#abusive parent tw

[grimbunnies]

Mary-Sue: "I... I'm pregnant!"

Daniel: "What? I thought you were too close to aging up..."

Angela: "Dad!"

Jennifer: "Well... congratulations to you both?"

Mary-Sue: "I'm not certain how to feel..."

Daniel: "Well, I think it's great! This is going to bring us closer together! I'm going to take care of you, give you backrubs. Maybe I can get some time off work..."

Mary-Sue: "I'll have to take time off work..."

Daniel: "I know your job is important to you, but you can go back right away after giving birth! It's not like we don't have options for childcare, even free childcare."

Mary-Sue: "Oh, there you are. Done abusing that notebook instead of doing anything productive or spending time with your family?"

Lilith: "I am. By the way, I think this is great! Oh! And it'll be so fun and quirky if dad knocked the maid up, too, when he woohooed her yesterday while you were at work. Maybe you could basically end up with a second set of twins!"

Daniel: "You lying piece of shit!"

Lilith: "Methinks he doth project too much... I skipped school. I heard everything. Not that I expect you to believe me, mom, but I'm not lying."

Mary-Sue: "You know what, Lilith? I do believe you."

[autumnshowell]

arguments

'You've been out so often lately.'

'You've been so hard to get ahold of.' 'I worry when you don't answer my texts.' 'I thought you said you didn't have to work.' 'I guess I just didn't realize you had better things to do.' She throws handfuls of what is essentially into the trash. Part of Autumn wants to scream as she turns her mother's words around in her head, every spin of it gouging an angry red barb into the figurative mental flesh of her hand as she considers just how angry she is right now. "I have a life outside of you, mom." She says, exasperated in tone but forcing herself to keep calm. Autumn ties the trash bag off and moves to set it next to the door that leads out of the kitchen to the driveway, lifting it to show her before she does so. "And by the way, you're allowed to actually throw stuff away without me here." Helpless and useless she thinks to herself. She'll feel awful for thinking it later, but right now she's so angry because she spent the whole of her last day off cleaning the filth out of this kitchen and it looks like she never even touched it. It's always something. Always some mess that needs cleaning or something that sits broken because she can't pick up a phone and call for a repair herself. It'd be one thing, Autumn gripes, if her mother were incapable. If she were unable to do the things that Autumn does. But she isn't. She just knows she can get away with it, because her daughter promised her late husband that she would take care of her. Because if she plays dumb and she plays useless, it keeps Autumn close, ensures that she'll never go far from home. Autumn knows it, because her mother's said so a dozen times in her drunken rants, even if she doesn't remember it, and she hates that she's right. Because who else does she have? Kevin is, at best, a work friend. Everyone she counted as a close friend in town growing up is too busy with life or has left town altogether. She hasn't had anybody better to be around. Hasn't had anything better to do. But now she does. And it's becoming apparent. And she knows her mother hates this. And she relishes in it. "You're gonna have to cook for yourself or order out this Saturday - I'm not gonna be around." That pries her mother's eyes from her wine glass. "Why?" "I've got a thing." Sharp. "What thing?" Pointed "Just a thing." Deflecting. "What kind of thing? I remember when my daughter didn't keep secrets." "Oh my fucking god, really?" She says, slapping a rag down on the counter top. "I'm going to a studio to look at tattoo stuff, okay?" "A tattoo? Why the hell do you want a tattoo?" "I don't even know if I want one - and what does it matter to you anyways. it's not for you it's for me." "That's so tacky Autumn Marie, when have you ever wanted a tattoo?" "Jesus, and you wonder why I didn't want to tell you." "Well if you can't even tell me about it, what are you going to tell people when they see it? You'll look trashy." It's the certitude and confidence with which her own mother calls her trashy. It makes her breath catch. She feels her nails digging so deeply into the palms of one hand that she's sure when she rubs her face in frustration, it's going to leave a trail of red behind. It doesn't but her hand hurts. "It's 2024, mom, maybe I want to look trashy." She hates how much she sounds like a fucking teenager. It's humiliating and demoralizing, despite the audience of nobody. "Well, mission accomplished if you go through with that." Leigh says, moving to pour more Moscato into her glass. "No wonder I don't have grandkids."

