#family trauma tw

[hells-greatestdad]

// vent relating to family trauma type shit. probably shouldn't post it here tbh but idk...

probably delete later.

it's quite heavy, so read at your own risk. please take care of yourself.

A few months back I had a gigantic freakout on here in regards to something a parent said that was cruel and bitchy and very entitled. It brought back stuff from my childhood to the point that I overreacted and planned to cut said parent out of my life entirely as soon as possible (a decision I later took back, especially since I have to live with this parent as a disabled adult)

During yesterday's scare with the electricity, my sister and I had a fairly lengthy talk about said parent.

Sister says she will cut her off entirely, go no contact period once she's able to. That's the plan, once she manages to move out. She also expressed a wish for our parent to die alone with no friends or family and especially neither of us to comfort her on her death bed.... I.... do not like that idea. At all. Even thinking about it makes me want to cry. But she's entitled to feel that way, or however she needs to feel about it.

I have many issues with that parent and will never, I'm sure, have a good relationship with them. But I don't want that for them.... that's too sad and cruel and doesn't align with my values. I don't believe in repaying evil for evil.

man.... I always wanted just a normal, happy family where everyone loved each other. Clearly that's too much to ask for

[mbrainspaz]

I'm actually so glad I couldn't go meet my grandparents for margaritas on my birthday. Finally made it out there a while later and gran spent half the dinner trying to interrogate me like I'd come out as a freaking X-man. She kept pointing to herself and gramps (who definitely wanted to be anywhere else) and saying "look I just don't see how all of you [the queers: my bi cousin, my gay uncle, & me, the enby] came from us when we're so straight and normal. IS IT... GENETICS? IS IT... CULTURE???"

I'm like "no gran it's not a cultural contagion. I'm the same way I've always been. I just have a new label for it now. Do you remember fairies?"

Her eyes lit up and she said she did. She said that was what they called gay men back in the 40's. Gramps said he didn't remember anything of the sort and I reminded him that he grew up in the country and he was like 'yeah I did 😎.' I explained how 'fairies' were essentially a third gender at the time, kind of similar to non-binary people today. She nodded along. It's a stretch but bear with me. I ended up going on this whole lecture about gender diversity through the ages from ancient Scythia to the founding fathers and changing labels and the way the CIA targeted homosexuals bc of the red scare in the 50's and manufactured the queerphobic hysteria we're still dealing with today. I got to explain gender as a spectrum and how I fall in the middle. Gran tried to sidetrack with nonsense about how my mom will always see me as a 'girl' and I just need to accept that she can't accept me and love her anyway. Barf. I said I'd rather have my peace than deal with that. Anyway, honestly I doubt any of it will make a difference.

My grandparents aren't religious fundamentalists like my parents. It's easier to talk to them because at least they don't accuse me of being demon possessed. I do get the feeling gran was kind of bummed I couldn't just pinpoint the X mutant gene for her.

[stellstells-archived]

Wrote a drabble with Fil as a way to cope with my recent loss, feel free to read or scroll by. Content Warnings tagged below.

________________________________________________________

Filarick stared out onto the snowy mountains beneath Skyhold, he could spot a frozen pond that he'd visited last summer when it had thawed for a short time. His mind drifted to thoughts of his home, his first home at least. Before the Inquisition, before the Mage Rebellion, and before his life in the circle. The home he'd shared with his birth parents and siblings, the one in which his grandmother had told him the stories of knights in shining armor. The story of the Knight-Enchanter that valiantly saved her in her youth, the reason he'd walked that path himself.

A tear slowly fell down his cheek as he tightened his hand into a fist, eliciting a crinkle from the letter within his hand. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath in the cold night air. He hadn't spoken to his grandmother face to face in far too long because of that thrice dammed rebellion and then that fucking darkspawn monster. He slammed his fist into the stone wall beside him, surely cutting himself on the jagged rock, but he was too angry to care about that now.

But what was he truly angry at? He could have gone to visit her if he had truly cared, couldn't he? Had he failed her? Was what he was doing truly worth it if the only true family he had left was gone? What did he have to protect now? The church that spat poison at him for simply being born? The soldiers who refused treatment just because he was a mage, and that made him a vile thing to be hated and feared.

