#familial abuse tw

[stellarhistoria]

man. [rant about an abusive family under the cut]

at this point i really do clearly see that this apartment/the people that raised me aren't the best for me. sometimes i want to defend them, sometimes i want to say that they have their good days, sometimes i can see the people that i once loved as if they truly were my family. but most days, i'm terrified of them. most days, i can't speak my mind out of fear that i'll be made the perpetrator of what i'm saying. most days, i'm utterly afraid of doing anything, because i can never do anything right in their eyes.

they don't accept doctor's notes anymore, they don't take the words of a professional seriously after another one falsely accuses me of faking the pain, they don't believe there's anything wrong with me mentally because i'm capable of holding myself together (in their eyes) better than people "who have what you claim to have".

as a result, i've had to untangle my mindset over the years of therapy into recognizing that, no, no they don't love me, not anymore. maybe once, maybe a long time ago, they did love me, they did care about me, but not anymore. they care about their daughter, but not their child. and they want their daughter back, even those she's dead and buried with the other deaths she predicted and was called a demon for. no, they don't love me, they love a memory of someone i look like.

i want to love them, and some days, i do. i want to love them, and some days, i can see why others do. i want to love them, and some days, i understand how to.

but most days, i can't believe in it. most days, i don't fathom it. most days, i could never.

i've felt more loved by people i've only ever seen in videos and spoke to over voice calls than any of the past 8 years living with the openness of me being masc genderfluid. i've felt more seen and appreciated by people who haven't known me my entire life than the people who saw me at my worst. i've felt more understood by people they call manipulative than the people who gaslight me into believing their anger is their love.

i want to love my family.

but how can i love people who refuse to love me?

[silvershewolf247]

Glen being around is a blessing and a curse

On one hand, they're good company and definitely a bright spot in Andy's life

On the other hand, now Andy has to worry about Glen's wellbeing

At first Andy thinks that if they step out of line, Chucky will kill them

After Glen let's them out and he tries to kill himself. When Andy wakes up in the aftermath of Chuckys binge drinking, he fully expects to find Glens body

So he's relieved to find Glen half asleep locked in a closet in the basement

Glen's pretty out of it, muttering apologies to their dad

He takes Glen upstairs into their bedroom and locks the door, slipping the key underneath to Glen so their father can't get in

Glen doesn't know which one of them brought them back upstairs because the next day, ChuckyAndy is all smiles

He knows Chucky won't intentionally kill Glen, but he still has to worry about him abusing Glen or getting so angry he loses control of himself

Glen keeps letting Andy out on the condition that Andy doesn't try to kill himself again

Andy agrees, but only because he knows Chucky would stop him

Being Chucky's prisoner/puppet for a year has made Andy more paranoid

He's worried Chucky might be listening in at any given time

So he's careful talking to Glen, trying to make sure they don't say anything that could piss off their dad

So when Glen says "I think I like you more than my dad" Andy is quick to tell them never to say anything like that again

He explains that there are some people Chucky decides are his. And if he feels that his "ownership" over those people is threatened, he will get violent.

[theherosvillain]

God rest ye, merry gentlemen

Masterpost

CWs: smoking, alcohol, whipping, familial abuse

The hearth crackled in the corner of the lamplit study. Pipe smoke wafted through the air, adding nausea to my already fuzzy head. I’d taken the drinking as slow as I could, but there wasn’t any avoiding the crystal glasses that had been passed into my hand throughout the evening—not without seeming rude, anyway. At least the Christmas Eve party had wound down. The guests were gone, and the women and children had retired to bed. Somehow, though, I’d been roped into joining the men in Xavier’s study.

I sat beside my cousin Charles on an uncomfortable velvet settee, adjacent to Xavier in his patriarchal leather armchair, with Vale and Matthias to the left. Xavier and Matthias were smoking pipes; Vale had declined, which meant that, thankfully, one wasn’t offered to me. Charles had asked for one, but Matthias had laughed and told him to save his lungs for another few years. In any case, Charles seemed thrilled that he’d been invited into the inner sanctum, chiming into the men’s conversation whenever he could. I, on the other hand, was hoping that Vale would excuse himself soon so that I’d have a decent reason to get out of here. Aside from leaving by myself and invoking Vale’s ire, that would be the only way to end this. I’d been on my best behavior so far, and there was little time left until we were due to head home. I wasn’t about to ruin my spotless record now.

