Content Warnings: Restrained, threats of violence, threat of eye horror, blade, noncon touch with blade
Whumpee laughed and shook their head as Whumper stood breathing deeply in front of them. “You’re not gonna do shit,” they scoffed. Their breath floated towards Whumper, almost mockingly from the chair they were bound to.
Whumper looked down at the meat hook in their hand. Their brow furrowed and they looked back to Whumpee.
Whumpee continued to smirk, their bare arms just as unbothered by the chill of the freezer as their brain by Whumper’s threats.
Whumper shifted their grip on the hook and took one step forward.
Whumpee looked up at Whumper, their grey eyes revealing no fear. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Whumper took another step forward and they felt their jaw clench. They had been preparing for this moment for months. Whumpee would be scared. They would be sobbing by the end of it all.
“You’re gonna just stand there, thinking you can break me just with a threat,” Whumpee chuckled again. “You’re pathetic.”
The air from ‘pathetic’ drifted over Whumper and their whole body shuddered. Whumper looked away and blinked. “God,” they muttered. Whumpee was right, they had got to actually hurt them.
“D-Don’t make me,” Whumper warned, their grip once again shifting on the meat hook.
Whumpee cocked their head to the side and smiled.
Whumper’s arms began to tremble, as anger coursed through them. Rushing over to Whumpee, Whumper stared straight down at them.
Rather than be startled or intimidated, Whumpee continued to cockily smile, their eyebrows raised like a challenge.
Slowly, Whumper dragged the blunt curve of the hook down Whumpee’s arm, hoping the cold of the metal would elicit some sort of shudder or shake from them, but nothing.
“You can just let me go, kid,” murmured Whumpee. Their gaze followed Whumper’s as it went down Whumpee’s skin. “You can just let me go and forget about all of this.”
The hook’s point flew to just millimetres above Whumpee’s eye. Surprisingly, Whumpee actually flinched and their stoney eyes actually wobbled for a second.
Sorry, I got behind on these so I’ll post a couple a day for the next two or three days. Oops.
Collared | Cane | Flinching
Ben flinched as the mask over his eyes was removed. He trembled at the sight before him. Jake was stripped down to his boxer briefs and stretched out vertically in an X shape. There was a bar between his wrists and one between his ankles. His brother had a bit between his teeth, and it looked like his collar was fastened to tight. Ben can hear a sort of wheezing coming from him, like he’s straining to breathe. He was blindfolded too.
Ben hadn’t been allowed to see his brother for the last several days. Volkov said that Jake had been naughty and needed to be punished. From the looks of it, he had certainly been punished. There were electrical burns and bruises and countless cuts and scrapes that covered his brother’s back, arms and legs, as well as roughly one inch circular burns that littered his body. What the fuck had caused those?
Ben trembled as he looked at him. What had he done to deserve this? It reminded him of when Volkov had punished him for not coming out of his cage fast enough. Tears slipped down his cheek as he looked him over. Jake was clearly exhausted. His head hung low against his chest, he didn’t look up or acknowledge Ben’s presence. Ben looked at Volkov who had a sadistic grin on his face. God I hate you, Ben thought viciously.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’ve been through punishment, Benjamin. You understand. So, you’ll be teaching today’s lesson to your brother.”
“W-what?”
“You’ll be administering his punishment.”
“I don’t… what are you… what do you mean?”
Dmitri stepped towards him and that’s when Ben saw the cane in his hands.
“N-n-no! No, you… you can’t make me do th-that. No.”
“You’ll administer the cane to Jake’s body where instructed, or I’ll let Dmitri do with an added bonus.”
Ben looked at Volkov, eyes questioning him.
“Refuse to carry out your brother’s punishment and I make you watch as Dmitri get’s to use your brother in whatever way he wants as often as he wants until I’m ready to take you back to our bed.”
Ben swallowed hard. He couldn’t hurt his brother. Not like this. Dmitri put the cane in his hands.
“Please, can… can I please talk to him?”
