𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶... ▏

you've     never     used     your     eyes     before ,

[neoanderson]

𝙻𝙾𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶... ▏

AN     EXTREMELY     PRIVATE,     STRICTLY     MUTUALS   -   ONLY     WRITING     BLOG     FOR     THE     CHARACTER     OF     NEO     FROM     THE     MATRIX.     PLOT   -   BASED     +     ADULTS     ONLY.     _𝙴𝚡𝚒𝚝(𝙼𝙰𝚃𝚁𝙸𝚇)

𝙲𝙰𝚁𝚁𝙳.     𝙼𝙴𝙼𝙴𝚂.     𝙿𝙻𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙲𝙰𝙻𝙻.

[weltenwellen]

Sylvia Plath, Winter Trees

[fudemushi]

those cosmic horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. i get it tho

[mcbride]

Carrie-Anne Moss and Keanu Reeves as Trinity and Neo                                      in The Matrix Resurrections (2021) dir. Lana Wachowski

[no-soft-feelings]

[neoanderson]

ah lads. life has fucked me. but last assignment’s due next week so Watch Out

[thejingshi]

Keanu Reeves as Neo in The Matrix (1999)

[rars]

whatever man *walks outside of your render distance*

[cristinaricci]

THE MATRIX (1999) | dir. Lana & Lilly Wachowski

[neoanderson]

foxenhund·:

if neo masquerades as unreachable machine parts,    a computer’s whir replacing each shoddy breath,   then sherlock is entirely organic     (      the flesh reveals very little   :       molten scars across his patchy hands,    acids and residues and needle - points turning him into frankenstein’s favoured creation     –     human,   but only by some horrible twist of fate      ).     long limbs and familiar strides make the climb easy enough.    HE NAVIGATES THIS WORLD WITH EASE,   EVEN WHILE OTHER PEOPLE SHUDDER AND RELAPSE.    a hand on a window sill,    ghostly fingers bracketing the glass.     he is thankful for the computer screen   :       it masks his ascent.        ‘‘      it is customary to answer your door when someone is knocking,   otherwise they might resort to more time - honoured methods.      ’’       sherlock is half - winded as he crawls in through the window,    landing in a heap on the floor.

starting,     he    stands     …     shock    makes     way     for    cool   -   headed    courtesy,     even     as    every     part     of    him     seems     to    turn     to     static,    every     hair    and     hackle     raised.    some     watchdog     on    alert,     a     half  -   awake     guardian     ...    neo     kneels,     offers    soft     palms     and    calloused     fingertips   :     psalms     of    service     in     spite    of     imposition     ⁠———     a    good     samaritan     writ    small     and     dressed    in     rags.     (   paranoia     scratches     a    like     a     bug  ;     he     glances    towards     his     locked    door.   )     ‘   i     wasn’t   expecting     visitors.  ’     the     trojan    horse     of     sherlock’s     appearance     has    him     wide   -   eyed     and    wary   ;     inside    this     place     that    is     his     and    his     alone,     it    feels     just     as    an     invasion,     an    unwelcome     guest     in    a     vivid     small  -   hours     dream.   yet     reality    persists,     and     faced    with     a     living,    breathing     reminder     of    it,     neo     flickers,     feels    like     tom.     he    steps     back,     the    cords     of     his    muscles     tense     under    yesterday’s     clothes.    

[brianbackister]

[neoanderson]

@vihilum​   :     i don’t like to feel out of control.   /   from mac     ( * ) 

neo’s     testimony     is     this   :     a     marionette     jerked     unwilling     by     invisible     strings,     humanity     in     a     petri     dish.     so     alien     is     human     understanding     that     the     words     strike     like     a     blow     to     his     chest          ———          he     is     the     stone   ;     the     truth,     the     sword     …     to     be     without     control     is     to     be     without     life.     inside     of     a     machine,     cogs     have     no     choice     but     to     turn     ———          until     the     day     they     choose     not     to.     ‘   we’re     in     control     of     the     choices     we     make.   ’     his     voice     is     rough     with     sleeplessness     and     earnest     as     the     sword     in     his     chest.     ‘   that’s     all.   ’

