seemed to be too big, too bright for everybody else.

“What have you been up to the last couple of days.” Tiffany asked as she pulled farther away from Sasha’s embrace, turning her head to glance around at the portraits decorating the walls.

“Mostly working on this, getting final touches, planning what I’m going to say,” Sasha said, also taking a minute to admire her work, “I went to lunch with Shea yesterday.” She mumbled the last part, knowing Tiffany’s disdain for her friend. Tiffany sighed.

“You know I think you should stay a w a y from her.” Tiffany said, meeting Sasha’s eyes for the first time. She nodded, “She isn’t good for you,she has bad intentions Sasha, I can tell.” Now it was time for Sasha to turn away, she hated having this discussion so, fucking much.

Sasha glanced up to the clock and realizing the time, she exclaimed “It starts in ten minutes oh god oh god oh god.” Tiffany rolled her eyes as Sasha leapt to prop the door open.

It wasn’t much later when the area began to fill with people. Sasha greeted as many as she could, friends and family came, but also buyers, and journalists, Sasha was delirious with nerves as she greeted her guests, Tiffany never far behind her. As Sasha stood up to speak, her eyes caught a girl standing to her left, Shea.

If Sasha was fire, Shea was earth. Grounding, safe, a lovely final resting place. Shea was familiarity and comfort and feelings of hot chocolate on cold winter days, Sasha would never admit it to herself but Shea felt like home. Their eyes met and Sasha felt warm, flustered but she shook it off, smiling and Shea and walking towards her, but before she could, Tiffany wrapped her arm around Sasha’s waist, suffocating her. She can feel fingernails  digging into her waist, her eyes drop the floor, but soon enough she’s engulfed in her work again, monologuing about the next piece on the walls. She pretends to ignore the way Tiffany glares at her.  

Shea made Sasha want to paint landscapes.

…

If Sasha’s honest, she never thought they’d break up. Sure, there were problems; plenty of them, but she never thought it would end in a breakup. It was a day after the gallery, as Sasha trudged up the stairs to Tiffany’s apartment she could tell something was off.

She knocked on the door, it was silent for a few suffocating moments before the door opened. Tiffany said nothing, just pushed the door wide enough for Sasha to duck in. Once the door shut behind her, She stood facing Tiffany. For a minute, nobody said anything  they just stared at each other. Brown meeting blue. Water meeting fire.

“There’s not an easy way to say this…” Tiffany started out, not meeting Sasha’s eyes. Sasha nodded, biting down on her lip.

“I’m…. god, I’m so sorry, Sasha, but I’m seeing somebody else.” Sasha looked up meeting Tiffany’s eyes for the first time. She willed herself not to cry, but she could feel the tears welling up her eyes. She jerked away from Tiffany, but she didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry.” Tiffany said again. Taking a deep breath Sasha turned back to Tiffany and finally spoke.

“You were worried about my relationship with Shea, all while you were seeing somebody else?” Sasha was in total disbelief, Tiffany said nothing.

“You were so controlling and overprotective of who I talked too, all while you were cheating on me with somebody else?” Tiffany finally spoke.

“I felt unwanted, what else did you want me to do?” Sasha let out an exasperated sigh.

“Maybe talked to me? There were plenty of times where I felt unwanted but I talked to you every.single.time. It happened.”

“Well, you were always with Shea, what did you want me to do?”

“This isn’t about Shea. This is about us, or rather, this is about you.” She muttered through gritted teeth; but, Sasha couldn’t help but feel a stir in the back of her mind, had she been spending too much time with Shea?

“You’re always spending time with her, ‘hey Tiff, I’m going to lunch with Shea.’ ‘Oh, Shea has a dance recital tomorrow, she’s going to do great.’’

“Listen Tiff, I’m sorry, too.” Sasha started out, but Tiffany stopped her before she could go too far.

“I don’t think you are though.”

“You cheated on me, and I’m the one apologizing so honestly I should probably just go.”

