annevbonny:

silversflint:

Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? It would have solved some problems. It would have caused others that I chose not to live with. What sort of problems would it have caused? That I would have had to live with it.

#john silver invented sitting in a chair

Fanfic asks meme

My answers to Questions 1,6, 7, 14 and 20

1. How many WIPS do I have at the moment? –> Only two. And one will probably never be finished. And the other will take absolute bloody ages to write.

6. What’s the last thing I read that made me laugh? –> The ficlet “Green-eyed Monster” (Black Sails)

7.  What’s the last thing I read that made me cry? –> The story “Truth Is Heavier Than Fiction” (Black Sails)

14.  Line of dialogue from current WIP: “The days of arriving unannounced are behind you.” This is a Major Cheat because it’s a line from canon (Black Sails), but I have recontextualised it.

20. Favourite fanfic or author –> (reworded to “Current favourite fanfic story”): “I’ll be seeing you” by youatemytailor. The perfect story as far as I am concerned. Extra kudos because I believe that English is not the author’s first language. Heartbreak because it’s unfinished. I have sent the author a couple of passionate entreaties.

animatorzee:

People will tell you that emotional abuse isn’t real and what you’re dealing with isn’t that big a deal and you’re just exaggerating, but let me tell you something.

If you’ve ever been wary of everyone you know, even people you trust, because you’re expecting them to get angry with you over literally anything, make fun of you, or start making threats, something’s wrong.

If you’ve ever had to plan things in anticipation of a potential tantrum that you fear will be taken out on you, something’s wrong.

If you succumb to someone’s demands because you’re never sure if their threats are empty or legit and you just want to play it on the safe side, something’s wrong.

If you find yourself jumping at smaller noises in anticipation that they’re a warning sign for a tantrum, something’s wrong.

If you hide things – especially things that make you happy – because you’re so afraid that they’ll make fun of you for liking them, scold you for liking something they don’t, take them away, destroy them, or that they’ll defile them and ruin that love you have for them, something’s wrong.

If you find yourself being silent in the face of mild disagreements or thinly-veiled insults, rather than standing up for yourself because you just don’t want to start an argument and make things worse, something’s wrong.

If that very lack of standing up for yourself eventually leads to you never offering your opinion in any sort of discussion out of fear of ridicule or being scolded because that’s what you’re so used to, something’s wrong.

If you end up spending a lot of your time in your room keeping to yourself and keeping any trip outside of your room to an absolute minimum because you don’t want to risk putting one toe out of line and setting off a tantrum, yet you’re also aware that hiding out will also cause an issue and you’re probably just minimizing the risk instead of erasing it entirely, something’s wrong.

If you ever habitually glance outside the window to keep watch for your supposed abuser’s car to return from their work, errand or trip, and then heading to your room or other hiding place to keep out of their way, erasing any obvious signs that you’ve been out and about in the rest of your living space, something’s wrong.

If one of your greatest fantasies involves not a dream career or winning the lottery but instead an escape plan succeeding, something’s wrong.

If you could basically summarize your life as living in constant, subtle fear, Something. Is. Wrong.

Emotional abuse is very, very real, and it has lasting consequences that can affect people’s relationships, their jobs, and their lives all-around.

Don’t you dare tell me it isn’t real.

quirinus-iz-zaras-realm:

Young anarchist-communist resistant Jean Quarré, pulling faces to the German cameraman while taken to the firing squad. France, 1944.

One of my own personal heroes is a 30-year old Tuscan peasant called Genny Marsili. She died, with nearly all the people in her village, in a reprisal by the German army after an action by the Italian Resistance. The last thing she did, before being mowed down by a German soldier with a machine-gun, was to take off one of her wooden clogs and throw it into the soldier’s face.