#whump??

[kerberosity]

a compilation of Eyk getting bullied 🫶

[erwinsvow]

what’s that thing called where you want your characters to suffer. pitt writers got that bad

[wolf-feathers12]

An idea

Angron as sanguinius's bodyguard/protector!au

( I have very limited knowledge of the books/am still slowing making my way though the warhammer lore and most of my understanding comes from fandom interactions and this is very crackish indulgent idea that probs doesn't make too much sense if you apply some logic to it but hush ಥ_ಥ)

Angron but they find a way to get rid of his nails but he's still very angry ect >:O

Him and sanguinius interact and sang suggests therapy ala blood angel style. Cue a montage of him slowing being shown how to paint, draw and appreciate the fine arts ect. Plus he starts to really bond with sang. (Aparently depending on who u ask sanguinius might have started out as a slave?? So even more sorta bonding over trama type thing? Also i love sanguinius whump/hurt/comfort so yeah boi)

Angron starts spending more and more time with the angel and consequently finds himself near sanguinius when he wakes up screaming and sang comforts him. Maybe sanguinius expirenceing his own nightmares becaue of his visions and angron becoming less and less awkward when he pets his hair and tells him its ok that it was just a dream.

Regardless they both become really close (maybe even ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) close if that's what Ur into hehehe). sanguinius is one of the first people to show him any sort of kindness or understanding appart from his brothers and sisters. He still hates the emperor but he'll endure it if it means he gets to be with his brother.

Cue the horus heresy.

Everything is more or less the sameish with angron hesitating a little to join horus but his hatred for the emperor wins.

(I know that sanguinius and angron fight but er maybe they don't in this au?? Idk just skip to the fight on the vengeful spirit)

Sanguinius is completely exhausted and can barely keep himself upright when he confronts horus but confront him he does .

This is it. This is where he dies.

But just before horus deals the killing blow angron bursts into the room.

Seeing the person who has helped him become something more then a monster, more then his nails, who showed him how to correctly load paint onto a brush, how to read music, who's been there for him in the middle of the night, whose held him when the cries of his fellow slaves grew too loud being literally tortured to death, body broken (flashback to one of his gladiator friends being beaten to death maybe?) Angron realises where his true loyalties lie.

Horus is confused.

"You would protect him even though he is loyal to the same man who let your people die? You serve him even now by keeping the angel alive."

"The only emperor I serve is at my feet now."

"You would defend and obey a broken shell of a man?"

With determination in his eyes, clutching his weapon he looks horus straight in the eyes.

"To my last breath."

Shout out to @heuldoch7b for their post

https://www.tumblr.com/heuldoch7b/762780929429323776/would-your-no-nails-au-angron-look-any-different?source=share

That inspired this au :O

[sseniita]

hello op, I adore the villain you've created in the medical malpractice piece. their energy, their quips, their motivations, their dynamic with the hero. it's brilliant and perfect and please, please do write more about them. "firework" now has permanently changed my mind. maybe a continuation or maybe another one-shot if you're interested? it's great stuff

omg thank u sm,, i was proud of it! and ofc! i didn't have a story laid out for them but im always happy to revisit my works (maybe even w/ suggestions wink wink nudge nudge) !! sorry for the late update, i may be silent but trust, i am lurking

medical malpractice: healing boredom

The villain hadn't expected for this to go on for this long, but the little hero was resilient. If the villain didn't know any better, he'd think the hero was getting as much as a kick out of this as he was. His thoughts took over his mind, only snapping out of it when he heard the squeak from the hero and the flinch away from his healing hands.

"Ouch." Hero cradled their newly healed fingers to their chest.

"Oh, so sorry, firework. I was distracted." The hero returned their hand and the villain got to work on their thumb. Maybe snapping each of their fingers last night was overkill they thought- he shouldn't be giving himself this much work. Each heal was a meticulous and fragile process; it took more power than messing with a frontal lobe or blocking an artery. The villain cursed silently as he moved to the hero's other hand.

