#coping through humour (i think)

[kannouo]

Voice of an Angel

fandom: obey me pairing: demon brothers x gn!reader warnings: none summary: the demon brothers react to an mc with a soothing voice. prompt by anon: I have lost my voice and it has sucked 😔 I shall never take the ability to talk for granted ever again. So can I request the demon brothers with a MC with a very soothing voice? Thank you in advance!!! I’m coping. A/N: i hope you feel better by the time this is out anon :( and tysm for this adorable request!

LUCIFER

• Lucifer was taken with your voice from the moment he first heard it.

• As a fan of classical music and a romantic at heart, he often drew comparisons from your voice to his favourite vinyl records — how harmonic and melodious it was, and how even as you bare your rawest and ugliest emotions, your voice still retains that soothing quality, sounding almost like a song. He never put any of this to words, though. At least not at first.

• He had an image to keep up when you first arrived. As the Avatar of Pride, the first-born, and Diavolo's right hand, he needed you to fear and respect him lest you think it safe to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. So, any thoughts that may imply a sense of vulnerability would just have to stay in his head.

• ...Despite his efforts, his tactics of intimidation clearly didn't work on you, so...

• Wounded pride aside, once the two of you get closer, he's a lot more comfortable with expressing his love for your voice. He'll mostly make passing comments about it, leaving you flustered as he proceeds to move on from it right away, pretending to be oblivious as to what he did.

"MC," You tilt your head up at the sound of your name being called and look on over at Lucifer, who lets an uncharacteristically easy smile creep on his face as he approaches you. "I wanted to congratulate you on the speech you delivered today. I'm glad you went through on it after all. A voice as lovely as yours deserves to be heard." "Thanks... I was—" You sputter, his words only now registering as you feel your cheeks burn hot. "—What? What'd you say?" You aren't sure if it's truly clarification you're seeking, or if you simply want him to repeat those oh-so-rare words of praise. His lips quirk into a smirk and he begins to walk away without another word. "Lucifer!"

• Would definitely invite you to his room using the excuse of needing you to lend a hand with his paperwork when literally all you're doing is sitting there and reading some mail out loud to him. He's not that busy, and he's not too terribly interested in what the letters say either, but your voice can make even the most boring subjects engaging.

• Also... Lucifer is stressed. Perpetually. It would definitely do wonders for him if you managed to coax him into laying on your lap and simply talking to him about anything and everything, or even singing a song if that's preferable. He'll act as if he's only doing it to humour you, and it's honestly better to just let him have that one, even though you know he needs it more than anyone.

• He won't admit this, but he absolutely has trouble saying "no" to you at times. You just always ask him in the sweetest voice, he can't help it...

MAMMON

• He thinks he's slick. He isn't.

• Even in the very beginning, he would pull "tricks" in an attempt to make you talk more. Things like pretending he couldn't hear what you were saying so you'd repeat yourself... but you got sick of having to repeat yourself 5 times every time you said anything pretty quickly, so he had to switch it up.

• He starts asking for your extremely detailed opinions on random subjects — honestly, you're not sure how much more he expects you to elaborate on your thoughts on kiwis — or will interrupt ongoing conversations because he's "pretty sure you want to say something". You have to ask him to stop that one eventually. It's incredibly awkward.

• You and everyone else know very well why he acts like this with you, but he'd deny thinking anything was special about your voice to the grave. In front of others, at least.

• If you catch him on a day when he's willing to be vulnerable, he'll be more open about it. No matter what, he's always going to be a little shy about openly complimenting you, but depending on his mood, he might be willing to admit he wants to hear you talk. The subject doesn't matter — you could be saying literally anything, it's all the same to him. He just wants to listen to your voice.

"What's that show you were watchin' earlier about?" An innocuous and, under any other circumstances, innocent question. You had begrudgingly given in to Asmo's pleading to watch The Bachelorette with him, and braced yourself for a long ride when he insisted on starting this journey from the beginning. Mammon must have walked in on you two watching it, but... you have to admit, you're a little sceptical that Mammon gives two shits about The Bachelorette. "...I thought you didn't care about reality TV?" Mammon looks a little stumped at your response. No way is he giving you an honest answer, but... the longer he goes without hearing your voice, the more he feels like the energy is being drained out of him. "...I'm... warmin' up to it?"

• Praise and general words of affection and kindness mean more coming from you anyway, but that coupled with your voice sounding so peaceful and relaxing as you compliment him makes him melt.

• He's also just a smidge more okay with you giving him commands using the pact you two share. Something about it being your soft voice telling him what to do softens the blow to his ego a little.

LEVIATHAN

• I'll give in to being cliché here and say yes, your voice does absolutely remind him of a few anime characters.

• In most anime with a diverse cast, there always tend to be at least one character, feminine or masculine, with a signature calming and gentle voice. He's bound to know at least one or two that sound exactly like you.

• Even if you didn't sound like any characters he knew of, it wouldn't matter. It'd take him a little longer to make the connection, but he'd still think your voice is adorable enough to be in an anime, and to "prove it" will persuade you into reciting a few lines from his favourite shows.

"Beware, evil demons, for I'll plant your rears in the..." You sceptically read through the lines of dialogue Levi handed you and hold up the script. "Isn't this a little...?" "It's fine, the 'demons' in Ruri-Hana are way different from us," Levi shakes his head and waves his hand in front of him in dismissal, looking at you with stars in his eyes. "Anyway, this is Ruri-chan's most famous catchphrase! You need to say it with the excitement it deserves!" You sigh and close your eyes, bracing yourself to get into character. Even if it was embarrassing, you suppose you can at least let him have this... "Beware, evil demons, for I'll plant your rears in the dirt! Ruri-Hana! ☆" "WOOOOAAAHHH!"

• Levi is very prone to falling asleep to your voice too. Not because he's uninterested in anything you're saying, but because it's just so relaxing. He'll get embarrassed and vehemently deny having ever done this if you confront him about it.

• Lowkey wishes he had a recording of your voice to use as an alarm to motivate him to get up in the mornings, but he's way too shy to ask for one. It makes him feel like a creep.

SATAN

• Another romantic here, but not a very subtle one.

• He made a few passing comments about your voice at first — but like most everything he said when you were first getting to know him, it was superficial. It's only when you two grow closer does he truly realise how much he adores your voice and becomes more genuine about it.

• He'll openly compliment your voice and, like Mammon, asks for your your opinion on literally everything. He is slightly less obnoxious about it though. If you're a naturally quiet or shy person, he'll do his best to boost your confidence so he can hear you speak up more.

"Hm? Oh, you're done with it?" Satan asks and turns his body to face you, taking the book from your outstretched hands. He had been kind enough to lend you one of his many, many books after an extremely extensive conversation about your preferred genres. It had taken a while to finish — but you'd finally done it, and it was time to return the book. "Thank you. How did you like it?" "I enjoyed it." You see a pleased smile form on his face. "That's good," he places the novel on top of a messy pile of books that looks as if it's going to topple over at any moment. "Would you like to discuss it with me? I want to know what you liked most about it... and your opinions on the ending."

• Likes to hear you read aloud. He listens to audiobooks quite often, and most of them include people with naturally soothing ASMR-type voices. You remind him a lot of his audiobooks for that reason.

• Hears your voice as his internal monologue when he's reading something with a character that reminds him of you.

• You possess the very rare and valuable ability to calm the Avatar of Wrath's rage with your voice alone. When he's close to entering a fit of fury, in that stage right before he breaks into his demon form, just talking to and reassuring him with that soft voice of yours has the power to ground him. He'll still be angry of course, but at least you can avoid any potential property damage and just have him vent to you instead.

• Another brother who would love to lay his head down on your lap as you thread your fingers through his hair and talk about literally anything at all. He especially likes when you hum or sing softly. He's unlikely to ask for this, but the lack of complaint and the blush on his face as you persuade him into lying down for you tells you everything you need to know.

ASMODEUS

• His voice is similarly pleasing to the ears.

• Of the many, many things he gets complimented for, his voice is absolutely among them. So when he hears you speak for the first time, expect a comment along the lines of "oh, your voice is almost as cute as mine!"

• And as your relationship develops, your voice of course isn't the only thing he praises you for. However, it does make him all the more eager to hear his praises come from your lips.

• He gets showered in attention and compliments from his adoring fans every single day, but when it's you, it's special for two reasons. One: it's you. The one person he deems truly equal to himself and who he willingly shares that pedestal with. Two: that voice does things to him. I'm trying HARD to keep it SFW

"Baby! Oooh, look, look, look!" Your doom-scrolling on your phone is suddenly interrupted by Asmo's excited chanting as he shoves a magazine in your face, nearly hitting you with it. As your eyes focus on what he was trying to show you, you see the fruit of his latest photoshoot; him, in a cropped top and leather skirt, posing elegantly for the camera. "Don't I look adorable? Beautiful? Sexy?" He eggs you on, leaning his face in close. "Go on, tell me how fabulous I look! I want to hear from your mouth what a good job I did~"

• Another one who likes to hear you sing. He's a fan of karaoke himself and has a habit of trying to drag you into singing duets with him whenever there's an opportunity. Even if you aren't a singer at all, he insists your singing voice is naturally lovely, just like his!

BEELZEBUB

• I doubt Beelzebub would particularly care what your voice sounds like.

• Obviously, he notices. Maybe even compliments you about it. But you could have a super calming voice, an extremely high-pitched or nasally voice, or even not talk at all... It wouldn't change that your presence itself is what he finds soothing, not just your voice.

• Most things I have to say about his reaction here would still happen no matter what your voice actually sounded like. Him liking to hear you ramble, him falling asleep to one of your stories, even the compliments he gives, they're all reliant on the fact that it's you, not that your voice actually sounds a certain way.

• That's not to say he's being disingenuous. Quite the opposite. Because it's you, he means all the things he says.

• However I can see him being another one who would just kind of assumes that you're a singer, or have a nice singing voice. He states it like a known fact. You're at an event, karaoke comes on, and he's like "oh, you should go up there." Do you remember that one lesson in the OG game where everyone gets trapped in a karaoke room that'll only let you out if you get a perfect score? Beel asks you if you're willing to participate because "you're a good singer, right?" even if he's literally never heard you sing before.

• I can also see him, like Satan, being easily calmed down from going on a rampage by you just, talking to him.

"Beel..." You begin, your tone much like how one would talk to a scared animal. And for good reason, too. When you joined Beelzebub for a quick midnight snack, this was the worst possible outcome, a day you prayed you would never witness... The fridge was empty. "Beel, it's OK." "There's nothing left," he says, tone so low it sounds almost like a growl. "I'm hungry." "Just close the fridge." You guide his hand away from gripping the fridge door so tightly you're afraid he might leave a permanent indent. "There's snacks left in the drawers. The fridge isn't our only option."

