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rcdiostcrs · 3 years

Text

Late Night Lights had just posted their first official single as a band—not just a cover—and Anakin was super nervous. Every cover the band had posted always had at least one comment about his voice. It was one of the things he worried the most about. If the band ever went big—how was he ever going to hide being trans?

After all, he never bound when he sang in order to maximize lung capacity. Instead, he hid his chest behind his guitar. The eighteen year old was surprised that no one had figured it out yet. (His anxiety told him that they had and were just hiding it in his indirects). Luckily, that would be over soon as he had a top surgery appointment in a few months—hopefully before they ever got signed.

Acid hit refresh next to him, wanting to see how many views the video had gotten in the past three minutes since he had last refreshed.

“Quit it,” Anakin said, not wanting to see what the first comment would be.

“C’mon, I’m just excited to see how long it will take us to blow up.”

“A watched pot never boils,” he replied, tired of the constant refreshing. It was giving him a headache to have to hear the first notes ring out every time Acid refreshed that stupid page.

Anakin stood up from the couch and instead went to the kitchen of his bandmate’s apartment. (He constantly found himself jealous of Acid’s wealth. His bandmate had a giant apartment! At nineteen!) Grabbing a Coke from the fridge, he tried to think of lyrics in order to distract himself from the lingering anxiety over people finding out.

“Guys! We got a comment!”

There went that plan.

“What’s it say?”

“They really like the lyrics you wrote. And they say Zander’s drumming is ‘stellar.’ Also, apparently, my bassline is ‘killer.’”

Oh thank the gods. It was a positive comment.

“That’s awesome.”

Anakin knew that it was unrealistic to never receive a bad comment, but with every video, he hoped. That hope was killed when he checked the video the next morning and saw

What’s up with his voice? He sounds like a girl lol.

Like that, his day was ruined before it even began.

Even after a year on Testosterone, he still sounded like a girl.

Fuck.

By the time the band got their first interview, Anakin was more comfortable with his voice. There were still comments about it every video, but it didn’t bother him as much. He had heard his voice on recording so much at this point that he was indifferent to it.

Apparently that wasn’t a common consensus.

“Anakin, you are that vocalist for Late Night Lights, correct?” the interviewer asked during the individual interview portion of the day.

“Yeah. I write most of my own lyrics, too. And I play guitar every couple of songs.”

“Then what’s up with your voice? It’s deepened a lot since your guys’ first cover only a year ago. You’re eighteen, and yet, it’s like you’re going through puberty. It’s insane!”

“I’m trans, you jerk!” he shouted. With a huff, he stomped out of the filming room, past his bandmates preparing for their own individual interviews, and out of the building.

Anakin didn’t realize what he had done until he was in the parking lot. All of the time he had spent trying to conceal his identity—flushed down the toilet because he couldn’t hold in his temper. He touched the shadow on the side of the building, fleeing into the cold embrace of darkness.

His bandmates and their roadies were not happy with the interviewer when they found out what they had said. But by then, the damage was done.

Anakin came out of the shadows back at camp. He hadn’t been there the entire time Late Night Lights had been working on their first album, living in Acid’s apartment. The blond headed straight to Cabin Thirteen. He needed to hide and Nico, one of his fathers, would let him. His other father was great, but right now Anakin didn’t want to deal with Will’s questions. The son of Apollo would want to know what had his son so upset.

“Hey Dad. Don’t tell anyone I’m here.”

“Only until you’re ready to talk.”

The next morning, he left. Back to Acid’s apartment. He left a note to Nico, saying that he was leaving.

You’ll find out what happened soon enough.

As soon as he walked out of the shadows and into the living room, he was swamped with a hug.

“We were so worried. You weren’t answering any texts.”

“I’m fine. This just... isn’t how I expected to come out.” He took a deep breath. “But what’s done is done.”

He grabbed his phone and opened Twitter.

yes, i’m trans. no, you can’t ask questions.

Anakin took a deep breath, “Let’s get a queer-friendly interview set up. Time to do some damage control.”

