uploadead
MIND IS SOFTWARE
hacktivist. traceur. machine consciousness.
written by ecto.
113 posts
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Oh, my god! So Wonderful Kung Fu Parkour!
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LEGENDS NEVER DIE
TMPST - 10th Anniversary Collection
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Photos: @zyrken
Creative Direction: @thefrostifresh
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two word starters
“ please don’t ”
“ i’m sorry ”
“ trust me ”
“ fuck off ”
“ don’t go ”
“ please stay ”
“ i tried ”
“ you’re wrong ”
“ you’re right ”
“ i know ”
“ don’t run ”
“ go away ”
“ don’t stop ”
“ it’s hard ”
“ don’t cry ”
“ we can’t ”
“ calm down ”
“ i’m scared ”
“ make me ”
“ wanna bet ? ”
“ run away ”
“ don’t look ”
“ i promise ”
“ try harder ”
“ believe me ”
“ don’t move ”
“ you’re mean ”
“ i’m cold ”
“ you’re beautiful ”
“ hold me ”
“ let me ”
“ come here ”
“ shut up ”
“ fuck off ”
“ it’s complicated ”
“ you’re okay ”
“ wake up ! “
“ you’re on “
“ i’m pregnant “
“ you’re sick “
“ how long ? “
“ what happened ? “
“ stop it “
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GTA V SENTENCE MEME PART TWO.
Part one here.
You whine too much.
What a shit show.
It’s a lonely road, ain’t it?
I was just lost in an eighties movie fantasy.
Back from the dead, motherfucker!
I’m leaving before you take advantage.
It sounds shady. I don’t like it.
Were you ever a human being?
ENOUGH! Okay? E-fucking-nough!
I always thought I was the good guy.
That isn’t who I am…today.
The cops are here. Sucks for them.
Did someone say yoga?
Nama-go-fuck-yourself.
I’d rather talk about my penis.
Well that’s one way of looking at things.
You look like an idiot in that uniform.
Oh by the way, that’s entirely YOUR fault.
Bring me my coffee or I’m gonna cut your arm off.
Hello, my deeply flawed but almost lovable husband / wife.
Hey, ( name ). I’m calling to tell you…I’m getting married.
Come back! We’ll order pizza.
Fuck you! Fuck your pizza! Fuck everything it stands for!
You could always try shutting up, see how that feels?
I can’t believe I’m getting smart-talked by a fucking dog.
Banging married women’s a hobby, not a fucking profession.
I heard lots of banging and screaming, but not the nice kind.
So, pal, what’s the source of conflict this time?
Jesus, your therapist has a lot to answer for.
You are alone, you pathetic psychopath!
You wouldn’t know fun if it sat on your face.
Constantly… my whole life. Chase things. Get them. Hate them.
Our entire lives together have been nothing but a series of fans and shits.
You know what, ( name )? You a real easy dude to identify with man, “poor me, poor me!” Man, pour me a drink!
We met at the bar last night. You don’t even remember? We had sex in the car.
Question my questions again, I’ll slit your throat and let you gurgle the answers.
Hey, hey, hey. How about this? I’ll tell you a story if you promise never to speak again.
Go to college. Then you can rip people off and get paid for it. It’s called capitalism.
Surely not spending money on a bunch of liberal arts degrees has got to count for something.
I’d just consider yourself extremely lucky your heart is still beating and not being stomped under my foot right now.
Boy, you work hard for your living. Boil it all down for me, how much you think you make per senseless killing? A couple nickels?
You know, you’re a resourceful guy / girl getting past those trained killers. I need someone like you in my organization.
We are about to put the Darwinism back in Social Darwinism, and brother, it’s gonna be fun.
I am diversification personified…or personification diversified as a therapist once said.
You’re, like, finally using your powers of selfishness and rage for, like, good. Not an objective, universal good, but a subjective, what’s-in-my-best-interest kind of good.
And when I was growing up, we had nine planets. Now it’s eight. Where did the other one go? I mean, that is some shit! When you can be the government, you can make a planet disappear. Where did they put it? And who’s living there?
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EARLY SUNDAY STARTER CALL?
