Whumper flicks the side of Whumpee's head with a huff of annoyance, going back to reading their book.

Whumpee ignores the brief sting of pain, weaving their fingers together and fixing their eyes on the floor. "Why are you.." They mouth the words to themselves, barely a whisper escaping them, before they take a short breath and speak properly. "Why are you so.. mean to me? I don't know what I did. I don't ever know what I did. You're always upset with me."

"Because you're annoying." Whumper answers without missing a beat, turning the page. They feel Whumpee's eyes hovering on them, though, so they roll their eyes and close their book. "Because I don't like you, Whumpee. I don't know how you ever got it in your head that I do." They reach up to pat Whumpee's cheek patronizingly. "But I keep you around because you're useful, and I don't throw away things I have a use for. So be a dear and get supper started, will you? Make up something creative tonight."

After a pause and a frown, Whumpee stands up to do just that.

When Caretaker had returned from work that day, the first thing they did was make a steaming cup of raspberry tea. They like to settle in a reading nook in their bedroom, hands wrapped around their cup, while an open book sits on their lap. It makes for a wonderful afternoon, especially when they're exhausted and frustrated from the day - which is most days. 

The knock at the door makes them sigh. Just as they'd settled down, too. They considered ignoring it, but when they hear another knock, the haul themselves up with a grumble and pad to their front door.

The person at their door is made clear to them once they open it. No, not a person. A pet, kneeling in front of their door and shivering from the cold. 

- 

Pet trembles, resisting the urge to hide their face in their hands. Oh, they've never been more embarrassed, not ever. Being thrown out was humiliating enough - but getting so desperate to beg in front of doorsteps to be taken in? They could hardly think about it without wanting to hide in a cabinet somewhere and never come out! 

But what else could they do? It was the middle of winter, Pet was starving, and sleeping on the streets was sure to freeze them to death. No one wanted to take in an ugly pet like that, especially not one that had so clearly been thrown out. No, they had to take matters into their own hands. Which was stupid, too - no one wants a pushy pet, either! No wonder Pet had been thrown out!

They bow their head submissively, then move a bit to point to a collar wrapped around their neck. No nametag. “I, I’m a pet,” They say, like it wasn’t obvious. Stupid. Off to a great start, making the human feel dumb already. “A-and, I, I’m already trained, I’m obedient, I can do any chore you need. Or- or don’t need. I can be pretty, or- or sweet, or- or anything, and..” They trail off, hearing a dog bark from within the house. Their heart sinks. This human already has a pet, and a dog at that. Dogs are much easier to handle, and more rewarding, too. “And anything you want.” They finish quietly, shoulders slumped. Where will they go now? It’s nearing night, and it smells like it’s going to start raining.

They feels the human’s eyes on him, probably looking for flaws. They aren’t hard to find, Pet has plenty of them.

Instead of kicking them down, or slamming the door shut, the human squats down in front of them. Pet's shivering gets more frantic. Stupid, stupid! Sit still, you just said you were trained!

“Hey,” The human said. Their voice is low, and nasally, but comforting to hear. “Do you want to come inside? You look like you’re just about to freeze to death.”

"I think, sometime.. we should leave." Whumpee 1 says vaguely, laying on their back, watching Whumpee 2 run their fingers through their hair. The cold ground of the cell makes their legs shiver, and they curl up further into Whumpee 2's lap.

Whumpee 2 laughs. "Good plan, I agree." They say, running a finger over a deep cut on Whumpee 1's lip. "When did he do that?"

"Earlier. I dropped a plate." 1 brings a hand up, running their own finger over the slash. "It's not so bad, he just slapped me. His ring cut into my lip."

2 gives them a 'hmm' sound in return, going back to playing with their hand. "When should we leave?"

"After I break all his plates." 1 smiles, a rare sight. 2 likes it when 1 smiles. A real one, not one they put on to make Whumper pat their head and tug their leash.

"Now, how're you gonna feed me if there's no plates, huh? Thought someone was supposed to feed the animal locked up in here." 2 raises an eyebrow teasingly.

"Well, he's got me in here now too! Maybe he'll be normal and get a fish or something. Then we can leave."

The two of them laugh, hearing the slightest echo of their joy.

It's little moments like these, happy ones, that make 1 and 2 hold on. Neither of them are sure how they did it before.

Of course, as soon as Whumper finds them one day - asleep and curled up in the corner, 1's leash is reattached and they're brought back inside. So much for that.