The second interview ever for Late Night Lights was on a radio show in Oakland, California. It was just outside of Camp Jupiter in order to leave room for the demigods to run back to safety in case of monsters attacks.

“And that was ‘She Looks So Perfect,’ the newest song from the up-and-coming band ‘Late Night Lights’ who are here in the studio today. How are you guys?”

“We’re great. It’s amazing to be here with you,” Anakin replied, slipping into interview mode as a way to prepare for the pre-approved questions.

“Awesome, awesome to hear that. So, we have a few questions here,” the host, Kurtis, held up the list of questions, the sound getting picked up by the microphones. “Ready to answer them?”

“Yeah, we’re ready.”

“Let’s get started.”

Kurtis asked a few normal questions—what’s the song about, how long has the band been together, what can we expect down the road, etc, etc—but then he transitioned into the part of the interview that was damage control from Anakin’s accidental coming out.

“So, Anakin. Your last interview didn’t go so well—my condolences, by the way—”

“Thank you, Kurtis.”

“And there was something said there; care to elaborate?”

“Sure. I’m a transman. That interview wasn’t how I wanted to come out, but what’s done is done.”

“Had you ever planned to come out?”

Acid butted in, “I don’t think that that’s an appropriate question.”

Anakin shook his head at his bandmate. “It was on the list of approved questions. It’s fine, Acid.” He moved his attention back to Kurtis and the camera. “I’ll be honest with you—no. I planned to just be stealth in the public eye forever. My best mates—” he gestured towards his bandmates “—knew and that was all that mattered.

“I’m at a point in my transition that I’m more comfortable with myself than I ever have been. When we posted our first covers, I hadn’t even had my first appointment with a gender therapist, so nowadays... It really puts this situation into perspective.”

“Do you regret it?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth—Anakin didn’t know if he regretted it. He knows that it had been said in a fit of anger. He knows that he had never planned on coming out.

And yet—

He knew that he would have loved another trans person to look up to as a kid.

“I don’t think so.” Anakin grinned. “No. I don’t think I do.”

#*anakin #anakin —☆— drabbles #//#anakin is tired of hate comments & accidentally comes out during an interview

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yoitssabrinee · 7 years

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To Mercy We Plead

I am actually quite dissatisfied with how this turned out, but it got a little too long (is 7 pages and 3263 words long? lol) so here’s the first chapter of what I think is decent enough for a Prompto + Reader thing? Yeah lmao

Many thanks to @inconsistencys and @projectcherry12 for their help, feedback, and all the references they have provided me with--i could never do this without their help and support (and for Christ’s sake please follow them they are amazing people ok thank u) and also i need u guys to point out what i did wrong here and what i amiss because i am seriously delirious rn oh my god

p.s. this is unedited btw lmao i’m still in the dark about what to write for the summary so here’s to nothing!

SUMMARY:

A lifetime of repentance would never erase the regret building inside you as long as the person you’ve hurt are still bound to their past. But maybe redemption is on your way, and you’d be damned to let that chance go. (Prompto Argentum + Reader)

WARNING: Mentions of bullying, harassment.

prologue - part 1 - part 2

It was eight in the morning.

Sun was way up in the sky; the air smelled fresh and nice; the sky was clear; and it seemed to be the perfect weather for a stroll in the park, or maybe a casual walk through the city sidewalks, staring at street-side stalls selling kebabs and ice cream cones or just simple trinkets like key chains and cheap bracelets.

Yet here you were, face down and backside up, spine sore and screaming in pain at the hit it took from the blunt object across the room.

That made it the fifth time you’ve been kissing marble floors in a span of nearly one hour.

Your vision was swimming, unshed tears prickling at the corners of your eyes and body singing with exertion, but you’ve mapped and memorized the layout of the room so clearly from days moving all around it to know which corner was which even when you had your eyes closed—the trick here was to maximize your hearing sense so you could make out the movements of the other recruits, who were crowding the outline of the stage, silently snickering behind their hands.