He let out a ragged breath, not even realizing he'd been sobbing. He placed his face in the palm of his hand, and he moved his fist from the wall to the half-wall in front of him, leaning into it for support. He didn't have time for this, neither the grief nor the anger. He had a job to do tomorrow. There were people who needed saving, and he knew there would be more tomorrow than today with the fighting ramping up. He let a few soft sobs out, more like raspy sighs than anything, before wiping his tears from his face with a handkerchief from his pocket. 

Once somewhat composed again he looked up to the stars and gave a small prayer, barely speaking above a whisper. “Maker, or whoever’s in charge of us after we die. Please, take care of her, I didn’t see her nearly often enough while she was here, and I don’t know if I’ll meet her again or end up damned as some people say. But either way, please let her know that I love her and I miss her.” A few more tears fell down his face as he spoke, and he looked down at his hand before finishing with. “And tell her that I’ll do my best to take care of the ring she left for me. Even if it doesn’t fit my own fingers.” As he spoke he opened his hand and stared down at the tiny ring, wondering how such a small thing could fit on a finger. 

He clasped his fingers around the ring with a deep breath and folded up the letter he’d been given, placing it back within its envelope. Placing the envelope within his inner jacket pocket he turned back towards the inside of the fortress and began his path back to his bed, hoping he’d manage some sleep before he’d be needed once again.

[gollldrush]

The sudden slam of the knife into the table is enough to send Leo into a spiral. An unbridled shaking in her hands, eyes widened and pinned to the table. Remaining there, entirely frozen, the sound of their cluttered voices is only background noise to the panicking flood of emotions in her head. Without speaking, her eyes dart across the room – counting, picking out colors. Grounding herself.

Leo’s eyes lift to Béatrice as if searching for reassurance. There’s none to be found; the woman wearing her own worry in her eyes, a slight tremble to her lips. A shaking breath is released, accompanied by another jump when Mr. Christensen’s chair squeals against the floor. Her hand reaches beneath the table to curl her fingers into her leg. Unable to decipher what they’re saying besides the bits of English, she stares in confusion the closer her draws to Antoine.

The slap is enough to make her jaw drop, eyes fluttering in rapid blinks to hold back tears. As Antoine reels away and nearly into her she leans forward, a hand held inches from his shoulder to catch him should he slip any further. The rage burning behind Christensen’s eyes is one she’s all too familiar with. Her eyes trail to his raised hand, listens to the wordson his tongue.

You’ve made me do this.

“That’s ENOUGH.” Leo looks to Béatrice with her buried head, back to Mr. Christensen who seems to now be hanging in some sort of awkward limbo, and finally to Antoine. “Enough.”

On her feet, as if she has any amount of authority in this situation. No thought of consequence for herself or Antoine in the moment. Just a blinding rage induced by being triggered, by remembering how it felt to be slapped around and belittled.

“The only person being embarrassing is you!” Every memory of watching Antoine be shattered by this man piles up in the back of her head. “What kind of man puts his hands on his son?” The maid in the corner has her head bowed to her chest, not watching – unmoving. “Antoine is a literal genius, he’s talented, he’s kind. He would do anything for anyone and I can’t figure out where he learned that from because it’s not from either of you!”  A hard swallow, she shakes her head.

“You said something about my father? Right? Fadder, I heard you say it. Laughing about him for not being able to put me in college?” She scoffs, her face turning red with anger. The ranting unstoppable at this point. “He worked his entire life being looked down upon by men like you. But do you know who has taken care of Antoine in the states? Who has treated him like an actual son? MY father. Mine. So don’t you dare-“ Leo’s rage has her slamming the table, hand slapping upwards to send her wine glass flying across the room until it hits the floor and shatters. “… don’t you DARE mock him.”

There’s tears in her eyes, hot and stinging as they roll down her cheeks. Perhaps she’d gone a bit too far. She closes her eyes, jaw twitching – hands clenched so hard that the nails have put tiny slits into her palm. Leo winces when she relaxes them, eyes fluttering open.

“Lovely dinner.” She quips at Beatrice, slamming the napkin stuck to her lap down on her untouched plate of food, ready to walk.

There's a pitying aw given when Leo mentions not attending college, a hand placed over Béatrice's heart.

"That's okay, ma petite chou," she murmurs, wrinkling her nose at her with a smile. There's a warmth in her features, as though she pities her as her own daughter--it's a bit diminishing, despite there being good intentions behind her reaction. "There are plenty of other trades you can get into, oui?" She reaches for her own glass of wine to hide the roll of her eyes.

