#rest in peace langdon

[j3st3rgirl]

so ive been watching the pitt and santos is a huge raging cunt and im pretty sure that langdons end is already set up the way dr robby told him he sent that recommendation later for the new job and then caught him yelling at santos like I’m afraid his ass is most certainly toast he’s being pushed to that new job and we shall never hear from him again. unfortunately santos will reign victorious trust me i can see the future.

[allapologiezz]

R.i.p btw

…thanks?

[thepencilnerd]

Drunk Confessions

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You��re out drinking with your colleagues. Robby’s not there—until he is. What happens when you see each other again in the ER, and everything you said (or left unsaid) comes rushing back? genre: slow burn, angst, fluff, comfort, pining, emotional constipation, mutual yearning warnings: alcohol use, mild medical content, emotional vulnerability, mentions of vomiting word count: 3.3k (guess who got carried away again)

The night was full of laughter and bright lights, the bar alive with all the good vibes and music that made everything feel just a little bit softer around the edges. You were out with your colleagues—Abbot, Langdon, McKay, Dana, Collins, King, and even the interns—grabbing drinks after a hellish week of back-to-back shifts.

You’d chosen a private room to accommodate Mel, knowing how she felt about loud, overstimulating spaces. When you invited her, you hadn’t expected her to come, fully anticipating the polite decline. You’d even asked her with the disclaimer of, "I booked a quieter room just in case, but no pressure at all.” To your surprise, she said yes. She’d wanted to spend time with everyone. To push herself, gently. When you caught her eye across the table and gave her a small nod, she returned it with the faintest smile. A quiet exchange. A thank you, without words.

She and Javadi were curled up at one end of the booth, nursing a sparkling fruit mocktail pitcher and picking at a shared appetizer tray, happily people-watching.

Whitaker and Santos, meanwhile, were deep in an argument about who had messed up the discharge summary on a particularly chaotic gallbladder patient.

"You literally charted 'slippery little bastard' in the note," Whitaker said, pointing an accusatory fry at Santos.

"It was a descriptor!"

"It was not a clinical term, and frankly, I'm fairly certain the patient saw it."

Abbot, returning from the bar with another round of drinks, cut between them with a sigh. "Okay, children. No chart brawls on a Friday."

They both groaned. "Dad alert," McKay called from the other side of the room.

"Old man Abbot strikes again," Langdon added.

Abbot raised his hands in surrender, took a long, dramatic gulp of his drink, and muttered, "Where's the respect?"

Robby, of course, had bailed with a grumbled excuse about being too old for music and tequila. Which only led to more jokes at his expense.

"He probably went to bed at nine with a chamomile tea and a heating pad," Collins teased, earning a round of snickers.

"You know he alphabetizes his vitamins," Abbot added.

Langdon pitched. "I bet he sleeps in orthopedic socks."

You giggled into your drink, feeling the warmth of the liquor settle behind your ribs. "Leave the old man alone," you said. He probably just wants to wind down in peace."

Another round appeared. Someone made a toast. You made the mistake of turning down the snacks Whitaker offered in favor of hydrating yourself almost exclusively with spirits. Between Dana convincing you to dance and Collins dragging you into a karaoke rendition of a song by The Smiths, you lost count of how many drinks you’d had.

Eventually, it all turned into a big blur. The room was buzzing. You were fully in your giggle era. Every joke was the funniest thing you’d ever heard, and the balance provided by your cerebellum was a distant memory. You rested your chin on Dana’s shoulder, mid-laugh, when Abbot appeared at your side.

"Hey, hey—" he said gently. "Okay. I think we’re done for the night."

You blinked up at him. "Huh?"

Abbot offered a small, understanding smile. "You’re very drunk."

"I’m not—" you hiccuped. "—thaaat drunk."

"You’re holding your phone upside down and trying to call a cab. On Instagram."

You squinted at the screen. "It won’t load."

He chuckled. "Yeah. I’m calling Robby."

Your eyes went wide. "Nooooo, don’t call him!"

Abbot was already dialing. "Too late." Across the city, Robby picked up on the first ring.

"She needs a ride," Abbot said simply. "Before she starts a revolution."

There was a pause. Then: "On my way."

Ten minutes later, the bar’s front doors opened and in walked Michael Robinavitch in jeans and a black quarter zip, looking equal parts annoyed and deeply fond. His eyes scanned the space until he found the room in the back—there you were, curled up in a booth, cheeks flushed, hair mussed, grinning like a happy drunk, eyes glassy with joy and gin.

You looked up, dreamy. "Robbbbby."

He sighed through his nose. "Christ."

"You came!" you said, like he’d returned from war.

He crouched in front of you. "Ready to head out?"

"You’re so handsome when you’re irritated," you mumbled.

Abbot choked on a laugh behind you. The rest of the Pitt crew—buzzed but fully present—turned at the sound.

"Awww," McKay cooed loudly. "She’s so gone."

"Look at him, pretending this isn’t the best moment of his life," Langdon added.

"They’re literally in love," Javadi whispered, sipping her mocktail.

Mel, beside her, nodded intently. "I hope she remembers this on Monday." 

"I’ve seen less chemistry in the trauma bay," Dana deadpanned.

Robby pretended not to hear any of it. But even through the dim karaoke lights, everyone could see how the tips of his ears turned bright red.

He helped you stand, guiding you gently toward the exit. You immediately shifted laterally, and he steadied you, arm wrapped firmly around your waist. With a quiet nod to your colleagues, he murmured a polite, "Get home safe, see you all on Monday," before leading you outside into the crisp night air.

Once out, the crisp air sobered you up ever so slightly. "I’m sorry," you whispered, only loud enough for him to hear. His stature was firm and cut like marble, strength unwavering even after the long shift.

"I missed you." The words came out clearer than you imagined it would.

Robby’s expression flickered. He held you tighter. "Let’s get you home, lightweight."

"Can I have a piggyback?" you asked, blinking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

He snorted, amused. "You’re impossible."

"But charming," you added, looping your arms loosely around his neck.

He crouched down, and you clumsily climbed onto his back, your limbs boneless with exhaustion and too many drinks. Your face pressed against the nape of his neck, and he could feel your breath—warm and steady, despite your giggles.

"I’m really heavy," you mumbled against his collar.

"You’re not," he said, more tenderly than he meant to. His hands adjusted around your legs as he carried you through the night toward the car, his heart thudding steadily. "I’ve carried patients twice your size."

"But were they as in love with you as I am?" you slurred, voice soft, nearly sleep-drunk.

Robby froze for just a moment—then kept walking.

"You’re drunk," he said with a quiet chuckle, trying to mask the sting in his chest. "You won’t remember any of this come tomorrow."

You hummed, half-asleep now, cheek smushed against his shoulder. "I'm sober enough to form honest and coherent thoughts! Even though I know I’m not someone you’d ever actually want..."

Your words trailed off and you fell asleep like that, arms around him. Robby carried you all the way to his car without saying another word.

When he reached your apartment, Robby found your keys in your pocket and unlocked the door. He set you down on the floor and you immediately swayed, knees threatening to give way. He caught you with ease, arms wrapping around you to steady you, holding you gently but firmly against his chest.

Your eyes fluttered open and met his, the world tilting slightly. For a moment, the haze lifted just enough to see the worry behind his soft smile. Then your face shifted with sobering realization.

"Oh my god," you mumbled, your hand flying to your mouth as you wriggled out of his grasp and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Robby was at your side in an instant, holding your hair back while you emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet. He said nothing, just rubbed slow, grounding circles between your shoulder blades, anchoring you with his steady presence and quiet care.

Once you'd exhausted your gag reflex, you wiped your mouth and slumped back against the wall with a groan. "Sorry," you croaked.

"Don’t apologize," he said softly. He gently brushed damp hair from your forehead. "I'll be right back."

He returned with a bottle of water and a cool washcloth, helping you clean up, moving with practiced tenderness. He guided you into your bedroom, making sure to steady you when you wobbled. When it came time to change, he turned his back, looking pointedly at the ceiling, cheeks flushed. He kept his hands out, ready to help but giving you the space to move at your own pace.

At one point, when you lost your balance trying to get your leg through a pants hole, he reached out instinctively to catch you, his hands warm and careful. Thankfully, you'd been wearing your sports bra and underwear, so you weren't entirely bare. 

"I'm sorry," you groaned.

"You're fine," he said quickly—too quickly—before clearing his throat and breathing slow and deep like he was trying not to combust on the spot.

Once you were decent, he helped you ease down onto the bed, avoiding your eyes like they might undo him. As he turned to leave, your fingers closed around his hand. "Stay," you mumbled.

He froze.

Then he sat. And stayed.

You stirred once more, not quite awake, and whispered, "I don't deserve you..."

He didn’t respond. Just let you keep holding his hand, the quiet filling the room like a promise. His heart swelled as he knelt beside your bed, threading his fingers through yours. He stayed like that—anchored to you—his head resting on the edge of the mattress. The room settled into soft stillness, your breath even and steady, your hand warm in his. It wasn't long before he drifted off there, kneeling on the floor, still holding your hand like he couldn’t bear to let go.

Across the room, Abbot’s text buzzed on Robby’s phone:

You're welcome—don't let her go, brother.

The next morning, Robby woke up with a crick in his neck and a dull ache in his shoulders. He blinked blearily as he adjusted to the morning light filtering through your bedroom curtains. You were still asleep, your mouth slightly ajar, a bit of drool at the corner of your lips. Despite everything, the sight made him smile—a soft, quiet thing. It was endearing. Real.

Carefully, he peeled himself up from the floor, stretching out his sore limbs. He made a mental note to book a physiotherapy session next week. Moving on autopilot, he padded into your kitchen and rummaged through your cupboards until he found the basics—eggs, bread, a few vegetables, and fruit. 

As the scent of breakfast filled the apartment, he moved with purpose but not hurry, setting out a tray with aspirin, water, and a post-it note in your handwriting he’d found on the counter—one you must’ve written for yourself: buy soy milk, get more sleep, survive. He added it to the tray, like a small offering.

Then, on the bottom in his unmistakable handwriting, Robby had scribbled: Don’t forget to eat. Yes, I used the good cheese.

With one last glance at the room—at you, still asleep in the soft morning light—he slipped out the door, letting you rest.

The weekend went as quickly as it came. Back in the controlled chaos where you both lived best. It was your first full shift since that night, and everything felt... almost normal.

Until you saw him.

Robby stood across the trauma bay, reading something off a chart. When he looked up and saw you, your eyes met—and for a beat too long, the world stilled.

Neither of you spoke. But the weight of everything unsaid lingered in the space between you, soft and warm and maybe a little terrifying. Abbot, Collins, and Dana were hovering at the nurses station, pretending to scroll through charts while absolutely not being subtle about eavesdropping.

"This is painful," Collins whispered, leaning on the counter.

"Just talk to each other, for the love of God," Dana muttered, eyes flicking back and forth between you and Robby.

Abbot sipped his water quietly, though his smirk betrayed him. "Give it a minute. One of them will short-circuit soon."

Dana glanced at him and raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be heading home?"

Abbot grinned. "And miss this? Hell no."

"Should we intervene?" Collins asked.

Dana snorted. "They’d combust. I’m just here for the show."

Meanwhile, a few beds over, Langdon and Mel were assessing a post-op patient, Santos, Whitaker, and Javadi hovering close behind. Despite their supposed focus, even they weren’t immune to the tension radiating across the bay.

"Do you think they’ve actually kissed yet?" Santos asked under her breath, adjusting her gloves.

"No way," Whitaker replied, without looking up. "Too much unresolved yearning."

"It’s like watching a medical drama in real time," Javadi added, entirely deadpan.

Mel, checking vitals, didn’t look up. "Resolution seems like a logical outcome," she said simply. 

Langdon grinned. "I second that." Throughout the morning, he watched as you and Robby moved around each other in the trauma bay—close, but never quite meeting in the middle.

Throughout the entire shift, Robby stayed professional. Methodical. Calm. He handed off charts with a clipped nod, offered concise updates, and maintained a respectful distance. He didn’t falter—not in front of others, at least—but you felt the strain in every careful interaction.