“Punishment first. Do it and I’ll let you two share a cell tonight.”
Ben saw his brother’s shoulder’s shake slightly. He could tell Jake was in pain.
“Consider it payback for all you have suffered because of him.”
“It’s not like that. I mean… I don’t think like that.”
“Really? You’ve never had a moment where you wished it had been him, and not you?”
Ben drops his eyes from Volkov’s, knowing that he’ll see the truth of his thoughts there. He remembers a harsh conversation where he’d nearly shouted the same thing at Jake at home in their kitchen after he’d been rescued.
“I thought so. Now do it! Or give Dmitri back the cane and watch him utterly ruin your pathetic brother.”
It really was best if he did it. But god, he knew how much it hurt. He didn’t want to hurt him. Even if Jake was to blame, Ben truly didn’t want him hurt. But the only way to save Jake, in this instance, was to hurt him. Would Jake forgive him? He looked at Jake, he couldn’t see his face, but despite his trembling, it looked like he was nodding his head yes. Was he trying to tell Ben it was okay?
Ben held the cane in a tremulous grip. “O-okay,” he agreed in a very small voice. “But, sir, please, c-can I talk to him? It’s been days. Please.”
“You can talk after.”
Ben swallowed and nodded. Volkov would not be negotiated with. He glanced over to see a video camera ready to record the beating. He looked back at Volkov who once again had a cruel, smug smile on his face.
Ben pulled in a deep steadying breath. He didn’t know how he was supposed to do this. He approached his brother. The wheezing got louder the closer he got. “Please,” he said, turning back to Volkov, “could you at least loosen his collar so he can breathe? I can hear him struggling from here.”
Volkov assented and Dmitri unlocked the padlock and loosened the collar, then locked the tiny padlock back into place. Ben was relieved to see a fraction of the tension in his brother’s body loosen.
Ben stood behind Jake, just off to his left. He raised the cane, but it felt thick, heavy and unwieldy in his grasp, despite its apparent suppleness.
“I-I’m sorry,” Ben whispered, and he hoped it was loud enough that his brother could hear him.
The cry that Ben let out as he swung the cane at Jake’s back was nearly as loud as Jake’s when the rod touched his back.
Content Warnings: Restrained, threats of violence, threat of eye horror, blade, noncon touch with blade
Whumpee laughed and shook their head as Whumper stood breathing deeply in front of them. “You’re not gonna do shit,” they scoffed. Their breath floated towards Whumper, almost mockingly from the chair they were bound to.
Whumper looked down at the meat hook in their hand. Their brow furrowed and they looked back to Whumpee.
Whumpee continued to smirk, their bare arms just as unbothered by the chill of the freezer as their brain by Whumper’s threats.
Whumper shifted their grip on the hook and took one step forward.
Whumpee looked up at Whumper, their grey eyes revealing no fear. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
Whumper took another step forward and they felt their jaw clench. They had been preparing for this moment for months. Whumpee would be scared. They would be sobbing by the end of it all.
“You’re gonna just stand there, thinking you can break me just with a threat,” Whumpee chuckled again. “You’re pathetic.”
The air from ‘pathetic’ drifted over Whumper and their whole body shuddered. Whumper looked away and blinked. “God,” they muttered. Whumpee was right, they had got to actually hurt them.
“D-Don’t make me,” Whumper warned, their grip once again shifting on the meat hook.
Whumpee cocked their head to the side and smiled.
Whumper’s arms began to tremble, as anger coursed through them. Rushing over to Whumpee, Whumper stared straight down at them.
Rather than be startled or intimidated, Whumpee continued to cockily smile, their eyebrows raised like a challenge.
Slowly, Whumper dragged the blunt curve of the hook down Whumpee’s arm, hoping the cold of the metal would elicit some sort of shudder or shake from them, but nothing.
“You can just let me go, kid,” murmured Whumpee. Their gaze followed Whumper’s as it went down Whumpee’s skin. “You can just let me go and forget about all of this.”