Silly enough, that's what gets her, what shuts her off, what rips her out of her own mind and sends her off to the broom closet eve though her mother's not done talking. She thinks of just how many times she's told her mother she's not interested in men, let alone starting a family with one. It's the closes she ever gets to telling her mother that she's never going to have grand children. That she's never going to have a son-in-law. But she never has the stone to say it outright.

The rest of the evening is quiet - quiet as the dead. Or at least it might as well be; her mother's voice is somewhere behind her, over her shoulder - quite and muffled every once in a while, like she's yelling through the deep ocean. She doesn't listen as she cleans up.

She's reminded of just why she does all this in the morning, while her mother is at work where she has to at least pretend to be sober and functional and can't inform her daughter of how wrong she is about everything she does. She wonders why she comes here at all anymore - but she knows why - no matter how awful it is, or how draining it is, it's less lonely this way. It's nice to be needed, even if she isn't necessarily wanted.

[whumpy-writings]

Obedience

Febuwhump 2024 Day 4

The Dhampir Files Masterlist

CW: Abusive parents (whumpees are adults), referenced lab whump, whipping, carewhumper, lady whumper, conditioned whumpee

Cal sat on the ground, Renn resting his head on his lap as he slept. It had been a couple weeks since the sun experiment. They had been allowed to heal, but Cal was under no illusions that that was the last experiment their parents would conduct.

The waiting was the worst part. He didn't know what the next horror would be, or when it would happen. All he and Renn could do was wait. Renn whimpered in his sleep.

"You're okay, I've got you," Cal whispered as he stroked his brother's hair. Renn hadn't had nightmares in years. But now it seemed like he had them every time he closed his eyes.

The door at the top of the stairs creaked open and Cal tensed. But the footsteps down the stairs sounded different. Uneven. A man appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He had brown hair and was dressed in simple clothes. He crossed the room with a pronounced limp. This was the first person Cal had seen besides Renn and their parents since he was thrown into this hell-hole.

The man moved to the tables and shuffled things around, like he was looking for something. Cal squinted. It almost looked like. . .

"Miles?" A surge of relief went through Cal as his human half-brother turned to look at him. "Miles! Oh my gods, it's you. Hurry, let us out of here."

Miles flinched. "I can't do that," he said. Cal swallowed down his frustration.

"Why not? They're not here right now. There must be an extra key somewhere."

Miles approached the cage with his eyes on the floor. When he stood outside the door, Cal caught sight of the collar, which sat atop a mess of scars from bites. He hadn't had those before. He hadn't had the limp either.

"I'm sorry," Miles whispered. "I'm not allowed to."

"Miles, please, you can come with us. They're torturing me and Renn, I don't know how much longer we can survive this."

"I can't."

"Why the fuck-"

"Miles! I told you not to talk to them!" Cal whipped his head up to see Mother striding toward them, her face furious. Miles went pale. He spun around and fell to his knees, bowing to the floor with his hands on either side of his head.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I'm sorry, it won't happen again." Miles was shaking. Mother stood in front of him with her arms crossed. She shot Cal a glare.

"He hasn't disobeyed in months," she said. "And now I'll have to punish him. This is your fault, Callum." Renn stirred from Cal's lap.

"What's going on? Miles?" Renn's voice was thick with sleep.

"I was just about to discipline him," Mother said. "He was explicitly told that he was not to speak to you two, and he did anyway."

Miles shoulders hitched and Cal realized he was crying. "Please ma'am, please I'll be good please I don't need a punishment."

"That's not for you to decide, human." Mother grabbed Miles's hair and hauled him to his feet.

"Let him go!" Renn yelled. "Don't hurt him!" He grabbed onto the bars. "Please, don't hurt him."