BELPHEGOR

• I hope you enjoy being used as a walking ASMR audio.

• Seriously though, similar to Beel, your presence is what he finds soothing, not just your voice. But, your voice is definitely a plus.

• I imagine Belphie as the type to get annoyed when people are talking while he's trying to sleep, or if they're making too much noise. He isn't a light sleeper by any means so such things won't wake him up necessarily, but they will annoy him if he's still awake and he isn't above brashly telling people to shut up. You are an exception, however.

• He doesn't just not mind when you talk while he's trying to go to sleep, he encourages it. He'll lay down on your lap and tell you to read him a bedtime story, sing him a lullaby, or even just talk about your day. There's no need to worry about him not hearing all you have to say, either. He picks up information in his sleep, so don't leave out any details; he'll remember all of it when he wakes.

You grunt a little as the sudden weight of an entire grown man on your legs pulls you away from your 'me time'. You look down and see Belphie, now snuggled into your thighs with his eyes already half-shut. "What'd you do today?" He asks, and you know he just wants you to talk. "You won't even be awake to hear what I did." Belphie peeked open an eye and grinned impishly up at you. "Yeah I will," he said, stretching his arms above his head. "I heard when you started whispering how much you loved me when I fell asleep last night." "You heard that??"

• He hears your voice in his dreams. Frequently. Then he wakes up missing you. Expect a morning text that is fuckboy levels of needy. "U up?" lookin ass.

[strayingawayy]

series: love me two times

businessman minho! x former one night stand reader (and soon to be spouse)

chapter 1: whiskey, regret, and other engagement traditions

read introduction here

word count: 3100 words

WARNINGS: strong language, sexual content (maybe eventual smut if i have the strength to), emotional manipulation, toxic family dynamics, power imbalances, alcohol use, eventual gun violence, blood and injury, blackmail, surveillance, themes of control, secrecy, betrayal, emotional repression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, psychological tension under the guise of romance, dubious business dealings, mentions of public scandal and reputation damage, manipulation via arranged marriage, and consistent, unapologetically bad decision making from most, if not all, characters involved. british humour. in case you all pussy out from that.

A/N: oh my god she's here. chapter 1 is here. i have no clue as to how this is going to end but i put my whole soul, heart, brain and dick into this fic. (which is a lot, mind you) thank you for the support on a whimsical little intro i wrote at my grandparents' house while my dog slept on my feet. thank you thank you thank you. chapter 2 coming next weekend. hopefully. also omg sho's first non lower caps fic

playlist. (coming soon)

─── Lee Minho had always been a man who thrived in chaos. Corporate wars, high-stakes meetings, and PR disasters were his playground. But even he couldn’t have predicted the one nightmare he’d spent years running from would land right back in front of him, wrapped in a perfectly tailored suit, flashing a smile that had ruined him once before.

He could handle anything…

Except the one person who had, through one night alone, known exactly how to bring him to his knees.

Lee Minho liked to think of himself as a man who could handle anything.

Corporate warfare? Child’s play. High stakes negotiations? His playground. He could charm billionaires over black coffee and through a simple peak of his collarbone, crush competitors with a smile, and walk out of a scandal cleaner than he went in, usually with a headline the press couldn’t stop foaming over.

Adaptability was his superpower. Precision, his trademark. Control? Non fucking negotiable.

At least, it had been, until you happened.

Again.

He stared at you, his supposed fiancé(e), the ghost of one of his most notable past mistakes, and thought—briefly, desperately—that maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe he had worked himself into a stress-induced psychotic episode, and in reality, he was rocking back and forth in his office chair while his assistant frantically called for medical assistance. Would he be embarrassed that this would be the second time this would be happening? Maybe. Would he atleast be overjoyed by the fact that you weren't standing before him, far more gorgeous than all those years ago? Absolutely.

But no. This was real. You were real. This was happening.

You were still standing there, looking just as horrified as he felt, though, annoyingly, still unfairly attractive. Time had been disgustingly kind to you. And you had that same look in your eyes as before, the one that told him you were about seven seconds away from causing him severe emotional distress. And possibly a boner. Although he wasn't drunk enough for that. Not yet, atleast.

His brain short circuited as he watched you approach the table. You, of all people. He had been expecting a stiff, glass-of-champagne, charity-gala kind of person. Not you—the human embodiment of bad decisions and incredible, incredible sex.

Minho could laugh. His parents had unknowingly betrothed him to his favourite one-night stand. Brilliant.

“You have got to be fucking with me,” you finally said, sliding into the chair across from him.

“I wish I was,” Minho muttered, picking up his glass of whiskey and downing half of it in one go.

“So,” you said, resting your elbows on the table. “Long time no see.”

Minho blinked at you. Long time no see? You were acting like you’d bumped into him at Tesco, not like you were about to be married to the man you once absolutely ruined in a hotel room after a night of reckless decisions and expensive cocktails.

You, who had once dragged him into a bathroom stall at some questionably pricey nightclub and ruined him for every person he fucked after. Which he unashamedly agreed, were a lot. And the worst part was perhaps, that he remembered everything. He remembered the way you had looked at him that night, like you knew exactly what you were doing, like you had been born to make him suffer in the best possible way. He remembered your voice, the way you had laughed at him when he’d tried to act cool and ended up tripping over his own shoes, too fancy for him at the time. And he remembered the morning after, waking up alone, the only trace of you being a note scrawled on hotel stationery that simply read:

cheers for that. 10/10. no notes.

Minho had never been so simultaneously offended and impressed in his life.

And now? Now he was supposed to marry you? Spend forever with you...or atleast attempt to?

He took another large sip of whiskey.

“So,” you said, eyes sparkling with amusement. “How’s life been treating you? Still a bit of a man whore, or have you finally learned to keep it in your tailored trousers?”

Minho inhaled sharply through his nose. “I am a legitimate businessman.”

“Ah, so still a man whore,” you mused, nodding sagely.

Minho chose to ignore you.

"This… is a mistake," he muttered, running a hand through his usually well tamed hair. "This has to be a mistake."

"Oh, absolutely. Because otherwise we'll have to tell our parents we can’t get married because we’ve already seen each other naked," you say, leaning back in your chair with an unimpressed look. The very same that had drawn Minho to you that night. Because who did you think you were? Ignoring his wit and charm as he sat in the club's sofa, basking in attention and alcohol? The arrogant lad had decided that night, to prove himself to you. And prove, he did. A decision he didn't otherwise regret...until now.

Minho groaned and tried to reach over to his glass of whiskey, only to realise you were already drinking from it. "I swear to God, this is karma. This is divine punishment for my past sins."

"Well, considering your past sins include half of Central London, yeah, probably," you said with a shrug, swirling the now empty crystal glass.

He glared at you, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. You, in contrast, beamed at him with the kind of saccharine sweetness that suggested you were enjoying every second of his suffering. Minho noted internally, that you'd make a terrible actor, given that while the smile made it seem as though he was the only one seconds away from throwing up, your bouncing knee gave you away.

Minho, for his part, looked as though his soul had momentarily left his body. He blinked slowly, like someone trying to wake from a very specific, very inconvenient nightmare.

"Right," he said eventually, clapping his hands together in a sharp, business-like motion, as though trying to galvanise himself into action. "Let’s get this over with. How are we going to get out of this engagement?"

You shrugged nonchalantly, as if the matter were no more serious than choosing what to have for lunch. "Run away to Spain? Fake your death? Oh! You could seduce my grandmother so she convinces my father to call it off?"

"I am not seducing your grandmother."

"Coward."

Before Minho could offer a retort—no doubt a scathing one—a waiter, appeared at your table. He was the very picture of refined hospitality: all polite smiles, pressed shirt cuffs, and the faint waft of expensive cologne that trailed behind him like a signature.

"Good evening. May I start you off with a drink?"

"Whiskey. Double. Actually, just bring the bottle," Minho said, without so much as a blink, eyes still on you.

"Make that two," you added, not missing a beat, but still being polite and stable enough to break eye contact with Minho and smile at the waiter.

The attendant gave a courteous nod and retreated, leaving behind a faint trail of bergamot and judgement.

Minho exhaled slowly and dropped his head into his hands for a moment before glancing up at you, utterly defeated.

"This is going to be a disaster," he muttered, as if saying it aloud might somehow lessen the blow.

Minho barely had a moment to wallow in the tragic comedy of his predicament — engaged, against all logic, to a person who had just suggested seducing their own grandmother — before reality doubled down.

It came in the form of a booming, far-too-cheerful voice that could only belong to one man.

“Ah, Minho, you’ve met your fiancé(e)! Wonderful!”

The words rang through the restaurant and Minho flinched so hard he nearly knocked over the cutlery. He didn’t dare turn around. There was no need. He knew that voice. That was the voice of a man who thought forced betrothal was not only acceptable, but downright romantic.

His father.

Minho visibly recoiled, gripping the edge of the table as if bracing for impact. He had to physically resist the very natural urge to bang his forehead repeatedly against the pristine linen tablecloth.

And then, his parents descended upon the table in full force — exuding money, control issues, and the smug satisfaction of people who had just solved a problem by creating three more.

His mother was dressed in a sleek, couture suit that probably required its own bank account, looking every inch the woman who judged people based on the mineral content of their bottled water. His father wore the expression of someone who’d just sealed a lucrative merger and genuinely believed his son should be grateful for it.

And then there was your dad.

Looking every bit like the kind of man who once tried to bribe a headmaster with a case of vintage wine and a framed photo of himself shaking hands with a minor royal. So what if you weren't the best at studies during school? Was it really your fault that your Physics teacher was a bigger bitch than daddy dearest here?

Minho had never met him before, but he looked exactly as one might expect the father of someone like you to look—sharp suit, sharper glare, and the quiet intensity of a man who considered emotional vulnerability a personal failure. He radiated a kind of heavy, generational disappointment, like someone who’d been sighing over your life choices since the moment you learned how to form opinions of your own.

“Hello, sweetheart,” your dad said, planting a quick kiss on your forehead, affectionate in the way a CEO might congratulate a junior employee for not burning the office down. Then he turned to Minho, assessing the man who was supposed to be his future son-in-law with a look that would've made 16 year old Minho audibly whimper.

Your husband-to-be, drawing out every ounce of his professionalism, business acumen, and carefully cultivated adult composure, managed to respond with:

“Hi.”

Brilliant. Smooth. Absolutely nailed it. James Bond could never.

Your dad, unsurprisingly, looked as though he’d just been personally insulted.