“You’re awful quiet over there, Alexander,” Matthias said suddenly. He shot me a smirk over his glass of liquor.

And I was almost getting away with it, too, you bastard. I faked a smile as I swirled my own glass. I didn’t know what was in it anymore; something awful that burned my throat. I was taking it in the tiniest sips possible. “Just observing, sir,” I said.

“Just like your father,” Xavier grumbled. He took another puff of his pipe, keeping the room waiting, before he added, looking at no one in particular, “That’s why you weren’t my pick for heir, you know. You always seem to be waiting for something.”

The wood in the fireplace popped and settled. Vale took a long sip of his drink and swallowed slowly. “Patience is a virtue,” he said. “I’ve found that it serves me well.”

“Patience.” Xavier scoffed, smoke streaming from his mouth. “If you were patient, Axton, you might have kept your place in the family.”

Charles coughed into his drink and shifted in his seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Vale drain his glass. Then he stood, and I almost felt hopeful until he crossed to the collection of crystal decanters on the sideboard to pour himself another one. I sighed quietly.

“What about you, boy?”

It took a moment too long to realize that Xavier was looking expectantly at me. I straightened up. “Pardon me, sir?” I asked, too inebriated to find a phrasing that didn’t make me sound like a Victorian orphan.

Xavier leaned forward and took another drag off his pipe, maintaining eye contact with me as he blew out the smoke. “What do you think of your father’s decision, to—to leave the family, all those years ago, and strike out on his own?”

Vale’s gaze snapped over to me. I resisted the urge to break eye contact with Xavier. Vale had said it was best for me to keep my opinions to myself around his family. I already had a target on my back; it would be wise not to make it any bigger. I raised my eyebrows as innocently as I could and said, “It’s not my place to say.”

Matthias burst out laughing, coughing on pipe smoke. He put a hand to his chest and cleared his throat, then said over his shoulder, “Smart kid you’ve got here, Axton.” Vale didn’t even look at his brother; his eyes were on me.

Xavier leaned forward with an elbow on his knee, his pipe forgotten. “You’re avoiding the question, Alexander. What do you really think?”

That you’re a complete bastard, I thought. That I wish I was back at Vale’s penthouse ignoring Christmas entirely instead of having to spend it in this gaudy mansion of yours. I struggled to collect my thoughts, swimming through the haze of alcohol in my head. “I think he’s done alright for himself,” I said slowly.

Xavier raised an eyebrow, mocking. “He’s done alright for himself? Is that all you have to say?”

I felt a spark of anger, and I suppressed the urge to say outright, Fuck you, old man. I was sober enough to recognize that I was being goaded, and there was no way in hell I’d defend any of Vale’s actions, but the urge to strike back at Xavier won out over my survival instincts. “I think he’s succeeded well enough without your influence,” I said, channeling Vale’s chilly indifference into my tone.

In that moment, Vale looked anything but indifferent, his gaze piercing me from across the room. Charles choked on his liquor. Matthias had a look of almost maniacal glee as he glanced between me and Xavier. The old man himself leaned toward me with daggers in his eyes. “Is that right?” Xavier asked slowly.

I felt like I was about to be devoured by a pack of wolves—and yet my mouth kept moving. “You asked for my opinion,” I said, “so I gave it to you. Sir.”

Xavier’s eyebrows shot up. “Who taught you to speak like that to your betters, boy?”

Betters. This man was in no way better than me. I had the feeling I wouldn’t think that way if I’d been raised in this family. “My mother, sir,” I said.

“Well.” Xavier stood slowly from his chair, commanding all the attention in the room. I watched as he wandered over to his solid oak desk. “I think it’s high time you received some proper discipline, then—since your father so clearly isn’t teaching you anything.” He opened the top drawer and removed a leather riding crop, examining it in the lamplight. Then he looked at me. “Take off your shirt and face the bookshelf.”

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. For a moment, I just stared at him, feeling like I was in a dream. “Excuse me?”

