syncopein3d

[syncopein3d]

Whumptober 2024 No. 5- Heatstroke

“Villain.” Superhero landed with a thud, “where is-”

“Hero?” Villain asked, “ugh, Superhero, so boring, so predictable! ‘Villain, where is Hero?’ Couldn’t you at least say ‘howdy do, lovely lair you’ve got here’? You disappoint me.”

Technically, Villain’s lair was really an abandoned shopping mall, but the criminal had the means to keep it running for their convenience. Superhero now stood opposite Villain in the food court. Hero had been taken some time ago, and it was anyone’s guess what Villain had done with them. Superhero stepped forward.

“No more games,” Superhero said, “tell me where Hero is, and I won’t kill you.”

“Kill me?” Villain asked, hand over their chest, “kill me? That’s a little dark for you, isn’t it? I thought you were above murder.”

Superhero sped forward, slamming Villain into the wall by their throat.

“Not when it comes to Hero. Now where?”

“I think,” Villain choked out, “they wanted a little spa time. You know the little ice cube needs to chill.”

“Not specific enough,” Superhero growled, squeezing.

“Oh, but if you kill me now, you won’t get any details about their location at all,” Villain wheezed, “you wouldn’t want a melted ice cube, would you?”

“Talk, Villain! Maybe I can’t kill you, but I can make you just barely alive.”

As Superhero spoke, they landed a punch to their gut. Villain wheezed with what little air they had left.

“Alright Alright,” Villain spoke, “they’re in the sauna!”

Superhero was gone in an instant. Villain slumped to the ground, clutching their throat.

…

Superhero threw the sauna door open. The temperature was set to as high as it would go, and Hero was chained to a handle. Their breathing was labored, and their skin red. Superhero rushed inside. Hero was dangerously warm to the touch. They checked their pulse. Strong, but rapid. Superhero broke the chains to bits and pulled Hero out into the cool air.

“Hero, can you hear me?” Superhero asked.

Hero looked up at them with dazed, glassy eyes.

“Hot, tired…”

“I know, I’m gonna get you help. Just hold on.”

Superhero lifted Hero into their arms and flew out of the mall.

“Where’re we going?”

“The hospital. You’re showing all the signs of heatstroke.”

Hero squirmed in Superhero’s hold.

“N-no- hospital, no-”

“I don’t like it either but you need help. I promise I won’t let anything happen.”

I won’t let anything else happen, more like, Superhero thought bitterly.

…

Superhero paced outside the room. Hero had passed out on the way to the hospital. That had truly sent them into a panic. The staff were all certainly surprised to see Superhero crashing into the lobby with their unconscious protégé, but they sprung into action all the same. Now it was a matter of hoping and waiting.

“Superhero?”

A doctor had opened the door, peeking outside.

“Are they okay?” Superhero asked instantly, “can I see them now?”

“We’ve got them stabilized,” the doctor said, “but we’ll need to monitor them for the next few hours.”

The doctor stepped aside to let Superhero in. They rushed inside and saw Hero almost completely submerged in an ice bath. Hero waved weakly.

“Hey,” they said, the brightness back in their eyes.

“Thank goodness,” Superhero said, fighting the urge to jump in the tub and hug them.

“Am I in trouble?” Hero asked, a nervousness in their voice.

Superhero blinked, taken aback.

“For what?”

“For getting kidnapped,” Hero said.

“Hero, something like that is never your fault,” Superhero said, “you’re not in trouble. I’m just happy you’re alive.”

“What about Villain?” Hero asked, “did you get them?”

Superhero looked down for a moment, then met Hero’s eyes.

“Villain got away,” they admitted, “but I promise, it won’t be long before I put them behind bars.”

“Before we put them behind bars,” Hero corrected.

“Hero-”

“You’re not benching me. I was doing this before you found me and I’ll keep doing it even if you won’t do it with me. So, what’s the plan?”

Superhero’s lips pulled up into a hint of a smile.

“Just rest, Hero, we’ll talk work later,” they said.

Hero nodded, settling back into the ice. Superhero waited until they had fallen asleep, before quietly leaving the hospital to find Villain and keep their promise to Hero.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

Tags:

@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

[syncopein3d]

"oh wow! This faint scene is really cool actu-" GETS HIT WITH WHUMP RAY 💥💥💥

Oops 😬

You're gonna need a really big dust pan

[syncopein3d]

[syncopein3d]

[https://www.tumblr.com/sickfictropes/784879884657901568?source=share]

I see this and raise:

Captain fainting while lecturing the team because they been extra careful not no make any mistake with how hard it it to think with a fever/concussion/injury but the team went off script and the captain had to improvise with whatever resources they had to get them all out alive.

