#ahs apocalypse

[slvtformicheallangdon]

Im gonna fucking crash out. I thought my period wont come for atleast two days ja? I got to bed. And I WAKE UP TO A CRIME SCENE.

I wake up like Micheal Fucking Langdon in that scene where he was doing a blood ritual. Lemme put a pic for ref.

[sindhyar]

rewatching coven… there’s no place like home.

[wilhemina-venable]

Time for purple💜

[wilhemina-venable]

“I am an invisible monster, and I am incapable of loving anybody. You don't know which is worse.” - Chuck Palahniuk, Invisible Monsters. 

[novakam]

Why is the American Horror Story fandom so dead!! Can we pls revive the AHS ff fandom🙏🏽I just want a story of Jessica Lange characters!!

[glitteryunicorncum]

The Devil In Homeroom

pairings: alive!tatelangdon x fem!reader

warnings: murder, blood, gun fetish, brain particles, mass shooting, crying, mentions of abuse, religious beliefs, gun’s, death.

word count: 1,000+

a/n: in no way shape or form shall anyone plagiarise my work, translate my work or claim it as their own.

a/n: I’m also sorry if this work is on the bad side, it’s my first tate fanfic and I’m not that creative! but I hope you enjoy :)

Chaos. Destruction.

You never thought this would happen, didn’t think someone whom you had been infatuated with would do something this disgusting. Sure, people thought he was weird and even took the piss out of him in school but no one saw this coming.

Not even you.

It all started this morning, 7am to be exact, when you had woken up from a deep slumber (having been at work late last night) only to have a sickly feeling buried in your stomach. You didn’t feel sick, you didn’t have a fever, so you decided to brush it off. ‘I’m probably just hungry,” you thought to yourself — shrugging just the slightest bit.

That was your first mistake, ignoring your gut feeling. If only you had stayed home that day, maybe you wouldn’t have found yourself in that horrible situation.

The walk to school felt long and insufferable; cars drove by in a rush to get to work, students laughed and near the park were a couple of stragglers who had decided to skip today. You wished you were one of those people but your parents would literally kill you before they let that happen. They were all about the good grades and perfect images, but it was bull-shit, behind closed doors your parents were completely different to how they perceived themselves.

To other people they were joyous, a happy couple that had been married for years and had the most perfect daughter. But behind closed doors they were horrid, they shouted at one another and sometimes it got physical — they were like demon spawns trying to take each others souls. But no matter how much they fought and how much they argued, they always acted like everything was perfectly fine. Like they hadn’t been at each others throats the night before.

By the time you had arrived at school it was chaos and not the bad kind, students were crowding the hallway either grabbing their books or just purely messing about with their friends, making you roll your eyes. It was always like this, people acting like they wanted to be here & putting on a fake smile like they weren’t talking shit behind their friends backs.

They were all pathetic.

Why have friends if you were going to talk bad about them? Wouldn’t you just tell them you didn’t like them or their actions? Apparently not in this school, it wasn’t about telling them face to face — it was about being a snaky bitch and talking behind their backs. Sometimes you were glad that you kept to yourself and didn’t talk much, it was easier instead of having friends that claimed to care about you, only to betray you the second they could.

The bell for homeroom rang not long after you had arrived, a class you looked forward to every single day. The reason for that was because of Tate Langdon, the quiet kid who everyone thought was weird because he kept to himself — it was stupid in a way because you were the exact same and yet people didn’t make fun of you.

But that was high school.

As you walked into the classroom and towards your desk, gliding past the many students whom couldn’t move their ass out of the aisle so people could actually get past, your eyes instinctively flickered towards the seat in which Tate normally sat at. It was the seat two desks away from yours at the back of the class, he always sat there drawing in his notebook or just purely zoning out. Whenever you had the chance, and he wasn’t looking, you’d end up admiring the way his blonde hair fell across his forehead and the way his brown eyes sparkled a golden colour whenever the light hit him.

He looked like he had come straight from heaven itself, at least that’s what you told yourself.

It didn’t take long for everyone to settled into their respective spots, opening their notebooks and writing down whatever notes the teacher had put on the board. But your mind was straying too far to even notice what was going on in-front of you. Instead of writing like the others, your eyes stayed stuck on Tate’s seat.

He should be here by now. He always was.

Why was he suddenly missing school?