"Ja, alle de samme underbetalte undervurderede karrierer som hendes fadder,'' Mr. Christensen jokes, a smirk on his lips as he sips his own wine. Suddenly, there's a loud slam as Antoine stabs their steak knife into the table. His mother jumps, his father's entire body tensing. The waiter stood in the corner of the room is quick to leave once more.

"C'est assez," Antoine shouts, voice booming over the snickers of his parents. They both have been silenced by his sudden choice to speak. His father looks at him with a quirked brow, though. "Vous agissez comme si vous ne saviez pas à quoi ça ressemble! Comme si nous avions toujours été si riches! Maman, vous comprenez! Pourquoi vous ne dites rien?!"

"Det er nok," Mr. Christensen firmly speaks up as their son is yelling, wildly gesturing as he speaks. He sees Antoine's half-lidded gaze now that he's opted to lift his head at last--the sunburn on his cheeks and nose, the red in his eyes...

"Du er fuld."

"Gør det nogen forskel?"

"Stille, dreng! Før du siger noget, du vil fortryde."

"Arrêtez, vous deux!" Béatrice suddenly speaks up, her voice harshly cutting through the argument between the two men. They fall silent. Antoine purses his lips, a hard frown stuck to his features. He crosses his arms, slumping back in his seat like a pouting toddler, his head ducked a little low as he looks off to the side, at the floor.

"Can we just have a nice dinner, s'il vous plaît," Béatrice practically begs, her shoulders tense. "Pour une fois?! Just this once! Without you two bickering?!"

A long silence hangs in the air.

"Look at your mother when she's talking to you," Mr. Christensen says suddenly, staring hard at Antoine. He doesn't budge. "Antoine." Another long pause. Suddenly, Mr. Christensen shoves back his chair, standing to his feet and storming over to the other side of the table.

"Mon amour, arrête, s'il te plaît..." she mumbles, but simply bows her head and closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath to collect herself. Like she knows what's coming.

Antoine bites the tip of his tongue as his father grows ever closer. Suddenly, he's leaning over him, taking in a long sniff.

"Vores søn er en beruset. Pouvez-vous croire cela," he hisses, standing straight again and direction the latter question at the mother. "Regarde ça. Regarde ton fils. Ses cheveux sont en désordre. He's dressed like a pornstar!" He leans over Antoine to emphasize the last word, practically yelling in his face. To that, he simply flinches, sinks further in his chair, his jaw tight, tears starting to sting his eyes against his will.

"I told you we should have never let him drop out of college..."

"Comme si c'était dit valg," Antoine shouts suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. The instant he's sat up, though, there isn't even a moment's pause before his father's hand is on his cheek. It's a brief, quick motion, without a large amount of build up or force, but it's enough to sting and leave a faint red mark behind... Although it wasn't forceful, he's drunk enough it causes him to teeter to one side of his chair, nearly falling out of it. He's frozen like that, half hunched over with a few loose curls shielding the painful mark on his face. His eyes are pinned to the ground, looking at Leo's shoes, embarrassed when tears drip down his cheeks and fall to the floor.

"Hvordan tør du. The disrespect...You've made me do this. I've no choice but to do this to you! And in front of your guest?!" A hand grabs onto the collar around his neck, yanking him up to force him to look at him, their faces mere inches apart. "Du er en skændsel for familien. You embarrass me. Your mother. In our home." A snap of his fingers and one of the maids is rushing over to take away the plate of food from Antoine's spot at the table.

"Je n'ai jamais voulu for at være i ta famille..." Antoine slurs in his father's face despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, lip curled. Rage fills Mr. Christensen's expression and Béatrice is sobbing now, her head in her hands so she doesn't have to watch as he lifts a hand at Antoine again, prepared to strike harder than before...i

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason: Hey, Damian, your momma so—

Damian: My mother committed multiple war crimes and is now locked in solitary confinement in a Bolivian prison.

Jason: Well, uh, your dad—

Damian: My father left when I was ten to go on a mission and consequently got lost in the time stream.

Jason: Well then...

Dick: Stop, Jason!

Jason: Your grandparents are so—

Damian: My grandmother floated into the sky like a balloon with too much helium when my grandfather spontaneously combusted.

[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...

[rotting-bitch]

try to be gentle while tearing me apart

[ed-recoverry]

Inspired by the Cody Ko situation…

Shoutout to all “imperfect victims”

Though there are no such thing as an imperfect victim, shout out to all victims who have traits that make people hesitate to believe you.