No one else looked shocked. Matthias had a sadistic grin on his face. Charles had his shoulders hunched, suddenly very interested in his drink. Vale leveled his icy gaze at me. “Alexander,” he said, “listen to your grandfather.”

His tone was enough to send me to my feet, clumsily placing my glass on a side table. My stomach turned as I crossed over to the bookshelf. How mad was Vale right now? Would he consider this enough of a punishment, or would there be more later? Why the hell did I say all that to his father?

I faced a row of immaculately dusted leather tomes. The room was shadowy, but I glanced around and took a deep breath before removing my sweater, draping it over my arm, and unbuttoning my shirt. “Hurry up, boy,” Xavier said coldly. I swallowed, fumbling with the buttons. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, and I took a deep breath. I’d already seen a hell of a lot worse than one pathetic, pissed off old man. I’d survive this.

My back was exposed to the room. I held my clothes close to my chest, but kept my shoulders down and relaxed. I felt Xavier step up behind me, heard him slap the crop against his palm. “Count,” he commanded.

I could sense him; that made things slightly easier for me. I took a deep breath before the first strike whipped across my shoulders. It didn’t keep me from flinching and hissing under my breath. For an old bastard, he had a strong arm. “One,” I said. There was hardly a pause before the next one.

Each strike came harder than the last, and I numbered each blow. It almost relaxed me to focus on the counting, a distraction from the stinging welts on my shoulder blades and the impending doom of Vale’s wrath. Xavier could hurt me physically, but he couldn’t do anything worse than what I’d already been through. I wondered if he’d even given a single thought to the scar on my face and considered that I was used to pain. Then again, a punishment like this was more about the humiliation. I did feel humiliated, and angry, but I shoved it down deep. I didn’t want to give Vale any further reasons to punish me later. So I stared at the bookshelf and counted.

After twelve,Xavier’s arm finally dropped. “Put your shirt on, boy,” he said, sounding slightly out of breath.

Mechanically, I dressed, not even bothering to button my shirt before I pulled my sweater over it. I turned to face him. My jaw clenched as he titled my chin up with the tip of the riding crop. “What have you learned, Alexander?” he asked.

That you’re a vindictive asshole, I thought. “That I should respect my elders, sir,” I said aloud.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, glinting with firelight, as he tapped the crop under my chin. “Your betters, boy.”

Bile crawled up my throat. “That I should respect my betters, sir.” I swallowed it back down and pretended it was just the alcohol causing that bitter taste in my mouth.

“Good.” He removed the crop, still glaring. “Now get out of my sight.”

 “Yes, sir.” Gladly.

Like a soldier, I marched out of the study. On my way, despite my best efforts, I caught sight of Charles still bent over his drink and Matthias smirking at me. I forced my eyes forward, and then heard a glass clink down on a table. “I’ll be retiring as well,” said Vale. “Good night, Father.” I kept my eyes ahead as I felt him follow me out of the study.

Vale didn’t say a word to me. The oriental carpets swallowed our footsteps, and he trailed me upstairs, back to my room. I left the door open, and he closed it softly behind him. I swallowed, my arms crossed tightly enough to pull at the welts on my shoulders. Without turning around, I asked, “How much trouble am I in?”

Vale sighed. I sensed him crossing over to the nightstand, rummaging around in the drawer. “I think that was punishment enough,” he murmured. “I expected it to happen at one point or another, anyway.”

Before I could even feel relieved, his meaning caught up to me. I stilled, but didn’t turn to face him. “What?” I asked hollowly.

He seemed to find what he was looking for. He shut the drawer and turned around. “He’s been searching for a reason to punish you since you arrived. Although I can’t say I’m pleased you gave him one, things will likely be easier now that he considers you properly inducted into the family.”

I caught sight of his reflection in the window panes. He was standing by the bedside, holding a palm-sized tub of something in his hand. All I could do was stare at him. “What does that mean,” I choked out, “properly inducted?”

“Every man in the Vale family faces the whip at some point or another. It’s how we learn discipline.”

I wanted to respond, to bring us back to the matter at hand, but tripped over the implications instead. I whirled around, and the room spun. I reached out to steady myself on the bed. “That’s—” I stopped and swallowed down stomach acid. I couldn’t tell which aspect of the situation was making me want to vomit. “That’s fucked up,” I managed.