Wash

warnings: nooses (not in a suicidal manner), captivity, morally grey whumper, descriptions of hanging / loose / broken skin, nudity (non sexual and not described), implied pet /  institutionalized whump   <3 i’m not so active on tumblr anymore but i’ve been thinking about these boys a lot!  Jak huffs to himself, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. Stupid, stupid captain and stupid elf and stupid everything. The last thing he wanted was to look after the thing, yet here he is.

"Jak, you seem rather interested in our captive. Or so I'm told. Why don't you keep an eye on it today? The others tell me they're tired of seeing it everyday. Keep it out of our way."

Yeah, whatever. At least it's a day off from training. The spot he'd chosen off of camp wasn't so bad either. A quiet area, in front of the river and surrounded by woods. He sits on a stump, the elf kneeling next to him in the grass. A rope wraps around its neck, loose for now, but the threat of Jak yanking it tight persists. He wishes he didn't have to hold it.

"Nice day, huh?" Jak says, looking over to the elf. It doesn't respond, eyes closed and head tilted toward the sunlight. He supposes it might've missed it after being tied up under an outdoor tent for days. It's fists are curled in the grass, like its afraid it'll float away if it lets go. "You awake over there?"

The elf moves at that. Its eyes - lacking pupils, ugh - open, head turning to face the human. Jak cringes. Maybe he should've let it stay like that. He hadn't really gotten a good look at it before.

Its ears are more mangled than he thought. Drooped down, tattered at the tips and crusted over with blood at the earlobes. As far as Jak knows, elf ears are supposed to stand tall. These look wrung and ripped to shreds.

It's skin, too, smooth yet dirtied with blood and grime. It's nose is slightly lopsided, neck littered with fingerprint bruises. Malnourished, too. It stares at Jak, blinking slowly, lips slightly parted.

"Do you talk?" Elves talk. Don't they? Jak is sure he's heard them speak before. In their own language, yeah, but he's heard English too. Maybe this one doesn't speak. It doesn't look like any elf he's ever seen, anyway.

"Yes, sir." Its voice is clunky, like it's trying to talk around its tongue. Maybe it isn't used to talking. "I can read, too. And count. I was known in my home as a scholar. I know how to do many things," It says, carefully, like it's testing the waters for Jak's reaction. "And I will leave that at that, sir. Do with it what you will." It dips its head again, seeming quite proud of itself. “..Alright, then.” He glances out toward the river, if only to rid his eyes of the other. He doesn’t like looking at it for too long. It’s blank stare is bad enough, not counting the infected wounds and scars littered across its body. It doesn’t look in pain, though. Maybe it’s gotten used to it? Or it doesn’t feel it? He doesn’t know how elves work, maybe it can heal itself and that’s why no one’s been tending to it. “Do you want to work?” Jak keeps his eyes on the water, but he feels the elf’s eyes turn to him again. It hesitates. “I.. want to prove myself, sir,” It decides. “I can be helpful. I can do whatever you need.” It looks down at the grass. “I know you’re taking me back to the jail, though. That’s okay. It’s your job. You seem like you are very good at your job. That’s a good thing to be. Back at home, I was-” “Stop.” Jak exhales, exasperated. “I don’t care what you were like back at home. You clearly don’t, either, we didn’t find you at home. We found you running away.” The elf makes a strange, sort of huffing-humming noise, fisting its hands in the grass once again. “Yes, I know.” It says curtly, dipping its head and closing its eyes again. It doesn’t speak, and Jak assumes the conversation is over. At last.  - How do other elves do it? Aymer digs his nails into his palms, screwing his eyes shut. He wants to be useful, so, so bad, but whenever he tries he babbles on and on and no one wants an elf who talks. He’s surprised the human hadn’t beaten him black and blue for uttering a word, much less a conversation. Maybe it was a test? If it was, he definitely failed it.  No one wants an elf who’s been to jail, either. It’s just his impulses. He runs away, gets thrown into whatever jail finds him first, and thrown into a shelter the next day.  He supposes he’s lucky humans still think elves are useful enough to keep around. He knows many would rather they get killed off. Hunters, especially. The only thing that stops them from killing the elves they catch is the bounty. Aymer’s sure his luck will run out one day, though. Maybe it’s now. Maybe the human took him out here to kill him and dispose of him quickly. He glances up, seeing the human’s eyes dart around the woods. Maybe he’s looking for a place to do it easily. The knot in Aymer’s chest twists painfully.  “Look,” The human starts, and Aymer’s ears twitch in response. “We’re packing up to leave tomorrow morning. You’re going to have to walk all day, and you’re already dirty enough as is.” He stands up, exerting lightest pressure on the rope around Aymer’s neck. The elf stands quickly, legs wobbling. “You can wash off in the river. It’s still and calm here. Just get the dirt off.” He glances in the direction of the camp. “And don’t take too long.”  “I, I won’t, sir,” Aymer hears himself say, stumbling over his words. The human leads him downhill, stopping at the riverbank. He stands there for a moment, as if thinking, then loops the rope around Aymer’s neck on a thin tree hanging over the river. “Just the dirt, like I said. Don’t dawdle.” The human gives Aymer a look, then turns around. To give him privacy, he assumes. “I won’t.” Aymer replies, far too late, stripping and stepping into the water. It’s cold, but not unbearably so, and sways around his legs nicely. He can feel excess dirt caked on his skin already coming loose. He steals a quick glance at the sun, then starts to quietly clean himself. He wonders - no, no, they’re still going to kill him. He knows it. Maybe they just.. want to wear his senses down. Or it’s going to be.. formal? So he should look clean? None of this makes sense to him right now. But he will admit: it feels awfully nice to scrub dirt off his skin after so long.