"I didn't know you could do that." The villain hummed in confusion, asking for elaboration with a raised eyebrow. "Hurt."

The hero was smarter than the villain thought, but apparently also vulnerable to charm. They dismissed things when disguised as a joke or flirtatious comment. Which explains why the villain now spent their Tuesday and Thursday afternoons playing footsies with the Hero under oval tables at meetings. He had had many close calls.

"Mmm. Everyone can hurt someone, Hero." He responded, focused on the hero's untrimmed cuticles.

"Yes, but I didn't think you could do it physically, with your powers."

"Well, healing involves pain, does it not?"

"You don't make it hurt."

"Ah, you've never been healed by someone as talented as me is all."

The hero chuckled. "So it's a skill thing?"

"Of course. A bad nurse would draw blood during a vaccination," He smiled up at the hero, healing the hero's pinky without breaking eye contact. "but you wouldn't feel a thing with a practiced nurse"

The hero's eyes widened at the realization their pinky had been healed. They wiggled each finger that only an hour earlier had turned purple and gone limp.

"Oh, you are good. Thank you, Nurse." They said, impressed, batting their eyelashes and smiling at their fully functioning fingers. The villain stared at the clock, ticking towards 9 PM and letting him know it had taken almost an hour to heal the hero's fingers. Never breaking fingers again, he thought.

"You're all set. Anything else you needed from me?" The hero leaned back against their arms on the examination table, leisurely displaying themselves in their ripped suit with half lidded eyes. They crossed their legs and tilted their head to the side.

What are you playing at, Firework?

"Well, I don't know. I hate that our little meetings run so short."

"They're very frequent." The villain shrugged.

The hero rubbed over the tissue on the examination table, making an infuriating crackling noise. They continued at it while speaking. "I have a kink in my neck."

"I'm a doctor, not a masseuse, Firework." The villain said, turning his back toward the hero, distracting himself from the noise of Hero's fidgeting by organizing paperwork and folders at his desk.

The hero had been at this game the past few visits. Coming up with excuses and making up stories about them and the villain that he knew didn't happen. Last week the hero had said the villain threw them against a brick wall and broke their arm. The villain had certainly not done that.

He was starting to get annoyed at how peculiar the hero actually was. They blabbered non-stop while he took x-rays, they became very sweaty very fast, and they had acquired a staring problem when he inspected them. He assumed the fighting had finally gotten to them. It always does.

"Well, could you maybe at least look at it?" The villain sighed, mourning the fun he had had the past months. Was the joy of fighting the hero really worth the effort of healing them over and over again?

He turned to the hero, a red and sweaty mess, and moved his hands up their neck, getting close to inspect under their hair, to know exactly where to press. If they were lucky, they'd hit pressure point and the hero would drop dead.

The hero wouldn't stay still, squirming under him and leaning their head back. Their hand reached for his elbow and a light tug had made an effort to make them face each other. Noses just inches away from each other. The villain was about to ask what was wrong before he noticed the hero's glance to his lips.

Oh.

The villain was pleasantly surprised at the hero's delusion about their relationship, but that was neither here nor there. He smiled softly at the hero, taking complete control and kissing them even softer on the lips. He liked being a few steps ahead of them. The villain knew the hero had no self control and so was prepared when they grabbed onto the lapel of his lab coat and pushed him on top of them, deepening the kiss as they went.

The hero was very different in this state. Grasping onto the villain to save their life, throwing the stethoscope around his neck to the floor. Hero was in bliss, and the villain decided to keep going along. After the villain's coat was on the floor but before the hero could reach for the villain's belt, the pair was distracted by a knock on the frosted door.

"Shoot." The hero hissed, finally regaining themself, sitting up and diving for the villain's coat on the floor. Sorry they mouthed before yelling towards the door.

"Justaminute!"

"Hurry up in there!" A voice called from the other side.

The hero was red in the face as they fixed their suit, struggling with the zipper the villain had started pulling down. The villain smirked, taking the liberty of zipping it up the rest of the way, his cold hands earning a flinch from the hero. They turned back towards him, before the hero opened their mouth the villain hushed them.