Minho’s own parents, however, were beaming across the table, undoubtedly proud of their matchmaking skills.

“This is perfect,” his mother gushed, settling into her seat like she’d orchestrated the entire evening herself (she had). “I knew you two would suit each other.”

Minho let out a laugh that could only be described as emotionally strangled. Suit each other? Yes, absolutely. Because nothing screamed long term compatibility like a one-night stand from his blackout phase that he'd spent the past few years actively repressing, only to now be legally tethered to it in holy matrimony.

“So,” your dad said, leaning back in his chair with all the gravitas of a man about to sign a trade deal. “Shall we discuss the terms of this marriage?”

Terms. Terms. Marriage. Minho wasn’t sure which part of that sentence he found more horrifying — the casual contract language or the undeniable implication that none of this was a joke.

Minho looked at you, searching your face for some kind of solidarity. Instead, he found you sipping your whiskey like it was just another Wednesday, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed—like this whole thing wasn’t giving you heart palpitations.

But oh, it was.

You weren’t calm. You were resigned. You’d played this game before. You knew exactly how your father operated: charm first, control second, and condescension somewhere in between. This wasn’t a dinner—it was a business meeting. And you were already sick of it.

“Well,” his father said briskly, “the wedding will take place in three months.”

Minho choked violently on his drink. “Three months?!”

“Yes,” his mother replied smoothly, not even blinking. “Any longer and people will start gossiping.”

Gossiping. Of course. Because obviously, public perception was the real villain here.

“Three months is plenty of time,” your dad added, nodding with the calm authority of a man who hadn’t even asked how you felt about any of this.

Minho's brown eyed flickered to you again, looking for help. A hotline number. A hint of rebellion. Something. Anything.

You just smiled at him.

It wasn’t kind.

“Now then,” your dad continued, “what about a prenup?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Minho’s father nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have our legal teams draft it immediately.”

“Yes, yes, that’s all well and good,” Minho cut in, finally finding the will to form sentences again. “But- do I get a say in this?”

His mother tilted her head in that familiar, patronising way that suggested she thought his input was adorable but entirely unnecessary.

“Minho, darling,” she said, her tone one of pure condescension, “this is for your own good.”

Your dad chimed in, nodding. “If either of you had a reliable romantic track record, we wouldn’t be here. But let’s be honest-” he waved a hand vaguely in your direction “-you don’t, and-” he turned to Minho, gaze sharp and deeply insulting,“-you certainly don’t.”

You smiled tightly, jaw clenched just enough that it hurt.

Minho felt his soul attempt to vacate his body. Right there. In the middle of this overpriced, mood-lit, jazz-playing nightmare of a restaurant. He was going to die. And the only thing good about a death here would be that Art Blakey was playing in the background.

“So it’s settled,” his mother said brightly, with finality in her voice, “Three months from now, we’ll have a wedding.”

Minho turned to you. You turned to him.

You raised your glass in a slow, sarcastic toast.

“To our bright and happy future,” you said, voice honeyed, but eyes suddenly cold.

And your father smiled like he’d just won. Because unbeknownst to the two of you, he had.

•━━━━━━━━━━━•

Minho had made a lot of terrible decisions in his life. A truly impressive number. Enough to warrant a multi-part documentary series, probably titled Lee Minho: A Lifetime of Questionable Choices—with dramatic re-enactments, ominous voiceovers, and a theme song that sounded like a slow motion car crash. His friends could probably star in it too.

But agreeing (not really) to marry you?

Oh, that was shooting straight to the top of the list. Hall of fame. Permanent exhibit in the Museum of Regret.

Because it had been barely twenty four hours since the disaster that was your engagement dinner, and already, he felt his life being ruined, one sarcastic comment at a time.

“So, how long have you two been engaged?” Felix asked innocently, if one could call anything Felix did innocent, while stirring sugar into his overpriced cold brew.

Minho looked up from his coffee, eyes already tired. He’d made the mistake of inviting you to brunch with his friends. In public. With witnesses. Clearly, he’d suffered a blow to the head.

“Oh, it’s been wonderful,” you gushed. You reached over to squeeze Minho’s hand like you actually meant it. Maybe you did. Minho didn't want to bother with the details if it meant another migraine. “We’ve been informally engaged for a whole, what, twelve hours now? It’s been magical. Truly life altering. I can’t wait to be legally bound to this man forever.”

Minho squeezed your hand back. Hard.

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “Overjoyed. Thrilled. Best day of my life.”

Felix, the little gremlin, grinned, his mind already turning your worrying marriage into a soap opera. “Well, it’s about time you settled down, hyung. You’ve been a menace to society for years.”

“First of all, that is highly inappropriate. I am a legitimate businessma-”

“Mate,” Chan, Minho’s business partner, cut in. “You once forgot a woman’s name mid-bloody-date.”

“And she had to remind you,” Hyunjin added, sipping his neon-green liquid. Whatever it was.

“And you still got her number,” Seungmin chimed in, looking vaguely offended on behalf of all women. You'd be sure to send his number to your recently heartbroken friend.

Minho groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why had he thought bringing you to brunch was a good idea? Why had he brought you into public? With his friends at that? He had practically announced a 'Bully-Lee-Minho' day himself.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you said brightly. Too brightly. “He’s very devoted now. Wakes up every morning and just stares at me in awe, whispering about how lucky he is.”

Felix gasped, awestruck at the beauty of love at first sight. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” you said, smiling. “He even cries a little.”

Minho nearly inhaled his coffee. “I do not-”

“He does,” you said solemnly, giving his hand another squeeze. “It’s beautiful.”

Chan leaned back in his chair, way too entertained. “Well, I can’t wait for the wedding. Have you set a date?”

“Not yet,” Minho said quickly, cutting you off before you could say something like ‘we’re thinking next week, on a volcano.’ “We’re taking our time.”

“Oh, obviously,” you added, ever helpful. “We have to enjoy the honeymoon phase before I find out all his deep, dark secrets. Like his skincare routine, or lack thereof. Which I'll have to change either way. Or his browser history.”

Hyunjin gagged. “Please. Spare us.”

“No, no,” you mused, eyes alight with mischief. “I think he’s hiding something. Like a secret past. Maybe he was a failed K-pop trainee. Maybe he’s got a tattoo that says ‘Live, Laugh, Love.’ Or he owns a mug that says Boss Babe.”

"I actually gifted him that." Chan added, sipping his protein smoothie.

“Or if he has a pet rock named Gary, considering one of his girlfriends was Australian,” Hyunjin added and Chan nods proudly.

“Or an old TikTok account where he lipsyncs to early 2000s emo hits,” Seungmin said.

“I knew you gave eyeliner energy,” Felix muttered.

Minho buried his face in his hands. “Please. I am begging you all to stop.”

You just leaned in, resting your chin in your hand as you smiled sweetly. “Aww. He’s shy.”

Minho resisted the urge to walk directly into London traffic.

But even as the table erupted into laughter, and your brunch turned into an impromptu roast, something shifted. A cold thread of unease slid down Minho’s spine.

You were laughing, yes. Playing the part perfectly. But beneath the sparkle in your eyes was something else—something guarded. The way your smile didn’t quite reach all the way. The way your shoulders tensed every time someone mentioned the wedding, like the word itself had claws.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, not entirely. Maybe it was the text from your father that he had watched you ignore minutes ago. Maybe it was the transparent pants Hyunjin had worn years earlier making a reappearance in his head for some reason. Or maybe it was just his own overworked brain, spinning a conspiracy out of nerves and too much caffeine.

Whatever it was, Minho decided to shelve it for later. He had reports to review. Contracts to sign. A mountain of paperwork waiting for him and exactly zero emotional bandwidth to spare.

He’d figure it out. Eventually.

For now, he’d go home, finish his paperwork, and go to sleep.

Not knowing that what he’d wake up to would be far more fearsome than your father’s moustache.

Far, far worse.

Because somewhere, in a dimly lit security office, a grainy CCTV recording, dated four years ago, timestamped 2:14 a.m., was being uploaded by hands far too eager and far too vengeful.

A bed. A hotel logo in the corner. Two familiar silhouettes.

And the unmistakable beginning of the scandal that would burn everything to the ground.

...

taglist: @imfoive @jisunggy @hyunebunx @peskybirdysya @rockstarkkami @knowbites @mischievousleeknow @thepoeticpurplepotato @artemesiareads @valreifang @alisonyus @jisuperboard @8minho @robinnotgood24 @sarahfirecrystals-blog @lmnhx @maskedcrawford @bluesoobinnie @butterflydemons @pinkpunkdynamite @stickymusictale @lazymfblog @krssliu @halesandy @vcordova1460 @gnusihcom @cutecucumberkimberly @coldcraftmusiclight @superwholockiancrackhead @starfishblobblob @privatespotyk @thingsiwannaseelater @loveunt0ld @showingmafandomlove @2minpov @hantaechan @skyinkpop-blog @helpijustgothere @herejusttemporary @kpopenthusiast143 @miyaluvvsyou @shuuporanglinos @abbiestearsricochet @pixie-felix @loxgirl2004 @met30c1ty @feelikecinderella @uhhhhhokay @moon0fthenight @cashtonsbetch

[wcters]

YOU LOSE SOME, YOU WIN SOME

paring: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: you and daniel’s life after he leaves formula one

warnings/contents: angst (daniel leaving 😭), crack humour

author’s note: here’s a twist to daniel’s leaving of f1 to help us cope 😔

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and 560,283 others

yourusername to my danny boy. you breathe life into everyone you meet. you bring out the most in me and everyone else. your laughs and smiles are contagious, and you never hesitate to lend a hand. when i met you, i was lost in the world. now, i am found, and always have a home to go back to. words are not enough to let you know how much i love you. formula one will never be the same without you. love you forever and always 🤍

view all 14,647 comments

danielricciardo love you so much honey ❤️

↳ yourusername love living life with you 🤍

landonorris ❤️❤️

user1 brb crying myself to sleep

user2 not ready to not see daniel or daniel and y/n on the paddock anymore 😭😭

alexandrasaintmleux will miss seeing you both 💗

↳ yourusername you too alex! we’ll need to get together soon 🤍

georgerussell63 miss you both ❤️

oscarpiastri wishing you both well

user3 i’m crying my eyes out again

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton, and 3,205,846 others

danielricciardo i've loved this sport my whole life. it's wild and wonderful and been a journey. to the teams and individuals that have played their part, thank you. to the fans who love the sport sometimes more than me haha thank you. it'll always have its highs and lows but it's been fun and truth be told i wouldn't change it. and most importantly, thank you to y/n for staying by my side through everything. you helped me stay myself in a world like this one. until the next adventure, excited to see what the world has in store.

view all 66,936 comments

yourusername love you so much baby 🤍 so proud of what you’ve accomplished!