“Go, then.” Sasha didn’t responded, but as she left, she heard Tiffany whisper.

“I never loved you.”

Sasha pretended not to hear anything.

To Shea: Are you free?

To Shea: Please? I need to see you.

To Shea: Shea?

To Sasha: What’s wrong?

To Sasha: Sasha?

To Shea: Meet me at my studio.

To Sasha: See you in ten.

Sasha tried to paint. She really did, she had paint splattered across the canvas but it wasn’t speaking to her, not like it used to. Sasha was used to painting people, abstract entities and goddesses but her mind was only filled with pictures of the earth,

bright buildings and bridges flashed across her mind in

radiant hues,

turned around

flipped upside down,

the pops of color where just too //blinding//

but she couldn’t tell why.

She heard Shea’s footsteps, quietly, she set down her paint brush and walked into Shea’s arms, she felt grounding, sturdy.

The walk to the cafe is quiet, Sasha doesn’t know what to say. Something seems to be off, but she can’t tell what it is. The cafe they’re in is loud, almost deafeningly to the point where she cannot form the words in her mouth, they sit there, like sand, dry and impossible to swallow. Sasha takes a deep breath and sighs into her coffee, looking at Shea and finally saying it.

“Tiffany and I… we broke up, I guess? And I don’t know, I’m…. She… she said some really hurtful shit, so, yeah.’ Shea nodded, taking Sasha’s hand, sending sparks up her arm.

“You did the right thing, Sasha, I know it probably hurts like hell now but I’m sure it’ll all turn out for the best.” Shea’s eyes betrayed her, showed just a little bit of sadness, like a puddle next to a flowing river. The world is too loud of Sasha, she can feel the blood pumping in her ears as she tries maintains eye contact with Shea. She feels like she is on fire, her body is burning with something she does not quite recognize and it hurts.

But, like always, Shea is there to ground her, to shelter her and keep her safe from herself, from the fire that threatens to swallow her up when things aren’t going to great.

Shea breaks the eye contact first, unusual. Sasha does moments after her before whispering.

“What’s

Wrong?”

Shea pulls her hand away from Sasha as she trains her eyes on the busy Brooklyn street through the window.

“I think,” Her voice is quieter than Sasha has ever heard a gentle rumble that shook Sasha’s very core, the warning of thunder before the storm, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Everything is happening too fast, She attempts to process the words that left her friend’s mouth but she just can’t. The words fall on Sasha’s shoulders like raindrops, quick, and all at once. Shea leaves the table, she doesn’t look at Sasha nor does she listen as Sasha calls her name down the street words echoing back to her.

…

Ironically enough, it is raining. Sasha pulls her jacket around her even closer as she walks down the street to the subway station, she can feel the rain twirling inside of her hair, her skin is wet but as she boards the dry subway station she can still feel the raindrops falling on her skin. She isn’t thinking, at least, not as well as she should be and that hurts, a reminder that even the strongest fires can be put out by enough water.

When she was a kid, her parents used to take her camping, and she remembers clearly the feeling of calm that came with lying against the cool earth, the sun beating down on her neck reminding her that she is alive. She loved sleeping in tents, pressing her body against the world below her and now she’s wondering if she’ll ever feel calm like that again. The earth feels like it is moving beneath her feet and it feels like she is floating in space as she walks up to Shea’s apartment building, she is searching for something that will ground her for the first time in years and she knows that she will find it here.

Shea’s drunk, but she let Sasha in without question. Sasha’s heart is pounding in her chest again as she takes Shea’s hands, she wants answers.

Shea tells her that she is every hope that she has ever had, but in human form, the words bury themselves into Sasha’s skin and make their home there; and, even though she cannot find the words, it feels as though Shea understands as they smash their lips together in what feels like the most beautiful storm Sasha’s ever seen.

Being wrapped in Shea’s arms feels like camping as a kid, it feels like Sasha is pressed into the earth again and she just wants them to be one. When she paints the earth she knows it is Shea she is painting but she can’t find the strokes to get Shea’s beauty just right so she paints the world around her, it is bright and stunning and a little backwards, but it feels like home.