SUCH A GOOD ADDITION

"someone could have been hurt!" *collapses from internal bleeding*

[syncopein3d]

you mentioned liking estranged sisters and also people getting stuck together so what if you put them in the wilderness and one of them got sick from the elements and the other one broke her ankle or something is this anything

i have posted before about my affinity for the "one character is sick and the other is inured so the sick character has to help the injured character walk" trope before and i'll do it again!! this is one of my all time favorites. sick whumpee pushing herself through fever and pain to help a very guilty injured whumpee that feels terrible about asking her to do so much for her. then they finally get to a stopping point and injured whumpee can't do things like go get water or build shelter or anything so she has to watch as sick whumpee does those things, maybe even collapsing once or twice. when it's all over and they can rest, sick whumpee is absolutely out of her mind with fever, unconscious or nearly so, and injured whumpee knows there's not a damn thing she can do about it <3

[syncopein3d]

can a nurgle girl and a slaanesh boy truly find love on the battlefield? artist: me. bronze. 12cm tall, 19cm across. 2025

they do come apart. here they are watching a lecture w me in my apron.

[syncopein3d]

i think there are really only three types of whumpers across the board and they are

1) they inflict pain on others for a very personal reason and enjoy it

2) they hurt others for a “greater purpose” but still get personal enjoyment out of it

3) they don’t want to hurt anyone but they’re scared shitless of the consequences if they don’t. There’s something worse out there

[syncopein3d]

This is flawless in how fucked up it is. This, this set of lines here, encompasses the irresistible dynamic of this whole fic for me. I wish there were more stories with whumpees that are difficult and terrible and broken in this exact, beautifully executed way.

P17. A Crack In The Mask

Finally! Sorry this took so long heh

Past torture discussed, beating, ptsd flashback, unreality, thinking caretaker is whumper

For a second Jesse doesn't recognize him.

Their stomach flips, did Logan bring back the wrong man?

He's half naked, chained to the wall, with a brutal tapestry of wounds covering his body. They can't look at it.

They didn't think this through. Didn't think it would be this bad- how had Logan-

But then he looks up at them, greasy hair falling away from his face, and he grins. Definitely the right man

“Jesse!” There's a new rasp to his too cheerful voice but it still makes their blood run cold and their muscles sieze in fear.

This was a mistake

“Come on in. Don't worry,” he gives his chains a vicious tug “I can't hurt you anymore. Not like this.” he grins like a wolf over a fresh kill. As if he needs his hands to do damage

Jesse tries to swallow but their mouth is too dry. They're sure he can hear the painful click of their throat. They lick their lips instead and try again

“Morgan.” Their voice is little more than a whisper but at least it's steady.

“Jesse.” He repeats not quite mocking

They stare at him. How can this be the same man? His eyes are black and swollen, lips bleeding. Dark bruises and what looks like scratches circle his neck and are scattered across his torso, ribs, and thighs. His lower legs are bandaged from ankles to knees but blood seeps through in places. He's covered in blood, dirty with it. Most has dried into brownish smears but some still glistens red and wet.

They'd wanted to see him like this. Hoped seeing him helpless and afraid would make them feel safe again, but even beaten bloody and chained to the wall he doesn't look afraid.

They still feel afraid

“So…” he says, too casually. “What brings you here? I've been asking about you, but your friends have been… evasive.”

“I wanted to see you.” good. Steady and calm, still quiet, but they sound more in control than they feel. They can't show him weakness

“I told them you would. The idiot blonde, what's his name?”

They scoff “you think I'd resist telling you all those months just to give up and start giving out names now?”

He shrugs, “things change.” He rattles the chains again. “If you don't want it getting back to my bosses you can just kill me.”

“Don't think I won't.”

“Oh I know you would. And if not you, the idiot blonde definitely will. Is that why you're here? Alone? Don't want the idiot to claim your kill?”

“No- I-” why are they here? They wanted to see him, yes, but alone? In secret? It's not wrong to want to see him. Is it? Standing here now the whole endeavor seems insanely stupid. Why would they come down here without backup? They should have just been firm with Logan and Isa. Should have told them they were coming down here like it or not, but they were afraid they'd stop them. Stupid! They aren't ready for this. They want to leave him hanging. Walk right out the door and never hear his fucking voice or see his wolfs grin again. But now that they're here it's like their legs are made of lead. Anchored to the spot, too heavy and weak to carry them from the room.