↳ danielricciardo thank you for being by my side ❤️

oscarpiastri congrats on everything you’ve achieved daniel 👏

lewishamilton it’s been an honour 🤝

user1 y’all don’t talk to me i’m mourning

user2 this is so sweet 🫶🏻

georgerussell63 going to miss you daniel 😔

user3 sad to see him go, but hope we see more y/n and daniel content

user4 you deserved such a better send off 😢

↳ author daniel deserves so much more fr

danielricciardo

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername, and 197,354 others

danielricciardo much needed getaway

view all 180 comments

danielricciardo has limited comments

georgerussell63 cheers mate!

yourusername very much needed ☺️

landonorris make sure you take good pictures and focus the camera 😭

lilymhe you two are so cute ❤️

↳ yourusername we need to plan another double date

↳ lilymhe yes!!

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, and 75,937 others

yourusername quiet life ⛰️

view all 2,621 comments

danielricciardo stealing my job

↳ yourusername i’m just such a copycat 🐈

maxverstapppen1 beautiful views! wishing you well

user1 my girl knows phoebe bridgers

user2 i’m so jealous of them 😭😭

landonorris 📸📸

alexandrasaintmleux who needs pinterest when you’ve got y/n’s feed??

↳ yourusername says you 🤭🤭

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2, and 54,596 others

f1gossip daniel ricciardo and long term girlfriend, y/n y/l/n were seen in nova scotia, newfoundland, visiting friends and family and reportedly engagement rings on their fingers! what do you think?

view all 1,035 comments

user1 is y/n from canada?

↳ user2 yeah! she also has friends and family there

user3 why are we all up in their business??

user4 it’s about time

↳ user5 i know, they’ve been together for long enough

user6 he was probably planning this for soooo long

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, and 1,074,027 others

yourusername you guys sure do have a keen eye. yes, me and daniel are engaged. i am speechless. i’m going to marry my best friend. i love you so much danny 🤍 can’t wait for forever of matching sandals, travelling together, playing harmonicas, dancing in the kitchen, playing board games when the power goes out, and having fun with friends with you 🤍 forever and always, and what ever else is left.

view all 22,045 comments

danielricciardo can’t wait lovie ❤️ forever and always

↳ yourusername we should get a fish, start our family early

georgerussell63 i better be invited to this wedding

↳ yourusername of course! can’t be a party without you george 😌

lilymhe time to start planning!!

landonorris congrats you two! no need to ask, i’ll be the photographer

↳ danielricciardo big ego norris

charles_leclerc congratulations 🥳

user1 y’all…… i’m not ready

user2 mom and dad are getting married!!

user3 her dedication to him 😭😭😭

danielricciardo

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, and 2,973,872 others

danielricciardo last photo is my reaction to when she said yes. getting you that fish right now 🐟 can’t wait for married life. you lose some, you win some

view all 45,829 comments

yourusername so unserious 😭 but we are in the car rn, on the way to get the fish. he keeps his promises

landonorris you should name the fish dave

↳ yourusername this is why you’re not allowed to name things . . . but i honestly like it

alexandrasaintmleux soo happy for you both ❤️🥰

↳ yourusername love you alex 🤍🤍

maxversteppan1 guess this is officially over for us 😔😔

↳ danielricciardo never baby, i always have room for you ❤️

↳ yourusername 🤨🤨🤨

user1 poor y/n, always going to third wheel with max and daniel

↳ yourusername i’ve accepted it at this point

georgerussell63 omw to plan my outfit

user2 i can’t wait to see them married

user3 i wonder what their weddings going to look like . . .

[emeraldtortoiseshell]

I love the way the Rottmnt movie parallels the show!

Remember in "Many Unhappy Returns", when Leo's brothers accused him of abandoning them to the Shredder, only for him to reveal he had total faith in them all along?

Now rewatch the scene of his brothers saving him from the Prison Dimension

Sure, we don't see Leo's face as the portal opens. But we also don't see any kind of surprise or shock on him, either.

(S.B. OK, maybe he could be putting on his famous "Face Man" mask. He's definitely using humour to cope, as he's told us he does from S1 Ep1. But if the writers had meant for him to truly be surprised that his family came through for him, I think they would have shown us a flicker of that.)

Leo trusted that his brothers would find a way to save him after he locked himself in the Prison Dimension with Krang Prime.

He probably had no idea how they'd do it, but he had total faith that they would find a way.

Leo has a bad habit of not letting his team in on his plan before he jumps into action. But that doesn't mean he doesn't have a plan. Even if half that plan is just "I trust my family to do their part".

Leo has complete faith in his team.

[you-wanna-save-the-corn-nuts]

Just....thinking about how Van uses humour to mask emotions. Frequently. And by that I mean like. All the time. Do we ever really see Van get upset outside of a group setting? No, not really. We got that one frog/tent scene in ep8 but prior to that? Nothing. And that goes for the adult timeline as well.

But I mean think about it. She gets left in a plane and the next joke she cracks is "You're on fire today Jackie- oh wait...that was supposed to be me, huh?" She's upset she got left in the plane, and reasonably so. But jokes are the only time we see her actually communicate that to anyone verbally. Tai is consistently the ONLY person we see her be genuinely vulnerable with. We see her soften for others a couple times, but rarely does she soften for herself.

I mean hell, she gets almost burnt alive after getting mauled by wolves and how does she talk about it? "Fire?? Really??" and "You killed a wolf for me, which is about the most attractive thing someone could do." neither of these statements are serious- they both have this overtone of humour.

And I mean you could also say that on top of Van writing "I love you" in blood being self sacrifice, its also a testament to her humour. Her Girlfriend just got possessed and drew blood by biting her lip and not only does she affirm that she loves her, she uses the blood from that injury to say that. She's taking the pain she has and making jokes about it in order to make others feel better- and the I love you is the most literal translation of that.

Van shows distaste through humour, its her more subtle way of communicating. Eg, Adult Van "sounds like your hands were really tied there- oh wait, those were her hands." its a joking sentence, but really, its also showing her disapproval. We can see that Van isn't happy with Misty for killing Jessica, but does she explicitly say that? No. Instead she cracks a joke about it.

Even in her arguement with Tai back in season 2, where Van gets annoyed at Tai for trying to walk away without letting her help because "she has to help her after seeing her like this", what does she do during that arguement? Start making references to movies. "I'm mixing up my pop culture metaphors cause I'm fucking upset!!!" Iconic line. But also. Really shows how she copes with bad situations.

Van's reactions to bad things both in the adult and teen timeline have consistantly been humour. Its not exactly deflecting the fact that there's an issue, its more downplaying it. She sees that something is wrong and she doesn't approve of it? Joke about it. She sees that she's hurt physically/mentally? Joke about it. That way nobody worries too much, they get a laugh out of it, and she can tell herself that she at least kind of addressed it.

[astraeajackson]

lester and meg will FOREVER be the most ICONIC duo in the HISTORY of the UNIVERSE. you have lester "i've always wanted my own little sister" papadopoulos, and meg "i just want to be LOVED" mccaffrey 🥺 their sibling dynamic is UNMATCHED and their humour is the whole reason i READ the series. like even though tragedy is EVERYWHERE in the trials of apollo, the books still feel so lighthearted because apollo and meg ALWAYS bully each other at EVERY opportunity no matter WHAT they're going through. honestly i think it's become a coping mechanism they SHARE to get through everything that happens and it's so BEAUTIFUL to watch 🤧

[mistiell]

If you’re doing requests and it’s not too much trouble what about Astarion and getting patched up and taken care of by mc

Here you go babes <33 (Also, if he's a little out of character, I apoligize, I really did try my best lol) WC: 1k

---

“Ow! Gods, could you at least try to be gentle?” Astarion hisses at the sting of the salve you’ve concocted, startling you into jerking the cloth you’re using away.

You huff and drop your hands into your lap, brows furrowed in very clear annoyance, “I am trying. If you’d stop squirming, it wouldn’t hurt so much.”

“Well, if it didn’t hurt so much, I wouldn’t be squirming, would I?” He quips. You roll your eyes.

Taking his wrist ever so gently, you turn it so you can see the gash on his forearm, fingers deft and kind even despite his whining. He’s being difficult; unreasonable. You’d be justified in being cruel with him.

You’re careful not to press so hard as you swipe the cloth over the jagged edge of his wound, blood seeping into the fabric and staining the off-white linen a dark crimson. Mouth quirked down, your face is drawn tight with a frustration he’s never seen on you before.

He hates it.

The fabric catches with a jolt of pain and he flinches more than he would normally, startling you away again.

You tut at him, stern, “Astarion.”

Sighing, he returns his arm to you wordlessly and glances away with a small, “Sorry.”

“You should have been more careful.” You chastise as you press the cloth against his wound; firm, but not harsh. Never harsh.

He scoffs, rolls his eyes, “So you're saying this is my fault.”

He wasn’t being serious, but it seems you take it as such. Your nose scrunches, and for a split second, you look properly upset with him. He’s expecting you to snap at him, maybe shout and finally leave him to tend to his wounds alone as he usually would.

You don’t. Instead, you take a breath and sigh, looking rather disappointed.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Contrary to what you may believe, I do actually care about you and your wellbeing.” Your voice is void of any sort of humour as you look back at his arm. Swapping the soiled cloth for a smaller, cleaner one, you fold it in half and press it to his arm, not sparing him a glance as you instruct him, “Hold this.”

He does as you’ve asked, and a stifling silence engulfs his tent. As you rifle through some healing supplies, he tries to come up with a way to get you talking again.

“Why-,” His voice doesn’t come out right and he clears his throat to fix it. It comes out wrong anyway, “Why are you helping me? This wouldn’t have been the first time I’ve dressed a wound on my own, you know.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to.” You reply as you begin securing the cloth to his arm with bandages, “No one deserves to suffer alone.”

The sentiment makes his stomach twist. “No one?” He huffs a wry puff of laughter, “Not even someone like Cazador?”

Your face contorts in abhorrence, “I meant good people don’t deserve to suffer alone. That bastard deserves every bit of suffering he has coming to him.”

He barely even registers the second part of what you’ve said, too busy reeling from the first.

Good people don’t deserve to suffer alone.

Good people.

“You... think I’m good?” He asks far too softly.

Finally looking back up at him, you look utterly confused as you nod, “Of course I do.”

He opens his mouth only to find he’s seemingly lost his voice. His gaze flits over just about every inch of your face, searching for any sign that you’re lying; a glance away, a twitch of your mouth. Anything.