Lips thinning in defiance, you quickly whirled and jumped into position, scrambling for the makeshift wooden sword laying just a ways away—previously knocked out of your hand—from you and biting back a sob as you stumbled forward, facing the opponent that had been handing your ass back to you in the past fifty-five minutes.

You knew this was not part of training—it was just a simple reflex-based move, dammit—but still your face felt hot with shame.

Not to mention that it was an extremely important day, and you totally blew it.

Baby blue eyes watched you and your opponent’s forms from the side line, silently judging your performance the whole hour you had been on that floor, eyes squinting whenever you took a hit on whichever part of your body that was left open for your rival to strike. It was humiliating—both from having Cor the Immortal’s eyes on you and seeing disappointment crinkling them every time you hit the deck, and catching the glint in your audience’s narrowed orbs as they silently cheered on your loss.

You were a hundred percent sure you just failed the test.

Cor’s voice rang across the expanse, “You’ve got five minutes left. Make it count.”

Make it count.

Like hell you would.

With a yell you charged, wooden sword swiping forward with unrelenting force, your intentions loud and clear—bring the enemy down in one fell swoop and spare yourself from yet another day of insult and embarrassment.

But, of course, this was one of the top fighters you were dealing with—top jock of the elite Special Forces, newly initiated as recruit barely six months ago but he was already making his way up with amazing performance. At this rate even you wouldn’t be surprised to see the likes of him flanking Cor’s side as his right hand man.

Which, to your dismay, just solidified everybody’s—minus yours—opinions on him as he sent you sprawling a final time to the floor, concluding the day’s events.

It was barely nine in the morning.

The applause that followed nearly made you deaf, but you were too busy willing yourself not to cry as you stand up, using the sword as support to steady your stance before you made your way toward the threshold. Ignoring all the pointed looks aimed your way, you trotted toward where the Marshall was standing, clipboard in his arm.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to plead to him to give you a second chance. You’d do anything to make up for that lack of performance, the absence of focus that was the main point of all the training you’ve endured for the past nine months. Yet the moment you stood before him, saluting and addressing him by title, the look on his face gave him away. At this rate even disappointment was an understatement; you turned your gaze to the floor, finding interest on the cracks between the tiles.

Hours of toiling and getting decked in the shins at ass o’clock by colleagues who just wanted to bring you down had all amounted to nothing.

You heard him call your name, and when you lift your eyes from the floor you were met with icy blues boring deep into your skull, his lips thinning into a straight line. “I want you to know that you have potential. I want you to know that I know that potential is somewhere in that body of yours, waiting to be brought out.” He was silent for a spell before he continued, “But I also want you to know that today, you didn’t meet the expectations I’ve set up for most of the recruits that have joined us here today. Your posture is off, your stance needs more work, your overall performance is lacklustre at best, and I’m not even going to touch on the way you handle yourself during mock battles.”

You nod, then finding whatever strength you had in you, you said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

He took another moment longer to stare at you before he let out a long sigh, signing something off on the clipboard. You didn’t want to see what it was, but you were fairly sure he had just written you off as a ‘fail’.

You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, feeling fresh tears stinging your lashes.

“Right now you’re not ready for that. Not yet. I’m sorry, but you know what this means for you, right?”

You nodded, not daring to lift your eyes to meet his, fearing that the tears would actually spill should they make contact.

Cor let out another sigh.

“You’re dismissed.”

And just like that, you failed the exam that would initiate you into the Crownsguard as an elite.

(s)

The Discussion tab was brimming with visitors, as usual; since the last time you were there, it had reached the triple digits in a span of a week, stated by the ever rotating digital numeral widget tucked at one corner of the website. Today, you were contributing another number to that widget by surfing through the page, fingers finding the ‘Post New Thread’ button on default and flying over the virtual keyboard to type.

It only took a couple of taps to get to where you usually frequented on the forum, having the website bookmarked for convenience on your phone. Since the minute you left the training room, every recruit that had passed you at the halls kept turning your way; you were past the point where you wanted to just snap and tell them off. You never know what they were saying, but you figured anything that they have to say was about you—and anything about you was never a good thing.