“You came down here to rough me up a little didn't you?”

They recoil at the suggestion. “What! No!”

He raises an eyebrow “Don't be embarrassed. It's only natural.”

Natural? They'd thought it'd be cathartic at least, to see him like this, but then why do they feel so nauseous?

“You fucking heros I swear to god!” He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “Every time the idiot beats me he looks sicker than I do. It's honestly pathetic. You'd think after years of sending us to those damn prisons you'd all be used to getting a little blood on your hands.”

They don't know what to say

His expression darkens, carefree grin turning to a sneer “You really don't want to? After everything I did to you?” He hesitates “You didn't forget, did you? You do remember what I did to you?”

“Stop it” they can't think about it. Not here. Not in front of him. It's taking everything they have not to remember it. To remind themself that now he's the one in chains.

“You remember how many times I beat you? Whipped you? Broke your fingers? Remember when I pulled your fingernails off? When I broke your leg? Remember begging me not to?” He puts on a whiny falsetto “oh please Adrian please don't do it, please stop.”

“Stop” they mimic, quieter, knowing they're giving him exactly what he wants.

“That's it.” He croons.

They're going to cry. They can feel it. A choking hot coal in their throat burning the back of their eyes. Shit. They reach out for the wall trying to steady themself. Remembering to slow their breathing

“That's it.” He purrs again, “slow breaths.” He matches their pace with his own loud breathing. Eyes bore into them, but his voice is still gentle “Remember how it felt when I whipped you. Remember feeling your skin tear open. The pain. Feeling like it's going to rip you apart? Like the shock alone might kill you? Do you remember how it felt begging me to stop and knowing I wouldn't?” They remember. Of course they do. They still feel the phantom pain in their body every time they move or breathe. “And after all that, you really don't want to hurt me? Give me a taste of my own medicine?” He waits for them to say something but they can't focus, burning tears welling in their eyes.

“Tell me the truth!” He barks, voice taking on the exact tone they're used to.

They snap. They aren't in the basement anymore. He isn't the one chained to the wall. He's standing over them as they're huddled on the floor.

He's going to hurt them.

He is hurting them.

They feel the whip against their back, their leg breaking, remembered agony mixing with the real lingering pain.

He's laughing at them. Watching them writhe on the floor soaked in their own blood and tears.

“That's it Jesse. There you are. This is what I made you-”

The cell door slams open

“It must be so exhausting.” his voice rising to a scream “pretending for your little friends. Pretending you're the same person who went away. Pretending you're still a person at all- oof”

Jesse is screaming, or are they? They can't hear themself over the panic in their head. Everything feels like it's happening in slow motion.

The wet thump of fists on a body

Jesse can't remember where they are.

Are they being beaten again?

It hurts

They open their eyes. Across the room Morgan's legs give out. His feet scrabble at the floor desperately trying to regain his footing. Logan's screaming in his face, something unintelligible, far away.

There's blood everywhere, so much blood. They feel it on their skin. On their face, wetness, maybe it's tears. They shrink further into the corner, whimpering in terror, each blow feels like it's landing on them.

Blood flies from Morgan's lips spattering across their face

Like they're in a dream they reach up to touch it. Their fingers come away red

Morgan is staring right at them. Their eyes lock and his face suddenly feels inches from their own.

Something shifts and it's like they're seeing him for the first time

Black swollen eyes, red stained lips contorted into a snarl of pain he's trying desperately to control.

He yelps, a short sharp sound, and they watch the mask crack, revealing a flicker of terror so raw and familiar it feels like their own.

For a second it's like they're seeing into him.

His sneer brittle and sloppily plastered on to cover the lapse. Hollow laughter forced out instead, sharp with broken edges. The mask meticulously crafted to appear care free forced over something worse, something broken.

They've been reading him wrong all this time

This man was never strong. Never the confident powerful figure they'd grown to fear. It's suddenly so obvious they feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Everything about him, the nonchalance, exaggerated to an almost cartoonish level. Of course none of it was real. They couldn't see the mask till they saw it crack but now they can see the creature underneath

Pain, fear, hopelessness, perfectly mirroring back to them every feeling he inflicted. It makes them sick

“STOP IT!!” they scream hands flying up to cover their ears. Its too much, they cant stand it anymore. If he won't scream they'll start.

