#coco speech

[laugtherhyena]

Character inspo things, i thought about making these a lil while ago when the trend was going around but i could never think of enough characters to fill it all the way (i still can't, but eh fuck it)

[pembe-crossing]

First K.K. show on Breakfast! Let the new era commence!

[iwonaprizeforbeingthebesthater]

you cant hurt me I dressed up as the may queen (Midsommar) for my town's Halloween fair and FIVE people thought my Mexican ass was going as the mom from Coco 😭 😭 (this was when I lived in this little town with like relatively no other Hispanics so things like this happened often)

[musubiki]

Imagine everyone learning before graduating thinking it’s Lime who’s gonna give the graduation speech being the best student only for it to be Coco

I MEAN SHE IS THE STUDENT COUNCIL PRESIDENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(what if lime was supposed to do it but its like that fruba fairy god mother yuki scene where as soon as he gets on stage no one can shut the hell up and wouldnt even be able to hear what hes saying so they nerfed him and put coco up there LMFAOO)

[challengersmp4]

complicated feelings abt aryna’s “i played terrible tennis” comments. especially given that it was first in the heat of the moment during her runner up speech i saw it more as a self deprecating moment for her, but also felt a bit off, too. i can see why she’d feel that way. the match didn’t go her way. she was very emotional on court! i get it. that said i don’t think saying you played horrible makes you look too charitable to your opponent, especially since it implies had you been “on” that your opponent wasn’t strong enough of a player to beat you. like aryna, stand up, you are world number one you still played very well and you should be proud of yourself. and you should recognize that coco played an incredible match and that maybe you should have worded yourself more carefully (more so in press) should you not want to make it seem like you don’t think coco could actually beat you, regardless of intent.

[plantyaoi]

anyway despite its problems i love witch hat atelier 9/10 for just for the art and panelling alone. i like coco a lot she’s a lot more complex than she seems but i’m really hoping the next few chapters tone down her preachy speeches a bit more and focus more on how perceptive and rebellious she can be instead…

[pali-and-proud]

Finale Thoughts

This is a very special thank you to all the Fast Passers. Y'all did amazing, truly, because I actively read anything and everything without any attempt to shield my eyes from spoilers and I still knew nothing. This post is dedicated to you guys.

Alright guys. You know the drill. Get the hot coco and strap in.

Lets start with Deacon:

Deacon acknowledging that Chase is more likely to interact well with Buddy is actually so good to see. It's so nice to see Deacon prioritize Prunella's safety and to be more comfortable with being put in "lesser" positions, like babysitting! (Think back to sick! Chase, and look at how far Deacon's grown)

Deacon and Prunella's talk: Prunella calling out Deacon for always talking about being great instead of just being great. That's so good, genuinely--Prunella shrugging and being self-confident and Deacon finally really hearing it. He needs to just be what he wants.

Deacon's relationship with horses symbolizing his frustrations with his inability to control his life was NOT something I expected and I openly applauded. That's brilliant.

Don't be mistaken: Deacon sacrificed himself. He knew the risks of making the horse play bridge. He watched the horse fall victim to the spread of the pages. The horse was still neighing when it's legs started to turn--Deacon could have yelled, but he didn't, because he was too focused trying to make sure that Chase and Prunella, at least, could escape.

The speech Buddy gave him, which I will reference so many times, about there being a time to be the hero and a time to be the helper, is SO applicable. Deacon "is happy to help." He isn't trying to be the hero, and he isn't trying for glory, and he just wants his cousin and his friend-ish to be safe. And it's specifically when he's not trying to be the hero that he ends up being the hero, by taking control of the reigns and getting Prunella to Chase and risking his life. He follows Bronze and Prunella's advice, and listens to the speech, and listens to himself: He stops asking for permission. He steps up. He becomes the hero.

Cannot wait to see Deacon's reaction when Chase undoubtedly tells him how they escaped. I can't decide if Chase is immediately going to say "Buddy and I kissed" or if he's going to say "I figured out an escape and stop asking questions" but no matter what, Deacon's going to be squinting at his cousin and groaning.

ALSO can't wait to see how this arc impacts his relationship with his parents. Like I'm so excited. A Deacon that's more confident being able to step forward and say "No, I don't want to devote my life to something I'll actively hate. That's ridiculous." might be the end of me ngl, I love him.

Prunella!

Prunella my love

Prunella my LOVE

She has this confidence that we only see falter twice: when she struggles with the other kids, and right now. And in both situations, she didn't know what to do, and she was in over her head, and she reminded us that she's just a KID

Her arc has been the exact opposite of Deacon's, and it's so cool to watch them both experience opposite lessons in the same arc. Deacon learning how to step forward and lead while Prunella learns how to step back and follow.

Prunella hearing, constantly, about how dangerous the books are and finally SEEING the books as dangerous. Prunella finally understanding why Deacon was so strict about the books she could travel in, because most of their worst-case scenarios came true in a single swoop.

Prunella also has not met Buddy yet. She saw him, described him as the mean guy, and then perished. Truly an icon.

I am so convinced that Prunella and Buddy would be friends. Even if it starts rocky, I think they both enjoy humbling the Hollow boys too much to not grow to like the other's presence. I can't believe I have to wait for season 2 to get confirmation of this but I am going to be so smug when I am correct

Chase:

CHASE

CHASE EVERETT HOLLOW i have never in my life ever loved a character like I love Chase. I talk so much about Buddy but that is me being a wing-woman, Chase my love Chase, I love him so much

Fun fact I didn't even like Buddy until the first Cinderella story. I was so convinced I wouldn't like him, but I resigned myself to cheering for Stargoth anyway (I was part of the Canvas/Discover Squad, i had a LOT of hiss hiss Buddy) solely because if Buddy made Chase happy then sure I'll accept it, and now i adore Buddy, Punko is just that good

Every single moment of Chase in this arc stole my attention. every single panel. God I could do a dive longer and deeper than my Buddy analysis but exclusively on Chase during the finale arc. i could do it exclusively on Chase during the finale. I could do it on any singular panel.

Chase being guilty about lying to Buddy alone was heart-wrenching, but Chase literally only got more and more heartbreaking. Him constantly trying to help everyone--the keys, for example, with a resort for them to enjoy--only for things to go wrong--the resort, for example, drowning the book. He just wants to HELP

Buddy was 100% correct in calling out Chase for pinning the blame on Deacon, but what he didn't realize is Chase wasn't trying to do that. Chase truly felt terrible, and he truly wanted to apologize, and him bringing up Deacon was him being honest and factual because he did argue with Deacon about it, but he did end up listening to Deacon. And Buddy gets more frustrated because Chase is misunderstanding the problem--it isn't Chase hiding Prunella, it's Chase refusing to trust Buddy

And when you think about it. Chase absolutely has no reason to. Chase doesn't even know his name WHICH I WILL TALK ABOUT LATER bc kdjfherigh but! In Chase's eyes, yeah why would he. He's literally desperate to have Buddy prove that hes legit and good and kind and Buddy keeps shoving that away (Buddy saving Deacon's life and then pointedly not mentioning that, for example).

It's also the fact that Chase is trying so hard to stay optimistic despite such extreme levels of guilt. It's the fact that he stays clutching to that persona of optimism even after seeing paper! Deacon and Prunella, and it's only when he's staring at a bleeding Buddy that the full situation sinks in

Chase finally breaking. Oh my God you dont know how long I was waiting to see Chase splinter apart. This is a kid trying to do the impossible, and every single time something goes wrong, he feels like it's his fault. The book got destroyed? Buddy got betrayed? Admitting that he doesn't trust Buddy? Getting way less narratonin than Deacon or Prunella? He blames himself for all of it, first and foremost, and it's finally on full display

Chase even trying to send Buddy away? Pushing and pushing because he is so desperate to save someone, anyone, even though that's literally a death sentence for him. And he doesn't hesitate, either--it's practically instinct, even though Chase would never agree to leave if the roles had been reversed.

And like...augh Buddy hugging Chase, and Chase hugging him back? That was painful enough, but you add in Chase admitting that he doesn't want Buddy to leave?

