mistercryptid
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och att leva förgäves är mindre än att dö. (and to live without meaning is worse than dying.) by hellsinki
Fandoms: Mr. Robot (TV)
29 Apr 2018
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They all live in symbiosis now; the three of them; Tyrell, Elliot and Mr. Robot. And they’re going to bring the world down; one stuck-up asshole at a time.
“Elliot.”
A reproaching frown. “Don’t call me that.”
Confusion dabs the pale blue of his eyes in darker shades. “What do you want me to call you, then?”
“By my own name. Edward.” Like it’s obvious.
He can’t help the grimace at the revelation. It’s an automatic response. “Elliot’s dad ?”Bookmarked by mistercryptid
01 May 2018
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"Why did you kiss me, that day?"
Henry blinked once, then twice, but I knew he knew exactly what I was referring to. Then, to my surprise, he sent me an amused, pitying look, as if I was a child asking him if dinosaurs were still alive. As if he couldn't quite believe yet that I was questioning such. I braced myself.
"Because I wanted to."
(originally titled: i prefer to think of poetry as redistribution of melancholy)
Bookmarked by mistercryptid
23 Mar 2018
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Rosalind and Robert are outside a house on the coast in the middle of nowhere. They don't remember why, or when, or how they arrived. They don't remember a lot of things. Rosalind works to illuminate the path that led them here, while Robert finds himself settling in. For the first time, they must contend with being truly at odds. And as the explanation unravels, they must contend with a lot more than that.
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Bookmarked by mistercryptid
12 Feb 2018
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After stage 2, Tyrell & Elliot are living incognito in a one-bedroom apartment away from everything they know and love.
Bookmarked by mistercryptid
12 Feb 2018
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dinner party by carrionkid
Fandoms: EverymanHYBRID, Slenderseries - Fandom, Slender mythos
28 Feb 2015
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You're standing in the woods, looking up the trees seem to blend together into a mesh of green. You turn quickly, this place digs at a hint of recognition deep in your skin. You step forward and collide with a door. It's black, but if you look at it from a certain angle, it gives off slight a slight tinge of purple. Your heart sits in your throat; the door opens. You walk through it, your body kicks into autopilot, even now it's controlling you. Evidently, you were walking too slowly because all of a sudden you're sitting in a chair. It's at one end of a long, wooden table. You, the one wearing your skin, sit at the other end. Between the two of you is your dead friend, Jeff, charred and flayed, the smell of burning hair hangs heavy in the room.
Bookmarked by mistercryptid
03 Feb 2017