They shriek it over and over

It's him it's them they can't tell where they start and he ends

Logan looks at them. blood dripping from his fists his face alive with fury. they cower from him. Cringing away every muscle in their body rigid with the terror behind Adrian's eyes. A cornered animal with nowhere to run they wait for the blows, but Logan is frozen.

Their screams turn to panicked sobs and Adrian starts laughing. It grates across their ears, different than before. No longer the alien sound of a mad man but the brittle hollow screech of already shattered glass. No less mad, but this time they feel it. They've been there, they've felt that same madness, trapped, alone, hurting, trying to fight off the pain in the only way they can

They want to be sick but instead try to gather themself and look up to meet his eyes. “I see you Adrian Morgan” their voice empty. As hollowed out as his own.

The smile twists from his face into a snarl of pure hate.

And then Isa is there. Strong arms wrapping around them. Gentle hands combing through their hair. Soft words that Jesse can't hear as they guide them to shakey feet and usher them from the cell

They turn back, giving Adrian a final look. Rage, contempt, pain, longing, disgust, all twisting his face into a mask of itself so false and confused it's impossible to separate from the face beneath.

They look away, letting them themself be pulled from the cell.

Prev | Masterpost | Next

Tag list: @whumpacabra @turn-the-tables-on-them @kiichu @whatwhump @jay--o @starsick1979 @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @syncopein3d @fuckcapitalismasshole @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @mannerofwhump @randomfixation

[syncopein3d]

Leon pulse ox Leon pulse ox Leon pulse ox-

[syncopein3d]

Caretaker carefully sitting beside a newly rescued whumpee, keeping their voice low,

“Hey, there… our doctor needs to take a look at you, okay? Don’t worry, nothing will happen. Just need to make sure you’re not hurt too much, before we go somewhere safer. I’ll stay with you, nothing bad will happen.”

[syncopein3d]

also i'm a big fan of when caretaker says stuff like "easy, easy. you're okay" like they're soothing a wounded horse

[syncopein3d]

I like both this scenario and the one it is subverting, where the team is meeting with an untrusted party who doesn't know the living weapon is that. So when everything goes south, they are completely unprepared for whatever is about to happen to them. The Murderbot Diaries sometimes trade in this kind of setup and I never get tired of it.

The whole ‘secret meeting, come unarmed’ trope but with a living weapon. As soon as the team arrives, they’re searched heavily for weapons, and living weapon is escorted out of the room with all the other contraband found.

Living weapon being kept in a bland, locked room whilst the team discuss plans and the possibility of a truce with their enemy, unable to know how it’s going or if their team is safe.

Bonus points if this is post-whump where living weapon is recovering with the team. I imagine them being treated like any other gun or blade would be pretty harmful to the recovery stage.

[syncopein3d]

"I'm sorry. You weren't ever supposed to see me do that."

[syncopein3d]

Whumpee's pulse quickened. He knew he was being followed... He staggered bleeding through the carpark - straight into an ambush.

A swift blow to the ribs with a solid metal pipe and hard kick under the chin as he he went down - he grunted with sheer primal frustration and drive to survive, he attempted to crawl away before a strong grip grabbed his ankle and began dragging him towards the van.

He shouted out for somebody... anybody.

He felt someone grab a hand full of his hair reefing his head to the side, a syringe full of blue fluid was injected.

The faces of his captors blurred into blackness.

[syncopein3d]

A Rule of Lesbians

I normally don't read YA in general. There are exceptions, like A Deadly Education, Valiant by Holly Black, and the Abhorsen books, but a lot of them are first person from the perspective of a very specific type of girl I've never related to. A book has to be something special and unusual to overcome that trope for me. But also, the books of this type that bore me to tears are usually straight as Hell, so lesbians in the premise is a good start. I mean there are bad places to go with that, but it'd get a second look.

Spin this wheel first and then this wheel second to generate the title of a YA fantasy novel!

(If the second wheel lands on an option ending with a plus sign, spin it again)

Share what you got!

[syncopein3d]

characters apologizing for things they have no control over. mumbling sorry while losing consciousness. feeling ashamed of a bleeding wound. embarrassed when an infection sets in. deep seated feverish guilt when they need to be carried, when their legs won't keep them upright anymore and they lean heavy on a friend, slurring apologies..........