He doesn’t find one. His heart sinks and sings simultaneously and suddenly, he can barely breathe.

“Why?” He murmurs. Part of him thinks he’s not equipped to cope with your answer.

There’s a moment where you just... look at him. He’d say staring, but he doesn’t think that’s quite what this is. What you’re doing would be better described as seeing him; all of him. His heart, his soul. Everything.

“Good people can do bad things and still be good, Astarion. And being good doesn’t always mean being a saint.” Your voice is kind; tender. Maybe a little joking towards the end. He guesses you’ve seen the apprehension on his face when your hands slide down his arm to cradle his own. Dipping to catch his gaze, your own is suddenly serious; unwavering, “What happened to you, the things you did. None of that was your fault. You told me what Cazador did to you when you disobeyed him. I’d be just as terrible to deem you a monster for going along with it knowing what would have happened to you if you didn’t.”

Your words strike him like a hard blow to the chest. Perhaps he’s not all that concerned with being a good person, but he’s never truly wanted to be evil, either.

Eyes stinging, he lets out a shaky breath through his nose as he cups the nape of your neck to guide your forehead to his lips. He lingers there for a moment before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in tight, mumbling against your hairline, “Thank you.”

Snaking your arms around his waist, you squeeze him just as fiercely, “Of course, my love.”

The laugh that escapes him comes out too watery for his liking, but he finds he doesn’t mind quite as much when its only you around to hear, “‘My love’? Isn’t that my line?”

You snort, and he feels you smile against his collar, “Perhaps.” “You do know that reusing material that isn’t yours is in poor taste, don’t you, darling?”

“Hush.” You pull back smiling, shaking your head as you ask in faux exasperation, “Now, will you please let me finish bandaging this?”

He follows your gaze to his arm and huffs dramatically, “I suppose.” “Oh, you suppose, do you?” You sass as you take hold of his wrist again, careful not to wrap the bandages too tight, “Do you also suppose you’ll sit still for me this time?”

“I do.” He grins.

And he does.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Hey p here!!! 👋🏻 Just as we talk, I want a fic about Toto Wolff x wife reader who always healthy/happy go lucky person and suddenly she's ill. You can't decide what it is. Include there drivers/anyone in the sports reaction. Like they're trying to help her, watching out for her. She's their friend/mother figure, of course they're worried. But being her, she just deals with humour even though she's sick. And can you include Jack? That boy has my heart. Even though this must be heartbreaking for him at such a young age, I think it's time for some angst, gut wrenching story that traumatize us all😃 And lastly how everyone cope with it. Add anything you want to. Thanks!!! :))) Appreciate it❤️❤️

With prompts:

1) "After all this time?” “Yes. I still do"

2) "My sweet and brave little munchkin."

3) "Tick tock, the clock is ticking"

4) "I thought we had more time"

Slipping through my fingers

there are moments in life that define everything, moments that still your world to a complete standstill people often assume that these moments are of joy or happiness. unfortunately for toto his moments caught a rotten streak and his world was never going to be the same ever again.

the day toto met her was a day full of surprises for both of them.

y/n had just recently made the decision to switch up her major from nursing towards mass media and journalism. it was a switch that raised a lot of eyebrows and concern from her family yet they supported her nonetheless, everyone knew how talented she was and knew she’d get a job eventually. What they didn’t know was along with the job she’d catch the attention of a rather tall man.

toto was having a rather eventful day, both of his star drivers had crashed into each other on lap one giving his arch nemesis horner his day in the sun with his prodigy max verstappen winning the race only to rub salt in his raw open wounds. he should have signed him instead of nico toto thought as he stomped through the media pen only to be bombared with around a hundred reporters eagerly waiting to see if the team principal was going to have another one of his infamous anger blowouts. alas to them a young female reporters questions had caught the interest of Toto.

Her question was clear cut no glazing no unnecessary flattery to grab his attention, all she’d ask him was if he’s going to fire someone on the pit wall for the strategies today. it was a bold question not one that reportes like to use since it ends up in court cases but she really didn’t care. It was her first few races and she wanted to make a name for herself and boy did she.

Toto’s response was curt and dismissive but she didn’t budge one bit, she was persistent and that caught Toto’s attention.

ladies and gentlemen this was the first moment in Toto’s life that had stopped the world for him.

the moment he looked into her eyes he felt everything was irrelevant. He didn’t care that both silver arrows were a pile of silver dust all that was captivating to him was the brown tinge in her hazel eyes. toto wanted to stare into them forever, and perhaps god was smiling straight down on them and decided to seal both their fates together.

and so it started.

their infamous courtship.

Now for a team principal speaking to people was almost second nature but when it came to her toto was a blubbering mess always leaving the conversation wanting to speak more, it was rather funny towards the other team principals. he was acting like a teenager with his first crush.

things weren’t all that easy for her too, each interaction with toto outside of business had her craving him more and more, she chuckled at his faint attempts to woo her and get her lunches. she too had a crush on him and it was only getting stronger.

the turning point in their relationship was the after party at the Abu Dhabi Grabd Prix, the long season was finally over and the celebrations had started. Toto had eagerly invited her and was hoping praying dying to see her come, unfortunately he wasn’t the only one who was waiting to see her, amongst his infatuation toto was as blind to how interested zak brown had also become towards her. he wasn’t often caught staring at her in places no man’s eyes had entitlement to. things were starting to get creepy but none of our two lovebirds had figured that out.

the party was in full swing when she had decided to show up, wrapping up her tasks with sky sports made her rather late but the look in Toto’s eyes when he had saw her was everything she had hoped and wanted. The man looked starstruck it was insane how whipped he was for her and they weren’t even together.

a couple of drinks and close dances later when she had excused herself to go to the ladies room was when calamity hit.

zak had his dirty gazes set on her ever since she had shown up, he knew toto wasn’t on guard whenever she was there and knew it was his time to try and get handsy with her.

right after walking out of the ladies room she was dragged into a corner and that’s when she felt small fat and stubby fingers trying to touch her. it felt humiliating disgusting and frankly made her want to bleach her skin. right before zak could cover her mouth and start with his actual plan she screamed as hard as she could hoping to get anyone’s attention oh how she regretted not taking up Toto’s offer to walk her to the restroom.

toto had wondered where she had ended up disappearing, was he being too much did she need a break from him?? he was overthinking when he heard her cries for help and in a second all the alcohol in his system had vanished. He leaped towards her cries and the scene startled him to his core, in a second zak was off her and his disgusting touch was replaced with the warm calm caressing of toto a man she was familiar with someone she knew.

the entire night was ruined in a split second, it wasn’t until toto had zak in a head lock that she’d regained her senses, seeing him so worked up over protecting her name and honour made her do what she did next.

the second toto was close by she kissed him, full on kissed him. it wasn’t short or messy it was full of reassurance of promise and of new beginnings.

that’s how the two souls collided.

oh and zak was given not one but multiple fractures and a hefty legal case to fight, toto didn’t play when it came to the ones who he loved.

the new couple relationship caused frenzy all over the internet and the paddock, no one really expected them to be a couple it didn’t make sense, out of everyone why did toto choose a journalist? Didn’t he know if they break up his whole life would be plastered onto the news.

Headlines like these made both of them chuckle, neither of them seeming to care, they were just happy to be with each other against all odds.

throughout the course of their relationship there were times where y/n had become sick, it often worried toto seeing how easily the common cold for her could become much serious, she always brushed his concerns away. it wasn’t until much later into their relationship when toto started noticing more and more health concerns for his now fiancé.

the proposal had taken place in Iceland she’d always loved it there especially the black sand beach and how beautifully it contrasted against the bright white snow, often times she’d dreamed of going there and toto made it a reality for them. she later joked that the beach and the snow represented each of them perfectly, Toto being the dark black beach that only softens in appearance in front of the snow. he’d got down on one knee at that exact spot uttering words of love and honesty. they had their vows at the exact same place. some things don’t change.

it was now 3 years into their marriage, toto had settled down and wasn’t all angry and violent like he used to be (ask the poor abused headsets) he was much calmer and level headed, that’s what happens when you marry the love of your life. he knew not to piss his wife off or worry her after all she was carrying his baby.

the pregnancy test was taken after she had thrown up half her body weight, toto wasn’t around he infact was in austria for the Grand Prix, she had excused herself from it with dumb excuses, Toto ever the gentleman knew not to push it and let her have some space.

In a matter of seconds their world’s axis shifted.

the pregnancy test came as a positive surprise, neither of them had discussed having children but they weren’t against the idea, when toto came back to his wife pale and heaving beside the toilet he knew what was going on, he whisked her off her feet and kissed her so strongly that you might think the man was off to war.

her pregnancy came with a price thou, a huge price for her to pay. y/n was anaemic her body didn’t have enough red blood cells and that’s why she could faint at the drop of a hat.

the couple had been shopping during the off season for the arrival of their little baby, unfortunately fans and paparazzi got a hold of their location resulting in a rather ugly swarm of cameras and people. the noise alone alerted Toto that their quiet evening had come to an end, in a rush to protect his wife and unborn child Toto’s steps where hastened and elongated, unfortunately his wife simply couldn’t keep up and fell victim to one of her fainting spells the camera and the noises alongside the amount of people did nothing to help her and so she collapsed.

the faint thud would haunt Toto forever, his whole world crumbled when he heard it, instantly he rushed towards her only to find her knocked out cold, the rush to the hospital has been the longest wait of his life.

he swore then and there that he wouldn’t ever put her or their child in such a situation.

luckily both mother and baby were okay, when they got home later that night she had fallen asleep unknown to the storm that was brewing within her husband.

Toto wasn’t a very emotionally available man, he preferred to deal with his emotions privately or not at all if possible but ever since meeting her he’s been more open towards showing love and care but the one thing he won’t show is fear.

Torger Christian Wolff was afraid.

he’d been having these vivid dreams of his wife dying and leaving him and their six year old son alone forever, it’s been haunting him ever since her fall.

[oh1thehorror]

Watching Dragons Rising and Kai’s behaviour is quite a bit more lighthearted and childish than it was in the original series- sure he has his silly moments then but now they’re way more obvious and whimsical… and knowing that Monstrosity happens in the space between?? Knowing that he goes through that??

I just can’t stop thinking that his maybe ‘regression’ in (social? emotional?) maturity and overly whimsical personality are a trauma response. It’s glaringly obvious- it’s not just a ‘cope through humour’ situation, I think it’s genuinely the way he feels safe now that he’s amongst his family again. Feeling any other way just makes it impossible to face what had happened, especially considering he won’t talk about it.

[sunbl3achedfly]

Do the dead comfort you? Pt.1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: On your night shift at the mortuary you discover a fresh mutilated corpse that isn’t supposed to be there, prompting the FBI’s arrival.