This is not the post for me to point at Chase and accuse him of abandonment issues, but know that I am pointing at Chase and I am accusing him of abandonment issues. I am looking at him feeling hurt that Deacon left him in the Toffee arc, I am looking at him constantly repeating that he's not going anywhere, I am looking at him running to apologize to Buddy after spending so much time bitter about Buddy avoiding him, I am looking at his avoidance of talking about his mom in situations where "My mom is dying and this is important to me" would be really helpful, and I am thinking accusations

But anyway

Chase and his abandonment issues: literally all he wants is for someone to stay, safely and securely. His mom, Deacon, Silver, Buddy, even his dance partner. He's always at risk of losing someone, and he's about to lose everything, and all he can do is admit that he just wants Buddy to stay, because he's scared

Chase you are my sun you are my stars you are my whole solar system I will give you the world

Also, I absolutely knew the repeated comments about Chase being an idiot would get to him. Chase is SMART, guys. He's perceptive. He knows when he messes up, and he tries to look past the mistake and into how to rectify it, but that doesn't mean he isn't aware that he did something wrong. And people (Buddy) kept snapping that he was stupid, or an idiot, or ridiculous, bc Chase would make a mistake (or stick by a decision), and he would NOTICE that people thought it was ridiculous. He just didn't care, because he was either sticking with it, or trying to fix it.

And he DOES. He notices the words in the sky, realizes the solution, figures out the entire thread behind the stories (they want to be enjoyable and they want to have a good ending), and explains it all to Buddy. Chase figured it out, because he's so much smarter than everyone assumes.

Anyway Buddy hugging Chase and telling him he can stay a while longer (this is a scene burned into my heart) (more on that later) and telling him he's not stupid and that he's trying his best is SO important. This might be the first time in the entire story that someone finally sees Chase. Someone finally prioritizing Chase and putting Chase's wellbeing first and telling Chase yeah sure maybe you messed up but you're doing the impossible every single day and you're TRYING.

And for it to be Buddy? Like ignore the romance entirely--if someone who always insults you and is notoriously difficult to please tells you "No, you're not stupid. You're trying your best" while hugging you? thats the most sincere thing in the world. that's tears immediately.

Chase suggesting kissing is also askdjns because (again, ignore the romance part of it)--he always skips the kissing scenes. We know thats because he wanted to save his first kiss, and he's the one who offered. Yeah, okay, sure, it was life or death, but Chase didn't hesitate, and didn't weigh his options, and didn't even consider saying "a kiss on the forehead would probably suffice." guy went straight for "i need the mouth to mouth"

the grin. The bright eyes. the pressing fingers to his lips. He's so happy, so genuinely happy.

I truly, truly, TRULY cannot wait to see what this means for our idiots. I can't wait for someone to try to have a conversation and for someone else to not want a conversation, or for them to be so awkward with each other, or for Deacon to want to skin them both, or for WHATEVER turn this takes. And im SO happy for Chase.

Buddy:

I wrote this whole thing and it just deleted. i am furious

NOX

NOX I LOVE THAT NAME NOX NOX NOX

Punko i cant believe you were worried we wouldnt like it. nox nox nox nox nox i love that

okay first: the two theories for key Nox, as they are rn, are 1) that Nox has always been the villain key, or 2) that Nox was tricked/manipulated/experimented into becoming the villain key.

1) If he'd always been the villain key, it makes sense why he never told Chase his name. Chase would have immediately told Silver and company, who would have had to stare at Chase and ask them if he had a crush on their brother

1) if he'd always been the villain key, his distrust of Chase could be explained by him distrusting all humans. This would follow course with him also being frustrated by Deacon, which yes was partly because of jealousy but also partly because Deacon was a new key holder.

1) ALSO of course he was a nightmare about Chase with the key--he had no reason to believe Chase would treat the keys well. it's also possible that he knew Silver had a crack, and thats why he helped Chase in the first cinderella book--so that Chase could meet Silver.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, it makes sense why he never asked Chase details about his key. Why he never asked about Silver or Bronze, or if they were okay, or how they were settling, despite routinely trying to get details about other factors of Chase's life. He assumes Chase is selfish, true, but he doesn't ever accuse Chase of being cruel with them.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, the line of "Don't you want to be human again" holds a lot of power. Yes, it's possible that the keys were once people and Nox wants to go back to that, but its been CENTURIES.

2) if he was always the villain key, the line of "Don't you want to be human again" would be applicable to all the keys, bc it would assume they were all human once (obligatory Keys are People Too mention, it's an amazing ao3 fic by incomple shoo go read it). Silver, Bronze, AND Goldie never mentioned that, and Punko likely would have foreshadowed it earlier.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, it makes sense why he wasn't included in the dream Silver had! Where she dreamt about her family!

2) if he BECAME the villain key, his constant reference of Silver as "the key" or as "it" also makes sense. Earlier, like episode three or so, he mentions needing to get Silver back before the old man returns. It's Silver specifically, without mentioning trying to track down anyone else.

2) if he BECAME the villain key, his name being objectively different from the other keys makes sense. Silver, Bronze, and Goldie were all named after the metal they were made from! Violet is purple! Yes, Nox means night, and yes, Nox has a moon on his back, but if Goldie isn't called Sunny, then I would argue Nox's name should count as way more subtle than everyone else's.

anyway theres a lot of points on either aspect

I could do into the character growth of Buddy, but I'm actually going to focus on the hug. Not the kiss, even though it's nice to see the fixation on Chase's hair stays strong, but Buddy immediately recognizing a hug is needed and immediately giving him one.

Buddy love language is touch, or something

Chase says "I think we need to kiss" and there's not a single arguement from Nox's lips. He literally stares at the sky, turns slowly, and goes "Not a problem"

actually the whole "I've never been the hero. Not even in my own story" goes so strong when you remember the speech he gave Deacon about needing to act as the hero, the helper, and whatever other role when need be. Nox was given the chance to be the hero, and he took it. "I'd like to be your hero" isn't just a romantic one-liner to preface a kiss--it's Nox genuinely saying that he wants the happy ending that Chase always skips. And Chase, this time, doesn't skip it.

Nox, returning back to his space with Violet, immediately says he doesn't think he can keep doing this. But he wants to be a human, more than ever, which implies that "keep doing this" isn't just travelling into the stories, but doing something additional. Something that, we can infer, is hurting Chase.

i am wrapping this up its snowing outside and i cant feel my fingers, how do you snow people do this

if you read all of this! grab a treat <3 hope you enjoyed and love you all

[quinnlarrabee]

Macron's fiery Sorbonne speech targets summering American Millennials

It’s no coincidence that Emmanuel Macron gave a fiery speech about the threats facing Europe the same week that American Millennials in New York, LA, and Miami began talking about booking their one-way flights to the continent. "There is a risk our Europe could die - we are not equipped to face the risks," Macron said, referring to the dietary allergies, alternative milk needs, and tedious conversations of trust-funded, unemployed young adults who will begin their summer in Paris to attend a museum benefit that spills into a large dinner party with several professional photographers before traveling to Puglia, Comporta, or Ibiza where they will subsist on ‘beautiful tomatoes,’ flat whites, and MDMA. 

Europe has struggled with illegal immigration for decades, and there is no more pressing illegal immigration threat than American Millennials who have decided that being unemployed in Europe is less distressing for their parents than being unemployed in Williamsburg. Google searches for ‘how long can I stay in EU without passport’ spiked in late-April among Americans who have not yet bought a Portuguese passport from a guy who used to run a turnkey Burning Man camp who is now running a Golden Visa scheme in Lisbon. “Our Europe today is mortal,” Macron said. “It can die and that depends solely on our choices,” the choices being whether or not to search and detain for ketamine at customs and how to clearly define tipping protocol in restaurants. 

“It used to be enough to spend a couple weeks in Italy in July,” observes Coco, a 34-year-old retired gallery founder who is on the board of several art-related non-profits that she instructed her unpaid interns to start. “But now it gets so hot in Europe in July that everyone is going in June and even like, May.” Coco has several weddings and dinner parties in various coastal destinations in Europe in June, but she has not yet RSVP’d nor has she booked any travel. “I know I’m going to go, but I’ve just been too busy to look at the dates or book anything,” she says, absently picking some kind of beige matter from the left eye of her toy goldendoodle. Macron at one point asserts in his speech that Europe is “too slow and lacks ambition,” referring directly to Coco’s ambivalent European travel plans. 

Uncertainty permeates the vibe in Europe right now, not because of a military threat posed by a giant, angry country with cocked nukes driven by a weak-minded Cold War relic, but because every Millennial in New York, Miami and Los Angeles has expressed their intention to occupy Europe without declaring the targets. 