"I'll come see you later, okay Firework?" Their head tilted, their eyes lustful, and their hands right at his sides, exactly where the hero didn't want them. All the hero could utter out was a pathetic Ok, biting their lip to hide their gushing smile before rushing out of the office, only mouthing a bye halfway down the hall.

The villain watched them leave. They didn't mind the 6 or so heroes awaiting treatment. They had begun to regret their choice, chalking it up to a waste of time and effort. All they had wanted from the hero was the occasional fight to get out of boring afternoons lazing around the mayor's office- that had gotten stale. But this could work too. Oh, this could definitely work too, he thought with a dreamy smile. As he gestured for his next client to come in, he knew it would be a messy healing job- he found himself a tad bit distracted.

Healing his boredom would hurt, it just wouldn't hurt him. If he played his cards right, the hero wouldn't even notice their own destruction. After all, he was a very talented doctor.

[descendinginto-madness]

i'm making welt suffer again (and everyone else too)

aka i saw one (1) post and i have thoughts again

cw: mentions of blood, injury & death; as always spoilers for hi3 lore because it's such a yummy angst material for hsr welt

i literally just talk about the same things over and over again idk what you're doing here /lh protective welt or welt being a dad makes me so incredibly soft i can't do anything about it.

did i make myself cry with this?? next question

one day i'll post actual ff here i promise

imagine the crew getting caught up in a tough battle and no one is safe. everyone gets injured, it's just a matter of how serious their wounds are. so of course welt is hurt and bleeding as well, except he ignores it. obviously. especially after he sees that someone else's condition is much more serious.

maybe it's stelle, because she charged into battle so carelessly like she always does; maybe it's march, because she was too focused on keeping her shield on someone else and didn't notice an enemy sneaking up to her; maybe it's dan heng, he's similar to welt in that regard, because he'd do everything to protect his (found) family.

and welt rushes up to them. he immediately looks for something to stop the bleeding - maybe uses his own scarf. it's long, it'll be easy to wrap around the wounded body part, and of course it won't be as good as a properly put on bandage but it'll suffice for now. and maybe he comforts them; "it's okay, i'm here. it's going to be okay"; and he's all in all a calm man, but right now his voice is even softer than usual. now, even more than ever, he can't show them that he's afraid. especially when they notice the blood on him. "mr yang, you're--" "i'm alright. don't worry about it right now, okay?"

and maybe, for a moment, he thinks about the little boy that was left back home and realizes that there's not much difference in how he feels towards him and the person in his arms. they're his child as much as that little boy, and he's going to do everything to protect them.

but also, perhaps instead of someone from the trio it's himeko; she is a good fighter, she is strong, but the enemy was stronger this time. and welt rushes to patch her up too; and she's tired but jokes around a tiny bit, trying to make him smile, because she knows he's worried sick. and he tries to smile, he really does; but he's also trying to fight off the overwhelming sense of dread creeping up to him, the terrifying thought that he won't be able to save her, that she'll die - again.

he doesn't allow himself to even think of resting until everyone has made it back to safety. and even then, maybe he needs to be forced to sit down, and sit still, so that someone can take care of his own injuries. and he will fall asleep at some point, because he's just so exhausted, but after he wakes up, he will insist on staying with the one crew member that was so badly injured, even after being reassured they're going to make it.

[whumpberry-cookie]

I know I dissapeared for months into the aether but...