Mother ignored him. "Take off your shirt, hands against the wall."

Miles sobbed as he undressed. Cal gasped. His back was criss-crossed in scars. There were dozens of them. He definitely hadn't had those when Cal and Renn left.

"How many lashes do you deserve, Miles?"

Mother crossed to a bench and picked up a whip.

"No! Please Mother, don't hurt him, it was my fault." Cal's eyes burned with tears. Fuck, he hadn't wanted to get Miles hurt.

"T-ten ma'am," Miles said. "Ten for my disobedience. His hands were pressed against the wall, his back bared. Tears rolled down his face and he was shaking.

"Only ten?" Mother said. She cracked the whip and Miles jumped. "You disobeyed a direct order. You'll get twenty-five lashes. And then you will clean up whatever blood gets on the floor. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am," Miles whispered.

"Good."

She got behind him with the whip. Renn buried his face in Cal's shoulder. Cal wrapped his arm around him. The whip cracked through the air and Miles cried out. Cal hugged Renn even tighter and put his hands over his brother's ears to try to dampen the sound.

The lashes were hard and fast and soon enough Miles's knees gave out. He knelt on the ground, sobbing as lash after lash bit through his ruined back. It seemed to go on forever.

Finally, the lashes stopped. Miles collapsed to the ground with a sob. "I'm sorry ma'am, I'm sorry, thank you for teaching me to be good." Disgust rose in Cal's throat. Miles was thanking her for torture.

Mother knelt down next to Miles and smoothed his sweaty hair back from his forehead. "There's my good boy. You won't make the same mistake again, will you?" Miles shook his head.

"No, never."

"Good."

Mother met eyes with Cal. "I hope this was a lesson for you too. You are not to talk to him. I would hate for him to be tempted and have to be punished again." Miles whimpered. "He's just a human, after all. His body isn't as strong as mine or yours." She turned back to Miles. "Now clean up this mess. Once you're finished I'll bandage the wounds."

"Yes ma'am." Miles scrambled to his feet and set about cleaning up the blood that splattered the floor. Mother pulled out a chair and sat down just outside the cage.

"Miles is a good boy, usually. Of course, at the beginning he was very disobedient. He tried to escape too, you know. Right after you two left. Isn't that right, Miles?"

"Yes ma'am," Miles said from where he scrubbed at the floor. "It was very stupid of me."

"That's right, it was very stupid, wasn't it?" She smiled icily as she looked at Cal and Renn. "You know he can't see very well, so he didn't get far. We broke his leg when we caught him. We couldn't risk him running again, you see. Then it was just a matter of training. He became the perfect human within six months."

"You tortured him," Cal said flatly.

"No," Mother corrected. "We trained him. There is a difference. He needed to learn which behaviors were acceptable and which were not. We used a combination of negative and positive feedback to help him learn his place. And he's happy now that he understands that we're in charge. Isn't that right, Miles?" Miles knelt down next to her, the floor spotless behind him.

"Yes ma'am, I'm very happy now. I live to serve you."

"You're so sweet," Mother said with a smile. She placed her hand on Miles's head, like he was a favored dog. Cal felt ill. They had broken Miles. His spirit, his personality, was gone. He was a shell of the person he used to be. Obedient because that was the only choice he had. They were going to do the same thing to him and Renn. It might take longer, but one day he would be the one kneeling next to Mother in submission. Cal shuddered.

Taglist: @dragonqueenslayer6 @whumpsday

[splendidissimus]

November 1999 - "You're doing it to yourself."

((Content warning: sleep deprivation, hallucination, abusive parent))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 2: Delirium ))

Genre: whump

Romance level: negligible

Angst level: 5/5

Draco's headspace: depressed / passive

((words: ~1000))

------------------------------------

Draco had been staring through the same page of a book on his desk for some time, the words drifting around unsteadily while he didn't even try to comprehend them, when a familiar voice gnawed at the edge of his attention. He raised his head, blinking, trying to pinpoint it.