Content: Dead bodies, like lots of dead bodies (you're a mortician), stalking, murder, dark humour, reader is a little gothic and macabre, first time reader and Spencer meet, Spencer thinks she’s weird at first but his curiosity leads to him finding her endearing, reader is not used to socializing and has questionable coping mechanisms

Author's note: I’ve literally had this idea for months and needed to get it out of my system.

3,038 words

part two

masterlist

The hum of the mortuary’s refrigeration units was usually a comfort, but today, it felt unnervingly loud. The body wasn’t where it was supposed to be, and the one in its place looked like something out of a horror film—freshly dead, blood-soaked, and carved like a grotesque work of art.

You leaned back against the counter as the FBI agents filed in, their presence slicing through the eerie silence. The group was sharp, purposeful, and clearly used to handling chaos. Among them, one man immediately stood out.

He was tall, maybe six-foot-one, with tousled brown hair that looked like it had lost a battle with a comb. His dark blazer was slightly too big for his lean frame, and the way he adjusted his satchel strap every few seconds hinted at his slight nervous energy. But it was his eyes that caught your attention—warm and endlessly curious, darting around the room like they were cataloging every detail. He looked like he’d stepped out of a library and into a crime scene.

“Dr. Spencer Reid,” he said, his voice soft but deliberate as he approached you. His eyes lingered for a moment on your dark hair, the chipped edges of your blood-red nail polish, and the subtle skull pendant hanging around your neck. You could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he formed some unspoken observation.

“I’m the one who found the body,” you said, crossing your arms. His gaze flicked to your black long-sleeve shirt, noticing the faint wrinkles near the cuffs from where you’d been tugging at them earlier.

Spencer tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were just as much a puzzle as the case itself. “You work here?” he asked, though the answer was obvious.

You raised an eyebrow. “No, I just hang out in mortuaries for fun. Great ambiance.”

His lips twitched, the hint of a smile betraying his otherwise serious demeanor. “Right.” He glanced at the body, his tone growing more professional. “You said you found the body when you came in for your night shift?”

“Yes,” you replied. “This drawer was supposed to have a heart attack victim I was preparing for burial. Middle-aged woman, very boring. When I opened it today, this was waiting for me.” You gestured toward the bloodied body on the table, your voice calm despite the grim subject matter.

Spencer’s eyes followed your gesture, narrowing slightly as he examined the victim. “You’re certain this wasn’t here yesterday?”

“Dead certain,” you said without thinking, then winced. “Sorry. That wasn’t—I cope with dark humor. Occupational hazard, I guess.”

Spencer glanced at you, his expression softening. “I understand. It’s… not uncommon in this line of work.”

You studied him for a moment, noticing how his slight awkwardness seemed at odds with his sharp intelligence. He had an air of vulnerability about him, but there was also something strikingly self-assured in the way he analyzed everything around him. You wondered how someone like him—bright-eyed and endearingly earnest—handled the kind of darkness he must face every day.

“Do you recognize him?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the body.

You shook your head. “No. Never seen him before. And no one else has access to this section of the mortuary after hours. I locked everything up before I left last night. Whoever put him here must’ve known what they were doing to sneak it in.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze flicking between the cuts on the victim’s body. “The precision of these wounds… they were made deliberately. Whoever did this wasn’t in a hurry. They wanted us to notice the details.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” you said dryly, folding your arms. “They’ve got everyone’s attention now.”

Spencer glanced at you again, his expression unreadable but thoughtful. “You seem very calm for someone who just found… this.”

You gave a small shrug, brushing a strand of black hair out of your face. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen something gruesome. Probably won’t be the last.” You hesitated, then added with a wry smile, “Though I’ll admit, finding a surprise corpse is a new one, even for me.”

Spencer studied you for another moment, his head tilting slightly as if he were piecing together something about you. “You said you locked everything last night. Did you notice anything unusual before you left?”

You thought for a moment, absently tapping your nails against the counter. “Nothing out of the ordinary. But then again, ordinary isn’t exactly a guarantee in this job.” You paused, your eyes flicking back to the body. “If someone’s messing with me, they’ve got a pretty sick sense of humor. And that’s saying something, coming from me.”

Spencer didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he turned back to the body. “This wasn’t a joke. Whoever did this wanted to send a message.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, and you found yourself wondering just how deep this case would go. You had always been fascinated by death, but now, for the first time, it felt like death was staring back at you.

After the FBI had concluded their search and cameras were packed away and evidence collected, the usual silence you were used to began seeping back into the cold, sterile atmosphere of the mortuary. The body had been carefully documented and removed, leaving behind the faint antiseptic smell of bleach and cold steel. You stood by the counter, gathering your tools and preparing to get back to work once the team left.

You could feel the day's weight pressing down on you, but you refused to let it show and tried your best to keep your movements steady. You snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and reached for your notebook beside your workstation. The slight tremor in your hands betrayed your calm exterior.

Across the room, Spencer watched you. He stood near the doorway with his satchel slung over one shoulder, fidgeting with the strap as he lingered. He didn’t know why he hesitated to leave—there was something about you that held his attention. Maybe it was the way you handled the situation earlier, calm and composed despite the horrifying scene. In a way it may have seemed suspicious to someone else. Or maybe it was the way your dark humor revealed cracks in your otherwise detached demeanor. Whatever it was, he found himself walking toward you before he could think better of it.

You didn’t notice him at first, focused on arranging your tools in neat rows. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat softly that you looked up, startled.

“Oh,” you said, your voice sharper than you intended. “Still here?”

Spencer hesitated, not knowing how to handle your straightforward behaviour, his hands awkwardly stuffed into his pockets. “Yeah, um… I just wanted to check in with how you’re coping... After everything earlier?”

Your first instinct usually would have been to shrug the concern off, but the question had caught you off guard. You blinked at him for a second, unsure how to answer. “I—” You paused, tilting your head slightly as you studied him. “Oh I’m great,” you replied, your voice laced with sarcasm. “Finding a bloodied corpse someone snuck into my mortuary? Best day I’ve had in weeks, really.”

You winced at your own words, immediately looking down after saying them. “Sorry. That was—I shouldn’t have said that.” You fumbled for an excuse, your voice tight. “I just… I don’t talk to people much. I guess I don’t know how to… be normal in situations like this.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his voice gentle. “It’s okay. People cope in different ways. And after today, sarcasm seems pretty appropriate.”

You studied him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “You’re weirdly nice for someone who spends his days chasing psychopaths.”

The comment seemed to amuse him, though he didn’t quite smile but instead pursed his lips slightly. “And you’re surprisingly calm for someone whose workspace just turned into a crime scene,” he countered lightly.

You almost laughed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. “Guess we’re both a little weird.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the hum of the refrigeration units filling the space between you. Then Spencer reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card.

“If you find anything else,” he said, his voice deliberate but kind, “or if you think of something that might help the case, call us. Here’s my number, just in case.” He held the card out to you, his fingers brushing yours as you took it.

You stared at the card for a moment, surprised by the gesture. It was small, routine, even, but it felt like more than that. You looked up at him, your usual stoicism softening into something almost vulnerable. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice warmer than before.

Spencer smiled, the kind of smile that was barely there but sincere. “Take care,” he said, adjusting his satchel as he turned to leave.

As he walked off, you couldn’t help the slight giddiness bubbling up inside you. It was a new sensation, as you tended to dislike most people, however, there was something about this handsome stranger that had you way more interested than you would've liked to admit.

It had been approximately 2 weeks since your ‘corpse surprise’, and work at the mortuary carried on as usual. There had been no leads or updates from the FBI regarding the mysterious body. No one had come forward to claim it, and any investigative efforts seemed to have hit a dead end. The unsettling memory lingered in the back of your mind, no matter how hard you tried to focus on work. The thought of someone managing to sneak a corpse into the mortuary without being caught still made your skin crawl.

You had just finished up with the cremation retort, the faint heat from the machine still lingering in the room, and had begun sweeping and cleaning up the crematory floor. The rhythmic swish of the broom against the tiles filled the quiet, accompanied only by the faint hum of the ventilation system.

As you moved toward the far corner, you noticed something out of place—a faint scuff mark on the otherwise spotless floor near the entrance. You frowned, leaning closer. It looked fresh, like someone had dragged something heavy through the room. A casket, maybe? No, you’d been the only one in here all morning, and the retort was prepped before your shift.

Brushing it off as nothing, you returned to sweeping, but a prickling sensation ran up the back of your neck. The kind of feeling you got when someone was watching you. You stopped mid-sweep and glanced over your shoulder, scanning the empty room. Nothing but sterile counters and a row of sealed urns waiting for pickup.

The ventilation hum seemed louder now, almost deafening in the otherwise silent space. Shaking your head, you muttered, “Get a grip,” and went back to cleaning.

Then came the noise.

A faint shuffle, just beyond the doorway that led to the preparation room. Your hand tightened on the broom handle, your heart thudding against your ribs. It wasn’t uncommon for sounds to echo strangely in the building—pipes groaning or metal trays shifting on counters—but this sounded different. Like a footstep.

“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing back to you. No response.

Setting the broom aside, you stepped cautiously toward the preparation room, your shoes squeaking faintly against the tiles. As you approached, the air seemed colder, though you couldn’t tell if it was the room or just your nerves.

The door to the preparation room was slightly ajar, just enough for a sliver of shadow to spill into the hallway. You could’ve sworn you’d closed it earlier. Pushing the door open slowly, you peered inside. Everything seemed normal—the stainless steel countertops, the neatly arranged tools, the faint smell of disinfectant in the air.

And yet, the feeling of being watched persisted.

You turned to leave, but your eyes caught on something—a small object sitting on one of the prep tables. It hadn’t been there before. Approaching cautiously, you realized it was a photograph.

A photo of you.

It was grainy, taken from a distance, but unmistakable. You were outside the mortuary, standing by your car, looking down at your phone. Your throat tightened as you stared at it, your pulse roaring in your ears.

A faint creak sounded behind you, and you spun around, your breath catching. The door you’d left ajar was now fully closed.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the now-closed door. Despite every instinct in you screaming to leave, to run, you couldn't move. It was as if your entire body had been drenched in ice water and no longer wanted to respond.

When you had finally regained control of your movements you reached for your phone and fumbled through your bag without thinking. Your fingers brushed against the business card Spencer Reid had given you after your first meeting, his handwriting neat and precise on the back: Call if anything comes up.

You hesitated. Would he think you were overreacting? Maybe. But the photograph on the prep table stared back at you, a tangible reminder that this wasn’t just paranoia. You tapped the number on your phone and pressed it to your ear, your breath shallow as it rang.