Colors explode in Whumpee's vision. They grin, maneuvering through the crowd expertly. The pump of the music fills their ears, making their chest vibrate. In one hand, they nurse a beer, while the other claps down on the shoulder of Whumper.

"Shit, are you drunk already?" Whumper shouts over the music, watching Whumpee try to subtly lean on them.

Whumpee grins at them, nodding, raising their glass vaguely and downing it.

"Bastard! We just got here!"

Whumpee laughs, and Whumper does too, the kind that's contagious and makes the both of them laugh harder. They love Whumper like this.

"Hey, don't forget," Whumper says, tapping their breast pocket. Whumpee blinks, glancing down, spotting the baggie tucked safely away. Oh, yeah. They're supposed to be dealing with that, aren't they? "You forgot, didn't you?" Whumper smiles, snorting. "Dumbass, give it to me." They lean forward. "I got some stuff for us to smoke at home. Don't give me that look!"

-

Later, when they're lying on the couch and barely awake, only just registering Whumper straddling their chest, they remember why they hate smoking so much.

"Whumpee, come on. You're being unfair." Caretaker crosses their arms. "How was I supposed to know that shit would freak you out?"

"You, you weren't," Whumpee responds, trying to even their voice out. "It - it isn't your fault. I just need a second to ground myself, that's all." They wipe their nose, rubbing their eyes furiously. "I'm sorry. I'll pull myself together."

"Yeah, you better," Caretaker mumbles. "We can't even hang out like we used to anymore. I'm not Whumper. You know that. So why are you still so scared of me?"

"I'm not! I'm, I'm getting better, I swear, I just -- I don't know why I'm like this, I'm trying to get better.." Whumpee looks down, staring at the carpet.

Caretaker throws their hands up, exasperated. "Fine! Whatever!" They move towards Whumpee's front door, pulling their coat on. "Call me when I don't have to spend every ten minutes reassuring you over some stupid bullshit."

Whumpee stays sitting, willing away tears.

(continuation of this and this)  warnings: noncon touch (non sexual), non con nudity (non sexual), multiple whumpees, dehumanization

It’s wash day. One of the few things Whumpee 1 and Whumpee 2 agree on: wash days are the worst day of the week (or month, in Whumpee 2′s case).  Whumpee 2 is dragged out first, at the first sign of sunrise. Whumper will leave them for an hour or a few minutes, it’s never the same. Either way, they’re chained to the back wall of Whumper’s house, kneeling in the grass and nude. The grass itches their legs.  Whumpee 1 follows, lead on leash by Whumper. Before stripping, Whumper will loop their leash around the outdoor air conditioning unit, then make them sit quietly while he strips them. It’s a ritual Whumpee 1 should be used to by now, yet they’re not. The worst part: Whumper’s silent the entire time. No snippy remarks toward Whumpee 2 that they can snap back at, no faux praise for Whumpee 1 that they can comfort themselves with. Just the sound of the hose.  Whumper leaves it on the jet setting. He washes Whumpee 1 first. The first hit is always the worst. The way the water slaps against Whumpee’s skin, not hard enough to make them scream but hard enough to make them squirm. They’ll try to conceal themselves, but it never works.  Whumpee 1 and Whumpee 2 take it back: Whumper isn’t silent. He’ll laugh, sometimes. Just quiet little giggles or snickers, while he aims the hose at either of their faces or forces them to move by aiming it at their more sensitive areas.  The mud means they usually end up dirtier than they started. Teeth-chattering cold, legs covered in mud and humiliation across their faces. Whumper loves it. It really puts them in their place. 