Just as he resigned himself to giving up and started to drop his head again, there it was, under the sound of the rustling book pages. He could swear he heard Theo calling his name. 

"Theo?" He pushed away from the desk and stood stiffly, rubbing his aching shoulder. He wasn't supposed to be here. It was months since Father made them part ways, and he would be furious if he caught him here. But coming back against explicit orders and implicit threats just because he wanted to sounded exactly like something Theo would do. Theo who had shown up at the gate calling to see him despite the Death Eaters in the house. Theo who bartered with him in public over kisses because it made him forget he was ill.

He didn't think he heard an answer, but he had to find him before someone else did and send him away where it was safe. 

Outside his door, he paused, listening, but didn't hear him again, so he went for the stairs, figuring he would be downstairs somewhere.

He didn't hear Theo again; he spent a while checking, but there wasn't any sign of him, and eventually he started to wonder what he had actually heard. 

It felt too exhausting to go back upstairs immediately, so he ended up staring out the bay window at the garden. There was a young peacock there, scratching at the edge of a flowerbed, shining white in the watery sunlight. He watched it for a while, not thinking anything, but vaguely relaxed. 

A shifting in the shadows caught his eye, and he was trying to focus on it when iit suddenly resolved into Nagini — striking out with lightning speed to seize his peacock. "No!" He hit the window like that could stop it. 

Then between one blink and the next it was gone. The peacock was looking up at the window in cautious alarm, but there was no snake. 

And of course there couldn't be, anyway. Nagini was dead, he'd seen the body and the head spread across the Hogwarts lawn. She was as dead as her master. He knew that. 

"What are you doing?" 

His shoulders tensed at his father's voice behind him. He wished he had a good answer. "I apologise," he said properly, turning around and looking toward his father's feet.

"That wasn't the question."

He stole a glance back toward the window. Still no undead snake. The peacock was ripping down a flower with its talons now, to try to get the fairy sitting on the top of it. "I thought I saw…" Nothing. He clenched his hands behind his back. "I think something's wrong." He dragged the words out past a mind that didn't want to say them, looking back at his father's face. "I keep seeing things that aren't possible." 

His father studied him. "Like what?" 

"I thought I saw Nagini going after the peacock. Or heard… somebody… in the house." 

"The snake is dead, and no one has been here."

"I know." 

His father came closer to look out the window, then looked him over, studying him for a long minute. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Not that long," he said quietly, but his hard eyes demanded an answer. "I think Friday," he admitted, even more quietly.

"For Merlin's sake." His voice was sneering and his expression impatient. "If you haven't been to bed in five days, of course you're seeing things. You're not ill, you're doing it to yourself." 

Draco didn't respond. He didn't have any excuse. He looked into the middle distance, his father's words sinking in without resistance.

The lack of reaction seemed to be even more irritating. "Am I supposed to believe," he snapped, "that you need a nurse to tell you not just to eat, which you've obviously not been doing, but also to sleep now? You are a grown man. Even toddlers know to go to sleep when they're tired. Do you need to be told to use the lavatory too?"

He continued to stare impassively, until his father grabbed his jaw and lifted his face, forcing him to answer the rhetorical question. "No," he said, insides crawling with shame. 

"What a positively minimal accomplishment." He threw down his face. "Elf!"

Tolly appeared beside his foot, cringing a look up at him. "Master?"

"Until further notice, Draco's bedtime is ten o'clock. You will put him to sleep at precisely that time, regardless of where he is or what he's doing."

"Don't," Draco pleaded quietly. 

Finally getting a reaction gave his voice an edge of satisfaction. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," the elf squeaked promptly. "Tolly will make sure Master Draco sleeps." 

"Good. Shall we have her feed you as well?"

"No." 

"No? Are you certain it isn't too much responsibility for you?"

"Please." 

That display of submission seemed to mollify him. His father didn't respond, but walked away with contempt dripping from his voice. "Grow up." 

Tolly vanished and swiftly spirited a tea tray into the window to try to make Draco feel better. 