After what felt like years, you finally heard Spencer's familiar voice on the other end, calm and professional, "Dr. Reid."

“Hi, uh, it’s… it’s me,” you said, trying to sound casual as you leaned against the prep table for support but still refusing to take your eyes off of the door. “From the mortuary? The weird body situation a couple weeks ago?”

“I remember,” Spencer replied, his tone softening. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not exactly,” you replied, but your voice cracked slightly on the last word, betraying your attempt to keep your composure. “I mean, nothing urgent, I don't think. I just… thought I should mention something odd that happened. Probably nothing.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “You don’t sound fine,” Spencer said, his voice quieter now, almost gentle. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the table to ground yourself. “It’s just… someone left a photo of me in the preparation room. Like, an actual printed photograph. I’m not sure how it got there.”

Spencer’s end of the line went silent for a beat, then: “A photograph of you? Where was it taken?”

“Outside the mortuary. By my car, I think. It’s grainy, but it’s definitely me.” You tried to laugh, but it came out weak. “I know it’s probably just someone messing around. But um..." You paused for a moment, wondering whether you should tell him about the odd noises from before and risk sounding paranoid.

“The photo wasn’t the only thing. I thought I heard footsteps earlier, and there was a mark on the floor like something was dragged through the crematory. I… I don’t know, I was sure it was clean this morning when I came in for work, but maybe I’m just spooking myself.”

“You’re not spooking yourself,” Spencer interrupted, his tone more insistent now. “This is serious. Are you still in the mortuary?”

“Yes,” you admitted, glancing toward the door as if expecting it to move again.

“Okay, listen to me,” Spencer said, his voice steadying you. “I need you to leave the building. Lock it up if you can, but get somewhere safe. I’ll notify the team and come to check things out.”

Your chest tightened, a mix of relief and apprehension at his words. “You really think it’s that serious?”

“I don’t take chances with things like this,” Spencer replied. “Neither should you.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, and pushed yourself off the table. “Okay... Okay, I’ll leave now.”

As you ended the call and pocketed your phone, your eyes darted around the room one last time. The photograph still lay on the table, a grim reminder that whoever had taken it might still be nearby.

You moved quickly now, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Grabbing your bag and coat, you threw them over your shoulder and cast one last glance around the dim room. The photograph still lay on the prep table, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pick it up. Your fingers trembled too much anyway. You just needed to get out.

Sliding your phone into your pocket, you tightened your grip on your keys and made your way to the door. Your footsteps echoed in the stillness, each sound magnified in the empty mortuary. Every shadow in the room seemed alive, every creak of the floorboards sending a shiver down your spine.

“Just get out, just get out,” you muttered under your breath, your voice barely above a whisper.

You reached the door, exhaling shakily as you reached for the lock. But just as your hand brushed the handle, a cold, sharp sensation pressed against your throat, freezing you in place.

“Don’t move,” a low, raspy voice growled behind you, the words sending a bolt of terror down your spine.

Your breath hitched, your mind racing as you registered the unmistakable feel of a blade pressing against your skin. You didn’t dare turn your head, every muscle in your body locked in place once more.

“You scream, and you’re dead,” the voice continued, so close you could feel the warmth of their breath against your ear.

Your keys slipped from your hand, clattering loudly to the floor. The sound echoed in the silence, a cruel reminder of just how alone you were.

“Good,” the voice murmured, the knife pressing ever so slightly harder against your neck. “Now be a good girl and do exactly as I say.”

Your pulse roared in your ears as panic clawed its way up your throat. You had no choice but to comply.

And that was when the lights in the mortuary flickered and went out, plunging you both into darkness.

[orchidsarchives]

Jason Todd headcanons

- he smokes a lot

- he listens to either really aggressive rap or rock music, however he does indulge in “softer” music here and there

- he’s pretty soft spoken except for when he’s angry. he has a short temper, so he gets annoyed really fast, but it takes a lot to actually make him angry

- he has all of his weapons on display in big ass frames and he’s named them all

- he’s a really good fighter - muay thai boy for sure

- speaking of which, i think if he had a day job, he’d probably coach some sort of martial arts or maybe be a gym instructor

- if he went to uni he would’ve studied english literature and would’ve have minored in a foreign language

- he has a scar on his lip (like toji from jjk) idk why tho (it’s just hot lol)

- uses humour to cope

- so so many death jokes

- he does not like coffee, he drinks tea

- definitely knows latin

- he wears jewelry, a thin silver chain and maybe a couple of rings

- he’s pretty handy… he can fix a lot of stuff. literally anything from cars to laptops to ikea furniture

- he has that white steak in his hair and he has a huge atopsy scar on his chest, he also has a faint scar on his neck

- roy calls him the walking dead

- he struggles with nightmares and they’re frequent. he needs a smoke break after

- he also has panic attacks and he doesn’t like being touched when he’s going through them, but he doesn’t like being alone. he needs to be reminded that he’s home, he’s alive, he’s okay and he’s safe

- he has blue light reading glasses but he only wears them at home when no one is there to judge him

- he likes cat videos

- he also sends cat memes in the family group chat

- OH and he definitely has a cat with a either a really dumb name or it’s named after his fav book character (cough cough mr darcy cough)

- he picks up damian from school sometimes, he complains, but in reality he really doesn’t mind. they talk about the books damian is reading in his english class

- he’s tall but he’s not 6’4 tall he’s more like 6ft or 6’1

- he’s a good cook definitely better than the other boys

- him and alfred cook together. this one time they cooked a really big batch of pasta and he took it to his old neighbourhood to feed the kids

- he’s pretty reckless and does not care about his safety at all, so he ends up pretty bruised up

- will ALWAYS try to one up dick. dick did a back flip? guess what jason did 20 back flips! dick took down two guys during patrol? yeah jason took down the whole damn team

[dalishious]

Alistair vs. Cullen

It really annoys me when people act like Alistair and Cullen are the same character, when they are very different.

Alistair grew up with child neglect. When visiting Denerim, Eamon kept him in the kennels. At Redcliffe, he slept in the stables on a pile of hay. Alistair also recounts a time when he was locked in the dungeons for a day before someone came to get him out. And of course he also talks about how Isolde despised him, and “made sure the castle wasn't a home.” But is still convinced that Eamon is a good person and he deserved all that. Cullen had a very fortunate upbringing with a loving family who supported him and what he wanted in life.

Alistair never wanted to be a Templar; he was forced into joining the Order by Eamon. He is vocal about how much he despised this, and considers Duncan recruiting him for the Wardens as “saving” him from them. The only thing he says he enjoyed about Templar training was the educational component, which he did not receive previously. Alistair was a poor recruit because he frankly did not want to be there, and therefore did not take it very seriously. He saw practices like the Harrowing as horrifying, and deepened his dislike of being a Templar further. And as time goes on, he becomes even less of a supporter of the Order; he outright says Meredith is the biggest threat to Kirkwall in Dragon Age II, if made king of Ferelden. It was always Cullen’s dream to be a Templar, and would even force his younger sister to “play the apostate” for his “training” before being recruited. Cullen was an enthusiastic recruit who considered Templar training “all that he had imagined”, and “did not hesitate” in taking his vows. Even the Harrowing did not waver his devotion to the Order, which by Dragon Age II becomes downright fanatical and tyrannical, practically worshipping Meredith. (Though this was later attempted to be retconned in Dragon Age: Inquisition… just as poorly as all the other retcons in that game, taking the path of “just pretend he never said and did all those things!”)

There is a lot of dialogue from Alistair about how much he dislikes the Chantry. Cullen, on the other hand, is extremely faithful and the only criticism he ever has about the Chantry is that they don’t treat the Templars well enough.

Alistair has a good sense of humour—in fact, it’s one of his biggest coping mechanisms. Cullen wouldn’t know a joke if it hit him in the face.

The player can disagree with Alistair on every turn. He is presented as sometimes being right, and sometimes being wrong, like most people. (Side note: more than that, you can be downright verbally, emotionally, and physically abusive to Alistair. Holy shit, I didn’t even realize how bad it can get until reading through the dialogue in the toolset, because I’ve never picked those options in game. I was honest to god flabbergasted and very uncomfortable through much of it.) The player rarely has the chance to even mildly disagree with Cullen. On the rare occasion you do, the dialogue is painted as if the player is being an unreasonable asshole, and he never even addresses what they say. (Example.)

The only reason I think people are capable of mistaking them for another is because fandom likes to donate Alistair’s personality onto Cullen. That and the the ever-frequent whitewashing of Alistair doesn’t help matters. But I’m not even a Cullen fan and I think it’s a disservice to both of them to act like they’re just Alistair and Alistair 2.0, honestly.

[ninadove]

I don’t think we talk enough about how Felix, not-so-deep down, is a fucking ray of sunshine

Yes, he’s introduced as this impeccably dressed, practically silent child prodigy who stands up straight and folds his hands behind his back; but in the very same episode we see him come alive, taunt his enemies, and move as if he was born to take names and kick ass!

Yes, he’s been tortured and nearly destroyed by a father who deemed him monstrous; but through it all he remained (became?) his mum’s little magician!

Yes, he has a sharp tongue; but he uses humour and more precisely the mocking of his abusers to cope with what would otherwise destroy him!

Yes, he learnt to lie through his teeth; but he is never happier than when he is centre stage, waving a fan around and belting out Disney villain tunes, basking in his own dramatics!

Yes, he collapsed on a rooftop sobbing after his plans for freedom and safety crumbled; but he picked himself up in the same damned episode, single-handedly broke Kagami out of her spiral of despair in the very next one, and fights on “because we’re hoping for a happy ending”!

And most importantly:

It’s not even that he wants to hide how much of a bundle of hope and joy he truly is: he’s been forced to hide this softer side and was bursting at the seams for an opportunity to be this radiant little bird once more (or, perhaps more accurately, for the first time). His name literally means happiness!!! He fills me with so much serotonin!!! LOOK AT MY CHILD!!!!! 💜🦚

[mossybubblegum]

CONNIE IS NOT A GANGSTER. HE DOESN’T SLING DRUGS. HE DOES NOT SMOKE WEED. HE JUST GOT STUCK IN THE 2020 FRAT BOY PANDEMIC AND NOBODY CARES ENOUGH ABOUT HIM TO CHANGE THAT :’(

Anyway, I’m bored so my first post is going to be an in depth discussion of what Connie, college au, modern au, or otherwise would be like using actual things from the series. I’m so sick of him being mischaracterized.

Connie is NOT an overconfident, party animal douchebag. Everyone looked at him in season 1 as the class clown and comedian but didn’t acknowledge his growth as a character. When he’s 19 (the final season), he’s openly very depressed and upset about the things he’s witnessed.