Vale’s face remained impassive. “It is what it is.” He nodded to the bed. “Sit down, Phantom. You should take care of the welts so that they heal properly.”

I finally looked down at the jar in his hand—ointment. It had been in the nightstand, here in his childhood bedroom, like chapstick or ibuprofen or any other basic necessity. Something that was just there. I stared at it for long enough that Vale cleared his throat. Then I hauled myself upright and sat heavily on the bed, feeling a wave of unexpected pity. Vale didn’t know anything different. Fifty-odd years old, and he still didn’t see a problem with his father whipping me. He still didn’t see a problem with his father whipping him.

And yet, Vale wasdifferent than his father. I had the sudden realization that, despite the hell I’d been through, despite my scars, he’d never once laid a hand on me. Did he think that made him a good father, his lack of direct violence? Did he even have any conception of a father being good? Or was a father, to him, just a hammer meant to beat a sword into shape?

The bed sank as Vale sat down. I stared at the carpet and wondered if he’d ever done the same thing after a punishment, just numbly following the dark, swirling patterns with his eyes. “You could have warned me,” I muttered.

“I didn’t see the point. You were supposed to be on your best behavior regardless.”

I winced. My head was starting to throb. I wondered if my Super metabolism really was processing the alcohol that quickly, or if I was just stressed and enraged enough to induce a headache. “Well, maybe if your family hadn’t insisted that I drink with them …”

It was the kind of jab he’d never tolerate normally. Now, though, he just placed the ointment between us and unscrewed the lid. I reached for it, and he said, “You won’t be able to apply it by yourself.”

“Oh.” My hand dropped. I felt dumb. But then, the thought of Vale applying it made me squirm. Was he actually offering, anyway? That seemed out of character for him. I was so tired; maybe I was misreading the gesture. “I’ll go without it, then.”

“Trust me, you’ll regret that in the morning.”

I finally made myself look at him. “Don’t you want me to regret it?” The biggest thing he’d told me not to do on this trip was piss of Xavier. Even if he hadn’t expected me to succeed in that, I’d still violated his orders.

His expression softened into one of confusion. He sighed, then said, “I think you regret it enough, for now. Turn around, Phantom.”

I hesitated for a moment. Then, slowly, I turned and peeled off my sweater and shirt, hugging them to my chest. I sensed Vale dip his fingers into the ointment and reach for the first welt. I flinched before he even touched me. He stopped. “Does it hurt?”

I took a deep breath. The room was warm, almost suffocatingly so with the old radiator billowing heat, but I realized I was trembling. I forced myself still. “I’ve had worse,” I muttered.

“I know.” Carefully but quickly, he smeared the first bit of ointment over my shoulder blade. He was barely even touching me, but it made my skin crawl. I took a deep breath and started counting aimlessly, forcing my mind blank. One, two, three …

Vale was surprisingly gentle as he applied the ointment. His lack of sadism still managed to surprise me; it was interesting, now, that I could compare him to his father. Xavier had enjoyed hurting me, lording his authority over me every chance he got. Vale relished a good power trip, much as he pretended otherwise, but when it came to violence, he was always oddly detached. I would’ve thought someone in his line of business would have to enjoy violence, but like an emotionless imitation of his father, he only inflicted harm where it was strictly necessary. As usual, I was struggling to imagine what was happening in his brain.

Without realizing, I’d stopped counting as my mind wandered off to other matters. “Do I still get my vacation days after this, or …?” The question slipped out before I could reconsider it, my tongue still loosened by the alcohol. It was a bad time to ask, I realized immediately, even if he didn’t seem overtly mad at me.

Vale sighed, and his finger traced feather-light across another welt. “Provided that you get through this trip without further incident,” he said, “yes, you may have your days off. God willing, there won’t be much going on next week, anyway.”

I shut my eyes lightly as I breathed out. I’d thought the time off might drive me crazy, sitting around with nothing to do, but after the past few days, I was starting to think I’d need it. Lying on my bedroom floor for a few days sounded really good right about now. “Thank you. Sir,” I added, suddenly remembering myself. I was being too familiar with him. It had to be the alcohol.