You, on the other hand, were colder than you intended. Slipping into a kind of self-protection mode, you responded to his questions with short answers, avoided eye contact, and shifted away when he got too close. When he reached to steady a blood pressure cuff and your hands brushed, you pulled back too quickly, flinching without meaning to. He didn’t comment, but you could see the flicker of hurt in his eyes. He licked his lips and frowned before blinking it away.

You tried to tell yourself it was easier this way. Safer. But it didn’t feel that way—not with the memory of his hands on your skin and the way he’d carried you home still lingering like static beneath your skin.

You remembered the small details with startling clarity—how he smelled faintly of clean laundry and menthol, how his hands felt rough but careful as they held you, how his voice had lowered just enough to ground you when everything else spun. But for the life of you, you couldn’t remember what you’d said.

Or if he'd said anything back.

And the uncertainty terrified you.

You didn’t know what to do with that. So you built space instead. Right around the end of the day, Robby found you by the stairwell and quietly asked if you had a minute. There was something different in his tone—not urgent, but personal. Intentional.

Which led to now: you and Robby alone in a small empty room off the main hallway.

He stood across from you, quiet for a moment. Then, gently, "Are you okay?"

You hesitated. "I'm fine. Just... a little tired."

He tilted his head, eyes searching yours. "You're not. You're pulling away."

You looked away. "I'm just trying to focus on work."

You turned toward the door, but as you moved to leave, his arms rose slightly as if to stop you. Your body reacted before your brain could—brushing him off like the touch burned. His hands fell back to his sides, and a flicker of pain crossed his face.

"I just—" you started, voice breaking. You pressed your lips together. "I don't know what to do with these... feelings."

Robby stayed silent.

"You're everywhere all the time, even when I'm not at work," you said, breath hitching. "I like you as more than a friend or colleague. Not to mention way more than any resident should like their attending."

You didn’t let him speak. The words rushed out, messy and fast. "I know it's unprofessional. I know it’s stupid. I know it’s a mess and a half and I’m probably screwing up my career, but you—you're not helping. You act like nothing’s changed, like none of it meant anything, and it hurts. You left me without an answer when I... when I basically laid out my heart bare to you, drunken stupor and all—"

Your voice cracked. "At least tell me you don’t like me back. Tell me you’re too old and I’m too young, or that I have my whole life ahead of me and I can't be held back. Just say something to make it easier to walk away from this. Please."

There was a beat of silence, thick and aching. Then, Robby’s expression shifted—something breaking open behind his eyes, like he couldn't keep it buried any longer.

Robby's voice was rough. "Do you have any idea how much I care about you?"

It was at that moment, you realized what it felt like for a heart to skip a beat.

"You're in my head all the time. Every shift, every night, even when I don't want you to be. I think about whether you’ve eaten, whether you’re sleeping, whether you’re okay. You occupy every spare inch of my thoughts."

He paused, something vulnerable flickering in his expression. "I didn’t say anything that night because I was scared. Not of you—of me. Of what it would mean. Because this?" he gestured between the two of you. "It’s not nothing. It never was. It will never be nothing."

"So no," he took a small step closer. "I can’t tell you I don’t like you. I can’t tell you to walk away. And I sure as hell won't let you believe you don't deserve me. Because I’ve wanted you for so long it hurts."

You stared at him, dumbfounded. The air in your lungs felt too thick to breathe. Your heart pounded so loudly it was all you could hear.

Robby turned slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly looking like he'd said too much. "Fuck," he murmured, more to the floor than to you. Flushed and flustered, he avoided your gaze.

You took two steps forward before he could retreat further, reaching for his arm to turn him back toward you. His eyes widened as you closed the distance, your hands rising to cup his face. And then, without hesitation, you pulled him down into a kiss that stole the breath from both your lungs.

It was the kind of kiss that felt like exhaling after holding your breath for far too long. The kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The kind that lit you up from the inside, filling your chest with a warmth that rivaled that of the summer sun. 

His hands found your waist, slow and steady, like he was afraid you’d slip away if he didn’t hold you just right. His lips met yours with a hesitation that lasted only a heartbeat—then deepened with an urgency that betrayed just how long he’d been holding this in.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was longing, laid bare. It was months—years—of pining and restraint breaking all at once, the dam cracking open under the weight of everything unspoken. His touch was reverent, but there was heat behind it—fingers flexing against your waist, your body pulled flush to his, your heart pounding loud enough to echo between you.

It was want and ache and finally, finally, the rawness of two people crashing into the truth. And in the wreckage, something beautiful bloomed.

Like glass shattering. Like a black hole collapsing in and swallowing itself in its entirety. Like coming home.

When you pulled back, breathless, his forehead rested against yours. You stayed there for a moment, sharing the same breath, the same space, the weight of what had just been said still lingering between you.

"Okay," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. "Now what?"

He gave a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Whatever you want. Seriously. You name it. I'm yours. "

You opened your eyes, searching his face for a flicker of doubt, but found only warmth. Affection. Devotion.

So you kissed him again—slow and deliberate, like you were trying to memorize the feeling of being wanted back.

And in that kiss, Robby was overwhelmed. His mind tried to keep up with the moment, with the way your hands fit so perfectly against his skin, the way you leaned into him like you belonged there. He’d spent months—years, maybe—compartmentalizing his feelings, convincing himself he was too old, too cautious, too responsible to ever deserve something this good.

But now, with you here, kissing him like your heart depended on it, all he could think was: don’t let this be a dream. Every part of him responded to you—your warmth, your trust, the way you pulled him closer like he was something worth reaching for.

He deepened the kiss for just a moment, like he needed to prove something—maybe to you, maybe to himself. Then, softer again, he let it slow.

His lips brushed yours once more before he whispered against your mouth, "Would you like to spend the evening with me tonight? Properly?"

You laughed softly, breath catching on the sound. "I would love nothing more, Dr. Robinavitch." 

For a while, you stayed there—wrapped in the hush of the moment, hearts finally in sync. Outside, the ER carried on. Papers shuffled. Doors swung open and closed. Monitors beeped. But inside that room, time slowed. The world could wait a little longer.

[magnetic-rose]

robby: we need to get our customer satisfaction scores up or this hospital is cooked.

dr langdon, only ten minutes later: YOU HAVE WORM GRAVEYARDS IN YOUR BRAIN FOREVER, MAY THEY REST IN PEACE.

[chalkrevelations]

Oh. My god.

Whitaker got Robby out of the morgue. You get it? He raised him from the dead. Held out his hand and pulled him out of the grave like Robby was Lazarus.

(ETA: For some additional context on this, please check out @approximate-ritual's post here.)

But that's "not [Robby's] book." And all I can think about is Buffy's season-six-long depression after her friends clawed her out of her grave when all she wanted to do was rest. In peace.

There's been a lot of electronic ink spilled about this scene in the past couple of days, a lot of it, I think, looking at Whitaker as, well, kind of a savior figure in that moment. But let's face it - what he did was terrible. What he did was part and parcel of what breaks the people who work in our healthcare system over and over and over again, uses us up and spits us out - real people who end up taking drugs like Langdon, or having panic attacks and breakdowns like Robby, or standing on the edge of a rooftop like Abbot. This is the trap - you have to do too much with too little and too few people and not enough time, and if you don't manage it, people die. We need you out there. Without you, we are fucked.

But that's not what Robby needs. Robby needs some rest. Some peace. Something that will do more than slap a band-aid around the way he's fracturing under the weight of that ED.

What Whitaker did was necessary, but it was also terrible, feeding Robby right back into the grinder. Because more people would die. And Robby knew all of that, pushed Whitaker away like a disavowal of the system's grind, even as he stood back up and responded to the need out in the rest of the ED. There was no actual care for Robby, the individual, in what Whitaker - the personification of the system in that moment - did. No friendly hand helped Robby up, only a desperate one that needed him to get back out there and help push the rock back up the incline again, and again, and again, and let it roll back down over him again, and again, and again.

Must one imagine Sisyphus happy? Must one?

God, I need to think about this some more, but meanwhile, I'm just going to be sitting here with my head in my hands.

[birdofcauthon14]

Continuing my rewatch of The Pitt ahead of the season finale, and I gotta tell you: it's so funny to me that the single worst bedside manner moment in the entire show so far did not come from Santos, who is awkward around patients but generally cordial, but rather from Langdon.

Because, like...that poor man with the brain worm graveyard in his head. "Yes, but at least they're resting in peace"?

Really, Frank?

Really, sir???

[ahqkas]

Can I make a request for Tate Langdon (American Horror Story), where fem!reader is innocent/pure? I usually see people making fanfiction of him where reader is like Violet, but I'd like to see one where reader has never even touched a cigarette before, never fought at school, has a healthy family, and etc! Feel free to ignore my request if you want to!! Thanks anyway 💗 (You can do whatever subject you want, fluff, angst or suggestive. You choose!)

hi lovely !! requests for ahs are currently closed but !!! i wrote u a quick blurb

YOU DIDN’T USUALLY SIT OUT ON THE BACK STEPS THIS LATE, BUT TONIGHT THE MOONLIGHT WAS TOO PRETTY TO IGNORE. The wind was crisp, and the stars above twinkled brighter than you’d ever seen. Your parents were inside, laughing at a movie you hadn’t been in the mood for. They didn’t mind when you slipped out—you always told them exactly where you were going.

You didn’t hear him approach at first. Tate had a way of appearing silently, like the shadows themselves delivered him. He stepped into the pale glow of the porch light, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets, head tilted like he was sizing you up.

“You’re sitting out here alone?” he asked, his voice soft but edged with something you couldn’t quite place. Worry, maybe? Or something heavier.

You gave him a nod, tucking your knees up to your chest. “Yeah, it’s peaceful out here.” offering him a small smile, you tried to not let his intensity throw you off. “What about you? Aren’t you cold?”

Tate shrugged, sitting down a few steps below you. He stretched his legs out in front of him, slouching in a way that looked completely effortless. “Not really. Cold doesn’t bother me.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes catching the faint glow from the house. “You’ve got a nice family.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Yeah . . . I guess I do. Why?”

“Just noticed,” he said, looking back up at the stars. His tone was casual, but his hands fidgeted in his lap. “It’s not like that for everyone, you know?”

You nodded again, unsure of what to say. There was something in his voice—a rawness you weren’t used to hearing. “I guess I’m lucky,” you added quietly.

Tate laughed softly, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Lucky, huh? Yeah . . . you don’t even know.”

There it was again. That edge, that heaviness. You wanted to ask what he meant, but something told you not to push. “What about your family? What are they like?”

His jaw tightened, and he turned away, his curls falling into his face. “Complicated,” he muttered. “Not like yours.”

The silence between the two of you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like the night had wrapped you in a bubble, isolating you both from the rest of the world.

“You can talk to me, you know,” you said softly. “If you ever want to.”

Tate froze for a moment, his eyes darting to where your hand lingered on his sleeve. Then, slowly, he turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. “You’re so . . . nice,” he said, like it was something foreign to him. “You shouldn’t be.”

“What’s wrong with being nice?”

“People take advantage of nice.” His voice was low, and he looked away again. “You don’t even see it coming until it’s too late.”

You tilted your head as you studied him. “Is that what happened to you?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers. You’d never seen him smoke around you before—he always seemed to keep that part of himself hidden, like he was afraid you’d judge him.

“Want one?” he asked suddenly, holding it out to you with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You shook your head quickly, laughing nervously. “No, thanks. I’ve never smoked before.”

“Of course, you haven’t,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You wouldn’t.” He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching your face like he was looking for something. “You don’t belong out here, you know. In the dark.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Tate didn’t answer. Instead, he lit the cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face. He took a slow drag, his gaze fixed on you the whole time. Then, in a voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it, he said, “You belong in the light.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t belong in the dark.

But looking at him, sitting there with that haunted look in his eyes, you couldn’t help but think—maybe he didn’t, either.

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

[gingerteafairy]

butterfly effect (tate langdon x reader)

You've seen enough time travelling movies to know you would get out of this loop if you fix something and maybe this thing is stopping Tate from his destiny.

tags n warnings: angst, bullying, time travel, family issues, depression, murder house references, platonic relationship. word count: 5.2k. masterlist

April 1st, 2000, 8:00 PM

You step into the subway, hands buried deep in the pockets of your coat. Finding the nearest empty seat, you drop into it with a tired expression, the dark circles under your eyes betraying how desperately you needed rest. Your friend sits beside you, her cheerful smile seeming untouched by the exhausting day at work.