[pauldeckerus]

Thunderball Clothing Shuttered Due to Outrage from Arch Enemy Photo Ban

Photographer J Salmeron of Metal Blast sparked a huge outpouring of support from other photographers and creatives last week after he shared how he was blacklisted by the band Arch Enemy while trying to protect his copyright. Now the clothing business at the center of the controversy has closed up shop in response to all the “hate and threats” it has received.

Salmeron originally shared how he discovered that Thunderball Clothing was using one of his photos without his permission to promote its products.

The (now deleted) re-post of my work by Thunderball Clothing.

The photographer offered to let Thunderball use the photo and keep the post up by retroactively licensing it through a €100 donation to the Dutch Cancer Foundation.

Instead of responding directly to Salmeron, Thunderball (i.e. fashion designer Marta Gabriel) decided to turn to Arch Enemy instead. After a little back and forth with the band, manager Angela Gossow (who was the previous lead singer) informed Salmeron that he has been blacklisted from all future performances.

“We have immediately removed the picture you took at FortaRock,” Gossow wrote. “By the way, we are sure you don’t mind that you are not welcome anymore to take pictures of Arch Enemy performances in the future, at festivals or solo performances.

“I have copied in the label reps and booking agent who will inform promoters – no band wants to have photographers on site who later send such threatening correspondence to monetise on their images.”

Unhappy about how the whole situation unfolded, Salmeron turned to the Web to share what happened. His post then went viral in not only the world of photography but in the music world as well.

Less than 48 hours later, current Arch Enemy lead sinder Alissa White-Gluz posted the following statement to her Facebook page defending both Thunderball’s actions and Arch Enemy’s right to ban Salmeron:

“The photographer of this particular photo was ALWAYS fully credited for the ENTIRE duration of his photo being on my Instagram and Marta’s,” White-Gluz wrote. “As soon as he expressed discontent the posts were immediately removed. There was never ANY attempt made by Thunderball or Arch Enemy to use that photo for commercial use, and certainly not without compensation. […]

“We reserve the right, however, to decide who is allowed to photograph our shows and after having corresponded with him we didn’t want any more issues like this in the future, especially when passes are limited and we know so many photographers who love having the opportunity to get a photo pass and have fun with us at shows.

“In conclusion, no one from Arch Enemy nor Thunderball ever denied paying the photographer in question for the commercial use of his photo: We simply did not use it.”

This response didn’t sit well with people, and White-Gluz’s has been flooded with angry comments and reactions.

The next day, Thunderball Clothing issued an apology:

View this post on Instagram

THUNDERBALL CLOTHING – STATEMENT / APOLOGY I would like to publicly apologise Mr J. Salmeron for reposting one of the photos he took, on my Instagram page, without having his permission. When few months ago I was reposting his photo from the Instagram page of the Arch Enemy singer Alissa White-Gluz, I was simply proud that such a great artist is wearing a clothing piece that I made, and wanted to share these news with my followers. As I did the repost with an app that included all original credits and watermarks, I thought that it's OK. I meant no harm, and it wasn't my intention to promote any product, however, I do agree that it might looked like that, and I understand that the author of the photography could feel upset about it. And I am sorry about it. After I received an email message from J. Salmeron, who introduced himself as a lawyer and author of the photography, I interpreted it as another spam or scam (well, all of us receive this kind of emails all the time). I saw the amount of 500 Euro and the name of Alissa White-Gluz, from whom I reposted mentioned photo, so without going deeper into that message, I did what I thought was most logic – I contacted her, forwarded the original message that I got, and asked her what to do. I was instructed to take down the photo (what I immediatelly did), and was informed that someone else will take care of it. That again seemed logic, as I was aware that I'm not at the position of taking any actions on behalf of Arch Enemy, nor their members. I had no other contact with J. Salmeron, I haven't heard from him since then, and to be honest, for the last 6 months I had no idea that something is wrong, especially as the photo was taken down. That being said, I would like to apologise J. Salmeron once again. Not only I'm willing to discuss with him how to compenaste him and fix the situation, but also how to make sure similar situation won't happen ever again. After all, we're all playing in the same team, and we all have one thing in common. We love music. Marta Gabriel, Thunderball Clothing