Shoutout to victims who lie a lot.

Shoutout to victims who have hurt others.

Shoutout to victims who have done bad things.

Shoutout to victims who are “annoying” or “unlikeable.”

Shoutout to victims who are hard to be around.

Shoutout to victims where the lines are blurred.

Shoutout to victims who are “difficult.”

Shoutout to victims who are “complicated.”

Shoutout to victims whose case was quickly dismissed.

Shoutout to victims who were blown off.

Shoutout to victims who were hurt by a “good” person.

Shoutout to victims who exaggerate.

Shoutout to victims who forget details.

Shoutout to victims who don’t “act” like a victim (whatever that means).

Shoutout to victims who are addicts or criminals.

Your reputation and or bad characteristics do not erase what you went through. You know what happened to you is real. And that’s all that matters. I believe you and others will too.

[exquisitexagony]

He’s stood outside for a few minutes with a cigarette hanging from his lips. Slow inhales released even slower as the adrenaline rush from fear wears off. Washes away to be replaced with a nicotine high. Then he hears Leo step outside and flinches, startled by her sudden appearance. Plucking the cigarette from his lips, he blows the smoke at the ground as she steps in front of him, avoiding her gaze. Ashamed.

“Nah…” he mutters, shaking his head lightly as she apologises, says his dad was wrong. “He was just trying to teach me not to be such a baby.” The word ‘baby’ is emphasized a little, not to put any blame on Leo, but in recognition she had thought the very same thing. 

“He was probably right, though…In the end.” Another short drag from the cigarette, his other hand hanging loosely in his pocket. A sigh, looking up finally with a few rapid blinks. “I’ll never grow out of it.”

What she was dishing out as light joking was obviously not being received that way. Her eyes widen a bit in horror as he talks of his past experiences. The amusement she had been feeling is suddenly leeched from her and replaced with instant regret. Leo swallows, watching quietly as he gathers his cigarettes and heads outside.

Shit.

For a moment she lingers, trying to decide if she should give him space or go off in pursuit. While she contemplates her searches the rest of the bathroom for any other unwanted guests, finding a bug here and there which she quickly disposes of. With a groaning sigh she turns, trotting out of the front door after him.

“Antoine.” Leo frowns as she gets closer, tongue parting her lips to wet them. She stands directly in front of him now, looking him in the eye if he allows her to. “It wasn’t my intention to upset you, I’m really sorry.” She inflates her cheeks with a breath before letting it out slowly. “I won’t joke around with you like that again, okay?” Her gaze drifts down to her feet, then across the grass, finally across the street – idly staring around for a few seconds before looking back to him. “That was a really fucked up thing for your dad to do to you.”

[dclovesdanny]

Dcxdp

Dan/Danny/Dani 2/5

Dan raising Ellie and Danny in Central City

Due to the GIW interfering and almost killing everyone, Danielle was destabilized and Danny was almost completely ended.

Dan, who had been doing community service with Clockwork, was now saddled with his younger self who was now a baby, and his younger self’s clone, who was now a toddler, both of whom had very little memories of before.

Due to Vlad and the GIW, being dicks, it wasn’t safe for Danny or Ellie to remain in Amity while the fighting was going on. So, clockwork decided that Dan, for the rest of his parole, was going to raise both halfas in the immortal world, since staying in the infinite realms was not good for them.

Thankfully, clockwork and Tucker created a fake identity. He was now Dante times, a single father of a girl named Eleanor and a boy named Danny. Clock work even lined up a job for him as a mechanic at a shop in Central city.

He even had a slightly odd friendship with a guy named Roy, a single dad who lived in Central City due to some problems with his father, and had an adorable little girl named Lian.(Ellie and Lian were best friends from the moment they met, and both girls doted on baby Danny.)

Wally hadn’t expected much when he found out Roy was living in Central city. It was a well-known fact that he had been feuding with Green Arrow for a while, and the Flash Family had agreed to let Roy hide out here. What he wasn’t expecting to see was the guy who Bart had warned them all about, the guy that had taken out all the heroes, including Batman, in his nightmare future, talking to Roy over coffee while a girl who looked exactly like him play dolls with Lian. He especially wasn’t expecting to see the man Bart described as a sadistic monster soothe a crying baby boy who looked almost exactly like him.