You close your eyes, hoping to catch a moment of peace, but your attempt is swiftly interrupted by sharp, boisterous noises. Groaning inwardly, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter, already knowing what caused the commotion without needing to look: teenagers being loud and rowdy.

“What does a person have to do to get some peace?” you mutter irritably, cracking your eyes open and throwing a glare full of quiet disdain at the group of carefree teens.

“Talking about the school kids?” your friend chuckles at your annoyed expression, turning to glance at the teens herself. “Don’t be mad—they’re just like we were once.”

“Not like this.” You scowl, crossing your arms and sinking back into the seat.

She laughs, the sound carefree as she leans her head against the subway wall. “I kinda wish I was like them again… so happy. I liked school.”

“I didn’t,” you counter, shaking your head. Your gaze drifts to the ceiling as a faint heaviness settles in your chest. “It was all so confusing, so chaotic. We had hormones, college applications and rude teachers.”

“You sound ancient saying that—you’re 24. It wasn’t that long ago.” She teases, her grin infectious enough to tug a reluctant smile from you. “Let me guess, you were the quiet kid.”

“Not the quiet kid exactly,” you reply, your brow furrowing at the memory. “But I did deal with some bullying. That’s why I just wanted out.”

“Wow… I’m sorry about that,” she says softly, her playful tone replaced with genuine sympathy. She pats your shoulder warmly.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, your lips twitching into a faint smile. “I had a few friends. Bonnie and Neil. They were really nice. We had some good times, too.” Your gaze returns to the teenagers, now practically climbing the walls in their excitement. “Yeah… every now and then, we were just like them.”

“There’s the confession we were waiting for,” she jokes, laughter bubbling out and pulling a chuckle from you as well.

“They got married, Neil and Bonnie. That's just so funny, they were like salt and pepper. Inseparable.” You remembered.

“This is awesome. One of my school mates is waiting for twins. Oh, time flies, isn't it?” 

“Yeah… There was one boy…” you begin, your voice trailing off. “He was the quiet one. I can’t remember his name anymore, but I found out later… he died. It was awful.”

“That’s terrible…” she murmurs, her gaze turning distant. “He must’ve been so sad.”

“He was,” you admit, your voice quieter now. You couldn’t remember his name, but one thing had stayed with you all these years: his eyes. They were deep, haunting, filled with a sorrow that felt older than the universe itself. “Sometimes I feel like I’m still 18.”

“It’s like we never really grow up,” she agrees.

The nostalgic conversation carries on until the subway screeches to a halt at your station. Together, you step off, parting ways with your friend as you begin the walk home.

The silence of the night envelops you, your thoughts turning inward. You sigh, gazing up at the sky, remembering how much you loathed high school. Life had improved dramatically since then, and yet…

You couldn’t help but wonder: what if you’d taken more chances? What if you’d made a fresh start or even saved a depressed teenager like yourself? But there’s no going back. Maybe you were okay with that. Maybe.

The sound of your alarm clock jolts you awake, and you groan, bracing for yet another monotonous day at work. As your mind clears, something feels… off. Your brows furrow, eyes blinking into focus as you realize your head is resting on a wooden desk—not your bed. You sit up abruptly, taking in your surroundings. Teenagers, vaguely familiar, bustle around the room, grabbing books and stuffing them into their backpacks.

“What the hell is this?” you murmur, disoriented.

“Aaaand guess who’s gonna be prom queen this year? Paris Hilton!” A familiar voice snaps you out of your daze. You turn, squinting at two faces you hadn’t seen in what feels like ages.

“Neil… Bonnie… Is that you?” A wide grin breaks across your face as you stand and pull your friends into a tight hug. “I missed you so much! Where have you been? You guys look exactly the same as in high school!”

“Uh… okay?” Bonnie chuckles nervously, pulling back with a bewildered look. “We saw you, like, five minutes ago. Are you drunk?”

“Drunk? She passed drunk hours ago, she's freaking high,” Neil teases, giving you a playful squeeze before stepping back. “Gimme some of this weed you're consuming, girl. Maybe I can gain courage to ask Bonnie out.”

“Stop it, you nuts. She's gonna say we will marry again someday.” She giggled, nudging him.

“Oh, we’ll definitely get married, shawty. Just wait for it.” He winked at her. “Anyway, in case you missed it—Paris Hilton, prom queen!”

“Seriously?” you ask, your voice tinged with disbelief.

“April Fools!” they laugh in unison, their teasing grins infectious as you blink at them in surprise.

“Come on, math class is starting,” Bonnie says, tugging on your arm.

“April Fools…” you echo softly, your brain racing to make sense of what’s happening. Your gaze lands on the calendar at the front of the classroom, and your heart nearly stops.

April 1st, 1994.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter under your breath.

Your hand flies to your hair—it feels different, lighter. You glance down at your outfit: a Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans you distinctly remember throwing away years ago. “I’m back in high school,” you groan, the weight of the realization sinking in.

“Man, she’s really out of it,” Neil comments with a laugh, shaking his head at your dazed expression.

You barely register his words, your body moving on autopilot as you follow your friends into the bustling hallway. The noise and chaos feel overwhelming, and before you can fully process it, someone slams into your shoulder, sending you stumbling to the ground.

“What the hell?” you snap, glaring up as a mocking laugh pierces the air.

“Oops,” the girl sneers, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Thought the janitor had already picked up the trash.” She laughs again, flanked by two other girls who mirror her smug expression.

Your eyes narrow as recognition dawns. Jade Beryl. The queen bee who made your life miserable.

Fury flares in your chest. You stand, brushing yourself off with deliberate slowness before locking eyes with her. “What’s your problem, Jade? Blind, or just plain stupid? If you need glasses, I can hook you up with a number. Might help you see past those dollar-store contacts you’re wearing. Seriously, fifty cents? Pathetic.”

The grin slips from her face, her confidence faltering for the first time.

“Looks like someone finally grew a backbone,” she mutters, throwing a nervous glance at her silent companions. She elbows them to follow her, but they remain rooted in place, stunned by your sudden boldness.

“Once trash, always—wait!” she yells after you, but you’ve already turned on your heel, marching toward your next class without a second glance.

“Dude, that was epic!” Bonnie beams, grabbing your arm as you push open the door to the classroom. “You totally owned her!”

You manage a small smile, but your mind is racing. What the hell is going on? How did you get here? And, more importantly, what are you supposed to do now that you’re back in 1994?

Neil laughs along with Bonnie. “It’s a shame we don’t sit together in this class.”

“Yeah, she’s paired with the weirdo,” Bonnie whispers, glancing around to make sure no one overheard her comment.

“Weirdo?” you ask, curious, adjusting the strap of your backpack.

“Tate Langdon,” she murmurs into your ear, and you freeze.

Tate. The boy you were partnered with back in school, the one whose life ended so tragically after the school shotting. You remember him as a quiet, sweet boy who rarely opened up. You’d always felt too shy to try and befriend him, too afraid of overstepping. He always sat alone and seemed so tired and sad.

Your legs seem to move on their own as you make your way to the back of the classroom, where he’s sitting alone, quietly reading a book. He doesn’t notice you at first, his focus completely absorbed by the pages. When you stop in front of him, he finally looks up, his expression unreadable.

“Hi, Tate,” you say with a polite smile. He tilts his head slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes. “Mind if I sit here with you?”

He hesitates, glancing between you and your friends, who are still staring from across the room. His brows knit together slightly before he murmurs, “I guess you’ve already completed the dare.”

“Dare?” you repeat, baffled. The weight of the moment feels almost crushing, as if the air around you has grown ten times heavier.

Tate sighs, closing his book and resting it on the desk. “Sometimes people come up to talk to me as part of some dumb truth-or-dare game.”

“Pffft. That’s so immature,” you blurt out, immediately regretting the words as they leave your mouth. You let out a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the moment. “Sorry, that… sucks.”

“Sucks?” he echoes, and to your surprise, he chuckles. His smile transforms his face, making him look younger and more carefree even with the eyebags. You can’t help but notice how good looking he is. Caught staring, you quickly sit down beside him, trying to regain composure. “Cool shirt.”

“Oh…” you smile, catching his shyness through the monotone voice. “Thanks, Tate. But you have a good set there. Normal people…”

“Normal people scare me.” He completes, slightly blushing at the corny t-shirt. “It 's a fact.”

“Totally.” You beamed with the opening, maybe being his friend wasn't as difficult as you thought “So… what are you reading?” you ask gently, determined to keep the conversation going.

“A book about birds,” he replies, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. He shows you the cover, and with a moment of hesitation, places the book on your desk. “You can read it if you want.”

“Thank you, Tate.” You smile, picking up the book as if it’s a piece of him. Opening to the first page, you skim through it, feeling a glimpse of the depth in his quiet personality. You remember how talented he was in literature, how he’d write the most hauntingly beautiful poems.

“I’ll read more when I get home. Can you give me your phone number so I can call you later?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

His reaction is immediate—he swallows hard, his eyes widening slightly as he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. He looks at you, seemingly at a loss for words.

“Oh no,” you stammer, realizing how uncomfortable you’ve made him. “I didn’t mean to be pushy… we don’t even know each other that well. I’m just some random person who came up to you out of nowhere. I’m sorry!”

“It’s not that…” he mumbles, glancing at you from under his lashes. “It’s just… no one’s ever asked for my number before. I don’t even know it by heart.”

Your initial embarrassment fades into relief, and you laugh softly. “That’s okay…”

But to your surprise, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small piece of paper. “I wrote the number down, my mom told me. I keep it in my bag,” he explains quietly, placing the paper on the desk.

You take it carefully, your fingers brushing his for a split second. “Thanks, Tate,” you say, your voice soft, your smile genuine.

For a moment, his lips quirk up again, and you realize this might be the beginning of a chance you never thought you’d have.

You carefully folded the small piece of paper and slipped it into your pocket, planning to call him later from home. Tate pulled out his math notebook, setting it on the desk with a hesitant expression, clearly struggling with something on the page.  

“Need help?” you asked instinctively, and he nodded, looking slightly embarrassed. You picked up the notebook and scanned the problem. “Holy fuck, what kind of demonic sorcery is this? I don’t remember math being this bad.”  

“You sound like my mom,” he chuckled quietly, his gaze softening. His laugh caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were reminded of the subtle age gap between you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make this setting feel slightly surreal.  

“Well, looks like we’re just two idiots stuck figuring this out together,” you teased, letting out a dramatic sigh and giving yourself a playful facepalm.  

Tate smirked, shaking his head slightly. “Great, my only help probably doesn’t even know what two plus two is.”  

You gasped, feigning offense, then laughed at his unexpected sarcasm. He wasn’t anything like you remembered—or like the rumors you’d heard.  

“Alright, genius, let’s see you tackle this one.” You pointed to a particularly nasty equation, raising an eyebrow at him.  

“Nope, that’s all you, Einstein,” he shot back, arching an eyebrow.  

You clutched your chest in mock hurt, then grinned. “We should study at your place sometime. Might make this easier.”  

The lightness of the moment shifted instantly. His expression darkened, the shadow of something heavy crossing his face. His jaw tightened slightly, and the familiar pain and turmoil you remembered seeped into his features.  

“Okay,” he said shortly, his voice clipped. Realizing how abrupt he sounded, he cleared his throat and attempted a half-hearted smile. “Sorry… it’s just… my house is kinda… you’ll see.”  

You nodded slowly, sensing you’d touched on something sensitive. Maybe it was his home life. Maybe this was part of why things went so wrong for him.  

Before you could say anything more, the classroom door swung open, and Jade strutted in with her usual arrogance. Her eyes landed on the two of you, and her lips curled into a cruel smirk.  

“Well, well, the weirdo and the loser. What a perfect pair,” she sneered, raising an eyebrow.  

Tate’s jaw tightened again, his gaze fixed on the window as if willing himself to disappear.  

“Hey, is your home life so bad that you have to bring other people down just to feel better?” you snapped, standing from your chair.  

Jade faltered, her smirk wavering as her eyes flickered with uncertainty. “My life’s fine, thanks. Better than yours, clearly.”  

