#tw: mention of abusive parent

[keldae]

A kiss to a scar, birthmark, injury, or other marking for your galemancer ❤️

Devi loved nighttime around camp. In the peaceful darkness, all was calm and relaxing, giving the party a needed reprieve from the stress of the day. That it meant she could retreat into Gale's cozy tent with the wizard in question only sweetened the deal for her.

Right now, she was on her side, facing Gale, lightly shivering as the cool night air tickled her exposed skin, damp as it was with sweat. Her heart had finally slowed back down after a round of passionate sex, one that made her grateful Gale had remembered to put up a silencing ward around the tent (lest other members of the group start yelling for the couple to fuck off). He had cast the spell already to clean away the mess they had left between her thighs; now he reclined on his side, his head propped up on his hand, fondly gazing at her. His other hand reached out, tracing over her cheek and ear with his fingers, a gentle, soft touch that made Devi feel safe and protected with him.

“You are a work of art,” Gale murmured, tracing the contours of Devi's face as though committing her to memory. “You are poetry taken flesh and sent to live among mere mortals. You are a treasure that deserves nothing less than the finest pedestal on which to display your beauty.”

Feeling a not-unpleasant warmth on her cheeks, Devi smiled at Gale, almost shy as he praised her. “You make me feel worthy of adoration,” she softly said. “You make me feel as beautiful as a goddess.”

“If nobody has told you before that you are beautiful to rival even Mystra, then every other lover you’ve had has been negligent. Worshipping you and your beauty is a blasphemy that I will happily partake in.” Gale’s eyes were soft as he gazed at Devi, his thumb tracing her lips. “Gods, how did I get so lucky as to have you here with me?”

Smiling, Devi kissed the pad of Gale’s thumb. “It turns out that I have a weakness for handsome wizards who snuggle me to sleep and read me bedtime stories.”

Gale chuckled softly. “And this wizard is incredibly grateful that you picked him, out of everyone you could have chosen to love.” He went quiet for a moment, his thumb shifting to trace the scar that cut vertically across Devi’s lips. “I don’t think you told me how you picked up this mark, my love…” he quietly said, his brow furrowing. 

Devi shook her head slightly. “I didn’t,” she softly confirmed. “I… angered Father and he threw a glass bottle at me. It missed me, but the shards of glass from when it hit the wall beside me left their marks. The one on my forehead was from the same bottle.” 

For a second, fury flickered through Gale’s eyes, followed by sorrow as he leaned in close. His lips touched the scar on Devi’s mouth, a gentle press that nearly made her cry sheerly from how tender his touch was; then he moved enough to kiss the scar on her temple. “Your father will have plenty to answer for when I meet him,” he muttered. “You will never suffer another wound at his hand again – I promise. Nobody harms my beloved.”

Feeling her eyes burning, Devi scooted closer to Gale on the rumpled bedroll, her hand settling on his shoulder. “Gods, I love you, my protective, handsome wizard,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss his neck.

“I love you too,” Gale murmured, kissing her forehead again over her scar. He leaned back a smidgen, just enough to take in more of Devi’s body with his gaze; his eyes settled on her neck tattoo. “You haven’t told me the story of this one,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss the tattoo.

Devi shivered as she felt Gale kiss his way over her skin. “So… I’m going to start by saying I was seventeen and fuelled entirely by spite and poor decisions,” she said with a little laugh. “I had found out that Father was planning to sell me to some lord’s son or nephew or something, and he wanted me to look pretty.” She heard Gale lowly growl something uncomplimentary at her father as he listened to her story. “My partner at the time, she had a friend who had a friend in Wyrm’s Crossing who could do tattoos… and, well, roses are my favourite flower. They gave me a drink of something that would dull the pain, and by dawn, I had this.” She wrinkled her nose and ruefully laughed. “I fainted once while they were doing the tattoo – it hurt so bad to have done.”

Gale winced as he pulled back from kissing the tattoo to meet Devi’s eyes. “I can only imagine the pain of a tattoo, forget having that on your neck, of all places. Can I safely assume that your father did not approve?”

“Oh, he was livid that I cost him the deal, since the lord in question thought the tattoo was ugly and refused to agree to the contract.” Devi smirked. “It was worth his rage and the punishment I got from him. I think that might have been the same partner who got my ears pierced too…”

“She was either a terrible influence, or an excellent one,” Gale chuckled. If Devi focused, she could hear the suppressed anger in his voice, directed at her father. “How did that relationship end, if I may ask?”

Devi shrugged. “Apparently I was an experiment for her to see if she liked women or not. She decided one day that she missed being with a man, told me we needed to go our separate ways, and I found out maybe a tenday later that she was a month pregnant at the time.”

“I wish I didn’t know that feeling,” Gale muttered. “A previous partner of mine, before Mystra, did something similar to me, when I was much younger. I didn’t know for certain that the child wasn’t mine until he was born with suspiciously pointed ears… to a human mother.”

“Oh, that bitch,” Devi growled, her hand gently rubbing Gale’s shoulder.

Gale ruefully chuckled. “I had a few choice words of my own for her when I told her to go to a particularly low level of the Hells. Tara nearly clawed her eyes out – not to mention how furious my mother was.” He snorted. “More insulting was how she tried to tell me that she was part Elf, despite me knowing that she was entirely human. I’ve never had my intelligence insulted like that before, or since.”

“You are far better off without that lying bitch in your life,” Devi murmured with a nod. 

“Indeed… particularly since it means that I get to have you in my life instead.” Gale smiled fondly at Devi and leaned in to kiss her gently. “You are a gift that I treasure, every moment that I am blessed to spend in your company, my love.”

Devi smiled as she kissed Gale back, scooting closer to him. “Which one of us is the lucky one again?” she murmured. “I’m pretty sure it’s me – the uneducated thief who fell for a handsome, compassionate, smart-as-all-hells wizard.”

“You are a master thief, my darling – you stole my heart months ago.” Gale chuckled. He leaned back slightly from the kisses, his eyes roaming over her exposed skin, his hand following his eyes over her body. He stopped at another scar on her forearm, his brow furrowing. “What was the story behind this scar?”

Devi looked at the scar and made a face. “That one was an accident. My brother Jehn was teaching me how to fight with knives, and he was demonstrating a strike that I was meant to block… he told me while he was trying to stitch me up afterward that I was supposed to block with my own knife and not my arm.”

Gale winced again. “Oh, Devi…”

“In my defence, I was… eight years old? Nine?” Devi shrugged. “I was young, and just learning how to use knives. Jehn didn’t mean to hurt me, and he did feel terrible about it.” She contemplated the scar again. “Honestly, the stitches he did to try and fix it hurt more than the initial wound.” 