Distantly, the grandfather clock chimed one o’clock. Vale covered the last welt in ointment and withdrew, screwing the lid back on the tub. “Get some rest,” he murmured. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I glanced over my shoulder as he made for the door, and it suddenly struck me that it was past midnight. “Merry Christmas,” I said, half-sarcastic.

He paused, an eyebrow raised. Then he shook his head, like he knew he’d never understand. “Merry Christmas,” he said, closing the door behind him.

-

tag list: @toyybox

[hexastitchimera]

Having to interact with the same abusive family that now toots their own horn about how they treated me so kindly- much more kindly than they were given as kids- and that they did as best as they could with what resources they have, is a special kind of Hell on Earth.

[constellationcrowned]

~👀 for the Traveler!!!

Send 👀 for a headcanon about a behaviour my muse has that displays their thoughts and/or emotions!

If someone reminds the Traveler of her father she will immediately withdraw both physically and emotionally. As a child she had a habit of finding and then hiding in a crawlspace or other potentially hard to spot area; a cupboard, climbing into a tree, etc, but that's not really an option as an adult so she will endeavor to make herself smaller. Eye contact will be virtually non-existent, her head will lower, her hands will fidget with her cloak/mantle if she's wearing it or her sleeves if not. She might also fidget with a special item on her person if she has one but in a way that, hopefully, doesn't draw attention to it because she's used to having things taken away from her. If she's next to someone she trusts (like Kariom) she'll grab onto their hand for comfort but won't be really aware if she's squeezing or holding on too tightly.

If the association is incredibly strong---or worse if it's actually her father or someone directly connected to him---her reaction will be much, much, much worse. She will absolutely go nonverbal, actually attempt to run from the person or situation, etc, and it will be a lot harder for her to calm down from the anxiety and stress afterwards.

[pcrdita]

🎁 - How do they feel about their birthday/birthdays in general?

jude hasn't celebrated in years. in fact, he usually skips town and flies down to louisiana and heads to his mothers grave to spend time with her instead. his birthday was never a time of celebration the bordelon household, until his mother would sneak him a cupcake to quietly celebrate with jude so his father wouldn't hear them and get angry each year. according to his father, birthdays weren't something to celebrate as they weren't an achievement you worked for.

[incorrectbatfam]

I hate canon Bruce Wayne hitting his kids so how does he discipline them WITHOUT abuse?

(where's that post about how anything can be a punishment if you frame it as one)

———————

Dick: *breaks the chandelier while swinging from it*

Bruce: *hands him a broom*

Dick: Yeah that's fair.

Bruce: Also you have to use the Batman plate at dinner.

Dick: Please no, I hate that plate.

Bruce: You should've thought about that before.

———————

Tim: *logs into the Batcomputer without permission*

Bruce: And what do you think you're doing?

Tim: I know I've been benched but I just need to—

Bruce: Sit.

Tim: *sits down*

Bruce: *puts on The Bee Movie*

Bruce: If you insist on being down here while injured, then you're gonna watch this in its entirety.

———————

Cass: *blinks*

Bruce: And you think that's an excuse?

Cass: *blinks*

Bruce: We're going for a drive and I'm picking the music.

Cass: *blinks*

Bruce: Maybe you'll take this as a lesson.

———————

Jason: *causes a crime scene*

Jason: Go ahead, punish me. I'll still be right.

Bruce: *takes out a marker*

Bruce: *draws a mustache on Jason's helmet*

Bruce: It'll wash off in three weeks.

Jason: WHAT?!

Bruce: Actions have consequences.

———————

Steph: *breaks protocol*

Bruce: Go change your cape in the car.

Steph: That's not fair!

Bruce: That's the rule.

Steph: *grumbles and puts on a cape that's a slightly different shade of purple from the rest of her suit*

———————

Duke: *sneaks in after curfew*

Bruce: *flicks the light on*

Bruce: Do you know what time it is?

Duke: I can explain—

Bruce: Yogurt. Now.

Duke: But I don't want yogurt.

Bruce: I don't care. Go eat a cup of yogurt and think about what you did.

———————

Damian: *drops his fork at dinner*

Damian: Fuck.

Bruce: *pulls out a straw*

Damian: You wouldn't.