Especially since every eye seemed to be judging your every move.

Somnus’ Assembly for the Desperate and Needy—it was one of the only refuges you have, ever since you were initiated as a beginner into the Crownsguard forces; one of the only places where you could express yourself and your words without being looked at as if you were mental. Ever since your accidental stumble into the website during one exceptionally spiralling day, months prior, you have been a frequent, if not a little too infrequent, visitor of the page, occasionally posting threads retelling your troubles or giving out advice to those who you think might need it—or, you know, just drop in others’ threads and comment. In that place where nobody knew anybody except for their tales of toil and distress, no one would give you the side eye because no one knew what your history was and they would never judge you based on what you used to be.

Some, if not all, of the visitors have disclosed their own personal details to give vivid descriptions to their stories, but you weren’t on that level of comfortable to even share your past to the internet world. At least, not yet.

The ‘New Thread’ text box was only filled with a line of words, after a couple of minutes of deleting, then retyping, then deleting before retyping again, because every word you used seemed to expose too much, tell too much of your side. You just wanted to be frank, straightforward, and honest, but at the same time you didn’t want to give away anything.

In the least, you wanted a side where you could keep all your secrets without being appraised. The website have been your saving grace.

{toothless-vore has posted a new thread!}

Your lips quirked into a small smile at the sight of the bolded letters gracing yet another tab of new thread discussion on the page, a tinge of relief washing over you at finally letting a piece of distress out. You were about to swipe the webpage out, having done away your trouble, when it suddenly refreshed by itself, and your thread indicated that a visitor had read it, and commented on it.

You opened the post, wondering what it was, then felt the smile at your lips growing wider as you read:

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:11AM}

∑(;°Д°) omg are u ok?? im sorry that happened to u!! are u alright???

It was only a simple thread, the top post lined with only one sentence, read: just failed exam, conked out atm, feelin real down and need lots of choc. But to this person who had gone by the username yellow-birdboy, it was a big deal. Funny how you have trouble making friends in the real world, but on the internet, people like this wanted to hear what you have to say and read all your stories with immense interest, especially since none of you know each other that personally to invest time in strangers on the net. One of the perks of being anonymous and hiding behind fake names, you guessed.

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:12AM}

yea m fine, nothing i cant handle dw ( ´ ▽ `)ﾉ

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:15AM}

i know u can, but lemme know if u wanna vent yea?? im always up for a lil motivation!! ( •̀ᗜ•́)ง

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:19AM}

thnx boo, preciate it (✿´ ‿`)

This Birdboy user wasn’t entirely new in your list of followers and subscribers; in fact, he had been among many who was—supposedly—enamoured by the way you “carried” yourself, as they put it—to them, you seemed like the strong type of person, full of wisdom waiting to be imparted to those who wanted them. You weren’t an admin, not even a moderator, of the forum, so you didn’t know why they would actually take a liking to you, but seeing the increasing numbers of subscribers on your profile, you might as well be one.

It was just that Birdboy—you liked to dub them as that—was one of the few who cared enough to chat you up, lifting your spirits with chats that would carry you into the morning and making you laugh at horrible puns they cooked up for your sake. Contrasting ironically with how the daylight would often turn that smile upside down.

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:21AM}

talk bout motivation, it seems like tmro is my 1st apptmt ( •́〰•̀)

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:23AM}

oo yea, u mentiond that like last week!! did ya kno who u gonna meet?? ( ◕▽◕)

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:25AM}

idk but if its anything like a therapy i doubt the doc wd be any nice ( •́ᗣ•̀)

aaaand i heard its gonna be group ( ; ≧ 〜≦)

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:27AM}

ooh

looks like its gonna be

team-ing w ppl, dontcha think?? ( >ᗜ◕)୨

You didn’t even realize you were bursting with laughter until the occupant of the bed across yours turned to give you a long, weird look. You immediately clapped a hand over your mouth, snorting into your palm as you tried to calm yourself, fingers of the other hand furiously typing out a response:

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:28AM}

WTF that was bad that was really really bad n u shud feel ashamed of urself omg

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:29AM}

HEY!! ( •̀ᗣ•́)

well at least it made u laugh right?? ( ;´ `)╯

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:31AM}

yea lol

thnx birdie <3

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:33AM}

no prob!! ( ◕▽◕)

oh yea, spk of apptmt, i just scheduled one too

n guess what?? its tmro ヽ( ; ⁰▽ ⁰)ﾉ

im so scared lol

It was an agreement, basically; if one made an appointment to go through counselling therapy, then the other would support it by making one, too. A promise made during a night where hushed, cynical whispers turned into full-blown brawling sessions that escalated into you—and the party involved—going through the weekend in detention, allowance to go home or anywhere lifted until all of you behaved accordingly.

Not like you actually have a home to go to, but you had plans, and you were quite bummed when it happened.

{toothless-vore has posted a reply!} {10:35AM}

aw yes u did it bud!!

gud luck 2 both o us then!!

{yellow-birdboy has posted a reply!} {10:36AM}

yep! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

hey i know this is sudden but i gotta go so ttyl!!

n tell me everything bout ur session latr tmro ok??

You barely typed out ok!! cyaa when the phone was wrenched out of your hand, and you watched in horror as a tall brunette before you—dressed in Crownsguard fatigues minus the jacket issued to every initiate—swiped through the screen, reading everything that was on it while sporting a sideways grin—the same grin that you’ve come to hate, because you damn well know who this was, and you weren’t about to give in to her. Not yet.

Probably over your dead body. Some day.

“Give that back, Adicus.” There’s venom in your voice, and any lesser human would have just handed you what you wanted without even looking at you twice—except you were the lesser human in this case and you knew that the sternness in your tone would do nothing again this person who was literally taller—and bigger—than you were. The two women flanking both her sides did little to assuage your fears; they were larger than you, albeit a little smaller than their taller leader. “Or else.”

But your threat only fell into deaf ears, as this Adicus flung back her chestnut tresses to look at you through raised brows, lips set in a snarky grin. “Or else what, tough one?” she spat out, something dripping from the tone of her voice that made you shiver involuntarily. “Nice of you to try to come at me with that look and tone, considering you just got your ass handed by Melphites and failed your initiate exam.” Then she put a hand over her chest, face scrunched in mock hurt. “Ooh, the pain! Don’t worry, I know exactly how it feels. Too bad for someone who claimed they wanted to protect the people, they just keep failing, y’know? It’s natural.”

Tristus Adicus. You remembered her from your heydays in grade school—the figurative leader of the group you had approached and befriended before a certain fiasco prompted your transfer, thus cutting off your (supposed) friendship with her. She had been in awe of your boldness—that was what she had been telling you, until the moment came to light where you just know it was her doing that had drove you to the spot you were currently in.

Karma had handed you whatever you deserved in return; you didn’t think karma would be this awful.

You were standing now, noting how obvious the height differences were between the both of you as you stood before her, fists clenched, trying to reel in your emotions as to not give yourself—and many others—any trouble. “Adicus.” You weren’t about to lose yourself to her provocations, no matter how bad it was. “Give that back. Right now.”

Provocations be damned. You just failed one of the most important events in your life; you weren’t about to get yourself kicked out of the Crownsguard entirely.

Then, whether it was by common or it was just another Adicus brand of provocation, you didn’t know which, she dropped the phone on your bed, and it bounced once on the springy material before you quickly pocketed it, keeping it out of sight.

She stood where she was, firmly holding her gaze against yours, that lopsided smirk still adorning her surprisingly gentle face before she said, “Just to be clear, I’m still not done about that last time we had it. So be prepared; I might come at you any time of the week, and no one can do anything to stop it.”