Connie is NOT some crazy Mexican who slings drugs. Aside from the fact that that hc is literally just a racial stereotype, bc that’s a whoooole other issue, the only reason people say he is this is bc of a slap on titan.

Connie is NOT slinging drugs, smoking pot, etc. His ENTIRE character is based in the fact that he just wants to make his mother, family, and village proud.

Connie does NOT own a fucking hellcat for crying out loud HE GREW UP POOR. HE IS NOT AFFORDING A HELLCAT. He can barely afford college.

Connie IS a dork. He was established throughout the series to yes, cope a lot with humour and make jokes.

Connie IS dimwitted. He has expressed his insecurities over this fact many times, and grapples with his inability to grow as a soldier.

That being said, Connie is NOT an idiot. He has shown that while he struggles with adaptability and thinking on the fly, he is still a great soldier. He’s able to make decisions when he must, and bases them on his own morals, though they sometimes get muddled in his mind. People forget that he graduated top 10 in the cadets AND was the first person Eren went to for ODM help (in fact, Connie is canonically one of the best on ODM gear)

With this in mind, it’s pretty clear that Connie is just sorta a loser. He probably struggles to make friends and especially has a hard time keeping them (the constant betrayal he feels from others in the series; he saw Reiner as an older brother, Eren as a friend, etc.). He’s also probably pretty emotionally constipated and insecure. So guys PLEASE stop making him out to be some crazy rich dope dealer 😭

Here are some of my personal Headcannons to counteract the ludicrous things I see ab him.

Connie collects Pokemon cards and is way too into them

Connie majors in computer science with the hopes of one day making his own video game that gets popular enough that he can support his family and put his siblings through college

He grew up on a farm

He’s one of Armin’s best friends, but they don’t ever go out together, so nobody really realizes how close they are

Connie got bullied for his hair, and that’s why he buzzed it initially.

He got rejected by both of the girls he confessed to in hs

He has freckles

He had a pet duck growing up

He works two jobs and a third summer job to get through college

One of the jobs is on campus, the other is at GameStop, and his summer job is hauling rafts for white water rafting groups

He’s close with Niccolo

He and Sasha met at freshman orientation before college and immediately clicked

He’s got deep rooted fears that one day everyone he’s met in college will decide to leave him or forget about him

[maxdibert]

I’ve always thought at least some part of his crazy emotional reactivity to Harry is deeply repressed anger at Lily. Because while she didn’t owe him any consideration after their friendship ended, her romantic interest in James indicates that she never really believed his abuse of Severus was anywhere near as big of a deal as she protested. Because you don’t fancy/date/marry people if you truly despise their core personality. And that *is* a betrayal - that not so deep down she was humouring him and privately thought, same as everyone else, that he was being a petty jealous child who needed to get over it and stop provoking the Marauders by daring not to kowtow to them and therefore he’d never had anyone in his life, ever, who truly had his back.

He can’t consciously be angry at her without psychologically unravelling - he feels too guilty to allow himself that, and he needs to believe in her to keep him going through the insane quest he’s taken upon himself. Much easier to pin it all the bitterness on James.

I think what you’re suggesting is quite an interesting idea, and in a way it makes sense—because many times we find ourselves feeling resentment towards people we supposedly love, or people we shouldn’t resent, but there’s a kind of built-up anger. And when you dig into where it comes from, it often has to do with disappointment, with feeling abandoned by them or hurt by them at some point. So I do think it’s something really interesting to explore, for example, in a fic—and definitely refreshing, especially considering how the topic of Lily often goes untouched in fanfics, or it’s simply presented through the lens of the same old narrative: that he idealized her and that Lily is beyond reproach.

That said, outside of that purpose of exploration, I don’t really think that’s where the issue with Harry lies. I think Severus’ problem with Harry is actually tied to the fact that, unfortunately, the boy is the spitting image of his father. And having to constantly see and interact with the face of his childhood bully and tormentor is something that overwhelms Severus on a psychological and emotional level—because he simply doesn’t know how to cope with it in a healthy way. Honestly, I think if Harry had looked like Lily, that hostility would’ve been significantly reduced. Not because Severus had some “unhealthy obsession” or problematic desires towards the kid (which some people suggest, and frankly that’s insulting nonsense), but simply because the kid wouldn’t be a constant reminder of the person who ruined his life. Period.

[bisnes-socks]

i added my thoughts to the takavoltti lyrical analysis here but today i want to talk about why i think takavoltti is one of käärijä's most finnish songs ever.

this got a bit long, so just so you know what to expect going in: what i mean by most finnish is that there are references and tone of voice that are very specific to finland, there is complex use of the finnish language AND there are melodic/musical choices in the song that sound very finnish to me.

okay, here goes.

the dialogue that opens the song is already a sort of key moment to this finnishness of it all. when he says "emmä tiedä, kolisee jos kolisee, mut mun on pakko sit koittaa vetää tosi matalalla" he is doing a bit of a voice but more than that, he is talking in a way that is not quite his. his inflection, the rhythm, those are not natural to him or his dialect. you can hear it particularly when he says "koittaa vetää tosi matalalla". i don't know if it's at all easy to hear if you're not finnish, but it's not.. a serious voice or tone. the other two voices, one of them is modified to be high and the other talks like a sports announcer. the whole scene is quite comedic and it's a very specific genre of comedy that is very finnish indeed. it's also the type of thing he has been doing since always. (EDIT: OKEI MORE CONTEXT IN A REBLOG HERE)

funnily enough, you guys know köpi kallio now, the therapist in skit and autiomaa video? yeah köpi and his long time partner in crime viki are good examples of this type of humour i would say. they have their own podcast/show called viki ja köpi show but before that they were radio hosts and have been working together for ten years. the character voices and the whole vibe of the scene in the beginning of the song is very viki ja köpi to me, very ylex type comedy (yes ylex the radio station who did the ruisrock interview who still isn't back from the war).

and the small comedy bits stay in there through out the song, and they continue to have the same delivery instantly recognisable as comedic.

and that isn't to say the subject matter can't be serious. i think, again, this is something that feels inherently finnish to me. other finnish people feel free to chime in because this is hard to explain, but our culture is one where coping through making light of things is quite normal. and our sense of humour tends to be on the darker side, at least if you compare it to the american style of comedy that has taken over globally. so to make a song about there being too many demands on you and how you have a problem with setting boundaries and agreeing to insane shit, but to do it by interjecting the song with jokes just idk.. it sits in our culture lmao.

i honestly don't know how to explain this better, but quite dark comedic elements like this (after all he gets properly fucked up in the stunts it seems) in a song with a serious subject matter is something we've been doing for decades in this country (juice leskinen, for example) and it is something so loved by finnish people. we love a song that is just fucked up on multiple levels. käärijä is just adding his own style to this cultural history.

okay, onto the language.

the verse opens with "tekevälle sattuu" which is a finnish proverb.

quick finnish lesson: the word sattua in finnish means both to hurt and to happen. the word tehdä means to do but tehdä kipeää means hurting. like.. now that i think about it tämä tekee kipeää = this is doing (me a) hurt is valid and correct finnish lmao.

tekevälle sattuu, the proverb, actually means "things happen to those who do" but he is playing with the different meanings here, because he goes on to say "ain sattuu ku tekee" which can both mean "things always happen when you do" or it can mean "it always hurts when you do". then he goes on to say "ku tekee, ku kipee, ni kipeetä tekee" which is once again playing with words, because kipee here means both pain but also being sick. "ku tekee, ku kipee" would translate as "when you do as if you're sick" and "kipeetä tekee" means that it hurts.

so to recap (i'm not trying to provide a smooth translation, but highlight his wordplay:

tekevälle sattuu = things/pain happen to those who do [things]

ain sattuu ku tekee = shit happens/you get hurt when you do [things]

ku tekee, ku kipee, ni kipeetä tekee = when you do [things] like you're sick [in the head], you get hurt

so this is all to say two things: he's using the finnish language in a very clever way that really only becomes clear if you know the language and all of these idioms and proverbs. and also that he is very good at what he does. it has taken me four paragraphs to explain 13 words.

and he doesn't even end there. "oon yllytyshullu, ain hulluksi yllyn" is more play on words. jesus, jere. okay guys, stay with me.

yllytyshullu i explained in my previous analysis, but recap: yllytys means incitement and hullu means crazy. yllytyshullu is someone who does crazy shit when prompted.

"ain hulluksi yllyn" here he is using the word yltyä which is the same root as yllytys, but yltyä means usually more like.. to intensify. (for example: sade yltyy = the rain is getting heavier, or tuuli yltyy = the wind is picking up)

so to say hulluksi yllyn, he's saying like.. i let myself be incited and/or i always take it to the max, to the point of crazy.

and then he uses very clever rhyming words: "ja tää hullunmylly on kylmempi kylpy". hullu means crazy, mylly means mill, hullunmylly is basically a hullabaloo.

as you can tell, all of this is like bordering on impossible to translate accurately into a smooth translation. and that's just the first verse, but i'd be here all night if i explained the whole entire song 😭

and this to me is a very clear sign that no matter what sort of an audience he has internationally, he's not compromising on his language. and i find that admirable and, as a finnish person, very comforting too. this song is sort of reassuring, like he is reinserting himself very firmly into finnish culture, with the language and the comedy that do not translate very well. 

and if you look at the pre-chorus and chorus, the specific references keep coming: calling him kärtsä (finnish people have a lot of nicknames for him), "hyppää kybäst pommi" the slang use of kybä to mean ten meters, he mentions duudsonit (the dudesons) and he mentions jorvi hospital. all of these feel like he is signalling to a very finnish audience. (also "oon syypää sun hymyyn" could count as a cheek reference, cheek used to be like the biggest rapper in finland).

okay, time for melody and music speak. i only have one simple point here: melodically and musically speaking that has to be the most suomi iskelmä chorus i've heard from him. ever.

you could take that melody and insert it as the chorus to like any song on iskelmä radio. iskelmä is a finnish schlager music genre. kind of impossible to describe but something that finnish people will instantly recognise. the opening, with the piano synth could also open an iskelmä song.

very suomi, very iskelmä.

so.

all of this is why i think takavoltti is about as finnish as it gets. a suomi iskelmä about having serious issues with boundaries that uses clever finnish and paints a comedic picture of a banged up black-eyed käärijä who has dislocated his shoulder but is still showing thumbs up is like.. so much finnish condensed into three and a half minutes.

i know not everyone thinks the song is hilarious but i do. it's both hilarious and very serious and that's how we like it here.

and of course the fact that there is an "ai vittu" in there. we like that too.