zeke and tobias, part 5

finally !  warnings: captivity, human weapons, implications of torture tagging: @livingforthewhump @firewheeesky “Alright, soldier.” Tobias clears his throat, tapping his papers on the table to straighten them and sitting up ridiculously straight. He looks over to Zeke, grinning.  Zeke stares back, one hand wrapped loosely around their bandaged waist. They look unimpressed, slumped in the chair across Villain. “Alright, alright. Maybe loosen up a bit, though.” Tobias leafs through his folder, humming softly. Zeke recognizes the tune, but they keep it to themselves. “Pretend we’re on a gameshow. You ever seen one of those? Trashy, but man, they’re entertaining.” Another glance at Zeke. Another bored expression back. “Question 1: You know where Hero is?”  They blink, giving Villain a blank stare. Zeke hadn’t expected him to start with that right off the bat. “No,” They answer anyway, shifting their position a bit. Their back is still sore from that guard. “If I did, I would have escaped already.” Ares would’ve been so proud of them if they did that. He’d never think about replacing them again.  Villain laughs. Zeke decides they don’t like his laugh. “Good point. I’ll take it. Question 2: Do you know where Hero wants to be?” “The fucking Bahamas, I don’t know.” They’re surprised at their tone. They never cuss. Not in front of Ares, at least. And they always, always give straight answers. True answers. They’re supposed to.   Villain laughs again. “Funny. You’re funny. I can see why Hero keeps you around.” Why does that make Zeke’s stomach flip? “Question 3: You plan on answering these anytime soon?”  “No.” There’s a straight answer. True, too. Villain gives them a weird sort of half-shrug half-nod, which irritates Zeke greatly. They don’t know why. Everything Villain does irritates them.  They look down at their palms, exhaling slowly. Warm. Almost, almost glowing that soft light that made Ares curious about Zeke in the first place. Just a few more days and they can do what they’re meant to do. No guards to bother them - Villain had kept that promise, surprisingly - and Villain doesn’t look very keen on fighting, either. Zeke can’t lose.  “You done with that inner-monologue?” Villain’s annoying voice interrupts their thoughts. They looks up, dull eyes boring into Villain’s friendly ones. Stupid.  “Great. Listen, you don’t have to answer them if you don’t want to. Just look over them, okay?” Villain unclips one of his papers from his folder, pushing it towards Zeke.  A long list of questions. Zeke picks it up, crumples it in their fist, and tosses it toward their cot.  “...Or, that, too.” Villain stands up, tucking their folder under their arm. “It’s almost suppertime. I’ll bring your food over as soon as I can.”  “Bring more this time. I’m hungry.” They know Villain will. He’s far too concerned over them for a villain, Zeke thinks. But they’ll take advantage of it if they can.

The elf had been there for two days, sixteen hours, and thirty-seven minutes. Jak had counted. He counted because the elf had not moved in two days, sixteen hours, and thirty-seven minutes.

Well, he had moved. He had cried, and squirmed, and bled, but he did not stand up or make any effort at all to run away. Part of this was because of the thick ropes bounding him down, Jak assumed, but surely any reasonable person would've attempted to escape. Or, at the very least, tried to fight back.

But the elf wasn't a person, was he? He wasn't human.

This, of course, is how the elf ended up here in the first place. Here being their camp. Jak's camp, with his wonderful friends that he's starting to wonder if they are any kind of wonderful at all. Would wonderful people spit on someone's face, jeering and laughing and digging their fingers into their wounds? Would wonderful people starve another? Would wonderful people help tie down another, then sit and count the minutes go by?

Though, perhaps it doesn't apply. The elf isn't a 'someone', anyway. He's an elf. It's different.

And elves are who Jak is supposed to hunt. For good reason, of course. Elves are manipulative, lying creatures, one that ensnare you in charms and take you of everything you own. It's only right they stay chained up in jail.