“Is very stressful,” says Aldo Melpignano, the proprietor of Borgo Egnazia, a trendy boutique hotel in Puglia that for Europeans costs €120 a night and charges 30something Americans visiting from coastal zipcodes $970. “I see the hashtags on the Instagram, like, I’m coming for your @borgoegnazia,” he says. “Va bene, Allison, when you gonna come for us, and are you gonna come with that stupid capello?” says Aldo while making a pinched-fingers emoji with one hand and pointing to his head with the other. Hotel, coffee shop, organic market, and narcotics purveyors all over Italy, France, Spain, and Portugal have echoed this desire for more resolute planning and fewer hats from the demographic that funds the less productive but more desirable EU countries.  

"We must produce more, we must produce faster, and we must produce as Europeans," Macron said, a rallying cry to European DJs to sample only vocals that were recorded in native European languages.  

“Europe must show that it is never a vassal of the United States and that it also knows how to talk to all the other regions of the world," Macron said, refuting the irrefutable fact that Europe has become a summer camp for unproductive younger Americans and suggesting that they be immediately deported to Bodrum or Izmir upon landing at CDG, MXP, and LIS. 

“This is a betrayal of our values that ultimately leads us to dependency on other counties,” Macron said, making an observation about Europe’s frustration with having to work between May and August in order to show American Millennials how to correctly tap their credit card on puzzling European payment terminals.

“Europe must become capable of defending its interests, with its allies by our side whenever they are willing, and alone if necessary,” said Macron, in defense of French baristas who do not like working with oat milk. Taking a hands-on approach to ensuring the EU’s “ability to ensure our security” Macron and his wife will begin their Summer at a wedding in the Aeolian Islands in early June, float around Sicily or Puglia the following week, head to Bonjuk Bay for an appearance of prominent LA-based DJ, RICHE, and then couch-surf in Santa Gertrudis de Fruitera the rest of the summer.

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears A Suit

part Ⅰ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Mention of murder. Hot devil's son. Sexual harassment? Michael Langdon.

Summary: Y/N is a purple at Outpost 3 and gets interviewed by Mr. Langdon.

A/N: I will go to hell for this and I am not opposing if he will be there too.

After 18 months at the underground Outpost life was as dreadful as being killed by a bomb explosion. Or worse. A bunch of snobs and shallow cowards. It was clear as day, that it was just a matter of time before everyone was at each other's throats. 

It wasn’t the Outpost itself or the fact that we are the last human beings on this planet that made everything so depressing. It was boredom. A hole in my head. The only bearable person here was Mr. Gallant. Without his company at the dining table, I could have stuck a fork into my neck.

That evening Ms. Venable announced to us about a visitor. The agent of the Cooperative. Even though she remained calm as usual I sensed a note of fear in her voice. So it means this new man has great authority. I was grateful for any kind of entertainment, even if it meant a bloody revolution. After 18 months with the same people, fresh meat is always dainty.

Ms. Venable ended her speech when a tall man with long blond hair entered the room. He had a dark aura. The aura of power.

“My name is Langdon and I represent The Cooperative,” he said, circling our table. “Humanity is on the brink of failure.”

I glanced at the other residents of the Outpost. They all looked tense and nervous, especially Ms. Venable. She seemed almost afraid of him. Only Mr. Gallant seemed as amused as me. We glanced at each other and I immediately understood what was on his mind. After all, he had a good taste in men.

“My arrival here was crucial to the survival of civilized life on Earth.” His speech was persuasive, words sharp and his blue eyes pierced into all of us. Such an ability to capture everyone's attention was making me delighted.

He stopped at the head of the table and continued. “The three other compounds have been overrun and destroyed.”

“What happened to the people inside?” asked Timothy worried. 

“Massacred,” answered Langdon and I think I caught the shadow of a grin on his face.

I bit my lip to stop myself from chuckling. I had to admit, this Langdon was a very attractive man. And Mr. Gallant was obviously admiring his appearance too. But there was something about The Cooperative representative that made me feel uneasy. It was as if he was hiding something. Something very bad. 

“In the knowledge that this very moment might occur, we built a failsafe… The Sanctuary,” he said, placing his hands behind his back. “I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us. The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call ‘Cooperating’. Simply, I will determine if you belong.”

I remained silent, analyzing the situation. Everyone seemed wary and looked at others with distrust. Only Coco didn’t have enough brains to remain silent and tried to openly express her dissatisfaction. Fortunately, her tirade was abruptly suppressed.

“I volunteer to go first.” Mr. Gallant raised his hand. 

“And so you shall,” Langdon said threateningly, looking us over. He had a cold, calculating look in his eyes. I had a feeling that he already knew who he was going to select.

“The process should only take me a couple of days, so you won’t be kept in suspense forever. I look forward to meeting each and every one of you.” I felt his gaze on me and barely restrained myself from looking away. 

Langdon left the room and everyone immediately started to argue. A bunch of morons, all of them. I rolled my eyes and leaned back in my chair, observing the conversation. Everyone began to share their suspicions and guesses, but of course, they were all too wrapped up in their own fear to notice the whole thing. The Cooperative looked at us as laboratory rats and no one seemed to see that. Pathetic. 

I let out a sigh of annoyance and left the room.

                                                      ✦✦✦

I ran into Malcolm in the hallway an hour later and looked at him questioningly. 

“Oh, darling, I almost had a heart attack." He came closer and started whispering "I'm a bit scared of him. He is definitely hot as hell, but twice as evil."

I chuckled. "Well, that's quite a review. Did he tell you anything new?"  

Mr. Gallant leaned even closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "He asked me a lot of personal questions...I mean really personal."  

I raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

“Like my sexuality for example. And my nana. And other… things. Pretty intimate. I felt so uncomfortable, but I tried to keep it cool.” 

My eyebrows furrowed in interest. So these "Cooperating" sessions were, indeed, quite unique. It seemed like Langdon wanted to know every minuscule detail about each person. I began to wonder what kind of "personal" questions he would ask me. I also began to wonder why I was so looking forward to the moment. 

“I felt like he was trying to rip out my soul.” Added Malcolm in a whisper.

I smirked. "Well, that's quite a dramatic way to describe it." Malcolm chuckled nervously but I had a feeling that he wasn't exaggerating. Langdon was certainly not the type of man that you could fool easily. He could see right through people.

But something was intriguing. I felt a strange thrill at the idea of uncovering the depth of Langdon's scrutiny. 

 "I guess I'll have to brace myself for my turn then," I said nonchalantly.

“Good luck sweetheart.” We kissed each other on the cheek and went in different directions.

I slowly walked to my quarters, lost in thought. I was feeling an inexplicable mixture of excitement and curiosity. The thought of being examined by Langdon, being exposed under the watchful gaze of his sharp eyes, was somehow appealing. God, I have to stop.

I shook my head firmly, trying to dismiss these thoughts. "This is ridiculous," I mumbled to myself softly.

Suddenly I heard something. Something like a scream perhaps. I stopped and looked around. There was no one except me in this dimly lit hall. And then this sound again. More like a whisper now. Millions of whispers. My head began to spin slightly. I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Silence. Everything went quiet. I turned around and flinched as I saw Langdon behind me.

“Mrs. Y/S, I’d like to talk with you next.” 

I looked up at Langdon with a surprised expression, silently cursing myself for being so lost in my thoughts to the point of not noticing him coming closer. His presence was so powerful that it still made my heart flutter even now.

"Lead the way," I replied, trying to maintain my composure. 

Langdon didn't bother answering, simply gesturing for me to follow him. I walked behind him through the maze of halls and rooms. 

We finally reached the entrance to what appeared to be his cabinet. Langdon stepped aside, allowing me to enter first. Entering the room, I noticed how dark and ominous it felt. The walls were lined with bookshelves, filled with old leather-bound volumes. The main source of light was a fireplace.

Langdon gestured for me to sit down on the armchair across from him. I lowered myself gently, straightening my purple dress. 

He studied me, wanted me to be nervous, wanted me to crack. I knew this game. I have played this game with many different powerful men, who think they are Gods because they have dicks. I never lose in a game like this.

His eyes searched my face, trying to find any sign of weakness. But I held his gaze firmly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated.

I leaned back in my seat, a small smirk on my lips. "I see you're expecting me to be quivering in my boots," I said with a hint of sarcasm.

Langdon chuckled darkly. "Is that so?" he asked, leaning slightly forward. 