“Doesn’t seem like it,” you retorted, your tone sharp. “Truly good people don’t tear others down to lift themselves up.” You paused, softening slightly. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean. If you need help, I can help you. I know people like you usually have… complicated histories.”  

Jade’s expression froze, her confident demeanor cracking. For a split second, her fake blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she quickly brushed it off, straightening her posture and walking away briskly.  

You sighed, sitting back down, and noticed Tate watching you with his head resting on his hand. His lips curved into a faint, amused smile. “You’re… really weird.”  

You laughed nervously, smoothing your clothes and shrugging. “I just… know some things.”  

“Right.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smile growing just a little.  

It wasn’t much, but it felt like a breakthrough. For the first time, you saw a glimmer of something lighter in his eyes, something that hinted at hope.  

The moment was interrupted as the teacher entered the room, starting the lesson. But as you turned to your notebook, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, you were changing things—one small moment at a time. You've seen enough time travelling movies to know you would get out of this loop if you fix something and maybe this thing is stopping Tate from his terrible ending. 

When class ended, you found yourself walking alongside Tate to his house. The building was grand and beautiful, with a timeless, antique charm. Yet, something about it felt wrong—like the air was thicker here, carrying an unshakable weight. The moment you stepped inside, the emptiness of the house struck you, but it didn’t feel like you were truly alone. A chill crept up your spine as if unseen eyes were watching.

“I’ll grab something real quick,” Tate said, disappearing down a hallway without waiting for a reply.

You stood there awkwardly, the silence pressing down on you. A strange urge pulled you toward the staircase. Slowly, you climbed the creaking wooden steps, each one groaning under your weight, amplifying the eerie stillness.

At the top, you found yourself in a long corridor lined with closed doors. You reached out to touch a doorknob, curious about the house’s secrets.

“That’s not Tate’s room,” a voice said suddenly, sharp and cutting through the silence.

You jumped, spinning around to see a tall woman with fiery red hair standing behind you. Her pale face and piercing gaze made your heart leap into your throat.

“I… I wasn’t—” you stammered.

“His room is that one,” she interrupted, pointing to a door further down the hall. Without another word, she turned and descended the stairs, disappearing into the shadows below.

You swallowed hard, your unease growing. The house seemed to pulse with its own life, every corner shrouded in an unexplainable darkness.

Taking a shaky breath, you moved to the door she had pointed out. You opened it cautiously and stepped inside. The room immediately screamed Tate. Posters of grunge bands lined the walls, stacks of CDs and books were scattered across the shelves, and the air smelled faintly of incense.

Your gaze was drawn to the desk, where a pile of papers sat. You stepped closer, your fingers brushing over the edges of handwritten notes. They were poems—raw, emotional, and hauntingly beautiful. As you leaned in to read one, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end.

Before you could react, a sudden presence loomed behind you. A hand covered your eyes, and you let out a startled scream, spinning around to find Tate standing there, grinning mischievously.

“Boo! Did I scare you?” he teased, his smile laced with a boyish charm.

“You scared me a lot! What the hell, Tate?” You pushed his shoulder lightly, your heart pounding as you tried to calm yourself.

“Sorry,” he said, though the glint in his eye betrayed his amusement. He plopped down onto the floor, motioning for you to join him. “I just couldn’t resist.”

“You’re such a dork,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but laugh. Still, the tension in your chest hadn’t fully dissipated. Something about this house lingered, heavy and oppressive.

As you sat across from him, your gaze inadvertently dropped to his wrists. Faint scars crisscrossed his pale skin, and a lump formed in your throat.

“You can ask,” Tate said softly, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

You snapped your eyes back to his face, feeling a rush of guilt for staring. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, offering a small, almost fragile smile. “I can tell you the stories behind them if you want.”

“You don’t have to… if it makes you uncomfortable,” you said gently, returning his smile in an attempt to ease the tension.

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. 

The room fell into a quiet lull, but the weight of that unspoken conversation lingered. Despite the unease that clung to the house like a shadow, sitting here with Tate felt like the beginning of something—something that might just change everything.

"You… tried to kill yourself?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, cutting through the silence like a knife.  

Tate looked down at the scars on his wrists, his fingers brushing over them unconsciously. He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the weight of the truth.  

"Once," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. It felt like a burden was being lifted off his shoulders, like he was letting someone in for the first time. "I took a bunch of pills, and, well… it didn’t work. I remember thinking, ‘Fuck, I can’t even do this right.’”  

You let out a small laugh at his dark humor, but your worry lingered beneath it. "I’ve… felt that way before too. I tried to kill me once, but I stopped.” 

"Why?" he asked, his tone curious but gentle.  

"I don’t know," you sighed, hugging your knees to your chest. "Mostly family stuff. I’ve got some serious daddy issues, you know? And then there’s school… the bullying…"  

"But you totally owned that girl today," he pointed out with a small smirk.  

"Not always," you admitted, your voice softer now. "It used to really get to me."  

"Well, you’ve changed," he said firmly, meeting your eyes. "You’re strong now. Strong enough that nothing can break you."  

The words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. You’d never really stopped to think about how far you’d come.  

"Why did you say that about your house?" you asked, changing the subject gently.  

He leaned back, his arms wrapping around his knees. "Mostly because of my family," he admitted, his tone dropping. "My mom’s… well, she’s a bit crazy. Major mommy issues."  

"Looks like we’re a perfect match," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.  

"But I feel like my family is stranger than most," he added, his expression growing serious again.  

"Aren’t all families strange?" you teased, and he chuckled softly. But there was still something heavy in his gaze.  

"I think mine’s… worse," he murmured, almost to himself. Then, after a moment, he looked back at you, his expression unreadable. "Fun fact: this house is haunted."  

"Haunted?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Like a horror movie?"  

"Worse," he said with a straight face, leaning in slightly. "The difference is… this one’s real."  

"Oh, of course," you laughed, rolling your eyes.  

"I’m serious," he insisted, but there was a flicker of amusement in his expression.  

"Right," you said sarcastically, crossing your arms.  

Tate clicked his tongue, sitting back with a small smirk. "Don’t worry, though. I’ll protect you."  

"My hero," you said, laughing at the absurdity of being "protected" by an 18-year-old boy. He laughed too, the sound soft but genuine.  

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that—about the oddities of his house, the nightmare that was high school. By the time the day ended, you felt like you’d seen a completely different side of Tate. He wasn’t the boy everyone whispered about; he was kind, complicated, and surprisingly funny.  

Later that night, you couldn’t help but worry about him. You dialed his number just to make sure he was okay, but no one picked up. Maybe it was too late. Even Tate Langdon needed to sleep eventually.

The alarm clock blared again, dragging you reluctantly from sleep. Groaning, you sat up, rubbing your eyes and taking a deep breath. Relief washed over you as you scanned your room. It was familiar—your apartment, your life. Everything seemed normal again.

Grabbing your phone from the nightstand, you checked the date.

April 2, 2000. 

“So, it was all just a dream,” you muttered with a faint smile, a serene expression softening your features. You got up, shaking off the lingering haze, ready to face another day at work.

At the station, you met your colleague, who greeted you with her usual cheerful smile. The world felt steady again, routine and predictable. Yet, deep down, a small, stubborn part of you wished that dream had been real. That Tate hadn’t died. That he was still out there somewhere, and maybe—just maybe—you two could have been friends.

“I’ll take the next train,” your friend said suddenly, glancing at her watch. “I need to stop by somewhere first.”

You nodded, watching her walk off in the opposite direction. Shrugging, you turned your attention back to the arriving train. Today was important—you couldn’t afford to be late.

Once inside, you scanned the carriage for a seat. Your usual spot was free… almost. A tall man stood near it, engrossed in a book, large headphones covering his ears. He seemed so absorbed in his own world that you hesitated, unsure of how to approach.

“Excuse me, can I sit here?” you asked politely.

He didn’t respond. You tried again, louder this time, but he remained oblivious. Mustering a bit more courage, you lightly tapped his shoulder.

The moment he turned to face you, your breath caught in your throat.

“Fuck,” he squeaks, blinking in surprise as if he’d seen a ghost. He quickly removed his headphones, his piercing eyes locking onto yours.

“I'm so sorry. Shit you were on headphones. Did I scare you—” you began, but your words faltered as you truly saw him.

It couldn’t be.

“I think that’s the first thing I said to you when you came to my house,” he said, a faint laugh escaping his lips. “But… I guess you don’t remember me.”

Your knees felt weak. That voice. That laugh. The same sharp eyes, the familiar golden curls.

“Tate?” you whispered, your heart racing.

A knowing smile spread across his face, and you stepped closer, unable to believe it. It was him. Tate Langdon. The same boy you thought you’d never see again.

“Tate, oh my God,” you breathed, pulling him into a hug before you could stop yourself.

He froze for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but then he hugged you back, his arms wrapping tightly around you.

“You’re alive,” you murmured, almost in disbelief. “You’re really here.”

He laughed softly, stepping back just enough to look at you. “Yeah, alive and kicking. Sorry if I made it seem otherwise.”

“What happened?” you asked, sitting down beside him, still stunned.

He sighed, leaning back slightly. “After our conversation that day, I packed up and left. Same day you left my house. I didn’t even think twice about it. I grabbed what little savings I had, took the first train out of town, and came to New York. No goodbyes, no looking back. I just… I had to leave all the bad behind. That town, that house, my parents…”

You nodded, hanging onto his every word.

“So that’s why you didn’t answer my call,” you murmured, the pieces falling into place. It all made sense now—why your phone call went unanswered, why he seemed to vanish without a trace.

“I had to disappear for a while,” he admitted, glancing out the window as if the memory was still fresh. “But it was the best thing I could’ve done. I needed to start over.”

Looking at him now, you could see the difference. Tate seemed lighter, freer—his smile was genuine, his laughter no longer tinged with sadness. He was still the quiet, thoughtful boy you remembered, but the weight he carried back then seemed to have lifted.

You couldn’t help but smile, a bittersweet feeling swelling in your chest. Tate had survived, and he’d made it out. Somehow, against all odds, he’d found his way to a better life. And now, as if by fate, you’d found him again.

"I got this terrible job at McDonald's..." Tate chuckled, lost in the memory as he stared ahead. "Got fired, of course, but eventually landed a spot working at a record store."

"That’s a much better fit for you," you teased, grinning at him.

"Yeah... but can you believe I got fired from McDonald's for putting pickles on the wrong sandwich?" He turned to you with an exaggerated look of disbelief.

"Honestly, it sounds fair. A lot of people hate pickles."

"You're supposed to be on my side!" he protested, feigning indignation.

You laughed, but his tone shifted to something softer. "Still, it was for the best. I met the manager at the record store after that, and we really hit it off. He told me I might even be promoted to manager someday."

"Tate, that's amazing!" you said, beaming with genuine pride.

"Eh, maybe. But sometimes I see a Nirvana record and feel this weird sadness," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "You know Kurt Cobain died just days after we talked about him back then? I haven’t been able to listen to Nirvana since."

"Seriously?" you asked, tilting your head in surprise.

"Not once," he nodded, his tone serious. "But I do listen to Foo Fighters now. Dave Grohl was the drummer, so... it feels like keeping a small piece of Kurt alive."

You laughed softly, leaning back against the subway wall. "I’m really glad I ran into you today, Tate."

"Don’t say that like we won’t see each other again," he said, pouting playfully as he mimicked your position. "This time, I’m not disappearing or leaving the city. You’re stuck with me now."

His words struck a chord, filling your chest with a bittersweet warmth. You squeezed his hand, trying to blink away the sudden tears welling in your eyes.

"Thank you, Tate," you whispered.

"No," he said, clasping your hand tightly with both of his. "Thank you. In fact, as a proper thank-you for being my friend back then, I’m giving you a record from your favorite band."

After work, you couldn’t resist checking out his record store. The moment you walked in, you were greeted by the scent of vinyl and the warm glow of nostalgia. Tate waved at you from behind the counter, his hair slightly disheveled as he rang up a customer.

“Give me a sec!” he called, motioning for you to look around.

You browsed the aisles, running your fingers along the spines of old and new records until you stumbled upon a display of Foo Fighters albums. Grinning, you picked one up and walked back to the counter just as Tate finished.