Then she left, bringing her two-person entourage with her, and only then you realize how the other girls had been watching the scene, expecting a spectacle, and slowly dispersing under your intense look. But you couldn’t give a damn. You flop down onto your bed, reached under it for the backpack you’ve kept your personal things in, and started rummaging through it.

You opened your phone to see the typed out response still in the Reply text box, but Birdboy had gone offline. As expected. You sent the response anyway, and set about going to tomorrow’s session, hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as the stories the internet had told you.

(s)

“You sure you don’t want me to come along?”

It was comical to see that mop of blond hair—spiked up as it was—bobbing up and down as its owner bent his head over the open zipper of the bag, checking its contents for the second time. The dark-haired young man leaning on the doorway next to him kept watch, eyes sometimes straying to the open front door, adjacent to his bedroom, possibly to keep intruders out, but really, what kind of intruder would be stupid enough to invade the apartment, especially when there were guards posted literally everywhere?

“Yeah, I’m good,” the blond said, finally zipping up and slinging the pack over his shoulders, heading for the front. “Thanks for having me over last night. You wanna go out for dinner again sometime after the session? My treat.”

He was saying it casually, partially gloved hand lifting up and down to emphasize himself, but the boy with the dark hair knew better. The slight shake in the blond’s voice was enough to give him away.

He reached out to touch his friend’s shoulder, bare from the sleeveless top he wore since yesterday. Sign of how distracted that blond partner of his could be, when nervousness and second-guessing began to lead his thoughts into panic. He needed distractions, he needed help. And as much as he could get it, he would find help.

He patted the freckled part of the appendage, smirking at the nervous way the blond was smiling—trying to calm himself.

“Don’t worry, Prompto,” Noctis nodded his head at the jittery blond. “You’re doing great. I know you could do it.”

And Prompto smiled—for real.

He knew he could do it.

#what is this #lmao #this #seriously trash??#idk man #prompto #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #final fantasy xv

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ghosthierophant · 7 years

Text

2x05, 2x06

halt & watch everyone plays themselves & others, except it’s mr. robot & i’m in pain & i wish we never trusted ray but we got to FULL HOUSE BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE for a hot minute & that was cool actually no i thought i was having a mental break

gideon as the cop is my fucking sexuality, whereas bound up whimpering tyrell is the mood for 2k17

Logic Bomb:

oh god that loser ex returns? steel mountain?

WHITEROSE AGAIN

/ restart

EVERYTHING IN ORDER?

identify target & flaws

build malware

i live for this shit

THE SONG BACK AGAIN

#infalable

LOGIC BOMB

script

SERVING PAYLOAD

launch attack

EVERYTHING

THE GREATEST RUSH

GOD ACCESS

old IT guy

ok GO GO GO GO GO

in the zone

THERE THEY ARE

ALL THE PHONES

lord

THERE SHE IS IN THE FUCKING STEEL VALLEY

there’s the temp gauge

hi angela

HI DARLENE

FBI ALLSAFE

/ covered your ass

/ doesn’t say anything

/ help him

music PICKIN UP

this is simple

suppress that instinct

SIMPLE

HERE IT COMES

THAT GUT INSTINCT

all the evidence GONE

someone else knows

others know

hi dude

not ask any questions

protecting elliot????

... she gunna kill him or

here she is

tfw no dreams

TYRELL’S WIFE IN THE TABLOIDS LOL

tfw hard to track people in NY

tfw no she-devil

IT’S ANGELA

#FORTRESS

“you do yours”