A silence fell between us, and I held his gaze without flinching. Something about his demeanor made my heart beat a little faster, but I was determined not to show it.

“I prefer conversations to be effective, Mr. Langdon.”

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my remark, a smirk forming his lips. He leaned back in his seat, folding his arms across his chest. "Straight to the point, are we?" 

He studied me for a moment, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"Well, I can appreciate a straightforward woman," he said, his voice surprisingly smooth. "It makes the process much more efficient."

He paused for a moment, his gaze never faltering. "Ms. Y/S," he began, my name rolling off his tongue like a sinful whisper. "Allow me to ask you a personal question."

“Ask,” I replied.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. His eyes were laser-focused on me, and I could practically feel his gaze trying to pierce through my soul. 

"What do you fear the most?" he asked, his tone almost gentle.

I was caught off guard by the question and made a mistake. Langdon noticed the slight flicker of surprise in my eyes. He chuckled softly. "That's what I thought," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You may have mastered the art of bravado, but everyone has a weakness," he continued. "And I'm here to find yours." 

I watched him back and after crossing my legs answered "I fear being surrounded by idiots for the rest of my life." I needled.

Langdon raised an eyebrow, visibly amused. "Well, you certainly have a way with words, don't you?", he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

He leaned back in his seat, studying me closely. "Being trapped in a group of lesser minds for eternity may be torturous, especially for a woman of your... intelligence."

“For a man of your power, it’s a pity that you use flattery as a term of manipulation,” I said, tilting my head in a mocking manner. 

Langdon chuckled, clearly enjoying the challenge. "Ah, so observant," he said, still maintaining his smirk. 

He leaned slightly forward, his gaze never leaving mine. "I'm not just using flattery, Ms. Y/S. I do recognize your intellect. But don't mistake my compliments for manipulation. I simply use the tools at my disposal."

“Huh.”

Langdon chuckled again, clearly appreciating my dry response. "You have a sharp tongue," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “It may be your unique feature or a pathetic attempt to hide your fear.”

I could feel a flicker of irritation at his words, but I forced myself to remain impassive. Langdon was trying to get a reaction out of me, and I was determined not to give him the satisfaction.

"Perhaps it's a little bit of both," I replied, my voice cool and steady. "Or perhaps you're simply not used to people who don't cower easily in front of someone higher in rank."

He stood up from his seat and started circling me slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the room. “Be careful, Ms. Y/S. Your bold attitude is admirable, but at some point, this can play a cruel joke on you.”  His gaze burned into me as he studied me from every possible angle.

“I appreciate the warning,” I said coldly. “I don't fear intimidation tactics.”

“You are a brave woman.” Langdon's voice was suddenly close behind me, his breath lingering on the nape of my neck. A small shiver ran down my spine, and I had to suppress the urge to turn around and look at him.

“A little too brave, some would say.” he continued, his words almost a whisper. “Tell me, Ms. Y/S, is it hard to be the smartest in the room? To be forced to communicate with idiots?”

There was a hint of mockery in his tone that made me nauseous. But I still refused to let him see any sign of weakness. I sat up straighter in my chair, lifting my chin.

“It can be... annoying at times,” I admitted.

“It is irritating how arrogant the upper class is, isn’t it? Especially toward women.” I felt the touch of his fingers on my arm and I barely restrained myself from snatching my hand away. “The world before the bombs wasn’t that much brighter than this one, was it? They all mistreated you, and never took you seriously… Does the idea of them having everything infuriate you?”

His words hit a nerve, the subtle truth in them cutting through my defenses. Yes, the world before the bombings was far from perfect, and I had my fair share of disappointments.

But I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing that he had managed to hit a weak spot. I turned my head slightly, meeting his gaze. “And what makes you think you're any different from them?”

He chuckled darkly, his fingers trailing along my skin, tracing patterns against the fabric of my dress. His nonchalant arrogance was both infuriating and strangely enthralling. 

“Oh, I never claimed to be any different," he responded, his voice low and husky. “But I will say this - I appreciate intelligence, especially in women. I can see your potential.”

“Potential,” I repeated, struggling to keep my tone even. “For what, exactly?”

Langdon ignored my question. His hands, now both on my arms, crawled up to my shoulders. “Have you ever thought about punishing them? About finally showing what you are capable of, so they would never think you are only ‘pretty face’ again?” His breath tickled my ear. “Have you ever thought about making them scared of you?”

His hands on my shoulders were deceptively gentle, yet they seemed to burn against my skin through the fabric of my dress. His breath was warm against my ear as he whispered his words, making my breath hitch in my throat. 

I felt a strange mixture of anger and... excitement at his words. The thought had crossed my mind more than once if I was being honest with myself. To show them ALL how strong and brilliant I truly was. To shuffle a knife into someone’s throat. I remained silent. 

“I sense this force in you, Y/N.”

His voice seemed to fill the space between us, wrapping around me like a dark, intimate spell. He leaned closer, his chest almost pressed against my back. His hands remained on my shoulders, his fingers gently massaging my tense muscles. 

There was something about his voice, the way he said my name, that sent a shiver down my spine. It was as if he could see right through me, past the cool exterior I had been trying to maintain. He knew about the anger, the desire, the fire burning within me.

“I can tell you have a dark side,” he murmured, his voice deep and low. 

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about.” 

“Yes, you do.” His hands continue to stroke my shoulders gently. He was amused by my denial.

“You don't have to play coy with me, Ms. Y/N," he said, his voice velvety smooth. “I can feel it radiating off of you. That simmering anger, that burning desire."

Langdon leaned in closer, his lips almost brushing against my ear. “You want... power. And I can promise you that.”

His words were a seductive murmur, weaving their way into my mind and planting thoughts of power and revenge. It was as if he knew exactly what buttons to push, what desires to awaken within me. 

"Power," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. My mind was swimming, both alarmed and intrigued by his proposal. I felt like I was hypnotized. "Why… What’s the point?"

Langdon chuckled softly, noticing the effect his words were having on me. He stepped away from me, his hands finally leaving my shoulders. He walked around the chair, standing in front of me again.

"Because, my dear," he began, "I've observed your potential. Your intelligence, your resourcefulness, your strength. You're not like the other people in this house. You have ambition. And ambition can lead to power."

He tilted up my chin gently, so I could meet his gaze. "And I can help you achieve it." His thumb traced my jawline, sending a shiver down my spine.

When his finger brushed against my bottom lip I grabbed his hand, stopping him. He smirked and leaned closer, his face only a few inches away from mine.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, his tone laced with mockery. “Did my touch... unsettle you?”

With a swift, almost graceful movement, Langdon sank to his knees in front of me. His hand found its way to my knee, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of my dress.

“I think the interview is over,” I said, trying to stand up, but he pressed on my knee, not letting me get up.

“I will decide if it’s over or not, Ms. Y/S,” Langdon smirked at my silence, slowly running his hand higher up my thigh. He could clearly see the effect he was having on me, the slight tremble in my body.

“What?” he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. “No witty comeback? No clever quip? Seems like you're losing your grip.”

"Losing my grip?" I repeated, trying to keep my voice steady. "Hardly. I am just amused by your behavior." Even a blind person would see my bluff and feign confidence.

“Oh? Really?” He stood up a bit, leaning closer to my face, almost whispering in my mouth. His proximity was intoxicating, his breath hot against my lips. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribcage, the desire coursing through my veins like a current. He slowly brushed his lips against mine and I felt a touch of his tongue on my bottom lip. 

It felt like drugs. It felt better than drugs. His tongue teasingly tracing along my bottom lip sent a shiver down my spine, making my legs tremble beneath me. It was overwhelming. I have never felt like this before. In that very second I could do anything for this man.

Suddenly he stopped and looked me right into my eyes, smirking satisfiedly almost like he read a thought that just got in my mind.

He stood up, turning away from me and I bit my tongue not to moan in disappointment. 

“We’re done for today, Ms. Y/S. It was a pleasure talking to you,” He said, opening the door for me. Smirk remained on his face, but Langdon seemed very calm. As if he didn’t just kneel and almost kiss me two minutes ago. 

I needed a few seconds to understand what had happened, so I blinked and then quickly stood up walking toward the door.

“Hope you have a good night, Ms. Y/S,” he said watching me and I can swear, as he was saying that, his hand slid to cover his groin and he definitely wanted me to notice that. 

“Good night, Mr. Langdon,” I mumbled and left the room. 