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ikarcs.
Calculations. Affirmation. No hesitation; simply MOTION. Shoes pound NYC rooftops and one saut de précision later —— he was a r o o f t o p away from the fellow traceur ( and maybe pleasantly, maybe not, not a Runner ), extending out a hand with an all too smug grin.
uploadingg
he shouts across the void.
“ that all? ”
he shakes his head. adrenaline’s still pumping, veins pulsing with an energy that threatens to burst out from under his clothes if he doesn’t do something with it. he’s quick to follow, soles digging into concrete rooftop, that last push that throws him over the threshold—
( that moment where upwards momentum and gravity’s force
downwards cancel out, and it feels like floating— that’s the
moment amr lives for. )
— and lands easily on the other side.
“ try harder, bird boy. ”
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" hey. hey, shirogane. ”
it’s late even for amr, but he doesn’t seem to least bit tired— quite the opposite: those eyes seem alight with an unspoken excitement, talons drumming excitedly on the walls.
" got you a present. engineering, third floor. you in? ”
SILENTCONFLICTION GETS A THING
#silentconfliction#( ic. )#// let's call this a couple weeks and a handful of flights in?#// bc i'm lazy
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zwhacking.
❛ yeah, the bat was - uh, out of reach and in the heat of the moment anything can become a weapon, i guess. ❜
a laugh. he shrugs, hands in pockets.
“ not bad. doesn’t outrank sexy leg lamp, though. ”
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SHAKESPEARE AESTHETICS.
MACBETH.
the howl of wolves. moonless nights. dirt under fingernails. stained silk. chattering teeth. voices hoarse and cracked. rotting fruit. echoing drums. dry heaving. hanging cobwebs. stifling humidity. bloodshot eyes. the roughness of rusted steel. wild rosebushes. muscle cramps. the sound of splintering wood.
A MIDNIGHT SUMMER’S DREAM.
crackling fires. ivy crawling on stone. the faint music of running water. petrichor. dirty, bare feet. tattered clothing. thistledown. wilted wildflower crowns. late evening birdsong. curling leaves. a symphony of croaking frogs. drifting feathers. the eerie sound of windchimes at night. humming bees. beds of clover.
ROMEO & JULIET.
warm golden lamplight. worn shoes. crumbling brick walls. whispered poetry. embroidered satin. cool, hazy mornings. tousled hair. rosewater. flushed cheeks. distant orchestras. unfinished marble statues. cobblestone streets. loose threads. ink smudged on parchment. tapping fingers. dust illuminated by sunlight. poison vials.
HAMLET.
shattered glass. a cluster of fraying ribbons. unanswered knocks on doors. lingering dampness. white noise. inexplicable drafts. migraines. bleeding ears. the taste of metal. reflected mirrors. dry, cracked lips. the sound of tearing paper. fogged windows. memories of dreams. tarnished silver. protruding veins.
tagged by: @vantrece like forever ago ( <3 )
tagging: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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viraldolly.
❛ and behold, the dead come back to life! ❜ lola’s got this elusive smirk that tugs at her lips, brow raised, ❛ how was your game? ❜ // @uploadingg.
dark shadows preside under his eyes, a tired glance issued to lola’s bright and sunny ( far too sunny ) wit over a half-finished coffee. a deep-throated grunt sounds in the back of his throat.
“ james threatened to replace my workout playlist with disco
throwback if I didn’t show, ” his voice holds those gravelly too-low
notes of sheer exhaustion. “ I haven’t slept in three days. ”
that’s amr talk for good. very good.
