Today Leia Organa rejoins the force, you will be missed. May the force be with us all in this sad time.

(Source: cyfiware)

thedigitaldecay:

Just an old cyberpunk inspired short I wrote years ago during a rather tumultuous time of my life. Enjoy.

                                    Blood Beat Pump

                                             By C.R.

 She desperately wished that the cold beating fiber metal heart would repair itself. The warm gushing blood and other fluids spilled slick and unpleasantly wet on her grasping hands that fought to keep it all in, but the self repairing meta flesh were too late to do much good now. The shot wound was too shredded, too irregular for stitches. Too fragmented all together. The shredded metal pieces of hallow point bullets clung and digged their way into her internal organs, cutting the fiber metal of her lungs, her heart into little more than very expensive recycling material.

“Shit,” she said as she gasped. Coughing chunks of blood onto her slumped body. She laughed, or tried. The sound was we t and unnerving it its promise of  a painful, slow death.

What mattered now?

Her heart, newly restored and paid for in pricey illegal work had landed her right back to the beginning of it all.  The irony was a palpable knot in her throat. Or was that just the blood welling like horrid waterfall?   In either case, she’d never know why any of it happened, or why she laid now, like so much wasted flesh in their room dying for nothing less than love…

And hatred.

* * *

   The sound of crushed glass underfoot was loud and opaque in the small room. The girl lifted her head, tried aiming the pistol, but the gun was suddenly too heavy to grasp and lift.

Twice she tried. Twice she failed.

The blood made the trigger slippery and cumbersome. Blood spilled from her lips and hot like liquid metal onto the dampened sharpness of floor and glass. Lips tried to speak, but all that came out of those lips was pain and blood. Pain and blood so much of it was in the way.

   His shadow covered her now, as he stood there in the damaged lighting of their bedroom. Blood,cuts and a nasty shoulder wound stung it’s protest at him. But he ignored it, looking at her now and felt almost nothing.

But it was the nothing of despair, of horrible. terrible vision, and the hopelessness of any and all visions. The only hint of feeling left was the hot salty tears that fell silently down his shadowed cheeks.

It was just a job. Just another job of another day. But he knew this one would haunt him. He could already feel the creeping cold of regret, and guilt weave into his soul and begin to fester there like poisoned tentacles into his heart. His memory. His mind.

He’d remember every tragic,bloody, horror filled detail of this night,this place till the day he died. Probably in just as violent overture as this one. Maybe wasn’t the question, just when. And with that, the trigger gave way, leaving only the heavy silence of death. And one word:

“Why?”

(via thedigitaldecay-deactivated2017)

(Source: fuks, via cyberneticsynth)

eveonline:

Why?

(Source: eveonline, via eveonline)

(via thethingaboutprogramming)

(Source: thethingaboutprogramming)

fuckyeahcyber-punk:

fury ghost concept art

(via ghost-who-walks-inside)

breadmaakesyoufat:

Bazinga

(Source: uglydantedeactivated)