What the fuck has just happened?

part two

[kindlefire21]

CBS Ghosts Headcanons 👖⚡️🦉🏹👻

I hope everyone has a good week. Here are some new headcanons (some are sad some are cute)

Hetty is multilingual in Italian, French, and Spanish as she studied in her youth, hoping to travel to those countries

Alberta claims to have partied with famous figures during the 20s such as Babe Ruth, Coco Chanel, Pablo Picasso, etc.

Thorfinn spent years completely isolated as the living couldn’t see him and there were no ghosts around. He mainly used animals or rocks as imaginary friends similar to Castaway

Water goes right through the ghosts and they never get drenched. They can go under the rain and swim in the lake, and they’re completely dry afterwards.

Surprisingly, Pete was a smoker when he was alive but luckily he quit once Laura was born.

Trevor was a jock in middle school and high school, playing football, basketball, and baseball. He took up golf when he went to college.

Isaac states his favorite movie is 1996’s Scream, making everyone think he’s a fan of horror movies. In reality, he has on crushes on the actors, Skeet Ulrich, Matthew Lilliard, and David Arquette

Flower actually had a baby during the cult but she couldn’t keep her baby as she knew the cult life wasn’t good for her. She gave her daughter up for adoption but Flower keeps this as a secret as it breaks her heart.

Sassapis mainly fished or set up traps and snares, but he hardly ever hunted when he was alive.

The ghosts can’t feel a pulse or bleed or anything. But they can feel certain bodily functions related to how they die.

Alberta was an alcoholic when she was alive but she’s officially sober after becoming a ghosts.

The gay puritan ghost at the Farnsby’s still occasionally calls out for Isaac though Isaac ignores him.

Hetty tries to teach Thorfinn proper grammar and dialect when they first met, but he remains in his usual speech pattern.

Sam has a playlist all of their favorite songs for the ghosts to listen to.

Pete and Flower know how to drive stick shift as that’s how cars were like during their eras

Sassapis struggled with English as a ghost but he picked it up quickly as Isaac taught him.

During his living days, Trevor used to be really homophobic but he changed his ways when he had a cousin who came out as gay and Trevor became his biggest ally.

[bunniebubbleswrites]

Hot Coco Kisses

Larissa Weems x F! Teacher! Reader A/N: This was so much fun to write and I had to stop myself from giggling in the middle of some of my classes! Warnings: Slight slow burn? Tooth-rotting fluff, kinda OOC Larissa Words: 1782

Outreach day, something that almost everyone looked forward to. Everyone except you. It was the one thing you did dread every year. All it did was bring back unwanted memories. You had managed to get out of it every year by saying you had papers that still needed grading or by feigning illness. This year neither of those was an option. Apparently, they didn’t have enough chaperons this year so it was just you, Larissa, and Marilyn. 

You stood next to Marilyn, as the Mayor’s voice rang through the air, you weren’t really listening to his speech. Something about normie and outcast relations blah blah blah. You just focused your eye’s on the building behind the Mayor and Larissa. 

The rush of students passing you and Marilyn forced you out of your daze, almost knocking you into Marilyn. 

“Oh my goodness! Marilyn, I am so sorry!” You profusely apologize to your colleague. 

“It’s okay, really (Y/N) it’s not that big of a deal.” Marilyn waved her hands in front of her brushing off what happened. “Are you okay though? You’ve seemed kind of out of it since we got here.” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just there are some memories I can’t seem to let go of.” You let out a sigh as you spotted Larissa walking towards the both of you in her long gray coat. Her long legs carried her over to the both of you very quickly. 

You and Marilyn both turn to look at the tall woman that had her signature smile on her face. The three of you stood in a small circle; the silence un-nevering. 

“We should probably go and see how the kids are doing.” Marilyn’s voice made you jump just slightly. You nodded and smiled as you walked towards the students still standing on the main road. You ushered the small group towards their assignments and when you were sure everyone was where they needed to be you started towards The Weathervane. 

You entered the coffee shop, the small bell on the door signaling to the people behind the counter they had another customer. You went up to the counter surprised that there was no line. 

“Hey Tyler,” Tyler turned and looked at you and met your smile with his own. You had been close with his mother, that in-result led to you being around a lot when he was still little. “My usual, I’ll leave the money on the counter.” You took a 5 dollar bill out of your wallet and placed it on the counter. 

You walked over to a small booth second to the back, while putting your wallet away and putting it in the front pocket of your bag. You settled into the booth with your back facing the entrance.  You placed your bag next to you and pulled out your book. This was routine whenever you came into The Weathervane. 

You ordered a Hot Chocolate, you settled into the second booth to the back of the shop and read. Letting yourself get absorbed into your reading you didn’t notice the two teachers that had walked in. Tyler called out your name and your head shot up. 

You took your bookmark and placed it into the book where you had left off. You left your book on the table and walked over towards the counter, you grabbed the to-go cup. 

“Thanks Tyler.” You raised the cup of hot chocolate in your hands and nodded at him. You settled back into the both, sipping on the hot chocolate, burning your tongue just slightly with the first sip. You opened your book back up and let your mind wander. 

You heard someone sit down in front of you and you looked up from your book, a look of annoyance on your face until you saw Larrissa in front of you with a cup of hot chocolate. You smiled at her and tried to go back to your book. 

You tried to focus on the words on the page in front of you but you just couldn’t. All you could do was keep sneaking glances at the woman in front of you. 

“Principal Weems,” Larissa gasps as she looks up from the cup she was holding in her hands. You slipped your bookmark into your book and set it gently on the table; resting your hands over each other on top of the book. “ Well, it looks like another successful Outreach Day is upon us.” Larissa gave a slight chuckle towards the mayor. 

“And, uh… Thank you for your generous donation to my re-election campaign.” The mayor’s voice seemed to lower but he’s loud enough for Marliyn to hear him. 

“Consider it a token of our ongoing cooperation.” Larissa clicks her tongue and you look at her, your shock showing just slightly. Marliyn walks over towards the three of you.

“Apparently everyone is off to their assignments, and so far no incidents.” You've never been more thankful for Marliyn’s impeccable timing. 

“Mayor Walker, I’d like you to meet Marilyn Thornhill,” Larissa glanced over towards you “and (Y/N) (L/N).” She gestured towards Marilyn then you. Mayor Walker glanced at you and then at Marilyn, then he smiled. 

“In the spirit of outreach, Marilyn is Nevermore’s first normie teacher, and (Y/N) is one of newest teachers.” You smile up at him.

“Well, the pleasure is all mine.” He reaches his hand out and shakes my hand then Marilyn’s.

“Hey, have we, uh… Have we met before?” He turns his attention towards Marilyn, you tune out the rest of their conversation starting down at the cover of your book. You let yourself zone out and the sound of Larissa's voice made you jolt your head up.

“(/N)...(Y/N, are you alright.” She had one of her gloved hands over top of your hands that had been on top of your book. Your face flushed, when had Marilyn left? When did Mayor Walker leave? 

“Yes, I’m fine just a little out of it. Sorry.” You didn’t know why you apologized, it had just come out. 

“Why don’t we take a walk?” Larissa suggested kindly. Maybe some fresh air would do you some good. You nodded and slipped your book into your bag, you grabbed your hot chocolate and slid out of the booth,having Larissa mimicking your movements. 

You both walked out of The Weathervane, your right hand gripping the strap of the bag that hung off your shoulder. Once you reach the steps outside you take a deep breath in and let the cold air settle around you. Larissa puts a hand on your lower back urging you forward. 

You look over your shoulder up at her and are met with a nervous smile. You both move down the steps. 

“So, umm… we haven’t actually got to sit down and talk since I've been here. So I guess I’ll ask first, what’s been going on with you?” You finish off your hot chocolate and toss it into a trash can as you pass by it. 

“Well, nothing really. I’ve just been managing Nevermore.” Larissa responds to your question with the answer you were expecting. Silence falls over both of you as you walk. You go to speak up again but Larissa beats you to it.

“What about you? I mean what's been going on with you?” She seemed nervous when she said it. You giggled slightly at the fact. 

“Well, nothing too interesting. After graduation I went to college and now I’m here.” You smiled up at her as you let the words fall out of your mouth. 

As you both walked; you both started to bring up old memories. The good and the bad, some of them making you laugh so hard your face turns red.