"Can you believe we found this one so easily?" Jak hears the sound of clashing weapons as one of his friends sits next to him. Her armor shifts as she sits. It looks heavy. Jak wonders why she bothers wearing it when they aren't hunting. "I mean, we didn't even have to attack. He was just sitting there, shaking like a leaf." She looks over to the elf, slumped and asleep. "A bit pitiful, don't you think?"

"I suppose." Jak rubs his hands on his thighs. "I don't know. I'm worried he was faking it. What if it's all a big trick, and we'll wake up one morning with him as the upperhand?"

She laughs. "You imagine things too much. Even if that was the case, he's too weak to do anything now. Don't fret so much. We'll take him to the jail in the town over, drop him off, pick up our due. Just like always."

"I guess so." He looks over to her, then back to the elf. "Hopefully he doesn't slump over and die before then."

-

Aymer quivers, his chains shaking as he does so. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, willing himself to fall asleep. If he does, they'll leave him alone. If he does, it won't hurt so bad.

He shouldn't have been out alone. He knows that now. He shouldn't have run away, run away from the people that were helping him even though he couldn't get it through his thick elf brain that the humans were the good ones. They put up with him for so long, and yet he ran. Just like he always does. Except now, he can't run. He won't.

It's scary, being alone. Surrounded by people who hate you, people who want to see you suffer. Only one of them has yet to work him over with their fists, and he dreads the day that time comes.

How many are there? A dozen? It feels like more. It feels like everyday he wakes up to new pain and a new cruel smile. But there can't be that many of him. The camp is small.

In the back of his mind, he wonders what crime he committed, and he nearly laughs out loud. Stupid, stupid elf, He thinks. You're a slap away from tearing your ears off and begging, begging to be human. You know it's not good to be an elf. That's your crime. You couldn't even be useful. No magic, you're too clumsy for chores, too ugly to sit and look pretty and too human-looking to be put on display. What's wrong with you?

Aymer breaths in heavily, tilting his head up to the sky. He flexes his hands and feet in their cuffs; they're still working. Maybe he could do some sort of labor. He isn't very strong, though.

As he breaths in the dusty camp air, his eyes staring at the sun, he feels a shadow cast across his legs. Someone's in front of him. Waiting. Waiting for him to look, so they can shout, Did I ask you to look me in the eye?! You think you're important enough for eye contact?!, and start pummeling him until he's shaking and crying just like how they found him. Always leave things better than how you found them. Better, in this case, is more beaten.

"Put these on." A sharp voice says instead. Old boots, nearly missing their soles, drop at Aymer's feet. "You're going to do a hell of a lot of walking tomorrow. Best get prepared."

Aymer can't help the frightened tears that fill his eyes.

zeke and tobias, part 4

(part 3 here)

sorry for the wait ! 

warnings: referenced beatings, referenced violence, corrupt guards, 'it' being used as a pronoun, general whump “What happened to you?”  Zeke hisses in pain, pushing themselves up on one hand. The other is clutched around their stomach, nursing broken ribs. “Your guards.” They mutter, breathing in deeply.  Tobias stares at the other. Beaten to hell and back, right eye swollen closed and the other red from crying. They’re struggling to hold themselves up, their arm shaking from the weight. Tobias kneels down in time to catch them before they collapse. 

“Get your - hands off me!” Zeke grunts, twisting around, yelping in pain. Villain pulls their hand back in shock, and Zeke groans when they thump to the ground. 

“You-” Tobias clears his throat, “You’re.. my guards?” He pales. “I didn’t- I never, I never told them to..” He trails off, swallowing. “Stay here. I’ll get a- I’ll fix you up. Yeah.” He stands up, looking unsure what to do with himself for a moment, before he turns and briskly walks out of the room. 

“I can’t go anywhere.” Zeke says to themselves, face twisted in pain. They turn around again, resting their face against their arm, taking in shuddering breathes. They don’t even know what the guards wanted. Entertainment? Stress relief? They’d never interrogated them. 

“Yeah, hold it still for me.” The guard had laughed, while another held Zeke’s arms tightly behind their back with one hand, the other fisted in Zeke’s hair and pulling their head back. The first guard brought a knife up to Zeke’s throat, jeering, delighting in Zeke’s screams and whimpers when he applied pressure. “Please, please, I’m sorry,” Zeke had rasped, wild eyes flicking between the two guards. Their chest heaved up and down, blood dripped from their lips as they begged for mercy.  It didn’t work. “Here, I’m here.” A cool cloth is pressed against Zeke’s forehead, and when they open their eyes, they see Villain kneeling over them. Their stomach flips. 