Look at this genshin man. Fjwihfqjhfwj

[stupidcanofpeaches]

so the scene with drunk giggly five lives in my head rent-free

and i also put this line in one of my fics: He did find it hilarious when Luther had to pick him up from a diner and the sweet waitresses thought he was trying to kidnap Five at first, and almost called the cops on him. Then, when Five mostly coherently explained the situation, they called Luther a shitty older brother, when really, all things considered, a shitty older brother there was Five.

and ever since then i had been thinking about writing something a little bigger than this bc i just love the dichotomy of five not being a kid but looking like one and people getting (understandably) worried about him

so here it is

the one where a complete stranger thought that five was a kid in a really unsafe situation and got protective over him but ended up being completely wrong

He is drunk, and the world passes him by blissfully. It's not just a metaphor, either; whenever he hazily blinks his eyes open, the scenery changes. The bar entrance, crowds of people wearing brightly-colored clothes, flashes of neon. Then, dark alleyways and buildings and squares of light in the windows. The color of the sky changes from dark blue to an even darker blue and grey and then he can barely see the sky at all. 

Oh. He is being carried.

Somehow, it doesn't bother him much. Not until they suddenly and abruptly come to a stop in a way that jolts him and he squeezes his eyes shut against a wave of nausea.

He wouldn't want to vomit on luther's pants. He barely missed him the last time.

Ah, right. Luther. Luther is carrying him home. How convenient. Domestic, even.

"Hey," someone says, harshly, and their voice is loud and clear. "Hey, you, big guy. Where are you taking this kid?"

It's a woman. A young one, by the sounds of it. Five tries to focus his eyes on her. All he can make out is that she's wearing red.

"Uh," Luther says intelligently above him.

"Is he your son?" the woman challenges him, fearlessly taking a step closer because her voice is louder now. She barrels on without a pause. "Who are you, what's your name? Where are you going this time of night?"

The questioning is overwhelming. That's too many questions for how drunk he is right now. He must make some sort of sound because there's a hand reaching out towards him, touching his cheek before Luther takes a step back defensively. The contact is brief but warm. "Hey, sweetheart," she says, not deterred by Luther's protectiveness. Her whole intonation suddenly shifts into something firm but also warm, pleasant. Like fresh bread. Five remembers freshly baked bread.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

Five hums. He is okay. He's nice and relaxed and okay and still very, very drunk all over which was why he went out in the first place so he's feeling pretty self-satisfied right now, too. He just wishes they were home already because it's been an exhausting, sleepless week, and it would be nice to just get into his childhood bed to sleep while the alcohol is still working.

Or maybe he could just get some coffee to sober him up instead.

He can almost make out her features from this up close. She's not as young as he thought she was. She's still young enough to be only somewhere around his siblings' age. A kid.

"Wait," the woman says suddenly. Her nostrils flare and her already tense posture changes as she reaches into her pocket with urgency, gripping something tightly. "Is he drunk? My god, he looks like he's twelve. What is wrong with you?"

She is - angry. She’s not just a stranger - she’s a stranger who thinks she’s protecting him.

Five can't help but chuckle. The sound is smothered by luther's chest. It's - well, it's a little funny. He's the most dangerous thing here, and yet here is this woman thinking that it's Luther who's the dangerous one. Or that she could do anything to stop him if that were the case.  

Not that Five would want for her to get hurt. It's a little endearing, how concerned she is. A real upstanding citizen.

"Wait!" Luther quickly says. his hands tighten around Five. If his hands were free, he’d probably put one palm up in a placating gesture. Five can remember him doing that before, from way back when, when they were kids. "Wait, it's - I can explain. He - that's my brother. He snuck out. Got drunk. I'm taking him back home to our siblings, that's it."

"Brother, huh," the woman echoes him, suspiciously. her hand is still stuck inconspicuously in her pocket, shoulder turned a little oddly. Tensed up. Ready.

Suddenly, she looks down at him again.

"Sweety, can you look at me?” she asks, leaning close to where he’s dangling in Luther’s hands. “Hey. Look at me, alright? Is he telling the truth? Is he forcing you to say this?”

Luther sputters audibly at the insinuation.

Ha. Luther can't make Five do shit. 

So Five focuses on her and shakes his head. She's lovely. Her full red lips make him think about Dolores and also maybe a little about mother - about Grace. He finds that he doesn't even really mind the silly little names she uses for him. Not much, anyway. 

"'m Five," he informs her anyway.

She frowns.