Wally got the feeling they would have to have a Flash Family meeting soon, and started debating on bringing Roy.

[mbrainspaz]

me: wow I'm handling the stress of being around my family pretty well.

my dream last night: You're having a panic attack so you tell your teacher you've been having bad dreams and missing sleep and she grudgingly agrees to let you skip class and you can tell she's gravely disappointed in you but you leave to go worry about your best friend who shapeshifts into a polar bear and maybe so do you but shapeshifters have just been outlawed so there are people in the school hunting you and great, one of them is following you and you barely manage to evade him but now you're having an asthma attack in the hallway and people are stepping on you and laughing instead of helping but you make it back to the cubbyhole in the wall where you live and briefly manage to take a nap with your polar bear boyfriend who shapeshifts back in to human and kinda looks like your worst ex from real life but you don't think about that because you have to get back to work at a fast food joint so you go to get your uniform from your locker and it's dark and cold and on the way there's a stampede of zoo statuary that's come to life and all the dogs are chasing the bronze animals (and one plastic giraffe) through the park so you yell at your dogs to stop and actually all the dogs do. They all stop chasing the statue animals and come sit next to the picnic table where you're sheltering with a few rugged strangers. You sit together for a while and watch a bronze lion maul the plastic giraffe until only chunks of jagged plastic are left scattered across the ground. But you're feeling a little better. Everything is fiiiine. You get a coffee and some pizza and enjoy walking around the town for a while after things quiet down. The town is mostly food trucks in a grassy field. Some time later you do make it to class and promptly all your molars fall out. You're strangely chill about it. Even when one comes out with the whole root attached, your mouth feels fine. You didn't accidentally chew any of them to pieces this time. You collect them and put them in a little plastic box and think: I should really schedule a dentist appointment.

me: I'm gonna need so much therapy.

———

The interpretation of this dream is that I am very stressed about being queer around my family btw. That's it. I'm surprised it didn't toss in a 'your aquarium is breaking and all your fish are on the floor dying' and that it didn't go for the usual 'your dogs are in danger and they won't listen to you.' The asthma attack was a new one—I didn't even know I could get asthma in a dream. wahoo

[pain-is-my-game]

One of the worst realizations that I have ever made is realizing that all I ever wanted was to be loved by my parents. I never would've turned out like this if they just loved me unconditionally.

[exquisitexagony]

As Flynn's head rested against his own, Sam felt somehow comforted. Just knowing he was there, despite what his parents had told him all those years ago, was enough to make him feel less like a screw up. Less like he was defected somehow.

Sad eyes flicker up to meet Flynn's as he turns around a little. The darkness was convenient, even if Flynn could see him, it felt less like he was being stared at. His good ear was close enough to Flynn's lips, too, that he could hear him just fine.

"It's...sort of...c-- er...complicated," xe admitted a bit hesitantly, xyr voice almost a whisper now even thinking about it. "They...thought I was broken. That I would...be...be a bad...influence? Or something like that, I don't--" A shake of xyr head, closing xyr eyes tightly now. Flashbacks of the therapy xe had endured hit xem so hard they felt nauseated. Xe took a deep breath. Perhaps it was best to leave out some of the details...For xyr own sake. Xe thought xe could talk about this now, but apparently it was still more tender than xe had anticipated.

"It- it- it...Led them to send me to therapy and, um, you know, like...Try to change me. Um, fix me? But, uh, twhen it- they decided--" A clearing of the throat, biting the inside of his cheek when he felt tears sting his eyes. "It was better. If I just stayed...away. Y- you know, for the...the kid. My- my- my brother." A shrug. "I don't...I don't kn- know if he would even- even recognize me now." Suddenly, he moved away just a little, shyly swiping at the tears he could now feel on his cheek with a sniffle.

"Sorry..."

Flynn hums, sadly, tilting his head to rest against Sami's.

"I'm sorry." He couldn't imagine having a fight so bad he couldn't see Elara again - but the pain of not being able to see his family was one that Flynn well understood.

He circles his arms around his boyfriend's waist, turning a little in his hold to better offer comfort. "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want. But I'd like to hear about it, if you do." After all, this was another thing that Flynn never quite understood - gender and sexuality and the way some humans had a problem with it for seemingly no reason at all.

[incorrectbatfam]

[tearfulangel]

[rotting-bitch]

I once killed a plant by giving it too much water. I worry that love is violence.