“It’s a marvel that you didn’t bleed out or acquire an infection from that, or lose partial function in your hand,” Gale murmured, lifting Devi’s arm so he could tenderly kiss the scar. “How many more wounds did you get from Jehn while he was teaching you how to fight?”

“That one was the worst one from him, you’ll be happy to hear,” Devi assured him. “I got a few more cuts on my arms, and a couple of shallow wounds on my stomach – by then, he’d managed to steal some healing potions that he could use to patch me up from the worst of the wounds, so I was fine. And I gave him his share of wounds back – nearly broke his nose once.”

Gale softly chuckled. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, making Devi’s heart skip a beat in her chest at the endearment. He leaned in and rubbed his nose against hers for a moment. “My sweet, perfect star. Gods, you are so perfect – scars and all.”

Smiling, Devi snuggled up to Gale, as closely as she could manage, and lowered her head so she could kiss the orb brand across his heart. “First in my heart,” she whispered, feeling Gale drape his arm across her body so he could hold her closer to him. “My heart belongs to you, Gale – fully and utterly.” 

She felt Gale’s arm tighten across her as he gently nudged her head back so he could nuzzle her face. “And I promise to take the best care of what you’ve entrusted to me, my love,” he softly said. “Your heart will never break while it is in my hands.”

“And neither will yours,” Devi promised, setting her fingers across Gale’s heart. She saw his smile before he kissed her again – tenderly at first, then with more passion and lust in his touches as he gently pushed her onto her back, his thigh nudging her legs open for him again.

This, Devi thought as she kissed Gale back, running her fingers into his hair and arching her body into his as she tried to touch as much of him as she could, was home – in Gale’s arms, warm and safe, and loved in a way that she had never experienced before. She would follow this man into the lowest of the Hells if he had need of her, and some part of her heart knew that he would gladly follow her there too.

I am the luckiest girl alive, was her last coherent thought before she gave herself to the pleasures that Gale made her experience again.

[incognitopolls]

"Abusive" includes forms of abuse like physical, mental, emotional, or any other form.

–

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[wilwheaton]

if you know this secret handshake some of us use today, i see you and i’m so sorry.

I don't celebrate Father's Day (or any other Hallmark holiday) for reasons that will not surprise you if you know anything about my life.

But I do celebrate all the other children of fuckers and pieces of shit who survived like I did, who broke the cycle of generational trauma like I and my sister did, whose mothers forced them to praise and worship their abuser "because it's father's day" like mine did, who fucking hate the endless reminders to celebrate the dad we never had (in my case, because he chose not to be a dad to me like he chose to be a dad for my brother. I guess being a bully was more satisfying to him).

I see you, friends. I see you, and I know you see me, and I am both grateful and sad. We know this secret handshake we wish we didn't know. We know a very specific kind of loss that only we know, a type of lingering pain that never really goes away entirely, that can only be reduced to part of the background noise, but can crank itself up to 11 without warning.

I just want you all to know that I see you, and I love you. I know how tough it is, how much it hurts.

I want to specifically make meaningful eye contact with all of my fellow survivors who are also dads, who show up for our kids in spite of the pain and loss. It's such a challenge, and it means so much. We broke the cycle and that is massive. I'm so proud of us.

[furiousgoldfish]

I have an update about this situation, which if you didn't read it, was about me finding out that my parents are searching for me, going door to door and asking people on the street if they know me, even asking with my fake name. They found someone who did know me, and they chatted, and this person later called me and told me what had happened, to which I freaked out, asked them not to share any details about me, and explained that I had ran away due to violence and that I'm terrified of these people.

Now knowing that my parents are out there looking for me, I spent the next few weeks locked in, afraid to go out, only going to work and back, and sometimes disguised so I wouldn't be recognized. I didn't run into anyone on the street, nobody came to my door, I didn't get any other phone calls, so I eventually relaxed and decided that it was okay to be outside, even if they are looking, unless they find me directly where I live, I could easily escape on bike, and they wouldn't know where I went.

The other day I got the phone call from the person who talked to my parents, and they asked me to come over, to be gifted some extra clothing. I was scared, worried that it was a trap, that my parents somehow got this person to cooperate and to bring me to them, but I decided to be brave and go anyway, since the chance of this was very low, and on the phone they reassured me that I could forget that last situation. Still, when I got there I startedly looked around to see if anyone was in there, but it was all empty.

I got some extra details of what happened; it was my mother and a friend looking for me, my father was not present. This person admitted to actually knowing me, and where I live, so my parents know someone who is in contact with me right now. However the person didn't share my address with them, which is why I was still safe.

Then the person revealed they actually got a call from my mother later that day, and they had an argument over the phone. The person repeated what I had told them – that I ran because of violence, because I was forced to work to deserve to eat and sleep there, because of death threats, torture, neglect, and my mother responded angrily 'You don't know what kind of trouble they were causing me!'. Then my mother still tried to convince this person that she cares about me and is worried about me, but the person rebutted with 'you should have cared when they were younger', and when my mother wouldn't stop asking for information, the person said that if she calls again, the police will be called and hung up.

Now this was very interesting to me, firstly my mother getting a police threat upon trying to find me, that is extremely good, satisfying, reassuring, positive, made me so happy. I was in a good mood for the rest of the day just thinking about what kind of reality-check that must have been, to have other people threaten with police and stand in their way of getting to me. I feel it was the first time someone actively protected me and it feels like I've been waiting my whole life for that to happen, and I never thought it would.

Second thing is her 'you don't know what kind of trouble they were causing', because she wasn't even denying the accusations of violence and torture! She blatantly did admit that yes, I had to work to deserve to live as a child, I was beaten, neglected, I was threatened death, I was kept in sub-human conditions, but she just felt it was justified! Because I was 'causing trouble', which is a lie, I did everything she asked me when I was a kid. It's like she still thinks me standing up to her violent abusive husband was 'me causing trouble' excuse me why did you marry that thing, and then never stood up to it? I had more backbone as a child than she has as an adult and this was 'me causing trouble'. I stood up to him because it was the right thing to do, because he was attacking me and my siblings, what do you mean I was causing trouble defending rest of the family from violence and absorbing it so the rest of you wouldn't have to. Ungrateful lying coward.

And also her saying I was the awful troublemaker doesn't check out with the rest of her story; if I was such a menace why is she out there looking for me? Why is she not blessed that I am gone and she can finally enjoy your life? Would you actively seek out someone you have to control with death threats from how much trouble they're causing to you? The lie is falling apart.

This has me very calmed down and grateful that not all people are cowards and unwilling to stand up to abusers. I've never seen this before, in my experience, people were always ready to bow down to my parents and see me as an ungrateful horrid creature who needs to be put into their place. This person has known me enough to see that I'm honest, fair, hardworking, kind, accommodating, they even told me that they can see there's nothing twisted about me. They understood that my situation is one of a struggle and that I have to work hard to survive, and often expressed that I struggle too much compared to others. And this isn't someone I'm on constant contact with, we talk once a year. I was surprised they picked up on this much.