Was he sick?

Did he decide to skip?

You were suddenly brought out of your thoughts when a loud — BANG — echoed through the school corridor, everyone’s head immediately snapping towards the door.

That sounded like a gun shot.

Your heart begin to pound rapidly, eyes flickering across the classroom and towards the teacher whom you hoped would know what the hell was going on. Did someone accidentally drop their metal water bottle?

“Everyone get under your desks.” The teacher called out hastily, her voice a mix of shakiness and panic.

You knew something was wrong, and it was clear that everyone else knew it too. If that had been a metal water bottle then the teacher wouldn’t be acting like she was about to die, like we were all about to die.

Nobody moved at first, everyone stayed stuck in their seats like someone had superglued them down — it’s like they were all waiting for another sign, like this could just be a prank and they’d be able to laugh it off like normal people. But as another two shots — BANG BANG — were fired, it was clear this was something more than a joke.

Everyone immediately dived under their desks, including you, your legs being pulled up to your chest as you recited a prayer in your head. You weren’t a religious person but at a time like this you really needed god on your side, you didn’t want to go to hell if you did end up dying. The teacher, without a hint of hesitation, closed the classroom doors curtain (not like it would do much) before retreating to her desk. She was already pulling out her phone to call the police.

Unfortunately before she could do that the door to the classroom slammed open, the sound of boots thudding against the floor being the only thing that was heard for a second. Everyone was tense under their desks, some squeezing their eyes shut while others sobbed to themselves quietly. The last thing they wanted to do was make noise.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

With each shot that rang through the classroom, your body jolted and tears pooled into the corner of your eyes. How could someone shoot without a hint of hesitation? Apparently whatever psychopath was doing it now.

Your eyes flickered across the classroom, still situated under your desk, just in time to see blood gliding against the floor like water. It was a deep red, as if someone had spilled wine and didn’t want to wipe it clean. Bodies dropped like flies and some brain particles shot up the walls.

A gag ripped free from your lips without a second thought, the sight worsening by the minute. The stench of blood & the sight of dead bodies were only messing with your stomach with each second that passed.

But that was the wrong move.

Everything went quiet for a second — there were no signs of footsteps, not even the clocking of a gun.

It was just silent.

However silence never lasted and neither did this.

Within a split second the desk you were hiding under went flying across the room, landing on some students bodies. A scream tore from your throat, your hands immediately coming to cover your face, as tears slipped down your cheeks. You were bracing yourself for death, for god to embrace you with open arms. But nothing came.

Through teary eyes, you looked up at the person whom had caused havoc and destruction, trying not to look at the bodies scattered around you — their blood gliding forward like skates on ice.

It was then that you saw him.

“Tate?” you croaked out, your heart pounding in your ears.

His eyes were cold, laced with something that looked like recognition and a hint of insanity, the gun no longer pointed at you but rather facing the floor. If you were crazy you’d think he wasn’t trying to hurt you, but you weren’t and this was probably a setup so you could drop your guard.

“why- why are you doing this?” a tear dripped down your cheek slowly, like a raindrop falling down a car window, but it didn’t matter because before you could make sense of it all a calloused thumb was swiping against your cheek.

“don’t cry.” came tate’s gruff yet slightly soft voice. “pretty girls shouldn’t have that look on their face.

The clatter of a gun being placed on the floor bounced off the walls in the classroom, a clear indication that Tate had lowered the one thing that you were scared of. Your eyes flickered across his features, a look of somewhat shock mixed with fear taking over your face. But through all of that, the same golden glint in his eyes was enough to ease your mind — your heart slowing down in your chest just enough to make your breathing even again.

It was silent for a second, the only sound being the ticking of the clock which had witnessed the horrors that occurred in the classroom this morning, that was until you opened your mouth to talk.

“don’t say anything.” tate mumbled, his thumb brushing against your cheekbone and ultimately cutting you off from what you were about to start saying. “I know what your thinking and I get it, your scared. But you need to come with me.”

With parted lips and a body that was still curled up into a fetal position, your gaze stayed stuck on the boy infront of you. He was supposed to be hurting you, ending your life and making sure you didn’t have a future, but that was the last thing he was doing.

“what? n-no, tate.” you stuttered, a shaky breath falling from your lips. “you just murdered- you just took the lives of our classmates.”