Draco didn't move. He stood there in front of the window, staring at the floor, fighting off every physical reaction he wanted to do. He wanted to mess with his hair, grab his head, clench his fists — he carefully took all of it, all of the energy behind those urges, and pushed it down, down until it was buried and he didn't react at all.

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

What if Adam will come back to his father? Would he be locked like teddy? And what will happen to teddy?

TW: Abusive Parent, murder

Canonically Adam never comes back. He is no contact and has been since he was 18.

If he somehow learned about Teddy, he’d turn over anything and everything he could to the police to help them, but he’s not coming to that house.

If somehow someway he did? Honestly? I’m afraid Bernard would end up killing him. Bernard is not mentally well. He remembers Adam a very specific way- a way that is not and never was real. If Adam actually came back he wouldn’t be able to deal with the conflict. Teddy would remain trapped as this version of a person that never existed.

[unlockthestars]

Darker vibes // Accepting

@eiiskonigin asked: ❛ fucking hit me already. ❜ / for jacques. teenage rebellion much?

Oh, but he was tempted. Winter was trying his considerable patience, and it would be so easy to let his temper get the best of him. But he was certain that that would only give her the satisfaction of calling him a "monster," someone who would strike their own child.

Instead he straightens his tie, looking down at the girl in front of him, the girl who was more like him than she would ever admit. She wasn't worth the effort it would take to clean up the mess that such a thing would cause.

"I'll not stoop to such a level," he growls out, getting to his feet. "Go to your room. You are to stay there until you are told otherwise." He'd already engaged the bars on the windows, and the door lock would engage once she was inside. And he would be keeping Klein extra busy to make sure he didn't attempt to interfere.

[crowleaf]

They should invent a father who is normal and has normal conversations with his adult child (venting continues)

Apparently he called my mom first and asked her if I had 'written him off' because he 'misses talking to me even though [I] get mad sometimes'.

My guy, I get mad because you talk to me like I'm still twelve then have your own tantrum when I respond like an adult. I'm out to my immediate family as trans (only out as nonbinary to my mom because I cannot be bothered to explain the nuance of gender to boomers) except him. Because he has a fit over everything, and is so confusing about his political stance that I don't know if he would start calling me his son or come to my house and threaten me with one of his fancy ass 'collector's edition' guns.

My mom also said he sounded like he was drunk, which was my first thought. Don't know why else he'd be randomly texting me on a Saturday afternoon. She said if I do decide to reply that I should wait until tomorrow, unless I want to deal with that, which. I don't want to deal with any of it, but I know I'll feel guilty if I don't answer at all. I shouldn't feel bad, I owe him nothing, but I know I will.

I'm so tired and I'm too goddamn old to be worrying about what my father thinks of me.

[classycookiexo]

[star-anise]

In a sick way I find it really funny how toxic estranged parents say "in the old days, people had to stick around and work their issues out!"

Things People Did Back in the Old Days to Escape "Working Things Out" with Their Parents, A Short List:

Murder them!

Marry literally anyone who'd get you away

Fisticuffs

Change your name and pretend to be an orphan

Move out and feud with them for several generations

Join a monastery

Move to the city and get a job in a factory

Buy passage on a boat to some other continent

Convert to a different religion

Join the Navy

ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING

It's incredible, the number of things people would do to get away from shitty parents. Then and now.

[grimbunnies]

Ophelia: "Thanks for the scarf."

Johnny: "I just want you to feel comfortable. You're beautiful, Phi, and it looks great on you. I'm glad you like it. Now, how about I take you out on a date?"

Ophelia: "That sounds... so fun!"

Ophelia: "I just want to say, I'm really thankful I met you, Johnny. Home isn't... always great, but when I'm with you all my worries fade away."

Johnny: "One day, I hope you'll tell me what all is going on. I want to help."

Ophelia: "I know. You want to save the world. But you're already saving me just by being you."