“Remember that one time Claire begged me to switch Outreach Day assignments with her and she ended up with the espresso machine blowing up in her face.” The words left your mouth as you laughed and it made your heart soar to see Larissa laughing with you. 

Larissa then stopped and faced you, she looked nervous. Her face was almost as red as yours was but it seemed it was not for the same reason. 

“Larissa is everything alrigh-” She cut you off before you could get another word out.

“You're not dating anyone right?” She said out right, making your eyes go wide.

“N-no, why do you ask?” You stutter out, unsure of where this conversation was going. It had happened to many times before, being asked out and being embarrassed when they didn’t show up or showed up with someone else. 

Her face was flushed and so was yours, maybe it’s because you both had been through the same experiences in this department. You both looked at each other and you knew her question without her having to say anything. 

You took a step towards her and you reached your hands up to her face having to stand on your tippy-toes despite the heels you were wearing. 

You pulled her down, her red lips meeting yours. You weren’t sure what had prompted you to kiss her but you did.

She kisses you back, her arms wrapping around your waist. You didn’t know how long you had been like that, but it got intense enough that her tongue had slipped into your mouth. You could still taste the hot chocolate she had earlier. 

She pulled back first, her red lipstick was smudged and you no doubt had some on your lips as well. You both just stood on the sidewalk for a little bit, staring at each other. 

The sound of students cheering made you both pull back all too quickly. You stumbled over your own feet and Larissa caught you in her arms. You regain your balance, your hand on Larissa’s lower arms. Your students had just caught the both of you kissing, dear god. You don’t think you would ever live this down. 

Larissa shooed the students away, your face flushed and all you could do was stare down at your shoes and grip the handle of your bag so tightly your knuckles were turning white. Larissa walked over to you and took your hand from the handle of her bag. When you felt her gloved hand on yours, you relaxed just slightly.

“So, how about coffee Saturday?” You giggle out, looking up at her. Your hand still in her gloved one. 

“That would be lovely.” She responds back, giving you a truly happy smile. 

You both walk back to the town square hand in hand, but not before you fix her lipstick and wipe the rest off of your own lips.

[corigauff]

Iconic Moments from Coco Gauff's First Ever Grand Slam Champion Speech at the 2023 U.S. Open.

[batmanfruitloops]

Ya'll want some ice and riddles???

Just in case anyone is new or doesn't know about what ice and riddles is, it's an alternate timeline of our au where the Riddler works with Mr. Freeze instead of the Scarecrow.

Viktor talks about Nora with Eddie a lot, and unfortunately, it really stresses him out. He's reminiscing on memories that Ed isn't a part of and it reminds him of the fact that he hasn't been able to see his grandma in years,

He really hopes that she's okay and Viktor is at least self-aware enough to feel guilty for worrying Ed like that. He'd like their partnership to feel comfortable,

Also just a reminder, Viktor's house is set up to snow inside, hence why Ed is shivering, despite being all bundled up.

Viktor has a really hard time being unable to show Ed affection. They're not close like that, but Viktor can't help but think of Ed like a son/grandson that he and Nora could never have.

He'd never tell Ed that either, but he couldn't help but watch him work or talk about his projects and feel proud of him. Viktor wants to protect Ed with his life.

More of Ed being stressed out by Viktor and losing his mind over all his winter and ice based puns,

Ed couldn't help but have some of his panic attacks around Viktor. Viktor unfortunately wouldn't know how to calm Ed down very well, other to leave him be and try to offer him some hot coco and space.

Ed being manhandled because he doesn't have shoe spikes for the ice. Viktor doesn't want him to slip, that's all,

Yes, there are blanks in the text, sorry about that.

I didn't have a full plan on what Ed's breakdown speech would be like, but he'd finally admit that he's not comfortable with how things would be going with Viktor. Things just aren't going to work if they continue on like this, so Ed tells Viktor he has to get help from someone more qualified.

Not just that, but Viktor should have someone can help him fight the injustice that happened at his workplace that lead to his accident (leading to his current physical state and losing his job) someone like... Bruce Wayne. He funds a lot of their research and has enough status to do something. Besides, he's just some billionaire, what can he do if they approach him and "politely" demand he step in?

- Sarsee

Full sketch page under cut:

[mousemannation]

i am of course devastated for aryna, getting so close again this year, but I really really hope she can remember that back to back slam finals is INCREDIBLE and she has had an exceptional year! of course it is never ever fun to lose, especially when she was clearly so in her head throughout that final. Her speech was very nice to coco, which I do admire- giving the runners up speech is always gonna be tough- but aryna was very clear that she felt she had let herself and her team down with her level. I wont say she wasn’t her own worst enemy out there, but i dont ever think a player has let anyone down with a bad performance. Ultimately it is the player alone out there and for better or for worse the player only has themselves to rely on and perform for. I know Aryna can take this and as she said herself- come back stronger!!!!!!!!!

[puddingcatbeans]

@nebuluscharlie requested:

Pet shop owner Lan Zhan/Customer Wei Ying might be allergic to fur?

The door jingles, and Lan Zhan looks up from where he's attempting to clean the litter box around the stretched out lump of Melon, who is very clearly pretending to sleep.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Ying waves from the doorway. He's wearing a mask, which does nothing to hide his wide grin. "How are you! How are the bunnies!"

Giving up for the time being, Lan Zhan straightens. He steps around the siblings Coco and Bebe, and carefully shuts the gate of the rabbit pen behind him. "Wei Ying," he says. "The bunnies are good. How can I help you today?"

"Oh, I just wanted to pop by," Wei Ying says. "A-Ling was very happy with the new dog toy for Fairy. Thank you for helping me pick it out."

"No problem. I'm glad to hear your nephew approves."

"Yeah, I---" Wei Ying breaks off into a sneeze. "Oh, crap. Sorry, Lan Zhan, I swear I took my meds but it's---" He sneezes again.

Even with his miserable sniffling and red eyes, Lan Zhan still thinks he's the most handsomest man that's ever walked in through his pet shop door. He reaches out and gently nudges Wei Ying towards the door.

"Thank you," Lan Zhan says, reaching over the cash register for a tissue as they pass by. "For coming all the way here."

Wei Ying takes the tissue. "I'm sorry, Lan Zhan. I had a whole speech, and---ha-chu!---and I had a plan, and I was gonna---" He sneezes three times in a row, nearly flinging off his mask.

They reach the door. Lan Zhan goes back and grabs the entire tissue box. He hands it to Wei Ying. "Yes, I'll go on a date with you," Lan Zhan tells him.

Wei Ying gapes at him with watery eyes. "But I haven't asked yet!"

"You came back to my shop even though you're allergic to the animals," Lan Zhan says. "I accept."

"How are you so perfect." Wei Ying looks like he wants to say more, but he ends up sneezing again. "Oh, just wait until I invent the anti-allergy ray..."

Lan Zhan stands on the sidewalk, waving back at Wei Ying's retreating figure until he can't see him anymore. He'll have to shower before he meets the man for dinner. He thinks about Wei Ying's smile, the way his eyes crinkle up and how expressive he is with his hands even when he's sneezing every three seconds. Lan Zhan finds that he doesn't mind at all.

[champagnehenssey]

⋆˙⟡𝒜𝒩𝒢𝐸𝐿 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴⋆˙⟡

⋆soft love. housewife. lady of the house. silk robes & gold hoops. cigarette smoke & strawberry jam. perfume behind the ears. ankles too. behind the thighs as well. lace slip. soft scolding. warm hands & warmer heart. pretty browns. gold rings & cherry flecked knuckles . lover • executioner. “yes ma’am.” domestic devotion. “baby, come home.” kinda love. whispered prayers. coco butter • cologne. “worlds best husband.” his softness. his sanctuary. blood warm vows.

❞I love you. ❞

❛❛I need you.❞

(looks better in dark mode. for visual purposes.)

Dear, lovely readers this story contains mature content and is NSFW. It contains, descriptive violence, hate speech/racism, predator imagery/behavior, implied abuse and k being a pathetic man who loves his wifeyyy. if you haven’t guessed it by now this fic explores what k could be like if he was a mafia man in the 1950s (no specific year will be stated) with you as his pretty lil housewife. yes i did reference the godfather and yes k might be unhinged. you will not be referred to as y/n only Mrs. Takami, angel, honey or another pet name. oh yeah black!fem!reader if that wasn’t clear. and this is only part 1. this was not proofread.

his alibi, his altar, his absolution

The lovely. . . NINA SIMONE

𝒟𝑜𝓃’𝓉 𝐿𝑒𝓉 𝑀𝑒 𝐵𝑒 𝑀𝒾𝓈𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓈𝓉𝑜𝑜𝒹

KEIGO, let out a slow, unimpressed sigh, rolling his shoulders in a lazy manner. He crouched down, resting his forearms on his thighs, watching the bloodied, bruised man with the kinda idle amusement that you see in killers.