“Look at it, it’s nearly passed out,” The second guard snickered, digging the heel of his boot over Zeke’s fingers. He kneeled down, face like a bird that’d just caught its prey. Dirty fingers reach up, forcing Zeke’s mouth open, as the guard pressed his boot down on Zeke's ribs. They inhale sharply, gagging on air, trying to close their mouth and breath out but the guard is holding them like that watching them writhe and cough.

Villain wipes the blood off Zeke's cheeks, brows furrowed. Zeke can only imagine why. Is it some sort of training? Are they supposed to be fighting back? The guards hadn't told them to. Surely Villain doesn't expect them to do it on their own?

"Look at this! Dude, I told you, it won't fight back if no one tells it to." Zeke stared at the ground, curling their fingers into fists. They shudder, blinking slowly. "It doesn't even know what to do with itself."

"I'm- Gods, Zeke, I'm sorry. I never would've left you alone if I.. they won't come in anymore. I promise."

Zeke looks at Villain warily, their body tense as he wraps bandages around their arms. Great. So they failed... whatever the test was.

"There. Cleaned off. Can you sit up? I need to do your ribs."

With a sigh, Zeke pulls themself up, biting on their tongue to stop themselves from screaming. They try to hide their pained expression, but Villain notices.

"Oh, gosh, okay, lie back down, that's okay, just hold on.."

I can do it! Zeke thinks. I'm not that weak. I can sit up. Please let me sit up.

But Zeke is gently pushed back to the floor. They stare at the ceiling while Villain wraps strangely clean bandages around their waist, a heavy sigh escaping their lips.

tagging @livingforthewhump

Whumpee wipes their eyes, shivering, wrapping their arms around their legs. "Please, please don't take me back," They rasp, scooting up until their back hits the wall.

Hunter stares down at Whumpee. For a supposedly hardened, cruel elf, they look rather pathetic. Grime covers their skin and clothes, they're horribly malnourished, their ears are mangled and nearly unrecognizable. Don't fall for it, Hunter reminds themselves, taking a deep breath and pulling their handcuffs out. Elves know how to garner sympathy when they don't need it. I won't fall for it.

Hunter can't help but think the sob that comes out of Whumpee is terribly real, though.

"I was wondering when you'd come." Whumpee casts Caretaker a wry smile, looking back down at their chore. Folding laundry - easily their favorite task. So simple. Easy to slip into and tune everything else out. They used to daydream, but they don't do that so much anymore.

Caretaker struggles, the chains around their wrists banging against their knuckles. "Whumpee," they gasp, "Whumpee, please, just look at me! We can get out of this! We just.." They bite their lip. "We just have to work together."

Whumpee gives Caretaker a sad smile. "That's okay. I'm fine here. I'm used to everything; I don't even know what I'd do if I left. You, though, you have your whole life ahead of you." They look back down at the laundry. "I could talk to Whumper. Sweeten the deal somehow." They hesitate, bunching their hands in the cloth. "I can't help you to escape, though. I'm sorry."

"Whumpee, whumpee- listen to me," Whumper growls, keeping their iron grip on Whumpee's forearm. "Pull yourself together." They'd pulled them away from the crowd, into an empty corridor. Whumpee's never seen Whumper look so furious.

Whumpee flutters, furiously wiping their eyes and taking quick, gasping breaths. They whimper softly when Whumper presses their hand against one of Whumpee's bruises.

"Don't blow this for me. It's just one dinner party. Stay at my side and be quiet. That's all I'm asking of you, why is it so difficult?" They snap their fingers in front of Whumpee's face. "Look happy. Hold onto my arm, and don't start crying. Jesus."

Whumper narrows their eyes, staring at Whumpee across from them. They drum their fingers on their desk, sighing. "Whumpee, whumpee, whumpee. What am I supposed to do with you? After that stunt?"

Whumpee fidgets uncomfortably, their arms crossed behind their back. "I'm sorry." They clear their throat. "Um. Sir."