[animentality]

[whumpy-writings]

Helpless

Febuwhump 2024 Day 1

The Dhampir Files Masterlist

CW: Non-con drugging, abusive parents (whumpees are adults), carewhumpers, reference to murder of parents

"You're an old man now, ya know that?" Cal leaned against the doorframe, smirking. Renn rolled his eyes.

"You're older than me."

"Exactly. Welcome to the old man club, where our favorite activity is napping and complaining loudly about the weather." Cal crossed the room and ruffled Renn's hair. Renn slapped his hand away playfully.

"But seriously, Renn. Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," Renn said. "I honestly can't believe I'm twenty. Part of me didn't think we'd live this long."

Cal sighed. "Wow, way to bring down the mood." He wrapped Renn in a hug. Renn closed his eyes and squeezed his brother back. They were dhampirs, half human and half vampire. They weren't supposed to exist. If the authorities ever discovered them, they would be executed. There had been several close calls over the years, but they had so far evaded detection.

"Boys! Dinner is ready," Silvie called from downstairs. She was the human housekeeper who had taken care of them for the past few years. Ever since things with their vampire parents had gone sour.

The two boys tromped downstairs. Renn breathed in the scent of rosemary roasted chicken. It was his favorite meal.

"It's smells delicious in here." Renn pulled out his chair and settled in, Cal in the chair across from him.

"I would hope so. I've been slaving away at the stove all day. There's mushroom soup, rosemary chicken, mashed potatoes, and a lemon cake for dessert." Silvie put a dish of butter on the table, removed her apron, and sat down.

Renn's mouth watered at the feast. He started to fill his plate. "Thank you, Silvie. Everything looks amazing."

"Anything for you, Renn. Happy birthday."

They talked and laughed as they ate. Renn drank the cup of blood Silvie had provided for him to wash down his dinner.

Silvie brought out the cake and she and Cal fussed over how best to arrange the twenty candles on top.

"Well make a wish," Cal said.

Renn stared at the flickering flames, contemplating. Then he blew out the candles. I wish for twenty more years just like this.

The cake was, of course, heavenly. Renn leaned back in his chair. "I pronounce this birthday feast a success." He got to his feet and started to gather the dirty dishes.

"Hey, I got those," Cal said as he swatted Renn's hand away. Renn let his brother have the dishes. Cal was at the sink when Renn noticed Silvie crying.

"What's wrong?" Renn pulled out a chair next to her, his brow pinched in concern. She looked at her lap and sniffled into a handkerchief.

"Oh, nothing. You boys are just both so grown up." Sylvie looked at him with a sad expression. "It feels like it went by so fast." She stroked his cheek. "I'll miss you."

"What do you mean?" Renn asked. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sylvie's eyes widened. "I mean . . . I'll miss the little boy you used to be."

Renn couldn't suppress his snort. "Really? I think I single-handedly gave you at least three-quarters of your grays."

Sylvie laughed. "You weren't that bad. I only got half from you, the other half came from your brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cal called from the sink. "I'm an angel."

"What about that time you brought an entire bucket of frogs into the house?" Renn asked.

Cal spun around. "It was freezing outside! I was trying to save them."

Sylvie chuckled. "I swear my heart almost gave out when I woke up to a frog on my pillow."

The rest of the evening passed quietly. Renn changed into his nightclothes and climbed into bed. It was early spring and he left the window cracked open to get the cool night breeze. The only sounds were the chirping of the crickets and the wind whooshing through the leaves. Renn, Cal, and Sylvie lived in a little house out in the country, far away from prying eyes. It hadn't always been that way. Renn shook off the memory. They were here now, that's what mattered. He was just about to put his candle out when there was a knock at his door.

"Come in."

Sylvie came in, a candle in one hand and a cup in the other.

"I brought you some tea," she said as she set the candle on the table. "I know how much you like the chamomile."

Renn sat up in bed and took the teacup. "Thanks. Does it have-"

"Yes, I put in two dollops of honey."

Renn grinned. "You're the best, Sylvie."

Renn took a sip of the tea. He sighed at the sweetness. Sylvie sat down on the edge of his bed.