In some way you really thought that he’d pick the gun up and blow your brains out, that he’d be mad you had refused, but it never came. He just stared at you with a look of desperation and something else entirely, no longer manic or deadly.

“you don’t get to question it, just please come with me.” he stated, grabbing your arm and promptly pulling you up from the floor.

With no control over your body, because he was stronger and taller than you, you were hoisted onto your feet — now stood in-front of the boy you once admired and maybe still did. The sticky bloody liquid below you attached itself to your shoes like a leach, making it harder and harder to not throw up. The stench of bodies was enough to make bile rise in your throat until you gulped it back down, not wanting to add more of a list of problems to whatever hell this was.

“Tate, stop!” you managed to say, voice rising so he could hear you over whatever pathetic attempt this was to get you to follow him. “You can’t expect me to come with you when you’ve just- you’ve just done this.”

A huff of frustration fell from Tates nose, his jaw clenching with every word that fell from your mouth. Now it looked like he really wanted to shoot you.

“Don’t you get it? I did this for us.” He snapped, grabbing onto both your arms. “I’ve seen the way you stare at me in class, I’ve seen the look of infatuation that gets swung my way whenever I sit at my desk. It doesn’t go unnoticed like you think.”

Your mouth parted once again, shock consuming you whole as you stared at him. “Tate-“

“No, don’t say anything. We wouldn’t be able to be together if I didn’t get rid of them, if I didn’t get rid of the ones who’d judge us.” He stated, his eyes desperately searching your gaze for any sign that you’d forgive him. “I did this for us, for you. So we could be together without having people judge us. The two quiet kids who sit in the back of class not saying a word.”

The distant sound of sirens echoed from outside making tate’s head snap towards the window, his hands clenching against your shoulders firmly. He knew they would find him here if he stayed any longer and he didn’t want to be caught by the police.

Turning his gaze back to you, he closed the distance between you both and planted his lips onto yours in a desperate kiss. “I love you. I want to be with you and it’s clear you want to be with me.“ he mumbled against your lips, a shakiness to his words.

Your mind was filled with a mix of emotions, on one hand he had just murdered a whole class full of students which made him a monster by default, but on the other hand, you had liked him for so so long and he did have a point. If you and him had gotten together the bullying from the other students would have gotten worse for him (and somewhat you), it probably would have ended worse than it did now.

But this was Tate you were talking about, the one whom piqued your interest by always wearing those gloomy clothes and listening to Kurt Cobain (which you could hear whenever he had his earphones in). He only had the best intentions and maybe this was one of them, the students in this school had forced him to break, so maybe they got what they deserved.

Without a hint of hesitation, although you’d be lying if you said you weren’t debating the choices running through your head, your lips locked onto tate’s in a passionate yet slow kiss. Maybe if you kissed him long enough everything would fade away and you’d wake up from this bad dream.

The second tate felt your lips moving against his, a breath of relief escaped mid kiss, his hands lowering themselves from your face and ontop your hips. The feeling itself made something warm flutter in your stomach, your body instinctively leaning into his just the slightest bit more. You never thought this would be the way you’d confess or even reciprocate a kiss with tate, but everything happened for a reason.

“I love you too.” you mumbled, slowly but surely pulling away from the kiss just enough so your foreheads were resting against one another’s.

A soft smile tugged at tate’s lips, his nose brushing against yours before promptly pulling back — the sirens were closer now, no doubt about to turn into the parking lot of the school. “We’ve got to go.” tate stated, grabbing the gun he had placed on the floor before taking your hand. “It’s you and me, baby. You’re stuck with me now.”

That’s all it took for you to follow him out of the classroom door, your hand clenched tightly in his as he manoeuvred through the corridors.

But like everyone said, nothing lasts forever and nothing stays the same. You didn’t expect your life to be taken in the bedroom tate stayed in under his mother’s roof, you didn’t expect him to pull the trigger the moment S.W.A.T came barreling through the front door — but like he said, you were stuck with him now.

[malcolmsvanityfair]

Wow guys the 4th was awesome 👌 I went to a party with a TON of total smoke shows and got really drunk 🥴 I don't really remember much past my 5th drink of the night sooo I'm still pretty hung over from this weekend LOL 😅

~ 💋 xx

[slvtformicheallangdon]

Micheal Langdon X Reader fic

Tw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Power imbalance. Emotional manipulation. Unplanned pregnancy and complications. Major character deaths. Infant death. Childbirth death. Emotional abuse. Hurt/a tiny bit of comfort and then no comfort again cause fuck happines. Dead dove do not eat. Tragedy. Blood and injury. Suicide. Grief. Tragic ending (you thought id let u be happy huh?)