I'm feeling better about the situation now I understand I was defended, I'm not that afraid anymore. I did get upset that my mother is trying to convince people that I was just so bad I deserved all, but at least not everyone believes it. I mean, it's ridiculous for anyone to believe a child could possibly deserve this, but I know a lot of people who do believe that. I thought everyone would side with my parents forever. Feeling better knowing there's one person who sided with me, when it was crucial for my safety.

[somekindofsentience]

ALRIGHT

if no-one is going to GIVE ME specific info on Hajime Hinata's parents then i will MAKE MY OWN specific info on Hajime Hinata's parents.

(or rather i'll present several possible scenarios and you can choose your favourite.)

Let's recap what we know about them first: they are very normal, they are rich (enough to send their son to Hope's Peak), they have a tendency to slap money over Hajime's problems (which is evident in their choice to send him there and also sign to the Kamukura project), and Hajime's insecurities were either unknown to his parents or never addressed by them. For the purposes of this, I'm assuming he's an only child, as there isn't evidence to suggest otherwise.

I'm going to hesitantly rule out the idea that Hajime's parents were two very talented people who put a lot of pressure on their son to also be talented - it just doesn't strike me as a very "normal" family. I think it's possible, though. Hajime's admiration of talent could come solely from seeing talented peers or walking by Hope's Peak every day; it doesn't have to be family-centric.

I have a few possible scenarios. The first is the classic "business dad", a rich father with no time for his son. I feel like that makes logical sense, and you could make an argument that it's "normal". It's clear emotional neglect has played a role in Hajime's deep insecurities. If Hajime's mother had a mindset of "Boys shouldn't cry", that emotional neglect would lead him to brush aside his problems.

I was also thinking about what is considered "normal" by standards of abuse. Verbal abuse and emotional neglect, for example, are often normalised (let's be fucking clear- they should not be.) in households as a result of cycles of abuse. Those two in particular are often harder to notice. Thinking stereotypically, if his father was verbally abusive (perhaps about academics or something similar?) and both his parents were emotionally negligent, that would mean his insecurity goes unresolved and possibly worsens when he makes mistakes (although that might not make sense, since Hajime is quite confident in his general abilities, just insecure about lack of talent).

Alternatively, we could consider how perceptive Hajime is as a result of his upbringing. He's very emotionally aware of others, and seeks to understand them more than anything else. If his parents had relationship issues his entire life, and it fell to him to comfort them or resolve the problem, it might explain his behaviour with regards to that. It'd also lead him to prioritise his own issues less.

Another option is just distrust. Parents can mess up handling their child emotionally and completely ruin a connection with them- it does happen. It's very possible that Hajime's parents have been trying to get him to open up for years, but he can't trust them because of problems in the past. As such, they'd know something was wrong, but not what it is or how to deal with it.

One thing that continues to stump me - I have no fucking idea how Hope's Peak got them to sign the Kamukura project. What would be reasonable enough initially for results to come back that your son fucking died and for you to not sue?

I will say, considering how confused Kyoko is about her own life in her FTEs, I wouldn't be surprised if much of Hajime's life has been erased to hide his lack of talent. What is odd is how much he doesn't notice this- other characters mention their families, worry about friends, desire to leave (let's be clear, nowhere near as much as in THH); if Hajime's memory of these things was hazy, wouldn't that strike him as strange? Obviously it could go into a whole "well he forgot that he forgot!" situation, but that feels like an excuse.

Is it possible that his family doesn't matter much to Hajime himself? If so, why? There's a number of reasons why a person might not value their family- possibly because it isn't a safe space for them. That's also something to consider.

I dunno. These are mostly rambles. Some of this is taken from my own life experiences. I'm being very generalised about this, since I don't know much about cultural specifics, which I think might play a role.

[hhhhleb]

connected to this concept of birth giving and this comics ⚠️heavy topics below beware⚠️

so this idea sat in my head for a while what if sans not really a brother for papyrus..? well not biologically(or magically…) at least so i thought how could he get in this position and came up with some ideas for starters all this 'low fertility and forced injections of lust' reminds me so much of The Handmaid's Tale(i've watched only like 10 episodes but i got the main idea of reproductive abuse it portrays) so this and the concept of Gaster experementing on his children(on "child" in this case) just fused into this concept -> what if gaster tested his lust injections on sans 'cause em.. no body's gonna know?like maybe he didn't gave birth to him, he just found sans below some magic object and raised him in his closed laboratory to get more knowledge about fertility and lifegiving topic. gaster might forced this soulling artificially and that's how sans got paps and may be gaster tried to End this Experiment 'cause sans's little soul was at risk but sans rebelled and ran away or something idk all these things are very ethemeral in my head

or it was just another monster, some stranger or someone close and "trustworthy". may be sans wanted it. may be not. every option has it's own interesting themes to exlore really.

one thing i'm sure about is that paps doesn't know and after gaster dissolved in the Core sans might not know neither.. they're happy to be brothers and that's all they need actually

[annaliseblr]

can shows stop redeeming shitty parents? i thought brooklyn nine-nine finally changed this when i saw captain peralta, where they ended the ep with jake confronting his father, but then they brought him back next season and gave him a really random redemption arc. then rosa's homophobic parents got redeemed, which didn't annoy me as much bc her dad at least properly apologised to her, and her mom definitely put a lot of work into fixing things - they changed, jake's parents didn't.

9-1-1 is by far the worst offender of this i've ever seen. buck and maddie's parents emotionally abused and neglected them their whole lives, to the point where maddie was essentially raising buck on her own at the age of nine and buck only ever got attention when he was injured, maddie didn't leave her abusive husband in part because her mother would just say, 'i told you so,' and buck became the human embodiment of passive suicidality. then they just?? forgave them?? in one episode?? then chimney's shitty dad came back, and he made amends with him bc his daughter 'needed a good relationship with her grandparents.' eddie's dad was never around and the only things he did that involved eddie were yelling at him for trying to help his mother when she was in labor and declaring him the 'man of the house' at age 10. also, both his parents hated his wife, treated his son like an infant, and tried to get custody of said son. but he forgave his father and practically never addressed anything his mother did.

how to get away with murder thankfully never redeemed jorge castillo, which i approve of, but then connor's dad, who literally said he knew connor, and he knew oliver wasn't right for him (which is absolutely insane to say when you ran out on your son when he was 12) [he still could have been part of connor's life while being with ted!!]. and it basically just ignored that connor's mom let him, a teenager, have sex with a man in his twenties. because letting your son get raped is fine, i guess. and then annalise's dad, who didn't believe her when she was raped by her uncle, came back into her life. yay.

and then there's community. what annoys me is that they let jeff and pierce's dads be thrown into unforgivable territory (which i approve of, honestly - they sucked and advanced gay and cooperative escapism in familial relations are two of my favorite episodes), but britta's parents deserved forgiveness and britta was somehow in to wrong when she was molested and her dad took the guy's side??? she had to forgive her parents? that was just unfair and blatantly hypocritical.

stop redeeming horrible parents, please.