The hook’s point flew to just millimetres above Whumpee’s eye. Surprisingly, Whumpee actually flinched and their stoney eyes actually wobbled for a second.
im quite proud of this drabble actually… please like it lol
If anyone would like me to write more about any of the characters who are in any of the drabbles for this challenge, send me an ask and the day and I’ll be happy to!
Time to introduce some new characters! It’s Mallory’s 18th birthday and as a long standing family tradition it is time for his initiation, a test to determine if he’s cut out for the family business or not.
CW: character death, reluctant whumper, forced to hurt/kill someone, knife whump, referenced kidnapping and captivity., organized crime whump.
Most people probably looked forward to turning 18, but not Mallory. Because he knew it wouldn’t be like for other people his age; going on to study, traveling, getting a job. A normal job. A normal life. Sadly that wouldn’t be in the cards for him. As much as he loved his family, Mal knew they wouldn’t take kindly to him leaving. Now that he would be considered an adult, he would be expected to join the family business… And his 18th birthday marked the time to make it official; the time for his initiation. Mallory could barely sleep anything the night before, he spent hours staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning as he agonized over what would come the next day. He remembered his older sister’s initiation a few years ago and shuddered at the thought. How she could go through it like it was no big deal was beyond him. The rest of his family dind seem to mind either, several of them seemed to outright enjoy it. Maybe it was something wrong with him for being so bothered by it, when by all accounts he shouldn’t he shouldn’t mind; he should be used to the thought of it by now.
“It will be much worse if the heroes get hold of you”, the villain said softly. “You have to learn to use your healing powers on yourself. If you can’t block your pain signals, you won’t survive an interrogation.” Their gloved hand moved to their sidekick’s next unbroken finger and began to apply pressure. “So try again. Three, two, one-”
In truth, this had always been an inevitablility.
“You’re awake,” the hero said, with something of a soft tone, something of a pitying one. Sealseam looked up at them, feeling the ache underneath his eyes, the tired stress in both hollows of his jaw.
Heartstar was different, here, than they were in a fight. Their color palate stayed much the same, a dusty gold that didn’t shimmer unless it caught the sun, deep browns that matched their eyes and night-dark blues for accents. Their long, dirty-gold hair was down, free hanging, and with their cape exchanged for a floor-trailing shawl they looked like some mix between a Lord of the Rings character and some Catholic saint immortalized in stain glass. They lacked the stony pragmatism they showed on the street. The ice cold, statuesque tension in their jaw and eyes and mathematical deeds.
“I’m awake,” Sealseam agreed, keeping his tone dead, already trying to squirrel himself away in that distant place within his mind, the one where all sensations were muted and the pain didn’t beat as hard, the one his boss, Heartstar’s nemesis, had helped him build.
“How’s your head?” Heartstar asked, extending their hand—the very hand Sealseam had witnessed weilding a lance the last time he’d been conscious—to gently caress the side of his skull. Sealseam bore it. Didn’t flinch away. He knew there was worse to come.
He didn’t answer.
“We know your identity,” Heartstar stated, though it didn’t feel quite as much like a threat as it should have. “Mine has always been public, as I never bothered with masks,” they continued, with something of a self-depricating chuckle. “We haven’t made yours known, though. My team is the only group that knows you’re here, aside from Splitter.” Even just hearing his boss’s villain title was enough to make him flinch. Heartstar paused at that, then sat in the modest chair next to the bed Sealseam was strapped to. It seemed too small for them, like their aura took up more space than the chair could possibly hope to support.
“We need a little information from you, alright?” Sealseam braced. Here it comes. He’d prepared for it, at least. Splitter had trained him for this, broken his bones, he’d reset them and healed them over and over, he’d be able to take it, he could withstand it all. “I promise you won’t be hurt, and if you speak willing my team has the kind of sway necessary to grant you amnesty. Will you?”
Sealseam grit his teeth, worked his jaw, then forced himself to spit on Heartstar’s stupid, golden robes. They blinked, not seeming at all angered or put off, just a little surprised, then huffed out a sigh through their nose. Like they’d expected this, but were disappointed anyway.