Whumper snorts, standing up. "Uh-huh. Very convincing." They rummage through one of their drawers, humming. "And here I thought you could be a mentor to the others," They say, as they pull out Whumpee's old collar and leash. "I thought you'd behave. Show everyone what happens to good mutts." Whumper steps closer, reaching up to clip the collar around Whumpee's neck. "I guess I was wrong." They pat Whumpee's cheek patronizingly, wrapping their leash around their hand.

Villain slouches, shifting their eyes around the alleyway. Dead-end behind them, pack of Heroes in front of them. "C'mon, not today. I don't want to today."

Leader sneers at Villain, readying their weapon. "Oh, I'm sorry, we weren't given a copy of your schedule," They wrinkle their nose, "You want us to come back later?"

They're mocking. They're always mocking. "Some heroes you are, hounding on a stranger in an alleyway." Villain glances past the Heroes, huffing softly. "Not even doin' anything. Can't I even walk without pissing you lot off?"

"You aren't just a regular citizen, Villain, don't act like you are." Leader meets Villain's eyes, raising an eyebrow. "No more cat and mouse. Nowhere to run."

Villain glares back. "Yeah, real necessary, Leader. Sending your pack after me? I don't even have anything on me. What, everyone gets one punch each?"

Leader grins wolfishly. "How about a thirty second headstart? See how far you can get. Think you'll beat your last record?"

zeke and tobias, part 3

(part 2 here) i need a name for this :sob: idk what to call it. Me and my demons warnings; forcefeeding (implied), general whump elements ? lmk if i need to add more Zeke had gotten a cot, eventually. That Villain had apologized profusely about the wait. It did nothing more than to annoy Zeke. They'd passed the nights by worrying about Ares.

The blanket is nice. It's one of those big, puffy ones, those ones that never get too hot and always feel cool. They aren't sure why Villain provided them with one, but they're sure it'll come into play eventually. Maybe Villain'll make Zeke use scraps of it to dress their wounds. Or they'll lose food privileges as long as they have it. Or.. something. Anything other than this waiting game.

Zeke sighs, closing their eyes and fisting their hands in the blanket. It's only been three days, and yet that's three days too many for Zeke. Villain has kept them well-fed, healthy, and strong. He didn't even stop them from recharging their powers. It's all building up to some horrible thing, and they'd rather not stick around to see what.

They look up when they hear the door to their cell heave open, tensing out of habit.

"Hey there, soldier," Villain nods to them, leaning half in the doorway. "Don't worry, we didn't forget about you. I'll follow up on those questions soon. Some of the guards - oh, I hate calling them that - some of my guys will drop by with food. Tell them if you want anything." Villian gives them a smile, and Zeke scowls back. "I'll come get you when everything's set!" What that means, Zeke isn't completely sure, but they don't have time to protest. The door shuts with a heavy thud, and Zeke is alone again.

-

Later, around when their stomach tells them is supper time, the door opens again. Villain doesn't step in, and Zeke is relieved. A serious-looking guard takes his place. They can handle that.

"Rations." The guard says, dropping a tray of food at his feet. Some of it splatters onto the ground, and Zeke grimaces. "Come get it before I make you work for it."

What that means, Zeke decides not to ask. As they're squatting down to collect the tray, they feel the heavy weight of a boot resting on their back.

Their hand hovers over the tray, and they can practically feel the guard grinning down at them. "What'd you stop for? You didn't think you were gonna eat at the table, did you?"

Zeke exhales through their teeth, closing their eyes. They just won't eat, then. They've gone without food for weeks before. This isn't much different. As they move to stand up, they can feel the guard pressing his boot against it. 

“Go on, where’d that fighting spirit go? What, don’t know what to do with yourself now that you don’t have someone to command you around?” 

They grit their teeth. “I’m not hungry,” They say, which warrants a laugh from the guard. 

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry, did I? I told you to eat.” 

“I’m not going to eat down here.” 

The guard huffs, grabbing a fistful of Zeke’s cropped hair and yanking their head up. “You’re supposed to be good at taking orders, aren’t you? Eat. I’m not asking again.” He pushes down on Zeke’s back, forcing them down until their face is an inch from the tray.  Supper ends with Zeke curled up on the ground, clutching their stomach and hiding their face in their arm. The guard is gone. They’re glad. They might’ve thrown up on him if he was there any longer. 

Knew it, Zeke thinks, a sick sort of satisfaction worming its way into their brain. No one’s that kind to their enemies. That’s no way to get information at all.  tagging  @livingforthewhump