[uncanny-tranny]

It's weird how people paint "daddy issues" and even "mommy issues" as, like, a joke or a failure on part of the person who has those issues, rather than recognizing that daddy and mommy issues stem, for so many people, from abuse. What this all is is just abuse apologia, and nobody seems to either notice or maybe even care.

When somebody with daddy or mommy issues opens up about the "why," I can't ever seem to shake the fact that they tend to have gone through a ton of abuse and bullshit as a child. It's just crazy that other people would look at that and see a joke or a failure of the once-child who was abused.

[selfship-shinigami]

your F/Os despise your abusive parents. they adore you and are proud of you, no matter what your parents tell you.

[mlgrace]

i love (hate) when someone points out that child abuse, especially certain forms, are still normalised and overlooked by society as being necessary and harmless in the long term and beneficial despite numerous forms of empirical evidence suggesting otherwise says something like “uhm actually i got *abused in whatever way is mentioned* and i turned out fine”. people will literally say “yeah i have no actual definitive proof that the mistreatment i endured doesn’t impact my life today. and even if i did i’m still one person whose subjective opinion doesn’t negate decades of research with larger sample sizes. but you have to believe me. child abuse is fine actually. trust me”

[feralboo-the-weirdo]

I think we should normalize active parenting. Like we have plenty of examples of neglectful parents, we should get some of active parents. Also, to all the parents already doing the stuff below, great work.

I don't have kids, but I was a kid, and I think these are things parents should know.

If your child comes to you with a concern, no matter how insignificant or stupid you personally find it, take them seriously. It is important to them, even if it isn't important to you. Also, they wouldn't bring it up to you unless they thought it was important. Taking your children's "smaller" concerns seriously will make it far more likely they will come to you with the biger ones. Also, if it's a problem you can't solve, there is no shame in getting outside help, even if it means "exposing" the fact things aren't perfect. You cannot solve every single one of your child's problems alone. And you should help them solve problems, so you aren't solving everything for them. They do need to learn how to solve things on their own, like fights with siblings, or schoolwork. WITHIN REASON. If your child brings up to you that one of their siblings is depressed, or is struggling with something else like that (I.e. an eating disorder or self harm, or other mental illnesses), or otherwise heavy concerns, IT SHOULD NOT BE THE CHILDS RESPONSIBILITY TO FIX IT AND HELP THE SIBLING. YOU ARE THE ADULT. NOT THEM.

No child should EVER have to be the one dealing with these things because you don't think they're important, and you want to ignore them. Just because it's common that most siblings have to be a third parent doesn't mean it should be. Sweeping it under the rug is easy, but you SHOULD NOT make your child deal with it because they knew you didn't care.

Children and teens will match your energy. If you don't care about what they say the chances of them talking to you, and/listening to you decrease dramaticlly.

Also. The same goes for when they're excited about something. Positive reinforcment will make them far more likely to succeed becasue they know you'll care. They figured out how to tie their shoes? AMAZING. They drew a really really crappy stickfigure drawing of a person petting a cat? Tell them what you like about it, (colors, bold lines, etc) and maybe sandwich in a suggestion for how they could make it better.

Further, If your child is upset about something, don't belittle them because you don't think they should be upset about it. at that point you're past they shouldn't be upset about it, they ARE upset about it. Also, this moment, right now, for them is the hardest they have ever lived. Just because they're not an adult and they're not struggling with the same things as you, doesn't make their struggles any less valid. It might not seem like it because you know that not getting an A in math is not the same level as not being able to pay rent, but it's on that level for them. Just because it's "kid" struggles, doesn't mean it's not a struggle. They deserve to have their feelings validated just as much as you do, even though it's not an adult problem. Stuff is really really really hard as a kid because you don't have the skills to cope with things and you're experiencing a lot of things for the first time in high dosages, and it's hard.

Do with this what you will, but I wish my parents had done ANY of this when I was growing up.