"You think," he starts a small huff of amusement coming out of him as he dragged his hand down his face as he eyed the man, "I actually wanna spend my time..on a piece of shit like you?" His voice was smooth-casual even if not for the sharp edge hiding in between lines.

He exhaled through his nose shaking his head with a smile, all teeth and predatory. Then he let out a dark chuckle "I just wanna go home to my wife," he mused tilting his head like he was talking to himself more than the guy bleeding in-front of him. "You know? You know this already but I can’t help talk about her.. gorgeous women. Sweetest smile you've ever seen in ya life, and God—" he let out a low whistle, "that laugh of hers? Could make a man forget how much blood is on his hands."

Keigo cracks his knuckles absentmindedly, rolling his wrists like he was getting bored. "She's probably in the kitchen right now, making me those strawberry biscuits she knows I like so much. Got her pretty 'lil apron on, rollers in her hair-lookin' like somethin' out of a dream." He speaks about you with such fondness so unsuited for where he is, what he's doing—what he's committing.

His tawny eyes shine when talking about you but then they flick down to the man, and all the warmth vanishes like it was never there in the first place. "But then see," he starts off slowly, reaching his hand out on the man's jaw with a bruising grip, forcing his head up so their eyes both meet. "I get told about you." Keigo's fingers pressed against fresh wounds, against split skin, and a busted lip that had the guy— Charlie letting out a choked groan. "Heard you had a whole lotta stuff to say about her, mm? Called her something real nasty." His grip tightened. "What was it again?"

The man whimpered, his lips swollen barely parting, but Keigo just clicked his tongue. "Nah, c'mon talk to me. Say it. Say it to my face. You ain’t had a problem when you were with your boys aint’chu?”

Keigo has a lot of patience for things, many, many things. But what he don't got time for is motherfuckers like this playing in his face, disrespecting you, his marriage. He's not the type of guy to beat people up for every and any little thing —he hates senseless violence. Reminds him of his pops, and Keigo ain't like his pops. He's different. He's controlled, he's calm, he keeps himself in check, and knows when to let the chains he's kept so tight around himself loose.

So, of course it's a scary thing when he lets the control slip. When he lets his anger run through him, boiling, it's a stark difference to the charming display he puts on. In the world he lives in where you either bite or get bitten and he doesn't do a lot of biting but when he does?

it's a nasty, bloody, wound.

Because there's an animosity behind that charming personality. Behind that sugar slick smile, and those honeyed eyes. An animal that wants blood, an animal that’s been hiding behind a painted face of a man. It’s kept in a tiny, dark corner of his head where all the rest of his rot lives. It’s kept there so he won’t become the thing his father was. So, he won’t become the thing he fights so hard to cage. He only lets it out when people truly deserve it. Deserve that monster.

This is one of those times.

All because. . . Charlie was one of those guys who drinks to much and when he opens his mouth it's get him in trouble.

He gets up from his crouch, looking at him eyes darkened, patience worn thin before he pressed his thumb hard against the broken nose, grinding down until the man lets out a garbled, pained sob.

Fuckin’ baby. This ain’t even the worst part.

“Don T—Takami, please—“

Keigo lets out a slow breath, rolling his jaw, before pressing down even harder. “Huh?” He drawled lazily. “Can’t hear you, buddy, speak up.”

He grabs Charlie’s jaw again, his grip tightened like a vice until he heard that shit click. He cracked.

“Black bitch!” He spat, blood and spit flying from his busted, red lips.

Then, Keigo sighed, shaking his head like he was disappointed. Like this was the exact answer he was expecting. Lots of thoughts were running through his head but the main one, front and center was ‘I'm gonna be late for dinner.'

“Yeah,” he murmured flexing his fingers before balling them into a fist. He has his brass knuckles tucked right in his pants pocket. Solid gold, heavy, and well used to beating pulp. But nah. He needed Charlie to feel this. His anger—even without brass Keigo hits hard.

“That’s what I thought.”

Then he swung.

Again.

Again.

Again.

And again—

The crack of bone against flesh and skin was sickening.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Not when this was the only way he could let it all go.

Not when the only person—the only women who taught him love, real love name is being spat on.

Violence runs through his family.

It’s Hereditary.

Vile.

Grotesque.

Horrifying.

He’s not Keigo Takami anymore.

He’s not a sweet, loving husband right now.

He’s Hawks. Hes Brooklyns Favorite son.

Keigo's fist moved on muscle memory now, driven by something low and burning in his chest. Rage. Love. The need to protect something so soft and delicate in a world that only respected blood and power. His knuckles were raw, bruised, split open, but he didn't feel a damn thing.

The man beneath him—Charlie his 'brother' was half conscious, face swollen, skin clammy and blood soaking into the collar of his shirt. But Keigo grabbed a fistful of it anyway, dragging him up so he could look him dead in the eye.

"You opened your mouth about her," Keigo rasped, his voice thick, heavy with venom and something pained behind it. "My angel. My sweet, sweet angel," he looks away for a second thinking about deep browns and your voice the only thing keeping him right in the head right now—cause he could be doing worse right now. "and all cause of her skin color?"

He looks back and Charlie's eyes are closed oh no. "Hey, hey look at me," he whispers and his eyes open blue and watered. "You cryin'? That's not good enough bud cause I can see it-" His hand fisting the collar tighter bringing them face to face "You still don't get it do you?" His voice is reverent, like he's speaking a prayer and a curse all the same. "You know this—you fuckin’ know this shit. She ain't just my wife. She's the reason I come home at night. Reason why I get up in the morning. The reason why I don't put a bullet in my own damn head some days."

Charlie tried to turn away-maybe from shame, maybe to brace for another blow, but Keigo didn't let him. His hand caught the bastard’s jaw, fast and mean, fingers sinking into the bruised bone like claws. Held him there. Made him look.

"She's light you hear me? And you-," a breathless chuckle, a bewildered expression because he truly can’t believe this. "you disrespected her like it was nothin'. Called her…”

He exhales a shaky breath and goes quiet. eyes squeezing shut like the memory itself burned.

“Why! “ he barked, wild eyed. Loud enough to make Charlie flinch.

“Why, why, why, why—“ he sounded crazy now, kept saying it like it might cough up the answer. Like it might reveal the truth. His voice cracked on the fourth one, raw and unhinged. He was shaking the man now, snarling in his face—teeth bared, nose to nose with someone who’s barely breathing.

“Why would you say that about her?”

It wasn’t rhetorical.

It was a man slipping. Slipping into the dark.

Voice all torn up from the rage.

“Like you forgot what I am,” Keigo hissed eyes blown wide and golden. “Like you forget what I’ll do.”

His head tilted. Smile all teeth. But it ain’t shit was funny.

“Cause you know don’t you?” His voice dropped to something quieter. “What I’ll do. And you still played. Still fucked around.”

A little laugh now. A dry, cracked thing.

His thumb pressed down into the man's cheekbone-slow, deliberate. "You don't deserve to speak about someone like her. You don't deserve to look at someone like her." Charlie wheezed out a breath, but Keigo leaned in closer, breath hot, jaw so clenched his teeth ached.

"You think I do?" Keigo asked almost to himself his eyes distant. "I don't. But she chose me. She loves me. And l'd set the whole fuckin' world on fire if it meant keeping her safe. If it meant beating up filth like you.” He exhales, breathing in and out before that solemn tone left and replaced with hatred. “You're not even worth the dirt under her heel Charlie, c'mon."

"She made you cookies, man," he hissed, disbelieving. "She baked for you. You—you and the other bastards sittin' around my table, drinkin' my liquor, talkin' like you've got some kinda right."

"I let it slide 'cause I consider you family and - and I understood we all get a lil' loose when drunk."

His voice cracked, just for a second.

"I…just..l don't know why she bothers sometimes. Why she's so good to me. So lovely. Lovely to all of you. She's got no idea how much I need that-how much she saves me just by bein' there."