Authors note: my cousin fucking died. Im burnt out and i hate my life but heres a fic.

Ever since you saw Michael Langdon you had a thing for him. He was always so hauntingly elegant. He was a sin wrapped in silk. You had never been with a man before. It all started in that damned god forsaken interview. He saw through your lies, your vulnerability, how untouched you were and it was intoxicating l. He orchestrated your downfall. Your fall from grace by the time that interview was over you had become his target. His new plaything. A few days later became the catalyst for the ruin of everything that followed.

He had you in his bedchamber. You kissed him. A very hard decision. A very catastrophical one too. He matched your neediness. One thing led to another and by the end of the encounter you had been ruined. He didn’t even give you the satisfaction of cuddling. He simply got up, got dressed and told you to leave. He sent you to your room, all alone there.

In the following 6 weeks you had been feeling sick every morning and throwing up. You blamed it on the stress Michael had caused you. You pushed through the fatigue, tried ignoring the nausea. Until it became a pattern, until even smells made you sick. Until you had missed your period. Everything had clicked in that moment where you realized. “This isn't normal. Something is wrong with my body” you thought to yourself.

One day you got sick in front of him. You knew. You fucking knew. He just stood there and watched it unravel. He didn’t ask questions. After you stabilized yourself you told him. “I- i think im pregnant…” “I understand” he responded coldly. Too clinical. “No you fucking dont. You never have and you never will, all you care about is yourself. You never cared about me and how everything you did made me feel horrible. I hate you, but I can never hate our child.” You broke down sobbing, falling to your knees. He atleast had the decency to hug you. “I didn’t know” he spoke softly. In that moment you thought you had opened his eyes.

Later during the day you were summoned by Mrs Venable and Mrs Mead. You were told you had violated the outposts rules. You saw Micheal there. You knew that blasted fool had reported you. You were told you’ll be punished by death for breaking the rules.

You spat out the following words: “The child is Mr Langdons” they gasped. They told you how dare you accuse him of such things. You tried taking him down with you. They didn’t believe you so you told them where he has specific moles and scars on his body. Micheal spoke after being silent. “Shut your mouth woman” “I thought you liked it wife open” you spat back. “This ends now” his voice firm and steady. Suddenly you spat in his face. His eyes widened in shock. “Youre done” he spoke in a low menacing tone.

A few days had passed since that incident. You knocked on his bedroom door. A soft knock. “Come in” he said. His tone was tired. “I'm sorry to wake you up at 3 am but I needed to talk to you about something serious.” Your voice was velvet soft. “It's fine. Go on” his voice filled with curiosity.

“I thought about it. You don't have to step up. I'll manage alone. I'm sorry for all the pain ive caused you Michael" your eyes fell to the ground. The words left your mouth.

“Ill step up, if you want me. I won't let you do it alone. I’ve thought about it. About us. Maybe it's not a burden but a blessing.” His words are soft like cotton. His gaze held a warmth you've never witnessed up close.

The following months were actually good. Micheal wasn't his old cold self with you. He had grown to love you. In his own fucked up way.

Today was the day of the delivery. He was there by your side the whole time. He held your hand through it. The moment your son was born was the best moment of your life. He looked so much like micheal.

But alongside everything good there is a negative side.

You were heavily bleeding. You felt so weak. Your body was failing. You were fading. You held your son. “What do you want to name him?” He asked. “Lucian” you responded weakly.

“Micheal?” “Hm?” “Hold my hand” “okay” “im dying” “what?” “Take care of him for me. I love you both”

Suddenly you closed your eyes gor the kast time. Those were your last words and the firdt time you said “i love you”

“I love you too.” He responded. Tears staining his cheeks. He felt… empty.

During the following week. Lucian passed away. Part of starvation. Part of his premature little body not being able to survive in the apocalypse.

Micheal had lost two people in that week. He couldn’t take it anymore. He prayed to his father for guidance but there was no response. He was completely alone. He took a rope. Tied it into a nose and hanged himself