ReroutedAnother seventy-two characters, another seventy-two grand. Each and every keystroke only lead the conductor of cybernetic calamity towards greater archives of digital riches and rewards. Tap-tap-tap and up went an idle copy of a firewall’s coding, a program completely identical to the original, but with so many more wounds to open. A simple six-digit code and one could take an electric vacuum to the account and drag away every cent they could find. Just a single perk that came with the ever-rewarding occupation of cyber-smuggler.Rerouted by AnUnfoldedPaperTiger
And today? Today had been an absolutely prodigious day for cyber-smuggling. Late Saturday had arrived early, coming ‘round the clock at a record time of 4:45. By the time the global alarms went off, every man-operated cyber-surveillance system had been dropped in favor of the raising of glasses and the imbibing of the night. Entire ethereal warehouses of nothing but bank accounts, shipping routes, shareholder stocks and top-secret information block
Centurion Ch. 2: So shall it be PART 2/2Centurion Ch. 2: So shall it be PART 2/2 by StarscreamLove
And so, Cerberus and Shadow Screech waited silently in the dark room, pacing back and forth impatiently to sitting and staring at whatever was around them. During his annoyed pacing, Shadow Screech halted in his tracks and looked to the doorway in which they entered.
“He’s here…” he muttered.
“Well, I could’ve told you that,” Cerberus claims as he rolls off his seat from his laying position.
Shadow Screech watched the door intently, expecting it to open at any moment until he felt a barely noticeable yet bone-chilling wind brush up against his bare skin. He whips around to see the towering form of Phrixus looming over him. He yells in shock, stumbling and falling backwards.
“M-My Lord! Y-You startled me!” Shadow Screech stammers nervously.
Phrixus doesn’t respond, lifting his gaze up to the door. Just then, it flies open, both doors falling off their hinges. In the doorway stood Snow Fall’s older sister and rival Forest
Awakening: Prodigy - Chapter 1Awakening: Prodigy - Chapter 1 by AstralDaamon
Parents and children huddled together under the flickering lights of the evacuation centers secured hold. The staccato rhythm of the defense units’ weapons did little to ease the fear of the surviving refugees. A blast rocked the center; one less defense unit.
Amongst the remnants of the surviving refugees was an eight year old girl with ebony black hair. Her carefully selected clothes for the community celebration that day was now stained and torn. She was one of the lucky ones for getting away with a few scrapes and cuts. She cradled her trusty teddy bear between her legs and her chest, hugging her constant companion close while straining her hearing, hoping for some sign that might prove that her father was alive.
Smothered cries of young children were stifled by terrified parents. The young girl watched, silent, wondering if they knew that they were killing their young. She wondered if the parents noticed the weak resistance of their child's small body fighting for
The Alverdale Tangle - Act 5. Chpt - 8Ash.The Alverdale Tangle - Act 5. Chpt - 8 by Sleyf
The final gown in Lady Alverdale’s collection is complete, and its purpose is suddenly made all too clear to Sandwell, breaking his heart and clearing his mind – pushing him to embark on a life-changing venture.
He had never considered that he might be rejected so cruelly, and for that overconfidence he cursed himself. The morning had started so promisingly, the weather taking a fair turn and painting the horizon rosy. He had put on his best clothes and hat, feeling as though nothing could go wrong— for in his mind nothing could, and the world was fresh and new and oh so bright— and then he had set out his marvellous creation, and it had shone all the brighter!
If he may be so bold as to assume perfection, then he most certainly would on gazing at that gown. Since Lady Alverton had requested it a few weeks ago, he
Some Broken PeopleSome broken people can hurt you without thoughtSome Broken People by Rifle1980
But believe me when I say it’s not their fault
With an open wound as delicious as yours
It would be a shame not to rub in the salt
So why do you insist on shaking that girl
Do you like playing the martyr on your knees?
Acting like you’re a paragon of purity
Well today that purity feels ripe for disease
Some broken people cry not knowing what for
Have sympathy as they weren’t born with black hearts
Like you and I they have grey matter in their brain
But their thoughts are a great distance from dark
So why do you insist on hitting that girl
When she stopped feeling many blue moons ago?
A waste of energy, like her wasted breath
When she told you that her safe word was ‘no’
Some broken people lash out without warning
At those close to them that they hold most dear
Trying to fight away those armed with feelings
Yet at the same time wishing that they were near
So why do you insist on leaving that girl?
Open Letter You and I are very rare.Open Letter by xxdraxx
Third generation Asian-Canadians makes up less than 1% of the total population. From an early age we learned to wear three masks like Nezha. I am Canadian. Je suis Canadien. 我是加拿大人。
The grass gives off a crimson light on either side and I’ve been trying to stay safe in the the sidewalk between them but I’m at the edge. Or maybe I’ve already fallen off and I’m just a being of nothing nothingness. I’ve already gotten accustomed to being in nothingness. Been reading Descartes and Kierkegaard and I can’t fathom the mathematics behind happiness.
Two fugitives ran away from home and conceived
Keep It RealWhereas diasporic communitiesKeep It Real by xxdraxx
Have to been attempting to separate themselves
From harsh sun and seasons,
Without reason, others have built their lives between
The cracks of statements such as:
“Keep it real”
Or, “This shit is dope”.
Motherfuckers better realize
Now, is time to self-actualize.
TreatyThe long warTreaty by xxdraxx
Between the heart and brain
A treaty has been signed.
Bringing harmony between self
We call it poetry.
Needing YouI am writing this letterNeeding You by AnUnfoldedPaperTiger
Two weeks in advance, for I
Cannot pay the fare for anything
Faster. I am unable to deliver this
Myself because I will be long across
The highway. But I have overcome the
Distance, so let me continue.
I am writing this letter as if I would
A vision, because messages are more easily
Remembered when shown, not told.
When the words lose their form and
The ink shifts and morphs into what is
Meant to be seen.
I am writing this to you because
I am going off to war, against
An unbeaten enemy whose backgrounds
Have been burned. I know that I
Must rise up to meet the road,
But I must ask you this.
Will you still be there,
Waiting with a smile and a shrug
Saying “‘Bout time you showed up”
Will you still be sitting
On your front porch steps,
Whittling away like some
Will you still need me
After I’ve left and gone?
Because I’ll still need you.
Scraps of WarIf I gathered everything,Scraps of War by AnUnfoldedPaperTiger
The guns, the garments, the badges and bombs,
From every war that's ever been waged
Would I be able to sew together, to burn with bronze
Wings for the fallen so that they might
Could I give their beloveds enough fire and powder
To ignite the lives that they too swiftly lost?
If I collected every spec of scorched earth
That remained of once-standing cities
Would it be enough to build something
Could I take the shattered remains of
Oceanside bluffs and bustling metropoli
And form something that shall stand eternal?
If I counted the years
That every soldier lost during
His life on the battlefield
Could I finally achieve immortality?
Would I be able to stop my hair
From graying? To stop the clock
From ticking? To stop the world