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.
sheepfilms
Xuebing Du
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

pixel skylines

Janaina Medeiros

Discoholic 🪩
No title available

JVL

No title available
Jules of Nature
hello vonnie
Keni

★

No title available

⁂
Claire Keane
will byers stan first human second

if i look back, i am lost
we're not kids anymore.
ojovivo
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States

seen from Yemen

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada

seen from Sweden

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Canada
seen from Jordan

seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
@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.
Sylvia Plath, Winter Trees
those cosmic horrors are beyond YOUR comprehension. i get it tho
Carrie-Anne Moss and Keanu Reeves as Trinity and Neo in The Matrix Resurrections (2021) dir. Lana Wachowski
ah lads. life has fucked me. but last assignment’s due next week so Watch Out
Keanu Reeves as Neo in The Matrix (1999)
whatever man *walks outside of your render distance*
THE MATRIX (1999) | dir. Lana & Lilly Wachowski
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.
@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. ’
@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. ’
early pet thursday ft. chinese food in the bg
(leans)
Neo in The Matrix (1999) / Neo in The Matrix Resurrections (2021)
@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. ’’
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? ’