“You’ve got good taste,” he joked, taking the record from you. “But this one’s on me.”

“Tate, you don’t have to—”

“Ah, ah, ah! It’s my thank-you gift, remember?” He held up a finger, his grin mischievous.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes playfully. “But only if you recommend something new for me to listen to.”

He brightened at the challenge, quickly disappearing into the shelves and returning with an album you’d never seen before.

“This one. Trust me, you’ll love it,” he said confidently, sliding it into a bag along with your Foo Fighters pick.

“Guess I have homework now,” you said, laughing as you grabbed the bag.

“See you soon?” he asked, leaning casually on the counter.

“Count on it,” you said, smiling as you headed out the door. “And Tate…”

“Yeah?”

“I still listen to Nirvana.” You chuckled, stepping out and missing Tate's laughing, shaking his head as he came back to work on his discos. 

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

Hi, how are you ? Can I request a one-shot with king baldwin iv ? Where baldwin's s/o is heavily pregnant (6-8) and they retired to a country side cottage till the birth. Baldwin cooks for her,takes her on picnics,takes her to a lake which is located near their cottage to watch swans with her,read to her. Basically showering her with all the love & affection . He is healed too. So this is kind of a rest to him too. NO GUY. Sybilla's husband doesnt die so he looks after the kingdom while the couple rest. Tiberias being the proud uncle too.

So, I was reading about Michael Langdon x pregnant reader fic and this idea came to my head since Young Michael Langdon is how I imagined baldwin without the disease . Your fics are great specially ones where baldwin get more domestic . Love you and sending u lots of hugs <3 !!!

P.S. - Sorry if this is too long 🥲

♡ Just The Two Of Us - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you so much for this gorgeous request. This is so beautiful and was so cute to write. Also thank you for the kind words, sending lots of love🩷. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

TW: Mentions of Cured Leprosy

It had been exactly seven months since the king and queen of Jerusalem abdicated the throne for a more peaceful life in the countryside of France.

The decision was made one year after Baldwin’s leprosy had been cured by a new kind of medicine and one month after it was announced that y/n was pregnant with their first born.

The long trip to France was well worth the wait after a small cottage in the countryside had been secured for the two to live in. Everything had been perfect.

Sybilla and her husband had taken over the royal duties, the kingdom was doing well, and the two could not be happier where they were.

-----------------------

One late spring afternoon, y/n had just finished with her bath and entered the kitchen to see Baldwin packing up a large basket.

He grinned when he saw her. His smile was a little crooked due to the leprosy scars but was just about the cutest thing she had ever seen.

Baldwin was quick to wrap his wife in a warm embrace, burying his face in her soft, freshly washed hair. Y/n chuckled at his affection.

Before his leprosy had been cured, Baldwin had been nervous about showing his wife affection due to fear of transmitting the disease to her. But since the awful illness had released him from its grasp, he simply could not get enough of her touch.

“What's the basket for darling?” y/n asked when he finally let her go.

“Well, that's a surprise!” he said cheerfully.

“Why don't you put on your shoes and I'll show you” he said, barely able to contain his excitement.

Once they were ready to leave, Baldwin picked up the basket and held out an arm for his wife to hold. After walking for a little while, the two came to a large pond that y/n had not seen before.

It was a beautiful place. Wildflowers of all different colors grew out of the bright green grass, the water of the pond was so clear you could see fish swimming through it, and the only insects in sight were butterflies that fluttered around the flowers close to the ground. There were even swans that glided peacefully around the lake.

In amongst the flowers lay a large blanket. Y/n smiled warmly at the beautiful sight.

“I planned a picnic! I thought it would be nice to do for just the two of us, since it won't be only us in a while” Baldwin said happily, placing a hand on his wifes heavily pregnant stomach.

“Baldwin, this is so beautiful. Thank you so much my sweet husband” Y/n said, her heart practically swelling in her chest.

"Not as beautiful as you" he replied, taking his wife's hand to help her sit down.

--------------------

That afternoon, they enjoyed the warmth of spring together in the grass. For one of the first times in Baldwin’s life, he felt at home. Like this was exactly where he was supposed to be. All of the hardship and pain he had endured was worth it for this moment.

They spoke of many things as they ate their lunch. Including how this life suited Baldwin much better than the role of a king. This was what he wanted.

Just being here with his wonderful wife and their growing child was all he could ever want.

He finally had a family of his own, a family who he could love with all his heart. And it was all thanks to his beautiful y/n.

She was his strength, his everything. She was all he could ever ask for and now she was growing life inside of her body. Life that they created together.

Could anything possibly be more beautiful than that?

[goddessxdivine]

The Pitt - Episode 5

•Dr.Santos is definitely that doctor character that needs a hubris check and it’s probably coming soon. Santos clashing with Dr.Langdon and wanting to report him while Dr.Whitaker has a moment of pure admiration for Langdon and Robby makes me think that those wires will cross soon somehow. like maybe she tells Whitaker about her desire to report Langdon and Whitaker is like “from what i saw he’s great!” that or Dr.Garcia comes into play somehow

•Robby has a son?? Dr.Collins and Dr.Robby ex-lovers confirmation?? is he the father of her baby, YES OR NO?? i feel like Collins saying they had a thing years ago is a misdirection so we don’t think he’s the father but they hooked up recently enough for her to get pregnant

•we know that Collins has miscarried before so my theory is that Collins and Robby had a similar situation to DrHawkins and Nurse Nic Nevin (may she rest in peace) on The Resident on Fox. on The Resident, Nic and Hawkins experienced a miscarriage when they were together but weren’t seriously committed the first time around, which affected their ability to be together until years later despite having feelings for each other.

•the patient stories this episode really got to me. the mom with the burn injury and the woman who’s her mom’s caregiver were especially sad to me. i can’t imagine how exhausted that woman is as the sole caregiver of her mother but her mother being wheeled back to the waiting room and her daughter is nowhere to be found oh my gosh that was so sad

•the scene of that mom refusing to allow her daughter an abortion was driving me up the wall omg like girl the pill is in your hand. take it. take it. take it. take it. omg just take it. no water in sight? no problem. swallow the pill dry. like it’s really that serious. it’d be different if she seemed like had doubts about aborting but she seemed so grateful to have made the cutoff so that doesn’t seem to be the case

great episode as per usual

[mxlti-fand0m-imaginess]

Insomniac // Tate Langdon

request: not sure if i already requested this butttt could you write tate langdon x reader w insomnia like him js comforting you n holding you in bed as you cry from exhaustion n frustration from not being able to sleep - or som along those lines of reader w insomnia? 💛

prompts: none

summary: no matter what you try, you just can't seem to fall asleep. your boyfriend, tate, tries his best to comfort you.

warnings: not proofread

word count: 512

a/n: i know this is shorter than what i usually write, but i've had some difficulty with motivation so i figured that i would at least try! i'm gonna do my best to write more. even though they might not be as long, i promise i will still put the same amount of effort it!

You groan in frustration as you roll onto your back, staring at the dark ceiling above you. It’s been hours of tossing and turning, hoping that you would eventually drift off to sleep. But the peaceful release of rest and dreams never came. It never does. Night after night you’d lie awake, wishing and praying to fall asleep for even a few minutes. Waiting and waiting for relief from this utter exhaustion that never seemed to come. 

Sometimes you were lucky, passing out from exhaustion after trying to fall asleep. You’d wake up in the morning still tired, but at least still able to function. However, with the way things were going tonight, it didn’t look like you were going to fall asleep anytime soon. You were completely drained, needing nothing more than a few hours of sleep. But despite how tired you were, you remained wide awake. And it just made you even more upset.

You sat up, reaching behind you to grab your pillow. Burying your face in it, you let out a frustrated scream. Before you realized it, tears were falling from your eyes. You clutched your pillow to your chest, sobbing in utter frustration and misery. Why were you like this? Why couldn’t you just fall asleep like everyone else did? Why did life feel the need to torture you so?

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why’re you crying?” a gentle voice from beside you said.

You didn’t even need to lift your head to know it was your boyfriend, Tate. You felt the bed dip beside you, a pair of comforting arms wrapping around you. He pulled the pillow out of your grip and you leaned against his chest, holding him tightly.

“Can’t sleep,” your voice muffled from your face being buried in his chest.

He frowned slightly, his hand rubbing your back softly. “Again? I’m sorry baby.”

You cried into his chest, all your pent up emotions spilling out. Tate didn’t mind. He didn’t say anything while you sobbed, just continuing to hold you as you let everything out. Your hands gripped the fabric of his sweater tightly, trying to ground yourself to him.

“Why am I like this? Why can’t I just fall asleep? It’s so easy for everyone else,” you whispered, voice shaking from your tears. 

“I don’t know, baby. I just wish I knew how to help you. It hurts me to see you suffer like this,” he replied, still holding you against him.

“You are helping, Tate. Just you being here helps. It makes me feel better. You make me feel better.”

He smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The two of you sat there in silence, just savoring each other's embrace. Soon, your grip on him loosened and your eyes grew heavy. Tate smiled down at you lovingly. He leaned back, laying down on your bed, pulling you down to rest on his chest, being careful to not move you too much.

Soft snores started emanating from you as you finally found the blissful release of sleep in your boyfriend’s arms. 

tags: @jamespotterslover @ahsxual @twinkiemaximoff @1800-fuckbitchesgetmoney @thatspookyagent @shadyspears @amourtentiaa @rottenstyx @tates-radio @hallecarey1 @im-verysad @tatesxthumbring @imaloserbabysowhydontyourailme @evilcr0ne @hocksetters @milly-louise @slut4kaiya @larawrrites

if your user is crossed out, it means i can't tag you!

[michaelaftonwhore]

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝑂𝑅𝐿𝐷 𝐻𝐴𝑆 𝐷𝐼𝑆𝑆𝐴𝑃𝐸𝐴𝑅𝐸𝐷 𝐴𝑁 𝑀𝐼𝐶𝐻𝐴𝐸𝐿 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝐺𝐷𝑂𝑁 𝐹𝐴𝑁𝐹𝐼𝐶.

𝐹𝐴𝑁𝐹𝐼𝐶 𝐵𝐴𝑆𝐸𝐷 𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑀𝐸𝑅𝐼𝐶𝐴𝑁 𝐻𝑂𝑅𝑅𝑂𝑅 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑌 𝐶𝑂𝑉𝐸𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐴𝑃𝑂𝐶𝐴𝐿𝑌𝑃𝑆𝐸.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: DANNA RAVENNA FOX moved to the so famous and well-known Murder House with her adoptive family, where paranormal and supernatural events happened all the time and even where the ghosts of the ancestors buyers of the house where they stalk and observe them lived, Danna always felt a great curiosity towards her neighbor, Michael Langdon, who was a strange, peculiar and mysterious boy who hid thousands of secrets, Danna did not even know that his neighbor was the one who would cause him the end of times, that he was the very antichrist.

Danna one day, when she returned to her house she saw millions of dead ravens on the floor of her house, this seemed strange to her, then she saw the door of her house open which was also strange since her parents always had it closed, when she entered she saw a pool of blood on the floor to then see the bodies of her dead parents on the floor rose petals everywhere along with the blood and her wedding rings, Danna fell to her knees on the floor after seeing the scene and cried and screamed until a neighbor heard her and went to check and then call the psychiatrists believing that Danna had killed them, then the authorities arrived and took Danna away. the last thing he saw were the faces of his two ghost friends who had kept him company; Violet Harmon and Tate Langdon.

Danna was transferred to the mental asylum where she was to be treated. Unfortunately no one could save her from that place, much less help, Danna suffered a lot in the asylum, even after spending months, Danna saw the opportunity to escape, but when he returned he world had completely disappeared.

After being alone for some days and half she soon finds herself in a bunker with other people who had survived the apocalypse before she gets interviwed by her misterious neighbour; Michael Langdon, the guy who had piqued her interested from the day she saw him.

After intervewing her, Michael decided to take her with him to the santuary where Danna learns the truth about her real mother. Danna must've survive in the world after learning Michael's the antichrist, Michael’s will have her by his side no matter what. They're both light and darkness. They're both yin and yang. They're both passionate. Danna will bring justice to her adoptive family by going after the person who killed them in order to leave them finally rest in peace, Danna will become the goddess of the new world and protect Michael at all costs, once she learned to love him.