“You know,” they said, taking a tissue from the side table and cleaning the spit, “my face has always been public, but my main power has never been disclosed. Can you guess as to what it is?”
Sealseam felt cold dread pooling in his gut, the momentary rush from spitting now chilled down to his bones. He knew Heartstar had super strength, a certain degree of invulnerability or at least toughness that let them withstand things that would break a normal human, and could fly for short distances. Common side-powers that many of the supernatural had. But Sealseam had not ever caught even a whiff of what Heartstar’s true power could be.
“Something so evil-sounding your reputation would never recover from it, if word got out?”
Heartstar laughed, though it was a pained sound. “You’re not far off, actually.”
Thoughts of electrocution, burning, suffocation, bleeding, all forms of torment ricocheted through Sealseam’s head. He could heal himself, he could withstand it, he’d practiced, Splitter had taught him.
“Meanwhile your powers are so naturally suited for healing, yet you’re a villain’s doctor.” They sounded… almost sad.
“Looks like we’ve both made our choices,” Sealseam grit, wishing he sounded more defiant than he felt.
“I suppose we have.” It was coming, it was coming, he could heal himself but in the meantime it was going to hurt. “Hey,” Heartstar said, tone so achingly gentle it made his breath catch, “look at me.”
Gentle fingers tilted his chin, and he found his eyes drawn to their face without really thinking. His eyes met their brown ones, and
The whole
World
Tilted.
Sealseam blinked, breath caught in his chest, and then he let out a deep sigh, smiling. Oh. Oh! Heartstar, they—! Oh, they were, well they were everything! Why had he ever opposed them? Now he could see, now he understood much better, Heartstar was the greatest person in all this universe. In all the multiverse! Heartstar was better than anyone, better than Sealseam’s own life, better than a god! They were the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered, every single event in history had just been a cosmic foundation building up to the exact events it would take to create Heartstar.
They pressed their lips to Sealseam’s forehead, and even Atlas shuddered.
“Heartstar,” he breathed, the restraints on his wrists catching him, preventing him from reaching out and touching Heartstar, his everything, his compass’s point.
“There you go,” Heartstar said, and they were sad, intolerably sad, staring at him with such exquisite sadness Sealseam would kill himself if it meant ridding them of the thing that would bother them so. “Will you please answer my questions now?”
“Of course!” Sealseam said urgently. He’d been such a foolish waste of breath, before, to deny them anything. “Anything, anything you want, my very life, I’d give it, if it was for you.”
“Thank you, but not that, please,” they said, the skin around their eyes tightening even further. “Just the information; I want you alive and unharmed, okay? I don’t want bad things to happen to you.”
Sealseam nodded, agreeing practically before the words were out of their mouth. Anything they wanted, he would do. This was beyond love, this was beyond even devotion, Sealseam knew from now on every breath of the rest of his life would only be taken if it was in service to Heartstar.
“Aw, shit, you had to enthrall him?” Heartstar’s own sidekick, Greensilver, said as she entered the room, notebook in hand.
“Unfortunately,” Heartstar said, “Let’s just get the information and add him with the rest, alright?”
“You’re the boss,” she said casually, shrugging and adjusting her oval glasses.
“Yes,” Heartstar said heavily, “I know.”
@haro-whumps, i am already in love with heartstar (what a badass name!!) i really felt their struggle and anguish with their “villainous” power and their struggle to do the right thing here - obviously mind-control is more ethical than torture to get information but I still felt how much they struggled with this.
they just seem like a conflicted, gentle person and I feel for them honestly (cause I sense that they live in a world where people are separated into Good and Bad categories of powers and I am here for it)
I need to know everything about heartstar’s hopefully extremely angsty backstory immediately
and also!!! poor stoic sealseam…his bracing for torture, his own determination to do his mentor proud…and all to fail so immediately cause he could never win here. agh, thats incredible, we love a dutiful servant!