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 40

Chapter 40 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie is back at the 118 and while he is welcomed with open arms. However, they now know and keep talking about him being married to Buck, which makes it harder to cope. Until, finally, it boils over and he snaps.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: referenced emotionally abusive parents, internalized misogyny, internalized homophobia, insecurity, self loathing, injury, homophobia mention

~~~

Chapter 40: The Affair

When he comes into work again, nine weeks after last being in the 118 firehouse, he is greeted by cheers. Hen comes up to hug him first, squealing: “Welcome back! We missed you.” Then she whispers: “Chim did the cake, I told him it was a bad idea, but he insisted.”

“Thank you,” he whispers back, before stepping out of the hug.

“It’s good to have you back, Eddie. You were missed,” Bobby says with a kind smile and a clap on the back.

“Yeah, missed you too. Thanks, Cap,” Eddie smiles, feeling a little overwhelmed. He half thought they wouldn’t want to have him here either, but instead, there is that warmth again, just like there had been on his first-first day. It feels good, albeit a little too much.

“Eddie,” Chimney grins, presenting him the cake, “welcome back, my man.”

He is grateful for Hen’s warning as he looks down at the cake. It’s a standard rectangular party cake with frosting that they often get for occasions like these. With swirly letters it reads: Welcome back from your honeymoon!

If circumstance had been different, it would have been a little funny. However, right now it’s just a reminder of everything. Eddie never had a honeymoon, two marriages, but never a honeymoon. He never married out of love. No one ever actually wanted to be with him. Buck doesn’t want to be with him.

So, he just stares at the cake for a beat too long, his eyes sad. He hates that despite it all, he can’t just be normal, so he mentally yells at himself, until he has manages to suck it up. Then he deadpans: “Har, har, Chim. Very funny.”

“Thought so too,” Chimney grins, luckily having missed the split second of pathetic-ness that Eddie let slip through the cracks.

He plasters on a smile and they dig in. Eddie hasn’t seen them often, but they don’t mention him running, instead telling him of the horrors that were the floaters send to replace him and how glad they are that he is back. By the time the alarm goes off for the first time, the smile is real.

However, one thing Eddie hadn’t taken into account when saying yes to Bobby’s offer to come back, was that they know now. That they know and are okay with it now. Which means that they talk about it. Mention it. Eddie hadn’t counted on how often they would mention it.

That first 24 hour shift, Chimney jokingly calls him Buckley-Diaz and at the end they all tell him to say hi to his husband when he gets home.

They probably mean well, wanting to show him that they’re over the anger from the hospital, that they don’t have any bad opinions of his life choices. That they can joke about it. A part of Eddie thinks it’s sweet. It’s more than his parents have every managed and they’ve had three years to get used to the fact that Eddie and Buck are married. Another part of him aches at the reminders.

While the Buckley-Diaz dies out, the joke of telling him to ask this or say that to his husband sticks around. He’s heard them do it to Buck too when he came home earlier than expected and caught Hen on her way out, but still.

Furthermore, they ask him about it. It’s always innocuous, just them trying to fill in the blanks of what is their two year scheme whenever something comes up that reminds them of something that’s been bugging them.

Eddie can’t judge them for being curious, for wanting to know. He just wishes that they didn’t make him know alongside them.

Naturally, he knows the most of it, since he and Buck started actively lying together. However, Buck had been deflecting by himself for a year before that and Eddie is now getting to know some of the fibs he gave them.

Because of that, he now knows Buck said he had a hottie to pick up when referring to Eddie that time his parents came to Chris’s seventh birthday. That he went to Bobby for advice on how to deal with them. The in-laws, that is.

It makes him feel weird and he hates it.

Everything makes him feel weird. The jokes, the questions, the casual reference to the fact that Eddie is Buck’s other half. That he will go home to Buck. That Buck is Chris’s other father.

He’s never had that before. His parents have always pointedly ignored acknowledging Buck’s role in Eddie and Chris’s life and with tía Pepa and Abuela it was never this frequent and he wasn’t aware of it like he is now. To have people confirm his reality over and over again makes him feel exposed in a way he isn’t sure he dislikes entirely, which only makes him feel horrible.

And that is not even mentioning the new fresh hell that is being aware of Buck in more than a romantic light. Of dreaming of him sucking Eddie’s dick or, more shamefully, him pushing Eddie into the mattress as he plows into him. Which are now playing alongside the flashes of domesticity and unmasculine tenderness that Eddie shouldn’t crave. He instated a self imposed ban on jerking off to avoid thinking about it after he found himself wondering if Buck’s calluses would feel the same one morning in the shower.

So within a week, he finds himself texting Buck that he’s meeting up with Bosko to catch up, a lie he can’t verify. Instead driving to a different shady spot than a random parking lot after texting the number of an even shadier guy.

The atmosphere is very different to the fight club he went to before, more a fighting ring. There are spectators and there are fighters, as well as underhand dealings that are probably smarter to stay out of. Everyone got that memo, it seems, because everyone leaves everyone alone. In a way, it’s nice.

What is even nicer, is the wad of cash that gets pushed into his hands after he’s beaten the shit out of some guy. It’s a lot. It’s enough that Eddie can be reasonably certain they can buy Chris that Nintendo Switch he wants without issue when his birthday rolls around again or Christmas. Or save up, pad up the savings they lost during the suspension that was Eddie’s fault.

It’s the start of a spiral.

He acts normal at work and home, but Buck’s presence is everywhere, driving him insane with emotions he doesn’t want to deal with. If it’s not that, he gets randomly attacked with an anger at how unfair the world is. The fear of almost losing it all. How easily they left. How he is glad to be back, but it’s not going to last. Not to mention the pressure of the expectations that tug on him and the fact that he’s not managing to push the feelings down like he was able to before Buck.

All these things have him returning to that fighting ring over and over again. It’s a craving. A habit he can’t seem to kick.

When he tries not to go, he feels himself tightening like a spring, ready to shoot off into space. He gets snippy and grouchy, which is fine. It’s fine. He can deal. … Until he snaps at Chris during a stressful moment as they’re getting ready for school. Then it’s not fine.

It’s just an irritated: “What the hell, Chris. Why are you not ready? I told you to get ready. We have to get going now! I don’t care about your excuses.”

He apologizes and Chris doesn’t seem to affected, but it sticks with him. Haunts him. He wants to bridge the gap, not deal with any of this internal shit and just continue on as normal until it falls apart.

Snapping at Chris isn’t normal. He doesn’t want that for him. He’s never wanted that for him. So, he accepts that he needs the outlet. Just for now. Just to bridge that gap.

Thus, Eddie finds himself going to the fighting ring more often. It escalates from being once a week to going twice, until he finds himself there almost nightly, as his excuses get less and less believable.

Buck hasn’t tried to bring it up yet, but Eddie makes sure to evade him just in case. He either comes home late enough that Buck has dropped off on the couch or when he’s at PT. Or he only makes Chris’s pick up, forgoing his usual pre-pick up nap so he’ll arrive with Chris, who has become his oblivious human shield.

It’s only a matter of time until Buck can’t take it anymore and busts down his door instead of letting him ‘sleep’ until Chris needs to go to school or comes home. The unspoken question of where he’s been, bubbling closer and closer to the surface as Eddie’s avoidance of answering becomes more and more suspicious.

After six weeks, it finally boils over.

His shift has just ended and he feels the itch, but thinks he can push it forward until tomorrow. He can make bedtime tonight, but tomorrow Chris has that sleep over. So it’s better to be late then. He has already been missing dinner and bedtime here and there. It’s not a lot, but it’s been unavoidable and for now it’s better than the alternative: snapping at Chris.