A post shared by Thunderball Clothing (@thunderballclothing) on Dec 28, 2018 at 5:45am PST

“I would like to publicly apologise Mr J. Salmeron for reposting one of the photos he took, on my Instagram page, without having his permission,” Gabriel wrote. “[…] As I did the repost with an app that included all original credits and watermarks, I thought that it’s OK. I meant no harm, and it wasn’t my intention to promote any product, however, I do agree that it might looked like that, and I understand that the author of the photography could feel upset about it. And I am sorry about it.”

Gabriel also states that she interpreted his original copyright infringement notice email as spam or a scam, so she decided to contact the band about it.

“Not only I’m willing to discuss with him how to compensate him and fix the situation, but also how to make sure similar situation won’t happen ever again,” Gabriel writes. “After all, we’re all playing in the same team, and we all have one thing in common. We love music.”

But the next day, Gabriel announced that she has shuttered Thunderball Clothing:

View this post on Instagram

STATEMENT 30/12/2018 – UPDATE / THE END OF THUNDERBALL CLOTHING * As many of you seems to follow this story, here's an update, and a final statement (you can see my previous statement and an apology from December 28 in my previous post). * The photographer, J. Salmeron, accepted my apology for reposting the photo he took, without having his permission, and as this was his request, I made a donation to the charity organization of his choice (the Dutch Cancer Society). I believe we can say this ends the dispute between us. * However, as I'm not able to handle the amount of hate and threats that I received and keep on receiving, I decided to do what I think is best in this situation. To end the being known as Thunderball Clothing (it's hard to use a word "company" here, as since day one it was just one person – me). I apologise for not being strong enough, and for not being next Internet hero that keep on saying "haters gonna hate". Within last 2 days I received literally hundreds of comments and messages that I'm a whore, a nazi, a communist, a worthless cunt, and that I either should quickly die, or that I should kill myself. There is no anger in me, and I apologise everyone that felt hurt or upset by this situation. Anyway, there is no Thunderball Clothing anymore. You won. * Marta Gabriel, Thunderball Clothing

A post shared by Thunderball Clothing (@thunderballclothing) on Dec 30, 2018 at 2:11am PST

“The photographer, J. Salmeron, accepted my apology for reposting the photo he took, without having his permission, and as this was his request, I made a donation to the charity organization of his choice (the Dutch Cancer Society),” Gabriel states. “I believe we can say this ends the dispute between us.”

But it’s the flood of “hate and threads” that she is unable to handle, the fashion designer says.

“Within last 2 days I received literally hundreds of comments and messages that I’m a whore, a nazi, a communist, a worthless cunt, and that I either should quickly die, or that I should kill myself,” she writes. “There is no anger in me, and I apologise everyone that felt hurt or upset by this situation. Anyway, there is no Thunderball Clothing anymore. You won.”

Here’s Salmeron’s response to the news of Thunderball’s closure:

“What Marta made was a mistake, a mistake that in no way justifies her losing her livelihood or seeing her life negatively impacted to this level,” Salmeron writes. “She deserves, like all the rest of us, the opportunity to move on from it and to continue her creative career.”

“[W]hile we sincerely appreciate the support that we have received from thousands of people from around the world, we categorically and absolutely reject any and all threats of any kind made against Marta, Alissa, Angela or, frankly, anybody else. Nobody deserves to be terrorized, or to fear for their safety, because of things like these.”

Salmeron notes that he too has received death threats — from supporters of the band — and that he will be passing the messages on to authorities.

Band manager Gossow also took to social media to weigh in after Thunderball’s announcement.