"I love you, Renn. Please always remember that."

Renn's forehead creased. "I love you too. Are you alright? You've seemed sad today." He took another sip of his tea. He could feel a headache coming on.

"You've always been such a sweet boy. I asked them for more time, but they said it had to be now."

"Wh-what are you talking about?" Renn asked. His vision blurred and his head pounded. He suddenly was so, so tired. Sylvie took the cup from him as he fell back against the pillows.

"I'm sorry," Sylvie said. Renn's eyes widened. She had drugged him. But why? He tried to move away from her but his limbs were as heavy as lead. Sylvie shifted his head into her lap. "Don't fight it. It's no use. Just relax, Renn." Renn's eyes drifted shut. He forced them open. He had to get away. He had to warn Cal. He attempted to yell but all that came out was a strangled sob. He was going to die. He had always thought he would burn to death. That someday the authorities would discover him and Cal and have them burned at the stake for being monstrosities. He had never thought it would be like this. Drugged by the woman who he loved as if she was his own mother.

"It's okay honey, it's okay," Sylvie soothed as she ran a hand through his hair. "You're just going to sleep for a little bit." Renn wanted to pull away from her, but he was completely helpless. The last thing he saw before the darkness claimed him was the tear sliding down Sylvie's face.

Renn floated in the darkness for what felt like eternity.

"He's more sensitive than Callum," a voice said. "She should have given him a smaller dose."

"She had no way of knowing that," another voice said. "He'll be fine. It'll just take a little longer to get through his system."

Renn whimpered. His head pounded and he had never felt so sore in his life. He blinked his eyes open. The light burned and he snapped them shut again with a groan.

"Ah, you're awake!"

"W-" Renn coughed. His tongue felt thick and a bout of dizziness washed over him. He tried again. "W-where am I?"

"You're home, my beautiful boy. You're finally home." That voice. Renn knew that voice. With enormous effort, he opened his eyes.

"Mother?"

"Yes baby, I'm here." She looked just like he remembered. Long black hair pulled back into a sensible bun, a no-nonsense gray dress, eyes that sparkled with what he had once thought was love. He knew better now.

"You had Sylvie drug me," he said.

His father spoke up. "I'm sorry about that, it must have been unpleasant. But you never would have come home otherwise."

"Of course not!" Renn yelled. His heart pounded and he was hit by the instinct to flee. He had never wanted to see them again. Not after he had seen them murder his human mother and Cal's human father in cold blood. "You killed them. You killed our parents right in front of us."

Father sighed. "For what it's worth, we didn't intend for you and Callum to see that. The only reason we eliminated them was to protect you two."

Renn let out a deep breath. "Why am I here? Where's Cal?" He tested his limbs and found he could barely move a finger.

"Callum's downstairs. We've already spoken with him," Mother said. "As for why you're here, you'll be helping us to push the boundaries of modern science. You and Callum are the first dhampirs to make it to maturity in generations. We know next to nothing on dhampir anatomy and physiology, so we'll be studying you two."

Renn's throat went dry. "You're going to dissect us?"

Father had the audacity to laugh. "Oh no, of course not. We're much more interested in how your bodies work than what they look like on the inside." That wasn't very reassuring.

"You're too special to waste on something as unrefined as dissection," Mother pitched in. Renn closed his eyes as tears burned. "You must be exhausted. Let's take you downstairs."

Renn couldn't fight back as his father picked him up and carried him to his fate.

Taglist: @dragonqueenslayer6 @whumpsday

[lazylittledragon]

pt 1 of some much requested cyra lore

[splendidissimus]

early 2000 - Witness

((Content warning: Cruciatus torture, mind invasion, hair pulling, abusive parent, abused abuser, self loathing))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 6: Made to watch / "It should have been me." ))

Genre: whump

Romance level: none

Angst level: 5/5

Draco's headspace: angry -> self-loathing / guilty / depressed

((words: ~550))

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"The only thing you've ever done for me is serve me up to Voldemort!" 

