#heykiiddo

[washed-over]

Recently I’ve been trying to buy more yellow clothes bc it puts me in a better mood

[drkmako]

Did this quick one due to sleep insomnia Probably influenced by rewatching Tokyo ghoul

[fairylander]

thank you @superlunarykidd im glad you exist

[404elliot-a]

@heykiiddo cont (x)

Nononononono. This isn’t happening.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. Tell me it’s not real.

More mind tricks. But it feels different. Why does it feel different? What’s happening?

Shutupshutup- “SHUT UP!” Elliot cries, tears stinging in his wide, stormy eyes. Trembling hands claw at the back of his neck, running through the messy black hair on top of his head as he paces back and forth. Trying to configure reality from fiction. Short, shallow breaths escape him. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the room to satisfy his lungs. “W-why are you doing this?” He asks, tears trembling through the strum of his voice. Mind games. It has to be mind games. Mr. Robot messing with me, throwing me off. Pretty fucking sick mind games. If he’d established that Mr. Robot was a depiction of his dead father in his brain, a memory injected with his own personal hard-drive of unresolved issues, then why was he appearing again acting as though he were real? Why was his brain doing this to him? Why did it feel when he’d just told him he’d hated him that he wasn’t talking to himself, but another. And it cut him up inside. He didn’t hate his father, he hated himself.

“’M gonna m-make you g-go away. You gotta leave, this isn’t cool.” Elliot chokes out, stumbling toward the dresser to grab the last of the morphine he’d had. I haven’t touched it since Shayla. As fucked up as it is, it was still a piece of her. He scrambles into the kitchen grabbing the mortar and pestle, shaking all the while and trying to ignore the figure behind him.

[sacrosanctvm]

          “You can’t lose your shit every single time I do something that you don’t approve of!” Zoe snapped, interrupting him and effectively cutting off the speech that she really couldn’t be bothered to listen to anymore. It was a miracle that she’d lasted this long without shutting him down. “Because if you do, you’re going to give yourself a fucking heart attack and die because I’m going to be too pissed off at you to call 911 when you go into cardiac arrest,”

@heykiiddo liked the shipping call and then this mess happened.

[uponaredwheelbarrow]

@heykiiddo

He remembered clearly how he felt the first time he thought he was going to die. He was so afraid — and in spite of his mother’s stories, he didn’t know what was coming next and he was just terrified of what would come next. The second time, when he thought that Santiago would shoot him like he had killed that cop, he was terrified too, he had to finish what he had started. His wife and Elliot had to know how good he was. The third one, he was such so disappointed, he was so hurt that he left his family behind like that, that everything he had done was for nothing.

But now...now he felt nothing. His son was growing up in another country, far away from him and if he wanted to be honest with himself, he was in better hands than with a father that was a failure. Elliot did need him, but just like his use to the Dark Army, he was replaceable. He had thought about it a lot, how not only it would no longer make a difference whether he was alive or not, but that if he had died that night in the arcade, nothing would change. Nothing at all.

Of course, ever since Price’s visit that night, or even before that, when he was in that bunker, he knew that eventually he would end up with a bullet in his head by these people, even if there were times that Elliot almost convinced him they were truly invincible. In a way, wasn’t it better if it happened now, before he fell even further to that failure pit he was in? Wasn’t it better if—

The back door opening interrupted his thoughts and he ran his hand to his hair to fix them. He wasn’t wearing his ‘normal’ clothes, he wasn’t planning to go to work nor he was coming back from it, so he just wore whatever was most comfortable— it didn’t really matter how good he looked anymore.

When he did see Elliot, for a moment, he felt like telling him or trying to find a way to avoid Irving even, but only for a moment. There was no truly avoiding anyway. And even if he did live, everything that he dreamed about them, everything that they could be, never would become reality.

❝You can actually use the front door, you know.❞ He got up and turned to face him, trying to smile. ❝I wasn’t even sure you were going to show. I am glad you did. I…wanted to tell you something. ❞ he paused for a moment and cleared his throat ❝ Give you something.❞ he took a flashdrive from the pocket of his jeans and held it out for Elliot  ❝It’s not much, but it’s something. Price has a different security network. This will help you break it.❞