Keigo's voice drops, soft and low like a confession. "So, you understand why I'm doing this to you, right?"

Charlie nodded quickly-pathetically- his split lips trembling, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. The tears streaming down his cheek weren't real.

Not to Keigo.

Not now.

Crocodile shit, every drop of it.

Keigo sighed, slow and tired thumb still resting on Charlie's swollen cheek. He gave it a gentle pat-mocking, almost tender—and smiled just a little.

"That's..that's good. I didn't wanna explain it again."

Then he drove his fist into Charlie's gut so hard the chair rattled. The man choked, eyes bulging, air knocking clean out of his lungs, mouth gasping in shock.

Keigo finally steps back, just to breathe a bit, process everything. He looked down at his hands, flexed his fingers, and wiped the blood across his button up. Ruined. The whole shirt, fucked. He could already hear your voice in his head, scolding him—“bloods hard to get out baby, this is the third one this week.”

But you’d clean it anyway.

You always did. You’d frown and tell him to go sit down somewhere while your hands soaked the fabric, subbing the blood stains out with a high agent cleaner and warm water huffing to yourself if there were any hard ones to get out.

It was so domestic it made his jaw clench, heart even harder.

“She’s always humming,�� Keigo rasped, pacing infront of Charlie, thumb rolling over his bloodied knuckles of his right hand trying to self soothe. It fails. “She dances in the kitchen sometimes when she thinks I’m not watching. And she’s always askin’ ,” He huffs here smiling painfully, “if you boys want somethin’ to eat. Always caring bout’ you bunch of fuckers like your her own to fret over.”

He stopped then, turning slowly, eyes locking on Charlie with a look that could freeze blood over.

Wide, a bit bloodshot, tawny eyes darkening—his voice dropped low and dangerous.

“That’s who you spat on.”

A pause. A breath.

“That’s the women who you reduced to some cheap, nasty, punchline.”

Each word was deliberate. Meant to bruise. And it wasn’t just anger behind it—it was pain.

Because she was good.

Too good.

Charlie tried to shake his head, tried to say something. But Keigo ain't let him get a word out. He was trembling not from fear—but from his ill temper barely in check now.

“And c’mon Charlie!” He snarled voice suddenly raucous the sound bouncing off like a gunshot. “You think I don’t see the way you look at her like that? Like you wanna get close to her, like she’s something you got a shot at?! Like you wanna fuck her?”

He cocks his head, one brow raised, and steps forward with a body language all but communicating violence.

He stands infront of him, grabbing Charlie’s jaw again, rough and punishing. “Look at me. Look. At. Me. You dirty fuckin’ mutt.”

It’s a command. One he obeys cause he knows better. Knows better than to be a disobedient dog infront of its master. He meets his eyes and gold sears into him. Not just from shame or fear no it’s feeling of being of already being dead and now he’s just waiting on the shovel.

“Say it ain’t so.”

His grip tightens, thumb digging just under Charlie’s chin.

“Say it ain’t so, and I might not feed you to the fuckin’ dogs.”

He leans in, breath hot and steady, voice bitter.

“Say it ain’t so. . . and maybe I won’t have your worthless ass cut up floatin’ in East Bay by sunrise.”

Charlie breath hitches, jaw caged in Keigo’s palm, voice broken sobs.

“You wanna fuck my wife Charlie?” Keigo repeats, voice eerily soft this time.

“N—No—“

“Liar.” He hisses. The word cuts sharper than a blade

Keigo's fist slammed into Charlie's gut again, a sickening crunch following the impact. The man's breath left him in a wheeze, his body jerking from the hit. But Keigo wasn't done. "You probably think about her on her knees for you don't you?" He sneers, his voice low and guttural "Dream about her suckin' your tiny fuckin' dick, callin’ you ‘sir’ and treatin’ you like a king?! You ain't shit Charlie—you ain't worth shit!" He yells in his face voice rough and visceral.

"Then you got the audacity—the fuckin' audacity—to insult her 'cause of her race? Cause she ain't like the dames you're used to? Cause she ain’t like those paper-thin, powdered up bitches you toss pape at?! You think that makes you a man?”

His face twists, pure disgust now.

“Havin' whores hangin' off your arm, talkin tough shit, like you sit in the same table as me and mine. But I don’t see no ring on that finger. You know why?”

Keigo leans in, lip curled, golden eyes blazing.

“Cause you couldn’t even keep a wife! Couldn’t give her a damn legacy. Not with that dead womb.”

Charlie flinches like he’s been shot and has the audacity to bear his teeth, blood shot blue eyes looking to kill.

Keigo laughs. Low, mean, and cruel.

“There it is,” he mutters, voice all ice now. “That pride. That stupid fuckin’ pride that got you into this chair.”

And before Charlie can say a word—crack—Keigo slaps him hard across the face with the back of his hand. Not a punch. No. A slap. Disrespectful. Deliberate. The kind of hit you give to remind someone of their place.

Charlie head jerks, blood splattering from his mouth. Keigo grabs him by the collar, brings him close enough that their forehead nearly touch.

“Don’t you dare bare your teeth at me, mutt.” The words come out, sharp and heavy. “You wanna growl, you better be ready to die like a dog.”

His grip tightens. “And don’t play that shit with me. You aint a fuckin' King. Not a real one at least. Runnin’ round here sayin my name in conversations like a card. You're just some boy who's got his head mixed up and forgot himself, forgettin' who the fuck he works for, and why he kisses the ring." Keigo spits, his voice laced with pure poison.

“You promised yourself to me.” He huffs, “Said you were mines—my soldier. My fuckin’ man. And I took you in like blood. I brought you under my wing, let you wear my name.”

His voice cracks. Not from weakness but from betrayal.

“I protected your sorry ass when there were bodies on your trail and vultures circling. Me. I fronted you cash when your wife was pregnant and the bills stacked higher than your pride. And when that baby..died. “ his voice cracks here, “ You stood in that hospital, tears in your goddam eyes and said “you would’ve been the Godfather.” “

Keigo’s chest heaved. His fist trembled around Charlie’s collar, “I was there for you,” he said, quiet now. Broken. “Cause I considered you family, man.”

A beat. A moment of silence.

“Like a brother.”

Keigo’s gaze hardened, the lingering feeling of betrayal and mercy gone. The last never being an option in the first place.

“And you…messed that up. Fucked it up really.”

Keigo stepped back dropping his hand from the collar biting his lower lip softly before looking up at the celling.

Charlie’s breaths of wheezes full the warehouse with sound, the smell of blood as well and but Keigo’s mind isn’t even here anymore it’s with you.

You with your pretty brown eyes that never look at him like the monster he is. Never judge him for what he says, what he does, how he acts when he comes back from a bad day at work pent up frustration and silence—he’d never take it out on you. But, you..you’re just so sweet. You press a kiss against his forehead, let him lay his head on your lap, while your run your fingers through his hair humming a sweet tone.

It’s his part of life—so small but so beautiful—that makes him human. Keeps some part of him sane.

You and your kind—soft words. Soft words that aren’t meant for people like him. “I love you,”’s, and “your my forever and only,”’s. When you say those words it sounds like a whole other language—one he thought he would never understand. But, you taught him, you kept patience with him and you never left no matter how ugly it got. How ugly he can get. When he’s not worth those words anymore and you still whisper it in his ear, still look him in the eyes until he says it back without his voice shaking.

You and your warm, home cooked food that fills his stomach and suddenly he’s reminded of that kid inside of him—hollow cheeks, ribs peeking through his skin. Back then he had to earn food. Prove he deserved to eat another day. And it’s not just the food but it’s the genuine amount of emotion you put into it. The time, and effort—and it’s all for him. Because you love him.

Just you.

Smiling. Eyes crinkled at the corners. Laughing—so warm and full of joy. Putting him back together with your words of affirmations and your voice that seems to echoes the loudest in his head—whenever it’s too much.

“You know,”

He drawls dragging his knuckles down his own jaw to ground himself even more.

"She prays for me. Every night. Real quiet, so l don't hear her—but I do. I lie there with her head on my chest, and I hear her ask the Lord to keep me safe. To keep me kind."

He sighs. Looking at Charlie the man barely conscious. Bloodied and beaten. Nose twisting in a way that’s certainly not right. Lips split, busted and red trembling down his chin.

He chuckles, it’s something bitter.

"Some nights I believe He listens. Nights like this?" He tilts his head, tongue running across his front teeth.

"I figure He turns His face."