With a flash of anger, his father's hand lashed out, and Draco half-ducked but wasn't quick enough to stop him from grabbing a fistful of hair at the back of his head. His head was yanked up to meet his father's eyes. He could feel the press of his mind and shored up his defences, trying to shove his arm away. "Don't—"

His father was a better Legillimens than he was an Occlumens; the walls around his mind were trampled under, leaving him helpless to hide whatever his father wanted. 

But he wasn't trying to take anything. An isolated vision of Voldemort's face swam in front of him, resolved into Voldemort speaking with his father. "It's a shame about your family, Lucius. Malfoy used to be a noble line. To end with such a whimper… What would your father say?"

It swam away, morphed into a different conversation. Voldemort holding an unfamiliar wand in two fingers. "I have already given you your son. Is Lord Voldemort not magnanimous, Lucius?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And yet, you still believe you deserve more?" He tapped the wand, offered, perhaps seized from a prisoner, to replace the one Voldemort had taken from Lucius. "You would ask another gift?"

"No, my lord. I merely thought—"

Voldemort's finger tapped the wand again, and silence fell abruptly. 

"Perhaps, if you are no longer happy with my gift, it could be arranged… Would you rather have this, Lucius?" 

"No… my lord…"

"No? Perhaps later, then. Do let me know if you change your mind."  

It faded to his father on the floor, with Voldemort and Bellatrix. "Shall we have the boy called home to learn his own lesson? No? Again, Bella." Grinning, she cast the Cruciatus, and he screamed. 

Then Bellatrix was screaming. The memories mashed into each other, one Cruciatus into another. They were in the hall, Voldemort cursing everyone in his anger after Potter escaped them. Draco's mother was trying to get him to stand on the stairs, Voldemort raised his wand to curse them again, and his father forced himself back to his feet near Voldemort's side, saying "No!", drawing his attention long enough to give them time to escape. He was screaming as they ran away.

A fragment of a scene leaked into his mind that he didn't think he was meant to see, a different blond teen with a split lip and bloody face, a much older Malfoy man bringing his walking stick down on him again. 

Then the connection broke with a snap that sent his mind reeling as it tried to remember where he was, and he stumbled backward several steps when his father threw him away. His father left without a single word, and in a moment a door slammed. 

Draco fled outside to the winter garden, holding the back of his head where it ached, trying to hold back the echo of his father's overwhelming rage and thread of self control that was barely keeping him from beating him as his own father had. And the feeling that he deserved it.

[unlockthestars]

They do not have a good time on Father's Day. When they were younger, they were expected to be a model child and to 'honour their father' pretty much all the time, but especially on Father's Day, even though they very rarely had money enough to buy anything. They didn't enjoy making things for their father, and they spent as little time with him as possible…., which wasn't the case on Father's Day. They were expected to spend the whole day together 'as a family,' even though it usually ended with some form of violence.

After their mother died and Val ran away from home, they stopped thinking about their father pretty much at all. They're not sure if he's alive or dead, and every year that Father's Day rolls around, if they remember at all, they take a moment to spit on the memory of the man who was nothing but a negative in their life.

[crowleaf]

Ah fuck

Forgot to text my dad today. We haven’t spoken more than like two sentences in over a year now. My mom had said I should text him and I went “nah” then forgot. But I was going to consider it. Then I forgot to consider it.

Now it’s 230 AM and im stupid high and feeling guilt that I shouldn’t feel because why is it my responsibility as the (adult) child to keep in contact with my parent when said parent doesn’t bother putting energy into having a relationship with me???

My dad wouldn’t be able to name my favorite color if asked. He never talks to me he talks at me. He doesn’t know a fucking thing about me. Then he gets upset and guilt trippy when I don’t try to keep in contact.

I don’t even know if he knows my maternal grandma, his ex mother in law, died last year. He’s entirely uninvolved and that’s his own fault.

Why the fuck should I feel guilty for not trying to involve someone who chooses to not be involved