Even after death, they both will find their way into each other again, their bound is unbreakable. They'll be together forever.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑅 01: ❝𝑊𝐸𝐿𝐶𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝑇𝑂 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐼𝑁𝐹𝐴𝑀𝑂𝑈𝑆 𝑀𝑈𝑅𝐷𝐸𝑅 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸❞.

𝑃.𝑂.𝑉. 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐷𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝑅𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝐹𝑂𝑋.

𝑀𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐴𝐿 𝐴𝑆𝑌𝐿𝑈𝑀/𝑃𝑆𝑌𝐶𝐻𝐼𝐴𝑇𝑅𝐼𝐶/4:00 𝑝.𝑚.

━━━━━ Every time we talk about your symptoms, it always comes back to one thing, the house... ━━━━━ my psychologist began to say while he was sitting in front of me with his folder and pen in hand ━━━━━ How can a house made of wood, bricks and glass have so much power over people? ━━━━━ he kept talking while looking at me with concern, worried about my mental and emotional stability and I just looked towards the window, the memories of that night invading my mind in a memory plagued in my memory as fresh as if it had happened yesterday ━━━━━ Start by telling me what happened from the beginning to the day you were sent here ━━━━━ he told me again while looking at me and waiting for me to start telling him everything from the beginning.

I looked towards the window taking into account my reflection, my pink hair almost pastel and rose gold was dry and opaque, my waves fell to the sides of my face, there were bags under my green eyes after having slept little because of the nightmares and painful memories that tormented me, I had lost a little weight, reaching 100 pounds, my skin was pale not a tan even after only having an hour outdoors outside plus one more to do community service and work on something.

Surely you are wondering how is it that a 21-year-old girl like me ended up locked up here in a psychiatric mental asylum? Well, this is where my story begins, and it all started when my adoptive family and I moved to the so famous Murder House in the United States, when we moved without knowing what was going to happen next...

✞ |𝑀𝐸𝑀𝑂𝑅𝑌'𝑆/𝐹𝐿𝐴𝑆𝐻𝐵𝐴𝐶𝐾| ✞

𝑃.𝑂.𝑉.; 𝐷𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝑅𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝐹𝑂𝑋.

09/𝑆𝐸𝑃𝑇𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅/2024.

𝑀𝑈𝑅𝐷𝐸𝑅 𝐻𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐸/𝑊𝐸𝑆𝑇𝐶𝐻𝐸𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅/𝐿𝑂𝑆 𝐴𝑁𝐺𝐸𝐿𝐸𝑆.

𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑟: 10:00 𝑎.𝑚.

My adoptive family and I moved from England to the famous ❝𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒❞ in Westchester, LA. My almost pastel pink hair was loose with its natural waves while the heart-shaped sunglasses with it pink crystal rested on it bridge of my nose while I chewed gum and looked out the car window watching the panorama outside, there were dry autumn trees with the leaves falling in red, orange and yellow colors, they looked pretty watered by the forest floor.

━━━━━ We're almost there, there are still a few blocks and avenues to go ━━━━━ my father's voice spoke while my mother smiled at him before looking back at herself in the rearview mirror while she carefully applied her mascara on her elongated eyelashes.

I just leaned my head on the window and placed a pink strawberry popsicle in my mouth to suck it while I put my headphones in my ears to start listening to music in the meantime. I searched my playlist until I stopped at the one of ❝Heavy Is the crown❞ by Linkin Park to then play it and listen to it while sighing.

It was starting to get quite cold and I felt that my nipples would freeze, I was only wearing a pink leather top with a neckline along with some shorts up to the waist denim jeans shorts with ripped and my furry jacket with pastel pink plush fur that was the only thing that was keeping me warm at that moment plus my pink glitter short heeled boots.

I wiped the corner of my lip with my fingernail, scratched the corner to wipe off what had run out of the dark pink lip liner then slowly we stopped in front of the house where we were going to live the so famous Murder House, the house famous for the inhabitants who died in it and disappeared, it looked like a castle from England or something, it looked ancient and from medieval times, its presence was omnipotent and had a strange air as if the house was haunted and it will invite us to enter it.

━━━━━ And here we come, look at mada more than beauty... ━━━━━ said my adoptive father while admiring the view of the house.

I didn't like the place, it gave me a strange feeling in my stomach, something told me that the house was not normal, and I'm not saying that because it's a house where many accidents and murders happened, but because the problem was the house itself, I sensed it.

My mind was screaming at me to run out of there, to run away while I could, but it was already too late to be able to do that, besides what excuse was I going to have, to say: ❝Mom and Dad, can we look for another house? I don't like this one...❞ I couldn't tell them that, as much as I didn't want to be in that place.

Then I see how my father got out of the car to open the iron gate of the creepy house, he squeaked the gate because it was old and moldy although next to it I noticed a sign that said: ❝Hellish House❞ in red letters made with graffiti, he poster was polished wood with metallic details around, there were vines on the gate and also a giant centipede opaque red, a chill ran through me when I saw it, since I had bad experiences with centipedes since one climbed on me in the I go to bed and grope my leg and then prick myself with one of his paws and leave when I screamed a year ago [True story, the centipede thing happened to me and it was ugly, it left me traumatized for life 😭].

I kept watching the centipede as it moved, its paws running down the sign, I felt my hairs standing on end just thinking that this thing was close to me. Dad got back in the car and got in again. He car moved forward, and I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't realize that we parked in front of the house. Then my parents got out to then start taking down their suitcases while I had taken off my headphones to then come down later and under my feet the wind blows the autumn colored leaves until it completely takes them away.

I looked up and saw the place, it was huge and sinister, it looked scary on the outside, although that made it special, I guess, it was totally perfect for paranormal events and for filming horror movies. I put my pink heart-shaped sunglasses on my neckline while I was staring at the house fixedly without blinking, at the upstairs window I saw a guy looking at me from there, he had his hair of a dirty blonde and it fell down his forehead his eyes were brown and deep and he was wearing a black long-sleeved T-shirt along with long pants, I saw him wave to me.

━━━━━ ¿Danna? ━━━━━ my mother's voice rumbled in my ears and pulled me out of my trance.

━━━━━ ¿Did you guys see that? ━━━━━ I said as I turned my head to look at my parents.

My parents looked at each other confused.

━━━━━ ¿See what? ━━━━━ they said while looking at me with some concern.

━━━━━ The boy who is at the window, ¿did you really not see him? ━━━━━ I asked them after seeing their faces.

My parents shook their heads.

━━━━━ No ━━━━━ they both said at the same time.

━━━━━ I think the trip has tired you out, why don't you put your bags down and unpack your things so that you can get some rest later, ¿do you think? ━━━━━ my father said to me and I sighed while looking at the window again seeing that he boy was gone so I ran a hand to push the pink locks away from my face.

━━━━━ Good... ━━━━━ I said while snorting then my parents went inside the house with their suitcases while the seller of the house, the real estate agent, welcomed my parents and gave them a tour.

Meanwhile I sighed and took it upon myself to open the trunk of the car to then start taking out my suitcases a giant huge pink one with leopard spots, but it got stuck with the others, I tried again to take it out, but I couldn't.

━━━━━ Oh no... Come on, let's go... ━━━━━ I said as I kept trying to get my suitcase out with my belongings inside so I kept trying to pull the pink suitcase with leopard spots ━━━━━ Damn thing, get out of there ━━━━━ I said as I pulled the suitcase harder as the strands of my pink hair fell down my face.

I kept pulling the pink leopard plus size rectangular suitcase from the handle with all my strength until I finally managed to pull it out, but by the force of gravity I managed to stagger backwards, I flew out and fell on top of something hard, I thought it was the floor, but as far as I know the floors did not breathe or move much less let out moans then that's when I realized that I had fallen on someone I felt a hardness under my hand.

━━━━━ You're crushing me and that thing you're touching is my crotch ━━━━━ said a hoarse and deep voice under me then I immediately got up from on top of the guy as if the floor was lava.

━━━━━ I'm so sorry I didn't- ━━━━━ I started to say when suddenly I saw him and his breath got stuck in my throat when I see him.

He was fucking beautiful. His hair was almost golden blond like that of a golden retriever that fell over his face with waves, his eyes of a light blue with a cold and expressionless look, his skin was pale, milky, his lips were pink and curved into a sly smile as he stared at me I could notice a flash of amusement in his eyes.

━━━━━ I admit that this was not the way I wanted us to bump into each other, I was thinking about introducing myself and welcoming you, besides I wanted to see the people who would be crazy enough to buy this house ━━━━━ the boy said while with some difficulty getting up, he was wearing a black T-shirt of the rock band Ramones torn without sleeves showing his arms and black jeans with torn. He strange guy was really attractive, he noticed my gaze on him and smiled ━━━━━ Oh, excuse my lack of manners, my name is Michael Langdon, I'm your next door neighbor ━━━━━ he said while pointing to the house next door with his head.

I looked at the house and nodded before shaking his outstretched hand.

━━━━━ I'm Danna Fox, a pleasure... ━━━━━ introduced me cordially while shaking his hand.

━━━━━ The pleasure is mine, Danna... ━━━━━ Michael said while smiling at me.

I smiled back at him before withdrawing my hand and picking up my oversized pink leopard suitcase from the floor.

━━━━━ Well, if you don't mind, I have to go unpack, but if I'm not too tired and I have time later, we can resume our chat ━━━━━ I said to her as I stretched the handle of the suitcase up, getting in the way.

━━━━━ Of course, the trip must have been exhausting for you, maybe we'll see each other later maybe in the evening I guess... ━━━━━ Michael said without losing his posture and smile.

━━━━━ Yes, maybe later... ━━━━━ I said while putting a pink strand behind my ear since it was getting in the way.

━━━━━ Welcome to California, Danna, I hope we get along well ━━━━━ Michael said to me and I smiled at him.

Then Michael pulled away to then smile at me in farewell one more time before turning on his heels and heading back to his house.

<❝Maybe this town isn't so bad after all❞> I thought about that moment as I watched him walk back into his house.

A smile curved on my pink lips while I felt a blush spreading across my cheeks then I looked up and at the window I saw again the brown-eyed and blond-haired boy from before looking at me and my smile faded, next to him there was a girl about my age with light eyes and light brown hair pulling blond to the sides of his face while she put a hand on his shoulder saying something before they both disappeared.

<❝ Will I be going crazy or will I be seeing the ghosts in the house?❞> I thought at that moment.

I frowned at him seeing the place before going inside the house, dragging my suitcases with me before climbing the stairs, the timbers of the stairs creaked when I climbed them until I stopped in front of the door of which would be my new room and took the handle to then open it and enter the room.

I entered this one, seeing it all empty, then I sighed before leaving the suitcases in a corner to then start unpacking my things to put them in the appropriate places, I noticed how they had already moved my bed with the bedside table and the lamp plus my desk, dressing table and chair finally the television with the bookshelf. I snorted before opening my suitcase and taking my pink leopard plush toy and putting it on my bed which already had the pillowcases and pink sheets with leopard spots, then I took a French perfume that said sweet strawberry cake which was one of my favorite fragrances to place it on the dressing table along with it candy perfume and cotton candy before putting my makeup inside the dressing drawer, sorting them one by one.

Then I arranged my clothes, along with my brush, iron, pliers, shampoo, conditioner, etc. Once you finish accommodate a toilet, pass to put the books on the shelf, books of terror and mystery of Wattpad as ❝𝐺𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑜𝑠❞, ❝𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒❞, ❝𝐷𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑜 𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜❞, ❝𝐴𝑠𝑓𝑖𝑥𝑖𝑎❞, ❝𝑀𝑖 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠 #1❞, ❝𝐻𝑒𝑖𝑠𝑡 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠 #2❞, ❝𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠 #3❞, ❝𝐿𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠 #3❞, ❝𝐼𝑛𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑠❞ up the sleeves of Anime's most reorder the movies and series that had purchased below.

Then I decided to sort the drawers and store the underwear first and then continue with the blouses and tops, then the skirts, pants and shorts, finally the stockings and lingerie. So in the closet I took off my coat and hung it, along with the other hoodies, jackets, leather jackets, etc, along with the dresses and finally the heels, boots and tennis.

I was satisfied once they finished ordering everything and then continue to place the pink plush carpet to then put the leopard pink curtains on the windows to finally get to paint the walls of my pale pastel pink room and then put the leopard spot stamps and in the end I was happy with the result of my room.