“make this happen”

hi, WHITEROSE

HOW IMPORTANT IS WHITEROSE HOLY FUCKING CHRIST

THE DARK ARMY

whiterose is like: the fuck is this broad

whiterose: THAT’S THE BROAD I HAVE TO GET RID OF HER

... what is that

open it

Sorta The Best

“i wouldn’t ask if there were another way”

is maxime ok

thx, dude

he’s dead :/

://////////////////////////////////

he looked

he has no time to process his final moments

we let him die with answers

otherwise... we’re nothing but ruthless murderers

a queen

SAME SEX MARRIAGE LEGAL - that dates this lol

hi, asshole ex

i’m over it too, angela

/ resume

him & gideon

THAT CD

/ phone into the beer

HONESTLY RIGHT NOW

DID YOU TALK TO THE FBI

YES

NOTHING

you gotta do it, angela

that’s The Place

lol f u dude

BATHROOM... U GUNNA DIE

... clock room

OH GOD NOW YOU’RE RLY SEE WHITEROSE

this clock yes

DOMINIQUE / DOM

/ OUTS HERSELF

i love whiterose

MUCH WORK TO DO AS EACH SECOND PASSES

#contradiction

oh wow

why you joined

I HOPE SHE’S PEED

an old flame

gorgeous dresses

“my sister”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

how the world would look right now had 5/9 never happened

OTHER PEOPLE THAT WE’VE BECOME

OTHER GENDERS PERHAPS

12am

... whiterose what was that flair of emotion

HI ANGELA

/ get involved

“i miss you” :(

“no”

“can i just know why”

... he IS trying to take care of himself

HIM

MY UNDEAD FATHER’S STANDING BEHIND YOU RIGHT NOW

“i can be a friend” :( thx angela

pls care

& stop the evil corp charade

FAT QWERTY

/ promotes him

I LOVE THE GENERAL JACKET DARLENE I LOVE IT SO MUCH

“ok what happened” he happened

“just stare”

HE KNOWS SHIT WHY DID RAY COME TO ME

... what is he

uh oh

FINISH THE JOB

UH OH

OH GOD

... um

LOGIC BOMB DETONATES

IF / THEN MOMENT

midland city

ohmygod

nonononnoonnonononononoon

this is awful

this is fucking awful

... ray wtf

ray what in the entire fuck

RAY WHAT IN THE ENTIRE FUCK

I DON’T TRUST

WHICH SIDE OF HIM IS STRONGER

“i wanna know”

“you know”

/ ignore it

... i’m thinkin about the people in those pictures too

“i could help them”

“we have other battles to fight”

“what else is new”

RAY’S BLACK MARKET OF EVIL

I CAN’T EITHER

... what’s happening

hi angela

2 taxis aite

subway aite

GO ANGELA GO

NO BULLSHIT FR HERE ON

this is the place

THE 3

NO SISTER

... holy shit open fire

holy fucking christ

the whole squad dead but you holy fuck

SHIT SHIESHIIHSHTIHISHTHSIHISHISHITHISHITHISTHI

fukc you ray

fuck you ray

FUCK OFF

... you should destroy them when you get the chance, elliot

oh god

Master Slave:

so much... happening

USA RETRO SHIT

WHERE ARE WE WHEN ARE WE

ELLIOT IN THE FUCKING SITCOM THIS EPISODE IS NOW

I LOVE DARLENE IN THIS

1st cousins

#surprise

DARLENE’S LOOK I CANNOT

SOMEONE IN THE TRUNK

THAT GIRL

“will they / won’t they”

THAT CANCER’S ACTING UP AGAIN ON MY HAND

WHAT ELSE IS NEW

THE LAUGH TRACK

WHILE I’M ALIVE

NOT FOR LOOOOOOONG OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH

watching him being beaten up on the gameboy omg

GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD THE EVIL CORP

MR ROBOT WITH THE FUCKIN FULL HOUSE THEME

lol darlene

THE FALLING OUT THE WINDOW

ANGELA PLEASE

GIDEON GODDARD DEAD OH NO I MISS YOU BUDDY

MAN IN THE TRUNK

the family photo at the end

OH GOD E-EVERYTHING

GODDDDDDDDDDDDD

/ cigarette on her

/ slapped

/ elliot watches sister get abused O.O

“sack of potato slims”

??????? IS THAT FUCKIN TYRELL

TYRELL = BAGGAGE

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

IS HE RLY IN A CAR

IS HE DEAD

HI ALF

... angela: IT ALMOST MAKES UP FOR THEM KILLING MY MOM

his mom is hardcore

“one of them”