[neoanderson]

@endurehell   :     to be honest, i could really use a drink.     ( * )

a     thousand     nights     basking     in     the     glow     of     phosphorescence     and     unearthing     cyber     skeletons     form     encrypted     closets   :     this     does     not     nurture     trust.     the     fingertips     that     rend     reality     (   insofar     as     the     digital     world     is     reality   )     now     clutch     a     cold   -   sweat     beer.     the     rabbit     hole     is     a     one   -   way     system   ;     onward     neo     plunges,     trustless     or     not.     he     sips     his     beer   ;     it     tastes     of     beer,     smells     of     beer.     arms     crossed,     he’s     allowed     himself     to     be     corralled     into     a     corner     by     the     angry     electronic     thump     of     music,     by     the     bodies     that     writhe     and     churn     across     the     dancefloor.     flickering     lights     call     up     a     vision     of     neon     hell,     of     shadows     dancing     across     a     cave     wall.     a     firewall   :     ‘   yeah?   ’     his     voice     lacks     the     embossment     of     friendship.     connection     failed.     trying     again     in     3 …     2 …     1 …     ‘   me     too.     it     looks     as     though     you’re     in     the     right     place.   ’

[neoanderson]

early pet thursday ft. chinese food in the bg

[neoanderson]

(leans)

[pajamasecrets]

Neo in The Matrix (1999) / Neo in The Matrix Resurrections (2021)

[sc937]

@neoanderson said   :         cleaning up after yourself is not the same as fixing things.

the bar is not a favourite of his.    it’s the sort of dank little hole - in - the - wall where people who hated jim congregated     (     peace made more enemies than friends   :       he has left a trail of hatred in his wake,    a cut knife of a past bleeding into a stab wound of a future     ).    still,   he had written the invitation to neo,   who had showed up against the odds     –     jim had expected to nurse a whiskey or eight by himself before ultimately giving up.    BUT THE APPEARANCE OF THE HACKER WAS CERTAINLY PLEASANT     …     jim gestured over two drinks without asking the other’s preference and explained the situation.     a little bit of pesky leaked data that could put an entire planet in danger.      he smiled around his agitation at the other’s words.         ‘‘    cleaning up after yourself is the very defnition of fixing things,   neo.    don’t be so small - minded when it comes to the details.     ’’

[neoanderson]

straight   -   backed,     neo     wears     the     root     and     seed     of     suspicion     along     his     spine   ;     his     fingers     lace     together     atop     the     sticky     surface     of     the     table.     choices     on     choices     ———     drink     me.     it’s     a     choice     he     hasn’t     made     yet,     an     uncertain     future     that     hovers     like     static     in     the     air     between     the     two     of     them.

(   some     deep   -   web     diver,     some     sea     creature     surfacing   :     thomas     anderson     has     filled     his     lungs     with     that     static,     made     himself     a     man     among     machines     …     the     keys     to     so     many     locks     have     moved     from     his     fingertips     to     his     own     head,     the     keys     to     backdoors     and     curtailing     beliefs     callous     machines     have     bred     and     weaned.   )     as     neo     he’s     sprung     more     than     a     few     leaks     in     the     fragile     fabric     of     cyberspace     ———     enough     to     know     that     covering     his     tracks     does     not     soak     the     lost     data     back     in.     there     is,     however,     an     understanding     between     wanted     men     ———     men     pulled     together     by     the     magnetic     poles     of     fear     and     fealty     to     fellow     men.     neo’s     head     cocks,     interest     and     irritated     amusement     written     into     his     suggested     smile.     the     creak     of     leather,     a     soft     exhale.     he     leans     forward     but     an     inch,     his     voice     a     slow     staccato   :     ‘   why     don’t     you     tell     me     what     you     want     from     me,     and     i’ll     tell     you     what     the     definition     is?   ’