"That's his nickname," Luther hurriedly interjects. "His name is - it's Fiore? His dad's italian. We have different dads."

Technically, they do have different dads, as far as Five knows, so Luther’s not really lying. Unless they’re twins which, frankly, seems unlikely to him.

"What kind of nickname is that?" she narrows her eyes. 

"Oh," Luther forces a chuckle. "kind of a long story. Right, Five?"

"Yep," Five says.

"Do you have any identification to prove this?" the woman inquires, and Five exhales heavily against Luther's chest.

"I wanna go home," he mutters into his heavy jacket, too heavy and tired to care about the fact that he sounds like a child, and Luther sighs. 

"Just wait a bit, okay? She’s right to be concerned, you know."

"Don't want to."

"Well I can't just leave!"

"Well I can," Five says, but doesn't force a jump - just habitually clenches his fists and tucks them to his chest, the way he did when he was younger, the intention and calculations behind the movement usually just enough to make the space split open forcefully. Not this time.

"Not right now you can't," Luther tells him, "that is exactly why I had to come and get you."

He sounds a pinch annoyed. It's only half-serious.

The woman watches the exchange bemusedly.

"You... do know each other," she suddenly says, slowly, testing the waters, and Luther perks up. The traces of suspicion aren't gone from her voice just yet, but she softens somewhat.

"Yeah," Luther hurriedly confirms, relieved. "We - we grew up together. Well, I mean, I saw him grow up. We are brothers. Honest. Aren't we, Five?"

"I’m the oldest," Five adds smugly, and the woman just smiles at him with a tight, odd smile. She clearly doesn't believe him.

"He's - well, he's thirteen, and he's just - going through that rebellious phase. You know how teens can get sometimes.”

Five tries to poke him in the side, digging one bony finger between the ribs. Luther doesn't flinch - probably doesn't notice it at all. “Sneaks out all the time,” he continues instead. “No idea where he gets the alcohol from. We're all... really worried about him."

And now, he sounds almost believable. It occurs to him that Luther used to be the one pushed into the interviews the most. It appears that this particular old skill of playing things up for the media somehow survived his three years on the moon. Huh.

Are they worried? he suddenly wonders.

They shouldn't be. He's an adult. He knows what he's doing.

The woman seems to relax. Her head leans lower and her tense arm finally pulls out of her jacket pocket. "I do know," she says, somewhat melancholically. “Teenagers can be a pain in the ass.”

She sounds sympathetic now.

"Luther," Five blinks at him. "Let's - let's jus' go. I want coffee."

"You don't need coffee,” Luther tells him, sounding infuriatingly levelheaded. “You need water and sleep. Do you know how absolutely pissed Allison is going to be?"

Five grimaces. He’s not looking forward to getting lectured by someone who could literally be his daughter in terms of age.

The woman rubs her neck and clears her throat a little awkwardly. Luther picks his head up from he’d been staring at Five. "Sorry about that," she finally reluctantly says, and looks Five in the eye again. "Just making sure, you know. Plenty of creeps going around. But he seems pretty comfortable around you, and it looks like he does know you, so..."

"I understand," Luther says, quietly. "I... I appreciate that. You looking out for him, I mean."

Not a lot of people did that before. 

"Someone has to," the woman shrugs. "Take care of him, will you?"

"I will," luther simply answers. It's short and easy - luther completely calm and comfortable in his knowledge.

Well. This is - a little new.

It's not bad.

"He's not - iss’ not dangerous," he says drowsily, just as the woman turns away from them on her sensible low heels. It seems important to tell her that Luther's alright, to prove it that he really is safe somehow. "He's jus' stupid."

"Hey!" Luther protests indignantly, and Five snorts. "Next time, I will send Allison to get you," Luther threatens, "She won't be this nice."

"Wow, I'm so scared.”

"You are insufferable," Luther grumbles, and while they bicker, the woman silently takes a step back - another one - and quietly leaves, just as suddenly as she approached them in the dark. 

Because Five does have someone to look after him. 

At least this once.