As he’s mulling it over, Hen slides up next to him, opening her own locker as she says: “Me and Chim are gonna go out drinking. Just a beer or two. Want to join?”

“No, I can’t. Thanks though,” Eddie replies, putting away his stuff. It’s true, since he has to make bedtime when he can.

“Sure,” Chimney snorts behind him.

Eddie whirls around, frown on his face as he demands: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, you’ve been pretty chipper at work, but Buck says you’re being weird at home, staying out late. You’re worrying the husband and that can only mean one thing; you’re having an affair. I put good money on that, so don’t lie now, Edmundo, what’s her name?” Chimney grins.

The grin feels like a trap, like he’s being cornered. The confrontation with what is supposed to be truth, but Eddie is too broken to adhere to, combining with that stupid husband comment. His heart slams into overdrive and his defenses rise up from the ground. He snaps: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Chimney’s eyebrows immediately lift, but before he can say anything, Hen does: “We’re just curious, Eddie. He didn’t mean anything with it.”

It’s a tad too gentle for his taste as if he can’t take it, as if she knows he is sensitive. He’s not sensitive. He can take it. “Well, mind your own business.”

Now Hen and Chimney are exchanging looks and Eddie starts aggressively stuffing his shit into his bag so he can get out of here before he implodes.

He’s not fast enough and now Hen’s voice is even more gentle. “You don’t have to tell us, but we’re here if you want to talk. I know we might not have always given you that impression and we’re sorry for that, but we won’t judge. You can tell us.”

“Maybe,” he slams his locker closed, “I don’t want to.” He glares at her. “There is nothing for you to know. I’m not Buck, I don’t want you invading my life. Just because I share it with him and you know now, doesn’t give you a right to know anything about me, okay? I forgave you guys for what you did to us, but I didn’t forget. You have no right to demand any trust of me, now leave me the fuck alone.”

With that said, he stalks out of the locker room, anger wafting off of him. Hen and Chimney are too stunned to speak after his outburst, so he makes it to his car safely.

Inside, he punches his steering wheel and lets out a muffled noise of frustration. Any thought of having a peaceful night at home is now ruined. If he turns up like this, he’ll only fuck up the happy atmosphere of home. Especially since a part of his anger is directed at Buck.

Buck had no right telling everyone he’s acting weird. Eddie is allowed to act weird, which he isn’t by the way, Eddie is behaving so normally. Now Buck put thoughts into everyone’s head and they’re assuming things about Eddie that aren’t true. Confronting him with the things he wants to avoid. It is all Buck’s fault. All of it.

If Buck weren’t so kind, Eddie wouldn’t have met him. If Buck weren’t so amazing, Eddie wouldn’t have- If Buck weren’t so good, Eddie wouldn’t need to be worried about him. If Buck weren’t so sweet, he wouldn’t have remembered all he forced himself to forget, to push down, to suck up. If Buck weren’t so attractive, Eddie would have never had to flick that switch and he could have lived his whole life in ignorance. He would have been normal.

Tears well up in his eyes and he angrily wipes them away. He doesn’t want to feel any of this, he doesn’t want to think about any of this. With harsh movements, he starts up the car, automatically finding himself at the fighting ring.

The organizers are more than happy to see him, gladly putting him in a match. Eddie is good at this, money flows.

He doesn’t care right now. He isn’t thinking of the bills that can easily be paid, the crappy car he might be able to replace soon, because he won’t be able to rely on the Jeep anymore after the divorce, the gifts he could buy Chris, the money he can save up for a rainy day. There is just the anger. The rage. The fury that needs to get out, the control he needs to get back. The failure he needs to override with a win.

Nothing exists except for the ring, his opponent and his emotions.

Eddie gives a beating like he has never given before. It’s a spectacle probably, because he can hear the cheering even through the rushing of blood past his ears. He’s punching the world, punching Buck, punching his papi, punching the 118, punching Brandson and the priest at the Church he grew up with. Punching himself. They all blur together on the face of his opponent and he beats them until he goes down.

For a moment, he stands there. Victorious. He’s a winner. He’s doing good. He’s a man. He’s normal.

Then he realizes his opponent isn’t just down. He’s seizing and choking. Instinct takes over and he checks on the patient, any feelings forgotten in the face of professionalism. The man needs medical attention.

He yells for them to call 9-1-1, but no one does. The guy that got him wrapped up in this even starts arguing with him as he pulls a bit of the guy’s nose out of his airway. Tells him not to do it when he rips someone’s phone out of their hands.

A part of him thinks that he shouldn’t. This operation is shady, has been from the start. They keep record of 9-1-1 calls, it could be Maddie on the other side of the line. However, then he looks down on his opponent, on the guy he punched so hard he started choking on a bit of his nose, and he knows it wouldn’t be right to walk away.

Eddie calls 9-1-1.

The second he does, everyone scatters. With this kind of report, there’s a chance police will show up and no one wants to get caught.

It’s not like he wants to either – one stint in jail was more than enough for him – but he needs to make sure he didn’t kill a man tonight. So, he sits the man upright, then retreats to a building nearby and waits.

Inside his pocket his forgotten phone vibrates. He grabs it to see a slew of increasingly worried texts from Buck as well as a voicemail. The others probably told him Eddie stormed out and Eddie never bothered to even text an excuse. With a heavy heart, he plays the voicemail:

“Eddie? Where are you? You’ve been missing dinner and bedtime left and right and that’s fine. It’s fine. You’re a grown man and I don’t care what you do, but you gotta come home,” Buck’s recorded voice says desperately.

Buck lowers his voice, as if he’s covering the mic so no one can hear. “I keep making excuses to Chris that you’re at work and he tries to understand, but he misses you, Eddie. He wants his daddy to tuck him in and I-” he cuts himself off with a choked off noise that almost sounds like a sob.

He takes a deep, but shaky breath: “I can’t replace you. I never want to replace you. Chris needs you here. He needs you home. You can’t keep staying away like this. I can’t keep disappointing him with your absence. I can’t keep lying. Come home, please.”

Fuck.

Fucking fuck, fuck, fuck.

Eddie thought it was okay. Thought it wasn’t that much. Thought Chris was oblivious. But he isn’t, he misses him. He and Buck both miss him. They want him home. He’s not been home. Buck’s been lying that Eddie has to work, so Chris will understand. In Chris’s mind Eddie hasn’t been home, because he has to work.

Eddie has become just like his father.

No, he’s even worse, because at least papi was actually trying to provide for his family. Papi might have been never home, but he has never needed to do this like Eddie does. He never needed an outlet like this. He could just be normal, instead of nearly beating a man to death.

God, Eddie nearly beat a man to death. The reality of what happened settles in on him. He nearly beat a man to death. He’s a monster. He’s violent. Dangerous.

The first responders arrive on the scene and Eddie almost drowns on dry land in the shame and the fear when he recognizes his former coworkers. He ducks for cover, but he’s pretty sure Bosko spotted him. He prays he’s wrong as he attempts to swallow down the guilt. It’s a feeble attempt.

He can’t sneak out, so he stays hidden, but it doesn’t work. Soon Bosko is right in front of him, not even bothering with a hello as she asks: “So, are you the one who saved him or the one who almost killed him?”

“Both,” Eddie answers, honest and laden with shame.

“What the hell, Eddie!” Bosko exclaims. “Fighting was supposed to be a healthy outlet, not an obsession. I thought you’d realized that, that you’d quit.”

“I know,” he says, curling in on himself. “And it’s not. It- It just got out of hand tonight.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Bosko looks angry as she crosses her arms. “Tell me, that hit to the nose, was that a lucky shot? Or had he dropped his hands?”

Eddie feels her tone grating on his nerves. He still feels out of whack, his mind buzzing with the high of the fight, the adrenaline of having to save the guy’s life and the horror at what he had just done, as well as all the guilt brought on by the voicemail. He can’t use her judgment. Her anger. So, defensively, he says: “Tap out or knock out. Those are the rules. He didn’t tap out.”