“I am reacting to the bully rally this photographer has set lose with his well crafted (he took 6 months to get it done and released), well timed mash up of different subjects at hand,” Gossow writes. “The details often get lost in the emotion of the narrative – and the narrative is often controlled by who presents the story first. Mr photographer threw a bunch of different things into one pot and highly emotionalized it.”

Gossow writes that (1) Arch Enemy didn’t infringe upon any copyright and wasn’t involved at all in that core aspect of the controversy, (2) Salmeron should have billed Gabriel directly and donated to charity himself, (3) she didn’t ask anyone outside her “circle of people” to blacklist Salmeron, and (4) Salmeron threatened Gossow with legal action over parts of her original public statement, which led her to edit the post.

“I took away the word sheep because those people who damaged Marta beyond repair, who are threatening Alissa and me in very serious ways are not sheep – they are much worse. They are bullies,” Gossow writes. “We wish to move on from this and wish Mr Photographer the best with the career.”

Gossow left the comments section open to promote discourse, but she’s still being slammed for her handling of the situation and blamed for the outcome.

“Because of the way you ‘handled’ this fiasco from the start, an actual good person, Marta Gabriel (who was the only one to apologize for the error) is now ending her clothing company,” writes a Matt Vicente in the most popular comment. “Nice job. And you STILL don’t get it.”

from Photography News https://petapixel.com/2018/12/31/thunderball-clothing-shuttered-due-to-outrage-from-arch-enemy-photo-ban/

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New Post has been published on http://sunnydawnjohnston.com/blog/what-do-you-do-when-you-cant-seem-to-find-your-voice-but-you-gotta-get-it-out/

What do you do when you can't seem to find your voice but you gotta get it out?

One of my favorite ways to move energy when I feel stuck is to write and burn. It’s not like you just write and burn and it’s done… it truly is a healing process. You may have heard of Julia Cameron’s “Morning Pages” ritual that invites you to journal stream of consciousness thoughts for ten minutes each morning. It’s a great way to get the funk and the junk out of your subconscious so you are more capable of being creative, intentional and free. Write and Burn, is similar, but different. It invites you to get honest with the feelings that don’t feel good … so honest that you are willing to move them out of your head and heart and onto paper. It is an extremely powerful process that I have been doing for years. I find it so helpful that I suggest it to about 90% of my clients at one time or another.

Writing to heal is scientifically proven. I knew I always felt better after I had written in my journal, especially the painful yucky stuff, but I didn’t know there was “real” science that backed up what I felt. Not until I read an article about James W. Pennebaker, a psychology professor. He became deeply interested in the physical and mental benefits of what he called self-disclosure and created an experiment to test out his theory. He gathered a group of students who were asked to write about their own traumatic experiences for 20 minutes, on three consecutive days. Serving as a control group were an equal number of students asked to write about unimportant matters.

The results showed that there was a marked difference between the two groups in terms of the impact of the writing exercise. In those who had written of trivial matters, there was no change either in their physical or mental health. In contrast, those who had written about traumatic experiences showed a marked strengthening of their immune system, decreased visits to the doctor and significant increases in psychological well-being. These findings were measured using physiological markers, behavioral markers and self-reporting. In another study in the 1990s of people with AIDS, those who wrote about their diagnosis and how it had affected their lives experienced a beneficial increase in white blood cell counts and a drop in their viral loads.

Writing & Burning is a safe place for you to release. It’s a place for you to get honest with yourself and your pain. A place for you to allow yourself complete freedom to write whatever you want. No one else but you will ever see it, so swear and curse if you feel the need and write down everything that you feel about the person or the situation that is affecting you. Write about why you feel the way you do … even if it doesn’t make sense.

Do your best not to feel any shame or guilt about what you write – you are allowed to express your emotions in any way that leads to healing. Don’t suppress or deny the way you feel, instead get it all out on paper. There are no judges here in this journal. There truly is no right or wrong way to do this … well, I guess there could be one wrong way. That would be not doing it. Not writing & burning. Just keep those feelings and emotions stored within and letting them steal your life away from you, negative thought-by-thought and unhealthy action-by-action.