      ┍━❝Danna's Room❞━┑

𝑃.𝑂.𝑉. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑅𝐷 𝑃𝐸𝑅𝑆𝑂𝑁.

Without Danna knowing it, a certain girl named Violet watched in horror as her old one had been remodeled in such a way and felt that she was going to have an attack. The room was too feminine for her taste. So he decided to retire and go with his parents. Danna never realized that Violet had been there.

Then Danna went to take a shower, he hot water vapor covered and clouded the whole room, Danna washed his body with his strawberry soap and let him water fall down his body once finished he got out of the shower to dry himself with the towel so then he rolled the towel to the body to then connect he blower and dry his hair when he finally went to get dressed when he noticed that his black lace thong was missing.

Danna frowned, swearing to have placed it there along with her change of clothes, then sighed to then put on her hairy robe and leave the room to get a new panties and put it on, unknowingly, Tate was staring at her standing behind her while the new girl's thong was hidden in one of his pockets. Danna with her santa calmness dressed up with her underwear and then put on some worn ripped shorts along with a pale pink crop top shaped like roses.

Tate felt his mouth dry up as he looked at her with desire and clenched his fists on each side passing to restrain himself from appearing to her and throwing himself on her and claiming her at that moment. Then Tate heard footsteps in his basement and immediately left.

Danna decided to lie down on her bed and stare at the ceiling exhausted, but then soon she started sucking on a pink lollipop to then reread the book of 𝐷𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑎𝑛 𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑜𝑠𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑜 𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜. While the song ❝𝐸𝑚𝑜 𝐵𝑜𝑦❞ de 𝐴𝑦𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑎 𝐸𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎 was playing in her room it had already become night when she finished reading the book, it was 7:00 p.m. when her mother suddenly called her to come down for dinner then Danna got out of bed and he threw his popsicle stick in it small trash can to then open the door of her room, cross the hallway and down the stairs.

Once he finished taking them down, he saw his mother serving the baked chicken with cranberry sauce on the plates along with some salad and mashed potato. Danna just sat in the corner, her father was sitting on the other side and your mother took a seat next to him and the three of them were getting ready to pray when suddenly, the doorbell rang and the three of them looked at each other thinking who could it be.

𝑃.𝑂.𝑉.; 𝐷𝐴𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝑅𝐴𝑉𝐸𝑁𝑁𝐴 𝐹𝑂𝑋.

━━━━━ Uh... I'll go and open ━━━━━ I said and got up from the table my hair moving to the sides before my mom interrupted me.

━━━━━ No, I'll go, I'll see who it is ━━━━━ she said and got up from the table shaking her floral dress before heading towards the front door of the house as she approached to look through it hole before opening the door revealing an elderly lady, with short blond hair well maintained, she was wearing a light makeup although the most noticeable was her reddish lipstick while smiling at us in her hands she was wearing what seemed to be a cake filled with white frosting with cherries on it topping it, it looked delicious.

I had approached and I see a familiar face behind the lady, it was Michael. He had his hands behind him in formal clothes. A simple black buttoned T-shirt along with normal pants. His blond hair fell to the sides of his face.

━━━━━ Good evening, I'm your next door neighbor, I'm Constance Langdon and this is my grandson, Michael Langdon ━━━━━ the lady introduced herself with my mother while still holding him cake while Michael waved with a smile ━━━━━ I hope I didn't interrupt anything, but we wanted to welcome you to the village, and we made you this cake ━━━━━ Constance said while looking at my mother with a smile.

My mother regained her composure and smiled.

━━━━━ They didn't interrupt anything, in fact they arrived just in time I prepared dinner and we were about to have dinner and thank them so much for being able to accompany us, I didn't expect to receive visitors so soon and sorry for the mess ━━━━━ said my mother while inviting them to dinner.

━━━━━ There's nothing better than getting to know your new neighbors in a desolate town like this ━━━━━ said Constance and my mother rio.

Meanwhile, Michael's gaze fell on me. Her eyes stared at me and her lips slowly curved into a small smile that was almost not visible before looking at my mother for then she half opened her lips and said.

━━━━━ And I guess she must be his beautiful daughter, right? I see that he inherited his genes ━━━━━ Michael said to him while my mother let out a laugh and turned to look at me and then turned back to him to answer him.

━━━━━ Yes, she is my daughter, Danna ━━━━━ said my mother as she wrapped her arms around my shoulders placing her hands on them ━━━━━ She is my only child and heir ━━━━━ said my mother while Michael smiled before looking at me and taking a step forward and then extending his hand to me, acting as if we had not met before.

━━━━━ Michael. Michael Langdon, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Danna ━━━━━ said Michael cordially as I take a step forward to shake his hand and I was surprised when he suddenly pulled her to then lean over and place a kiss on the back of my hand while looking at me with his blue eyes intensely I had been perplexed and breathless while looking at him feeling that maybe Michael could have broken into the house and stolen my black thong, it was a possibility.

My mother raised her eyebrows surprised to see how Michael kissed my hand since it was not very common for boys to be this polite and gentlemanly almost perfect, but Michael Langdon seemed to be the exception and probably the only one who was like that being so chivalry like him in this town.

Even Constance had not expected such a gesture from her grandson considering how Michael really was, but she decided to downplay it and thanked him for being good acting either for some strange reason that Constance could not figure out at the moment, but she assumed that he was surely just trying to be polite and wanted to maintain a facade of a nice guy with the new neighbors.

After eternal seconds Michael withdrew his lips not before throwing me one of his smiles that would surely melt any girl.

━━━━━ I hope we can get to know each other better and get along, Danna ━━━━━ Michael said and then returned to his previous posture.

━━━━━ I felt the same way, Mr. Langdon ━━━━━ I said cordially.

Then Michael smiled at me and then Constance cleared her throat and then my mom stepped aside to let them pass and gently pulled me out of the way.

━━━━━ Come in ━━━━━ said my mother while Constance thanked her and passed by to go place him cake on the counter while my mother told them to take a seat while she goes to serves them a plate of food.

Michael passed by and looked at me with a smile as he passed by me, I just shyly averted my gaze.

━━━━━ I see that they have redecorated the house, it is better than the gay couple who lived in it had it a long time ago ━━━━━ Constance commented while looking at the house, admiring the new touches.

━━━━━ Oh, yes, we had to modenize it ━━━━━ said my mother as she served them dinner on two plates and then slid one for Michael and another for Constance while Michael thanked my mother in a low voice while Constance was in charge of cutting the slices of cake to serve it.

━━━━━ It's a nice change, this place was missing some color ━━━━━ Constance said again as she served the cakes on each plate while my mom helped her to put the plates on top of the wooden coffee table with marble.

━━━━━ Let's give thanks ━━━━━ said my mother as she led them to the coffee table, then we all sat down and the three of us got in position to start giving thanks, Constance and Michael imitated our positions while the 5 of us bowed our heads down and joined our hands to start praying ━━━━━ Lord bless these foods that by your goodness we are going to receive and bless the hands that prepared them. We thank You in a special way for the presence of our neighbors; Constance and Michael at our table, Oh my God, give bread to those who are hungry and God's hunger to those who have bread and these gifts of yours that we are about to receive from your generosity, through Christ our Lord. Amen ━━━━━ my mother prayed before we all repeated 'Amen' once it was over before we all started eating.

━━━━━ Do you have something to drink? ━━━━━ Michael asked and my mother nodded her head.

━━━━━ Yes, I think I have some wine in the kitchen. Let me get it ━━━━━ said my mother as she got up from the chair before going to the kitchen to get the bottle with wine.

Then she found the bottle of wine in the refrigerator before taking the glass glasses out of the kitchen cabinets to then return to the coffee table and took care of serving he wine in the glass glasses before passing one to Michael and one to Constance to then pass one to us to then serve herself and leave the bottle on the table next to the candles and then we started to have dinner while we talked.

Constance would tell us stories about the house and the previous owners who had previously lived in the house. I was listening while eating my dinner and drinking shots of the red wine. Michael also paid attention to the stories even though he sometimes looked at me out of the corner of his eye and smiled while I looked away nervously and blushing.

Constance then went on to tell anecdotes from her life, while my parents told them about their jobs and positions. Constance was told about the institution he was in that it was elite and only for boys while my parents told her that I was in the public institution near the neighborhood.

Then Michael looked at me before he said:

━━━━━ It's a pity that we won't be able to see each other so often, I would have liked the Institution to be unisex and so I could have given you a tour for being new... ━━━━━ Michael said while smiling at me from the side and looking at me in an intense way, penetrating me with his ice blue eyes and I could tell that his words carried double entendres, my parents had not noticed it, but Constance did since she smiled forcefully as if she wanted to restrain herself from giving him a zap on the head right there so that he will behave.

I just looked down as I felt my heart turn over but at the same time it was like butterflies fluttering in my stomach so I bit his lower lip thoughtfully before cutting an piece of cake with my fork to give it a bite and focus on anything other than the warming between my legs.

I was 100% sure that Michael was watching me and smiling knowing the effect he must have on me. Until Mrs. Langdon looked at Michael and then leaned towards him.

━━━━━ Michael, ¿why don't you take the day of tomorrow off and give Danna that city tour? I'm sure there are several places she will adore... ━━━━━ he suggested Constance to his grandson after noticing his interest on the girl with pink hair.

━━━━━ It would be my pleasure ━━━━━ Michael said while looking at me smiling while resting his hands on his chin after finishing dinner and drinking the glass of wine ━━━━━ I would be very pleased to show you my favorite places ━━━━━ he told me again.

I looked at him and said.

━━━━━ But ¿aren't there classes tomorrow? ━━━━━ I asked as I kept eating from my piece of cake.

━━━━━ My classes are until 1:00 so I can pick you up after school to give you the tour ━━━━━ Michael said while looking at me smiling while slowly sucking his fingers that had some whipped cream from the piece of cake while looking at me in that intense way as if he knew the effect he has on me and will try to seduce me. |𝐼𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑐 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝐻𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑓 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒|.

I looked at my plate again while stirring the last pieces of cake to then eat them to avoid having to look at it again. No boy had as much effect on me as Michael has, it's something fascinating and dangerous at the same time. Something was telling me that Michael was going to get me in trouble. That he wasn't as good and perfect as he appeared, that he was hiding something under that perfect boy facade and I was going to try to find out what he was.

Then our parents kept chatting while the tension that Michael and I had was growing while our staring game was going on. After 2 hours they finally left, my mother forced me to go with her to accompany the Langdons to the front door so we followed them to the door.

━━━━━ Thank you very much for coming and for everything, I hope and repeat the visit ━━━━━ said my mother.

━━━━━ Of course, we will always be available for whatever you need and to make your stay more pleasant, so I'll see you soon I guess ━━━━━ Constance said as she said goodbye to us.

━━━━━ See you tomorrow I guess ━━━━━ I said goodbye to Michael.

━━━━━ I'll pick you up tomorrow at 3:00 sharp so get ready ━━━━━ Michael said to me, saying goodbye in the same way before giving me one last smile and then turning around and following his grandmother as they both crossed the gate and left through it and then crossed the sidewalk to return to his house next to ours.

My mom and I watched them leave.

━━━━━ That boy Michael is very different from the boys there were in our country, ¿isn't he? ━━━━━ said my mother while smiling mischievously at me and I rolled my eyes knowing what she was coming from ━━━━━ He's totally perfect for you, he's the kind of guy you need in your life ━━━━━ mother told me again.

━━━━━ Mom, please don't start ━━━━━ I said to her then turned around and go back inside the house while my mom let out a giggle, she loved to embarrass me whenever she could, it was annoying.

Then my mother closed the door before putting it on safety to then wash the dishes and utensils to then dry them and put them in their place then I went up to the second floor by the wooden stairs that creaked under my feet and then I went back to my room and then I changed into my pajamas consisting of a pink tank top with a hairy pink furry panties to then gather my hair with pink waves in a high ponytail leaving only two fringes fell on the sides of my face, unknowingly my curtains were open on the sides and the window for the same.