“there are other fish in the sea”

DON’T BE ANYTHING LIKE YOUR OLD MAN

ALDERSON FOR ONE

... goddamnit elliot’s mom

yikees... in the mirror

on the side of the road

BAGGAGE

ENOUGH OF THIS SHIT - OOOOOOOH

omg the USA LOGO

STAY TUNED FOR MORE MR. ROBOT

OH MY GOD THE ECORP FUCKING COMMERCIAL WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE

THIS IS HEINOUS

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BEER SHIT

WATHT EHTHE FUCK

USA UP ALL NIGHT - THE COMMERCIAL WITH THE MOVIE WITH DARLENE

ANOTHER ONE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH STOP

GIDEON YAAAAAAAAAAAAAS

/ kills gideon

wow

... fuck ... the music is ... killing me

IT’S BEEN 12 SECONDS

take me back

LOL TYRELL RUNS OUT OF THERE

I’M A BUSINESS MAN A VERY IMPORTANT BUSINESS MAN

i love this tyrell holy fuck

/ thud

WHERE DID HE TAKE HIM

HE’S RIGHT IN FRONT OF US

WE’RE STARING AT HIM

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

OMG TYRELL

lies can be useful~

SOMETIMES THEY HELP YOU GET AWAY W MURDER

... DID YOU KILL TYRELL

EVERYTHING ELSE HAS BEEN TRUE

I THINK... YOU KILLED TYRELL

HOH MY GOD

OH MY GDOD

... i’m not trusting

“you’ve won”

“that’s what this is”

t e m p o r a r y

HOSPITAL

TIME TO WAKE UP

tfw no one wins

BACK

he’s so fucked up

I HOPE YOUR DOG IS DEAD YOU PIECE OF SHIT

... devil

... do not

“someone else allowed it”

“she had a master”

... goddamnit he owns you

ELLIOT YOU GOTTA GET THE FUCK OUT

hi alf

tfw u gotta learn to hack

plop it in

WAX ON, WAX OFF

hi bf

i hope his stuff is legit

SHIT

oh no oh no oh n o ho no oh no

4 weeks psych leave

tfw dark army

/ erases history

/ leave nothing behind

/ shits a shitter

HI CUTE GUY

hi protesters

... nypd

MY SUCCESS IS ASSURED

/ programs herself

are you ok dude

hi i’m the dude

:(((((((((((((((( that’s it for ahmed

OMG DARLENE PLS WHO ARE YOU FOOLING

DAMN

Kali: the quieter you become, the more you are able to hear

hi angela

GO ANGELA

DON’T SAY SHIT

JEEEEEEEEEEEZUS END THIS BEFORE I HURL LMAOOOO

weird amount

ANGELA, YAAAAAAAS

GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

/ wipes

not a great wipe but oh well it’ll do... for tv

YAAAAAAAAAAS GO CELEBRATE

wait whtat is that

GET TO YOUR CUBICLE

oh god

godmy girl cannot type to save her life lordd

OH GOD NOT NOW FBI LADY

OH GODDDDDDDDD

... damnit elliot’s arm was just broken

this is horrific you should’ve never helped oh my fuckinggod

HOW DID THEY LET HIM OUT IN THAT CONDITION WTFFF]

WE GOTTA GET OUT OF HERE

/ take those punches for you

/ hug

THANK YOU

/ hugggggggg

hi childhood elliot

/ share your side of things

/ i’m here to listen

/ always will be

:(((((((((((((((((((

share, embarrassed about

MR. FITCH

/// terminated

“what were the dates”

/ appointments w the doctor

“i’m sick, elliot”

mom, darlene, work, you

“kiddo”

“i’m never gunna leave you” “i promise”

THE FUTURE

computer store

A NAME

THE FIRST THING

.... god the backstory

/ awesome

DON’T TELL YOUR MOTHER

/ gasp

/ it ends

THE TRUTH

oh god oh god oh god oh god

#mr robot #logic bomb #master slave

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