“He was so punch drunk, he couldn’t even lift his hands to protect himself. You think he should’ve had the presence of mind to tap out?” Bosko retorts, giving him a challenging look, before her face drops into something more gentle. “Eddie, you need to talk to someone.”

A part of him is rearing up to fight her more, but then the police sirens start up. Bosko looks back and groans, then starts shrugging out of her turnout coat.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving myself the trouble of having to bail you out of jail again,” she says, handing him the turn out coat. “Put this on until the cops leave.”

Eddie does and she leads him to his car without any trouble. When they get there, she takes the coat back and recrosses her arms: “I’m not done with this conversation, by the way. You’re lucky I didn’t turn you over. What you’re doing is dangerous. You can’t go on like this.”

Now that he’s had a moment to cool off, the horror has overtaken again. He remembers Buck’s desperate voice pleading at him to come home, but it’s overlaid with the visual of the bone crunching under his hand.

He can’t keep doing this, but he doesn’t know how to be normal at home without it. He still remembers the built up last time he tried, the way he snapped at Chris. It was minor then, but what if it gets worse. What if this time he goes too far? What if he hurts either of them? He can live with being absent like his father, if he never has to be violent. He never wanted this for himself. For his family.

“I know,” he says, sounding distraught to his own ear, but unable to bring himself to care. “I- I can’t- I can’t go home.” He looks up at Bosko with big eyes. “I can’t go home after this.”

Bosko looks at him critically for a moment, then sighs. “Fine. You can stay at mine for now. I’ll text you the address and meet you there after my shift. There’s a spare key taped above the cat-flap on the inside, you can take the couch.”

“Thank you,” he says, so overtaken with relief that he doesn’t even comment how unsafe it is to have a spare key there.

“Now get out, before anyone else sees you and I’ll make sure your man doesn’t die,” Bosko tells him and Eddie flinches slightly at the words.

He’s still in shock as he drives to Bosko’s apartment. It’s alright, not particularly nice, but not especially shitty. Just average. Normal.

It seems like everyone can be normal, except for him. He is a freak, who hasn’t just been lusting after the man who does so much for him, who hasn’t just been imagining a life he isn’t allowed to have. But he’s a freak who nearly killed a man.

Eddie hasn’t been home for enough nights that Chris is starting to miss him. He’s absent and leaving a hole like his papi had. However, he doesn’t fill it with good intentions, with needing to provide. He’s filling it with violence.

Tonight, Eddie nearly killed a man. Tonight he came face to face with the kind of person he’s become.

Bosko was right, he can’t go on like this. He needs to regroup, get himself in check, maybe take Bosko up on the offer to help. She said Ronnie did it for her, that he helped her get out of a dark place, gave her space to figure herself out.

He needs that right now. He needs to sort himself out. Figure himself out.

A yellow-y cat jumps onto the couch next to him. Eddie hasn’t made a move to lie down yet, unsure if he should or can, or if he should wait for Bosko. She said she’d meet him here after the shift and that he can take the couch, but he’s not sure to what extend that was an invitation.

The cat – who he assumes is Butter, since there is a white cat who has been glaring at him from the moment he arrived – has no such reservations. He just makes himself comfortable on Eddie’s lap, wiggling around until he’s comfortable.

Eddie holds his breath, unsure what he should do. It doesn’t feel safe to be to close to such a fragile animal, but pushing him off also feels dangerous. The last thing he wants to do is hurt Bosko’s cat on top of it all.

Desperately, he looks around, meeting Mayo’s eyes. She glares at him and hisses, Eddie looks back as if to say ‘I know, I agree, I also don’t know what this idiot is doing.’

Then he realizes he’s trying to reason with a cat and he looks back down. Butter wiggles again, nudging against him as if to entice him into petting him. Again Eddie hesitates, then gently strokes one finger across Butter’s back. The second he does, Butter starts purring happily.

Message received, he thinks, continuing to gently stroke Butter’s back as he stares at the cat. It feels wrong to have the trust of such a small creature. Just a small, dumb animal, who doesn’t realize how dangerous Eddie is.

Butter has a tiny little brain, he doesn’t know that Eddie a danger. He doesn’t know that he should run instead of curl up. Eddie is sure that anyone else who saw him, would know that he is a monster. Something to be feared. To be backed away from.

How can he ever face Buck and Chris ever again?

~~

A/N:

Poor Eddie, I just keep making it worse for him, don’t I? But don’t you guys worry, it will be just as bad for Buck and Chris >:3

Also I keep telling myself that I’m not going to add more Bosko, but then I end up adding more Bosko. She wasn’t meant to be such a big part of this, but I love the version of her I created, however pushy she may be. We deserved to have lesbian Bosko and I will not take criticism on that.

Sidenote: I don’t actually think Eddie is a danger or violent. However, this is the current vision he has of himself and we are in his head.

[furiousgoldfish]

I'm going to sit down and try to explain this with patience, to everyone who still thinks calling out narcissistic abuse is 'ableist' or 'dehumanizing to the narcissists', and that abuse is something we're all equally capable of.

I don't think you understand what narcissistic abuse is, or how it differs from the other kinds of abuse. We can agree that all and any abuse is damaging, traumatic and scarring, but narcissistic abuse is so extremely pervasive, hidden, strategic and unbelievable, to the point where I can't honestly tell it's something any regular human would be capable of. And even more than this, the survivors of this particular type of abuse have found it extremely, extremely difficult to figure out they've been abused, even when they've been put through extreme, devastating, and absolutely dehumanizing scenarios. Realizing that your loved one is a narcissist requires your entire world to break down, and every piece of your heart shatters in the realization, and it takes months, even years to accept it.

The only way we can possibly figure it out is to connect the patterns. And patterns of the narcissistic abuse are focused on erasing one's own sense of self, one's perspective and ultimately, complete control over someone's emotions and behaviours. This is often done from early on, the grooming process starts at age zero, your value, worth and usefulness is determined by them, and you cannot wrangle yourself free from it on your own, not without someone confirming to you that you've been held captive, that your free will has been taken a long time ago.

Unfortunately, I have to give some examples, because I don't think it can be explained otherwise. When I was 2 years old, a narcissistic person found it a nuisance to watch over me, and they beat me up every time I disobeyed. I was a toddler. Then they proceeded to convince me that I was a demon, and would burn in hell regardless of what I do for the rest of my life. I've been brainwashed by this person to believe I was not a human being, had no human rights, that it was correct and regular for me to be locked up, beaten, and that it was my fault every single time, even when I did all that was asked of me. This person then had me comfort them after they would beat me, because it was a stressful experience for them. I wasn't allowed to cry. I would be beaten for making a face expression they didn't like. It was random and unexplainable.

Another narcissistic person created a game where they would give me wrong instructions for a task, then torture me when I did exactly as they instructed me to. It got to a point where I would beg them to tell me what to do correctly, and they would respond with a laughing 'you should be old enough to know this' and they would be even happier to beat me up and scream at me for getting it wrong. This person not only threatened to kill me regularly, but often made me believe I was in my last few seconds of life, putting me in position where I believed I was about to die. They forced me to work for them in unsafe conditions, heavy physical jobs, where I was not allowed to say I'm tired, not allowed to cry, and even after I'd do everything, they would still tell me I didn't deserve to eat. I was a child. I didn't think for a second I was being abused. I was already brainwashed to believe that everyone else had it worse, and that I was lucky.