I frowned at him to then lean out the window to close it when at the other end of my window I see the Langdon house and I can see Michael this had come out of the bathroom with a towel hanging from his hips while exposing his naked torso with abs and his v-line, I looked at him dumbfounded when Michael turned back and noticed my gaze on him before smiling and muttering some like: 'Perverted' playfully before dropping the towel and I immediately widened my eyes like plates while a blush spread down my cheeks as I opened my mouth in shock and surprise before quickly closing the curtains to avoid having to look at anything besides his pale ass like 𝑒𝑑𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛 and I threw myself on the bed before turning off the light and then tried to sleep even though my heart was beating like crazy because of what had happened.

The house wasn't going to kill me, but Michael Langdon would with his actions. After sleeping for about three hours, I woke up due to the ringing of my cell phone, I rubbed my eyes before picking up the cell phone and seeing a Wattpad notification, ignore the notification and then turn off the cell phone.

I felt my throat dry and migraines from eating something sweet so I got up and opened the door of my room silently to then sneak down the hallway to then go down the stairs trying to be as quiet as possible to then sneak through the kitchen to then open the fridge and bend down to look what was inside to then take a bag with mini heart doves when suddenly I felt like someone was pushing the fridge door to close it and the only thing the person did was crush me in the process.

━━━━━ ¡Auch! ¡Hey, you're crushing me! ━━━━━ I exclaimed my camouflaged voice by the fridge then they opened the fridge door again and when I got up to see the person with angry and he frowning I meet him dirty blond haired guy with chocolate deep brown eyes. He was pretty cute too ━━━━━ ¡You! ¡You're the guy who was in the house before! ━━━━━ I exclaimed in surprise and before I could continue speaking the blonde guy covered my mouth with his hand and grabbed me with his other hand by my waist while I got up and took me out of the fridge.

━━━━━ Be quiet and keep your voice down, you don't want your parents to wake up and see you like this with me, ¿do you? ━━━━━ said the boy with his breath crashing against my neck while his lips brushed my earlobe.

I was just looking at him out of the corner of my eye frowning he frowned before I heeded him slowly he blond guy got me down and withdrew his hand from my mouth.

━━━━━ ¿Who are you? ¿Why have you been to my house? ━━━━━ I asked him this time in a low voice while I was looking at him.

━━━━━ I'm Tate Langdon and if it's not obvious I'm a ghost ━━━━━ he said blond guy and I looked at him with some disbelief, it was kind of hard to believe really because it could be a person pretending to be a ghost to try to scare us to leave the house to stay with her.

━━━━━ It's hard to believe when I can feel you, ghosts are supposed to go through things and feel cold, not like they're still alive ━━━━━ I said while looking at him with some skepticism and with doubts.

━━━━━ In Google it will appear when I died and the stories of this house so see for yourself, if you don't believe me ━━━━━ Tate said.

━━━━━ I'll do it tomorrow when I'm unoccupied, but, now that I see you, for sure it was you who stole my thong, so give it back to me you pervert before I called the police and accused you of stealing and breaking into a house that doesn't belong to you ━━━━━ I said to him as I put my finger on his chest.

Tate let out a laugh.

━━━━━ You look so cute when you're trying to be intimidating, ¿did you know that? ━━━━━ Tate said to me looking at me from his height with a teasing smile while pinching my cheek ━━━━━ You are very grumpy for someone so small, I should put you back in the fridge ━━━━━ the guy teases me.

━━━━━ Small my ass, you're just annoying and irritating ━━━━━ I said as I zapped his hand.

Tate pulled it back and laughed.

━━━━━ Anyway, I'll leave you alone so you won't get angry anymore, dwarf ━━━━━ Tate said as he slowly moved away without stopping looking at me to then turn to go up the stairs ━━━━━ By the way, those pink furry panties look cute on you ━━━━━ he said while looking down at my legs and thighs with a smile before disappearing.

I blushed with anger and shame.

━━━━━ ¡Pervert! ━━━━━ I told him almost screaming in a whisper as I threw my slipper to the place where I had been previously I only heard his laughter upstairs in what seemed to be a basement then I annoyingly picked up my slipper from the floor and put it in place to then take the bag with the mini dove in the shape of a heart to then close the fridge and drink a glass of water to then go upstairs and go back to my room to go back to sleep, at least try to fall asleep again while I wondered what the hell was happening to the people of this town.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑜𝑛...

𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑑. 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 2 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑢𝑝 𝑠𝑜𝑜𝑛.

[eddysocs]

Amidst It All — Constance Langdon x OC

Summary: Cassandra comes down with the flu days before she and Constance are to set out for their very first case. Luckily, Simon and Constance are the best caretakers a girl could ask for.

Word Count: 582

Warnings: None

Cassandra lay on her side, curled up beneath the covers, her long, dark hair spilling over the pillow. In her arms, Simon, Cassandra's long haired tabby that seemed ever so fond of Constance, purred softly, his amber eyes half closed in contentment. The room was quiet save for the gentle rhythm of Cassandra's breathing and the almost harmonious accompaniment of Simon's purring.

Constance approached the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping pair. Cassandra's face was slightly flushed, a sign of her fever, and her lips were parted as she took slow, even breaths.

"Sweet girl," Constance murmured under her breath, her southern drawl even softer than usual. She carefully pulled the blanket up, tucking it around Cassandra and Simon, making sure they were both comfortable.

For a moment, Constance simply stood there, watching them. The house, with all its ghosts and past horrors, felt strangely peaceful in this moment. Cassandra had a way of making even the darkest places seem bearable, and Constance knew she would need that light if they were to embark on this journey together.

"You're going to need your strength," Constance whispered as she gently brushed a strand of hair from Cassandra's face. The younger woman stirred slightly but did not wake. Constance took a moment to appreciate the calm before turning and heading to the kitchen.

The day passed slowly, and every so often, Constance would return to Cassandra’s side. She’d place a hand on her forehead, frowning at the persistent warmth, or simply sit in the chair beside the bed, reading a book to pass the time.

As evening fell, Constance decided to stay the night, unwilling to leave Cassandra alone in her state should she need her. She settled into the chair with a blanket draped over her legs, keeping a vigilant eye on both Cassandra and Simon.

When Cassandra finally woke in the middle of the night, bleary eyed and disoriented, she found Constance dozing in the chair beside her. Simon had shifted, now perched on the pillow beside her, watching her with those knowing eyes.

"Constance?" Cassandra's voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, really.

Constance stirred, instantly alert. "I'm right here, dear," she replied. "How are you feeling?"

"A little better," Cassandra said after taking a sip of the water she’d left on her bedside table. Her eyes softened as she looked at Constance. "You didn't have to stay."

Constance scoffed lightly, though her expression remained gentle. "Of course I did. What kind of partner would I be if I left you to fend for yourself?" She brushed a hand over Cassandra's hair again, a gesture that had become more frequent since they'd gotten together. "We can delay the trip if you’re not up to it, you know."

Cassandra shook her head. "No, we'll go. I just need a couple more days to get back on my feet."

Constance nodded, knowing there was no point in arguing. Cassandra was as stubborn as she was, and that was saying something. "Then rest up, sugar. I'll make sure you're ready when the time comes."

Cassandra smiled softly, closing her eyes again as Constance adjusted the blanket around her. Simon curled closer, his purring resuming in earnest.

As Constance watched over her, a sense of warmth spread through her, one she hadn’t felt in years, maybe ever. In this cursed house, with the woman she’d never expected to care for so deeply, Constance Langdon felt, if only for a moment, truly at peace.

For @sicktember

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs, @fanficanatic-tw, @gcthvile, @kenjioharashotspot, @immyowndefender

Cassandra Reagan: @hallospaceboyy, @hermosoharry, @the-witching-ash

[adaru32]

The Red Devil's Chronicles: September 2024 Devil May Cry News Update - Netflix, Actors, Etc.

Hey there, how's it going? Here are the latest Devil May Cry-related news updates I've gathered: 1. New DMC1 Dante figure by Asmus Toys.

2. NSYNC's Lance Bass wants to voice as Dante in Devil May Cry.

3. The number of players in DMC Peak of Combat's dropping big time. b) Speaking of Peak of Combat, turns out that they have been possibly lying this entire time about Capcom supervising them.

4. Trish's Japanese voice passed away.

5. Capcom planning to continue with their IPs . b) Devil May Cry's current director Hideaki Itsuno leaves Capcom. c) Dante features in another Capcom promo art.

6. Presslee has made progress on their game.

7. Devil May Cry Netflix trailer has dropped! b) New content of the Netflix series will be showing on the 26th. c) And Adi hints at possible other familiar characters appearing in it.

8. Dante's voice Reuben Langdon is retiring from acting. b) Poor Johnny (Nero's voice) feels bad about sending out that info. c) But he has plans to bring him back.

My Thoughts On These Updates: 1. Asmus toys did a pretty good job on this figure. I can't help but notice, though....Why do most figure-making companies that make Dante figures have to always shade his lips too dark?

2. It's nice that Lance is passionate about voice acting. But...Yeeeeeaaaah, he needs to stay away from Dante...It's bad enough that he was chosen to voice Sephiroth in the 1st Kingdom Hearts game. Glad that didn't last for him 'cause he wasn't a good Sephiroth fit. I'm okay with whoever he voices, as long as his voice and acting match the character.

3. So Capcom still hasn't done anything about the whole Peak of Combat situation I see....And hard to believe that they possibly have been lying this entire time about any of the Capcom staff supervising. Well, at the same time I'm not surprised since Nebula Joy's a scummy company.

4. May Atsuko Tanaka rest in peace....61 is still fairly young....Dang....

5. Makes me wonder what IPs Capcom plans to continue with....Now that Itsuno and other members of the Devil May Cry dev team are gone... Dante is featured on their promo art again, and he has been ranked as the number 1 favourite character from Capcom, so here's hoping that we do see another Devil May Cry game in the future, and hope that it's as good, if not better than what we've had.

6. It's awesome that Presslee's made progress on their game. Makes me wonder what other content will be added.

7. Despite the Netflix series not tying with the games, I have high curiosities on how this is gonna turn out, and am excited for it. Pretty cool how Johnny Bosch kinda got his wish of finally voicing Dante (for those of you unaware, he has auditioned to voice as Dante in DMC3, DMC4, and DMCV before Reuben took over).

8. It's really too bad about Reuben's leave...Well, it was great while it lasted. If he wants to move forward with something else, then we should let him. People really need to chill and need to stop acting like a bunch of whiny and emotional karens when they don't get their way with things (I saw one post on Twitter/X from someone where they threatened to off themselves if he's not gonna voice Dante anymore). There are other actors out there, and all we can do is hope this new actor for Dante, if another Devil May Cry game gets made, that they're as good, if not better than Reuben. It would be cool if he can make cameo appearances in some Capcom media whenever he decides to take a few voice gigs. Johnny does plan to encourage him to come back if a Devil May Cry 6 is made, so let's see what happens from there.

[teresabeadle5]

What happens when you sit quietly under a tree by Melvin Fidorka Via Flickr: I found a cozy spot under an old oak, watching leaves fall like golden coins 🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂 My puppy Sammy rested by my side and his gentle breathing calming me. Suddenly, my old friend appeared — the fox I hadn’t seen in ages, returning with the arrival of autumn. She slipped quietly through the grass and fallen leaves, and I smiled at her happily. Together, we enjoyed the warm autumn day, feeling safe in our small circle. In that peaceful moment, I knew friendship was all I needed 💛💙💜 ���♪ www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9blaavU3Q0 I'm wearing: Chestnut Figures Animals by Sway's ♥ Chestnut Figures] People & Decor by Sway's ♥ {COLD-ASH} SHERPA Jacket(Single-BURNTSIENNA) {COLD-ASH} MILES Casual Chinos {COLD-ASH} Mens LANGDON Boots (SingleColor-Dirty) Props: *alirium* ItchyGrass [Gold] EV - Oak Tree Brown Botanical - Fallen Leaves - Pile Large [Ginger Line] Small Pumpkins Group An Apple by Goonther Blackcinder Oak Tree Brown by Evergreen Valley Gardens My lovely pets: ♥ Sammy - Splashy Spaniels / Brit. Gold by JIAN ♥ Fox by JIAN ♥ Hedgehog Wanderer by JIAN

[espressotonicc]

They are resting in peace 😅 oh Langdon, am I having a crush on you?

Robby “dancing” with the old lady 🥹🥹🥹