Steps to Writing & Burning

Find a quiet spot where you are free from distractions. Turn your cell phone off. Get away from your computer. This is your time to RELEASE AND HEAL.

You may want to begin with a statement, intention or prayer asking to help you in clearing any negative emotions you have within your mind, body or spirit. Is there someone in your life (alive or deceased) that you have negative feelings toward? It could be an ex-lover, parent, spouse or colleague – anybody that conjures up negative feelings. Perhaps it is an experience that you need to let go of to move forward in your life. Whatever it is, bring it to mind as you make this statement of release.

Begin to write. Visualize the energy of pain, anger, hate, jealousy … whatever it is you feel within … imagine it. Imagine your emotions flowing down your arm and into the pages of this journal. Imagine the paper storing all the emotional energy that has felt stuck in you. It is literally taking your pain from your physical body and transferring it onto the paper and into this journal.

Write until your hand stops. Don’t hold back. Don’t stop what comes to your mind. This letter is for you. No one else has to see it. Proper grammar, sentence structure and punctuation are not important. Don’t worry about editing your writing. Just keep going until you feel the pain subsiding and you feel as though your writing is complete. No need to go back and edit.

Ask if everything is clear. If yes, complete this exercise by writing down “My intention is that all of this is released energetically, emotionally, physically, and spiritually from me and from all generations past, present and future for the highest and greatest good of all.” If it isn’t feeling clear, keep writing.

Once complete, tear the papers out of your write and burn journal, and as you do, be aware of the energy you are feeling in your mind, heart and body. Notice how it feels to tear the pages out of the journal. Imagine you are CHOOSING now, to finally release them, once and for all.

Now it’s time to BURN them baby!! No need to ever read them again. Just let them go. Go outside and make sure you have a safe receptacle that you can drop a burning piece of paper into, checking that the area around it will also be safe from the flames. Hold the letter over the receptacle and light one corner with a match or lighter. (Of course, you could also use a fireplace, wood bring stove or campfire to burn your pages in as well.)

Make a final statement of release. Before you just throw the paper in the fire, think about an intention of release you may want to say aloud – a statement of completion or letting go. As the paper begins to burn, I like to say something to the effect of, “I now release burn and clear all of this negativity to the Universe and ask that it be transmuted and transformed into Light.” As you watch the page or pages burn, let all that anger and hate go with it. See and feel the energy transmuting with the support of the fire.

When your pages are completely burned, I like to say a special “Thank you and so it is” to the Universe. Since everything and everyone in the Universe is energetically connected, every time you do an exercise like this you are not only healing yourself but having an effect on others as well.

Lastly, pick up your pretty journal now. Write down five things that you appreciate in this moment. They can be anything and do not have to be associated with the person or experience that you have just written about. We do this to bring in something positive to the space that was cleared so that the same energy that was held there previously doesn’t automatically get attracted back in and take up residence there again. By doing this, we consciously and intentionally replace that old negative energy with light and love and truth. THIS IS A HUGE piece of Writing & Burning that gets missed, so please don’t stop before this IMPORTANT step!

So, are you ready to give it a try my friend? Perhaps this is already a part of your healing tool-belt? Either way, I sure hope you take the time, when needed… to write it, release it, burn it and HEAL IT!!!!! The power YOU have to heal yourself is incredible. This is an experience that takes no money, no one outside of you, and just a simple journal, a pen and a lighter. That’s it. It doesn’t take a ton of time, but IT CAN BE one of the most healing exercises you can do on your own.

Give it a try and let me know how you feel afterwards. If you’ve done it in the past, I’d love to hear how it has helped you… and maybe that would encourage others to use this technique as well… It is SOOO powerful!! Please share in the comments below.

Love & Light, Sunny Dawn Johnston