I had no identity besides existing for them, I had no free will except to try and make myself into something they could use, and if I didn't do a good enough job, I'd be ostracized. They loved beating me, screaming at me and making me cry, and then they'd leave me in a room crying without being allowed to make any noise, while they laughed in the room next to me, as a family, loudly so I could hear what a great time they were having. They would treat other children gently in front of me in order to try and make me jealous. They would revise every part of what they did to me if I ever tried to bring it up. I wasn't allowed my own perspective, opinion, or complaint. I wasn't even allowed to remember the abuse correctly. I would be locked in a room and questioned and punished if my opinions weren't to their liking.

I don't believe this is something anyone is capable of doing. I don't believe anyone of us is capable of torturing a kid until the kid begs to be killed. I don't believe most of us are capable of erasing a child's point of view, their reality, their humanity to the point where the child is forced to live a life where they will either comply or be killed, and they will be tortured no matter what. This isn't a regular thing that a person can easily do.

Luckily, us who have been through this, have noticed that there is a specific pattern to their behaviour. That they use almost identical phrases with which their invoke guilt, fear and hopelessness. That they can go frighteningly fast from rage to laughter to acting hurt. That they enforce their will over ours with a specific type of terror that triggers both our survival instincts and our compassion and shame. That we've been groomed by them in an almost identical way - to not believe that we're allowed our own feelings, memories, opinions, point of view, or freedom. That we have learned to exist only to be an extension of them.

We also all noticed that we're all absolutely, beyond terrified of them, and that we don't feel we're allowed to say it, or think it. That we're taught by terror to keep believing that they're good people, that they do none of it on purpose, not even the most extreme, insane, egregious abuse. That they will go to any length, even committing more atrocities, to escape accountability. That they use tactics of darvo, gaslighting, double-bind, planting insecurities, triangulating, future faking, discarding, love bombing, mirroring, smear campaigns, projection, scapegoating, silencing, throwing tantrums, victim playing, like it's in their second nature. That they're genuinely, absolutely terrifying and almost unreal in how far they're capable of going. And most of all, that they are dangerous, and capable of completely turning another human being into their puppet, and never think for a second that it might be wrong. To them, we are nothing more but toys to manipulate, control, and discard. We are disposable. There is no limit to what they can do to us, because to them, we are not alive. They would do to us what normal people wouldn't do to a corpse. And they feel superior for it.

People abused by narcissists from early age are likely to develop the most complex and extreme disorders, complex ptsd and dissociative identity disorder being some of them, because that's what it takes to survive being a child and existing next to a narcissist. This means that small children need to be shattered in pieces in order to please the narcissist. Others that are very common are eating disorders, anxiety, depression, paranoia, avoidant personality disorder, panic disorder, and compulsions to cater to everyone's needs, to the point of our own destruction. This is what they make of us, on purpose, in order for us to be of use to them. And they will forever insist it's their right.

When I'm saying the word 'narcissist', I am not referring to 'anyone diagnosed with npd', I am referring to a person who will do this to a child, and insist on doing it for the rest of the child's life. I am writing it because I don't want children to have to live like this forever. I am not aiming to dehumanize the narcissist, their actions show who they are, I am saying, be careful and aware that this person will dehumanize you. That you are disposable to them. That making you feel good in order for you to like them, is a game to them, and one they're very good at. That playing the victim at you and demanding justice, will easily manipulate you into standing against the victims of abuse and talking down to them for 'dehumanizing their abusers', and being 'ableist to the npd', after being tortured past the point of return by those people.

A lot of us are permanently damaged by what's been done to us. We are not asking for justice. We're not asking for revenge. We are asking to be safe. We're asking for this to stop. We're asking for children not to be left alone with people who are dangerous to this level. We're asking you to understand that a narcissist left alone with a child means a child in danger.

It's common to not be aware just how bad it can go, because we think that most humans know not to torture a child. We believe that nobody would do things to children that narcissists do. If you read the stories of the survivors, you'll find out what actually happens behind closed doors. The themes of torture, dehumanization, sexual abuse, brainwashing, violence, and extreme cruelty are common, even towards toddlers.

I need you to not attack those children when they grow up and say they no longer want to be around narcissists. I need you to understand that they know what they're talking about when they say it's not safe, that they want to be protected. The society already failed to protect them at their most vulnerable, and they had to make it alive by their wits alone. And now you won't even let them speak without attacking them? It's inexcusable.

If you want to know about the narcissists, read what their victims have gone through. Then make a judgment on whether we're allowed to speak, and whether it's worth warning others to hold caution. I've heard and read stories of narcissistic parents sex-trafficking their own child, holding them captive and locked up and convincing them it's right to do this, using brutal punishments to 'train' them into inhumane slave-like behaviour, keeping the children in state so terrified the children wished they were dead. And in all those cases, they still convinced the children to love their parents, and to never blame them for any kind of abuse. Yes, even in the sex-trafficking cases.

Fighting for those children to realize that they didn't deserve that, is the only correct thing to do. Fighting to help them realize they're in danger, and that they deserve safely, it's not only right but extremely necessary, it's what we all should be putting all of our energy into.

Wanting to keep others safe will never be wrong. Wanting to protect those who still have their identity, their sense of self, their undamaged humanity, their free will and their point of view, that's worth fighting for! And above all, those who already lost it all, need to be protected. We cannot allow for already badly wounded people to be dehumanized over and over again. Nobody deserves that.

[a-sip-of-milo]

"But if you never have kids, who's going to take care of you when you're old?"

So, your reasoning for wanting/having children is so you've got someone who feels obligated to take care of you? Sounds abusive but okay.

DNI if you believe in cluster B abuse.

[nothing0fnothing]

My mom always used to tell me that I was so much more mature than the boys my age because "girls mature faster" and always told me to date older when I started dating.

The men in my family would tell me that the best way for me to succeed was to 1) get really thin 2) get really hot 3) marry an elderly man months from death 4) inherit his money after he died.

Constant discussions about how I shouldn't be dating teenage boys because teenage boys "only want one thing" and I should be waiting to date till my mid 20s when they've "calmed down".

But yeah it was totally my fault when a man in a position of power over me in his late 20s started dming me when I was 13 and I thought it was normal.

[spicyicymeloncat]

Funny how when you physically/emotionally/materially punish people for doing/getting something wrong, usually they develop a fear of being wrong and thus don’t know how to accept being wrong, how to make up for it, or grow as a person.

If you’ve told a person that their only options are to be right, or to be wrong and die, then they treat being right as a means of survival, being told they’re wrong as a threat to their safety and that there is no improving after being classed as wrong.

They become afraid of being wrong, convinced they can’t be wrong if nothing bad is happening to specifically them, and they do not know any methods to improve the situation outside of self punishment.

Proper conflict resolution skills are so vital.