Bruce: *takes a sip of Damian's drink*

Damian: I hate this family.

Dick, eating off the Bat-plate: You and me both.

[a-crippled-creature]

Hi there, trust you are having great Monday morning. I'm a victim of abuse from my grandmother and dad, I don't want to go too much into detail, as it's highly triggering, i worked on getting some evidence to press charge against them(going well so far) but i need to move out of the house of my abusers as soon as possible and seek justice. I need all the help i can get (please see my pinned post for my frequently updated "beg-post"). I beseech(beg of) you to donate towards my moving/getting justice if you can. Also, if you can, please consider boosting my pinned post (a detailed beg-post)(if you have already seen my post somehow before now, there's been a recent development/progress)- that will help reach more potential helpers. please don't ignore me, please!. I'm open to suggestions/corrections, you can send an inbox/ direct message if you have concerns/questions, and i will answer in no time. Thank you for hearing me out.

i apologize that i can't donate anything right now, but i'll see what i can do /gen

[rotting-bitch]

try to be gentle while tearing me apart

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...

[cubbihue]

Uhm is Chimmy Changa doing well? Its seems he has started to divert from what changelings are supposed to do and act like is the static not staticing correctly is he become aware that something is wrong?

Diverting? Well we can’t have that!!!!

Don’t worry. I’ve increased the noise since our last interference. If it happens again, we will issue a good reset!! Thank you for your report.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[dragonheartstring360]

can’t emphasize enough how when you grew up in a toxic environment, being in the room with someone who’s angry or frustrated - even if it has nothing to do with you - is absolutely terrifying cuz you’ve been 1000% conditioned to assume frustration = all hell is going to break lose and be aimed directly at you

[hexastitchimera]

Anyways guess who found out how utterly two-faced my mother is

[sugarpasteltmnt]

"Acolyte" Michelangelo has joined the group chat

THANK U AGAIN TO @anixolt for accepting this commission request!!! Looks like 'Dino'-tello has unexpected company 👀

Hailing from his own alternate reality, "Acolyte" Mikey & his brothers had a very different childhood than the mad Dogs we all know and love. Set in a feudal Japan-esque world, Mikey and his brothers were raised under the Ninja Tribunal in a remote temple as future protectors of humanity...

However, fate was unkind to the lackadaisical Michelangelo who doubted the legend of the foretold 'Krang Invasion'-- let alone it happening much sooner than anticipated.

[link to twitter thread]

More lore below! (but heed the content warnings!!)

CW: implied family death, implied child abuse

Inspired by the 2003 "Acolyte" Arc, Mikey and his brothers were given to the Ninja Tribunal as children to raise as warriors on account of being gifted with mystic abilities; something very rare and unheard of in their universe.

Mikey was the most mystically inclined of his brothers. Because of this, he doesn't take training very seriously. He's also the oldest brother in his universe, but takes that role very, very seriously.

Splinter was their "father"... however, he was the one who gave them to the Ninja Tribunal. And they weren't exactly 'lenient' with children. Not when their purpose was to become warriors to defend the world. Because of this, Mikey hates Splinter. With every fiber in his body.

But despite their upbringing, Mikey was fun and kind.

But homie cannot cook to save his life

However, due to events during the invasion... Mikey is the last man standing. On the whole planet.

And he Snaps

With elevated powers and grief, Mikey traverses the heavens to hunt Krang and their settlements.

He uses dried Krang blood as his mask, having lost his in battle (and Krang blood dries orange when oxidized)

He dots his yellow spots with a drop of Krang blood to mirror Krang eyes. Using mystic abilities, the faux eyes can move and "look" around too. Terrifying.

However, due to classic Hamato shenanigans— 'Acolyte' Mikey may find himself drawn to a very, very different place than a Krang settlement 👀👀👀

[galactic-rhea]

i am sooo desperate to see more art of shmi skywalker because i love her so much so thats DEFINITELY my doodle request lol

The original Skywalker, you're so right about it.

Also I have her a good friend, I'll call her...idk, Tei Demma (she is another slave, obviously).

[incorrectbatfam]

Jon: What happened in 1812?

Damian: The War of 1812.

Jon: When was it?

Colin: 1812.

Jon: What happened then?

Billy: War.