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IN WHICH DEFALT ( @emperorat ) SEEMS TO WANT TO PATCH THINGS UP AND JAMES DOES NOT BELIEVE IT FOR A SINGLE FUCKING SECOND
AKA “KYRILL I WROTE 976 WORDS OF SHEER BULLSHIT FOR YOU”
the rift in dedsec is one that has begun to permeate every aspect of their group. what's worse is this isn't a rift amr has felt before, or one he has any idea how to begin closing: defalt's presence in town has made james' agitation palpable, words coming even shorter from an already short man, doubling down on security protocols, grilling them about holes in their code.
it's not until the third night that defalt invades their hackerspace--- not the basement refuge, but the upper floor where the students and customers of the makerspace meet, though amr knows james' paranoia shifts his very presence to ominous, electronic tendrils reaching downwards from the rat mask to the secrets below their feet.
james hates defalt. that's something amr can see, plain as day. what he doesn't understand is why.
james' apartment is quiet save for the hum of the air conditioner that's almost omnipresent from june through september. amr curls his hands around a coffee despite the hour slowly creeping past midnight; but it's a friday, and they're in no rush to sleep. the conversation drifts slowly to and from the week's work, interesting things they had read, shared excitement about a new game, never deviating more than two steps from technology. they live and breathe it, and they have for years.
but a persistent scowl has settled on his friend's lips, and there's a tension in his shoulders usually only found before the culmination of a large project. and inevitably, the subject ends on defalt.
"what's your problem with him?" he asks, attempting to keep his tone casual--- and obviously failing, given how james immediately closes himself off and glares at him in a way that voicelessly threatens him should he continue with this line of questioning.
"are we really doing this?"
"I'm curious, is all."
( it's going to take more than a glare to scare him off. )
james' eyes trace his features, scanning for any signs of duplicity-- the intense gaze that makes him feel utterly transparent, stripped down to his most basic thoughts and desire. and after coming to his conclusion, he hums a small note of annoyance into the drink between his hands.
"four of the fourteen major attacks on dedsec in the last year have come from defalt alone," he says. "he's made a point of being anti-dedsec since before we were dedsec. and in case you haven't noticed, he hasn't exactly been cordial when he comes around, either."
"cordial?" he pauses mid-sip. "have you met us?"
"that's not the point."
amr's silence is retreating, but not a surrender. his consideration of the next step is punctuated by the clank of his mug against the countertop.
"what is the point, then?"
james bristles. and in the words that follow, he begins to offer more information than amr had requested of him; a creeping agitation sets in on his features, and amr hears his words sharpen to a dagger point.
"he's dangerous, is the point. he has a plan, and I don't know what is is, and I need to protect us from whatever it ends up being. because this is what defalt does. he worms his way into your systems, he makes you feel safe, and then he burns your house down. he's a better social engineer than I'll ever be, and that doesn't scare you? he's trying to coax you into familiarity so he can use you. he's done it before. and jay—"
"jay?"
james stops.
"what?"
right here. this is the moment where amr knows he's won. and in this moment, this ceases to be about dedsec at all. this ceases to be about defalt the hacker, about the safety of the team amr knows james will defend with his life. realization dawns on amr in a way that's painfully obvious in retrospect, like of course this was something outside the scope of his usual paranoia. of course this is a james thing, not a dedsec thing. why else would james be so evasive?
"you called him jay."
"no, I didn't—"
"oh my god, you know him," he continues in spite of james' protests. "this is personal."
"no, it's not."
"you're a shitty liar, james."
he flinches, and for an instant amr almost feels bad. insight is in this moment far more important to him than james' comfort, because now he needs to know if this is a james and defalt thing or a defalt thing or both. james' eyes sink to the cup between his hands like a child that's just been scolded for staying out past dark, all that fight drained the moment amr makes it clear he's not going to relent.
( and in this moment, the line between mentor and mentee is entirely irrelevant. james is his friend. this is his friend's hang ups. this is his friend's concern. )
"it's both," he begins, voice soft. "defalt and I used to work together. in chicago. before..."
clara.
"all of this?" james won't offer it, so amr fills in the gaps. some memories are best not dredged up.
he nods. "he's different now. he's a threat to us. is it so hard to believe I'd try to keep that away from you?"
you're keeping way more than that away from us, his mind goes, but the words stay unspoken behind closed lips.
"and you're sure that's it?"
"I gave up on saving defalt a long time ago."
amr heaves a long sigh, watching the steam curl and twist around his breath.
"okay. I'll talk to them. tighten up security in the hackerspace. kill the wifi."
and james doesn't say it, but the way his figure relaxes is the most sincere thank you amr could hope for.
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